#in amok time he called him one of his closest friends

[lenievi]

actually, I changed my mind. I would love for SNW to allow McCoy and Spock to meet and become interested in each other without Kirk’s presence, so people would stop saying that they only get along because of Kirk. It’s obviously not the case, but because TOS won’t change anyone’s mind anymore, SNW needs to step up LOL

[anneapocalypse]

On Krile, Thancred, and Minfilia

Reviewing post-Heavensward dialogue for fic purposes, I came across this utterly bizarre conversation between Thancred and Krile:

Krile: Why must you be so disappointingly brusque? You're not at all as Minfilia described, you know. I don't think you've favored me with so much as a single compliment since we set out. Krile: Tell me, did your time in the wilderness sap you of all your charm, or are you holding it in reserve for your beloved? Thancred: This is neither the time nor the place. Krile: Well, call me old-fashioned, but when I'm risking life and limb infiltrating an imperial castrum, I like to be sure of my comrades' motivations. Thancred: I see now where Alphinaud gets it from. Thancred: Minfilia is dear to me, it is true─but not in the way you think. Thancred: Fifteen years past, when she was still but a child, there was an incident at a parade. A goobbue broke free of its fetters and ran amok through the streets of Ul'dah. Had I been more attentive, I could have prevented it...but I was distracted, and her father was killed. Thancred: I feared she would never recover, but in the years that followed, she showed herself to be more resilient than I had ever imagined. And when she learned of her gift, she did not flinch from the responsibility, but sought to guide others on the path. Thancred: She touched the hearts of all around her. Mine, Louisoix's, every Scion's. In those dark days following the Calamity, she was our guiding light─our hope for a brighter future. Thancred: She had so many dreams...and I would give anything to make them come true. Krile: My apologies. I can see she means the world to you. I did not mean to pick at old scars. Thancred: No harm done, I assure you. But fair is fair, my lady─what is Minfilia to you? Krile: You mean you don't know? Only my dearest friend. Krile: When I finally emerged from my torpor, I learned that nary a day had passed without her asking after me. She never gave up hope. Krile: And neither will I.

So, this takes place in 3.2, when Minfilia is still missing and Krile and Thancred are on the trail. Krile has clearly heard Minfilia talk about Thancred--she meets him with a certain expectation about his manner, which Thancred isn't presently living up to because he's too worried about Minfilia to be flirting. However, Krile also seems to have no idea what Minfilia's relationship to Thancred actually is. In fact, she misinterprets Thancred's concern for her as romantic, in the same breath as she's expressing surprise that he hasn't attempted to charm her. She's so curious about this that she interrupts a covert operation to demand he explain his motives.

Thancred, meanwhile, seems to have never even heard Minfilia mention Krile... who describes Minfilia as "my dearest friend." Despite the fact that Minfilia was asking after her every day while she lay unconscious, she apparently never spoke to Thancred about her worries. She even mentions Krile several times while we're in the room, calls her "my dear friend" and rejoices when she's found alive, but Thancred seems not to have been aware of any of it.

So these two characters, ostensibly the two people closest to Minfilia apart from her adoptive mother, know shockingly little about one another.

That's weird, right?

I would also like to note that Shadowbringers pretty much completely forgets about Krile being Minfilia's bestie, because when we finally get to see her again, Minfilia calls the Warrior of Light "Dearest friend" and has absolutely nothing to say about Krile. Thancred also doesn't mention her in his dialogue about the people who care for Minfilia and want to see her again, only himself and F'lhaminn. And Krile herself has little presence in Shadowbringers beyond the caretaker of the Scions' bodies, and I don't think she gets any reaction to Minfilia's death in the First, which, given how much time and attention is given to Thancred's feelings about it, is... certainly a choice. Even F'lhaminn gets a little follow-up sidequest, but Krile gets nothing.

What do we make of this?

I think from a Doylist perspective it's impossible for me not to see this in light of the issues I have with Minfilia's writing, and the lack of interest the writers seem to have generally in exploring the depths of female characters' inner lives the way they do the male characters. Minfilia is a major character and yet she is allowed so little interiority, and I've complained about that before so I won't get into the weeds here, but it's just so frustrating. If I had to watch Thancred spend all of Shadowbringers making her sacrifice about himself, I would at least have liked to have had it shown, and not merely told, that he was so close to her. That he knew her in some way that everyone else didn't. But we're not shown that! I've asked this question before, but if Thancred and Minfilia were in a room alone together, what would that talk about that isn't Scion business? Who knows! Did they talk at all? He didn't even know about her best friend!

I also think this is probably in part the writers trying to play a bit of catch-up with all the stuff they left only vaguely implied in ARR because they were afraid to rehash anything returning players already knew. Like they got to 3.1 and by now the new game is a success and the first expac is a success and now they're realizing they need to catch new players up to speed a bit on things that were assumed to be Known when they wrote 2.0. This isn't a particular graceful execution of that but you can see how it would serve that function. No, Thancred isn't into Minfilia like That; here's what their history is.

Whatever the reasons, they wrote what they wrote. And I'm also interested in it from a Watsonian perspective, and what it says about Minfilia as a character.

She's this person whom so many people knew and loved... and at the same time, maybe no one really knew. The one scene we do get that sheds any light on what kind of connection she and Thancred share in the present is after Ifrit, when Thancred is berating himself for not being good enough... and shuts up the minute he realizes someone else is in the room. He does show a vulnerability to Minfilia that he doesn't show to anyone else. He shows vulnerability; she really doesn't. Minfilia has vulnerable moments in the story, but they're pretty much always a matter of circumstances putting her in a vulnerable position rather than her specifically opening up to another character because she trusts them. She is always kind, and generous, and caring, and willingly hands herself over as a sacrifice for the greater good multiple times. When she speaks of her worries, it's usually for the safety and wellbeing of others.

How much you want to bet that Minfilia was the kind of person who was always listening to others and supporting them and making space for them in her life, and checking in on them to see how they were doing, and always had an encouraging word, asked about their day, offered help if they needed it...

...all while never talking about herself?

ARR loves to make Minfilia a damsel in need of rescuing, but how often does she ever ask for emotional support from anyone? She makes mention of Thancred watching over her, but often it seems to have been from afar. Thancred himself talks about how resilient she was, how many lives she touched. Krile talks about how Minfilia asked after her every day.

I wouldn't be surprised if Krile isn't the only person who considers Minfilia to be her best friend. I've known people like this in real life. Their friends are often surprised to find out they're "like that" with everyone, and they weren't actually unique. The care was genuine, but they weren't the only one receiving it.

I think it's consistent with her character, but it also breaks my heart

[jim-kirks-bubble-butt]

ok ok ok it’s time for my amok time thoughts-

first of all: s p i r k

spock what do you mean your omega heat was resolved by you rolling around in the dirt with your captain??? 🤨

but also just the way kirk was so respectful and understanding about spock’s pon farr and dodn’t make fun of him for it.

can’t believe the 1960’s scifi show had a fuck or die episode which did not result in heterosexuality. truly ahead of it’s time.

and also the way jim and spock were rolling around in the dirt was so gay. no one can convince me otherwise. the way spock slashed his axe thingy (forgot what it’s called) exactly so that it would give jim a tit window??? i know what you are spock.

and of course the biggest moment: JIM :D. seriously what the fuck was that. only time he smiles the wide the whole series (times when he’s under the influence of drugs excluded). homosexuality at it’s finest.

speaking of drugs i find it very funny that the only time spock likes women if either when he’s under the influence or when he’s being mind controlled.

the way spock grabs him and just gives him the biggest stupidest grin. i love spock and spock loves kirk. they are in love you can also see how wide kirk was smiling from the way his cheeks move.

spirk was just so soft with each other this episode, even on vulcan. the way spock was so hesitant to fight him and tried his hardest to convince t’pau even when under the pon farr influence.

the way jim clearly tried not to hurt him through the whole fight,

they make me fucking insane.

anyways

second thing i liked: BONES

i love bones mccoy

spock saying that he’s also one of his closest friends 😭 😭 😭

but he was so smart with the neural paralyzer and i love the way he clearly cares so much anout both of his dumbass friends under his grumpy doctor exterior.

third of all: women

t’pau and t’pring were so powerful and so wonderfully played.

obviously the whole thing with calling t’pring the property of whatever man wins her is very icky but as progressive as star trek was (and still is!), it is a product of it’s time unfortunately.

but besides that, they both just radiated power, and it was so nice to see a woman in a seat of major power.

on another note, stonn has a strikingly small forehead t’pribg i promise i could treat you better.

in my mind uhura wants t’pring (“she’s very lovely mister spock!” i know what you are ma’am.)

fourth: the episode was just. really good.

all of the tension build up before we find out about that spock is basically an omega is masterfully done, and even though i kinda new the plot, i was still sitting on the edge of my seat. incredible.

i also think tbe fight choreography during the gay sex fighting scene was actually really well done, especially when compared to other fight scenes in season 1 (the gorn fight comes to mind).

also the set design for vulcan felt like an actual planet. like usually when they go off the enterprise and onto a planet that’s not basically earth, you can tell that it’s just a bunch of foam blocks, but vulcan was very well made!

the conversation between spirk and kock kirk and spock about “vulcan biology” was very well written and acted in a way that was slightly awkward because of the nature of pon farr, but still felt natural and very in character.

side note: i see online that there’s a lot of people who think that shatner overacts. and i just don’t see it. idk i think he’s really good at playing kirk. i don’t really like the guy, but i like how expressive his acting is.

anyways this was very jumbled but i had a lot of thoughts and yeah.

i too would write the first slash fic in the 60’s if i saw this shit on my tv.

also does anyone know what tag i should use for kirk? i use like 4 different ones each time but is there one that’s more common? same for mccoy.

[nanaminokanojo]

"Petty" | Oikawa Toru X You

CHAPTER COUNT: 1/1 CHARACTERS: Oikawa Toru X You | Haikyuu Characters (mentions) WORD COUNT: 3,300+ GENRE: fluff | romance | aged-up characters | university au | oneshot TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | strong/mature language | alcohol use SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

photo/fanart credits to @/oikawalovesyouu on Twitter

"He's self-centered but he's insecure so naturally, he's petty."

Oikawa couldn't shake that comment off his head as he slammed yet another ball into the opposing court, aggressively wiping on the sweat on his forehead. The university gym was already deserted with all his teammates gone yet he was still doing jump serves as if he wasn't already so good at it. He just needed an outlet.

In his head, he was already thinking of counter arguments to what he heard being said about him. It was one sentence. One! And yet he was working up all his brain cells to think of a lengthy rebuttal to every single word in that single statement.

First of all, he wasn't self-centered. He doesn't just think about himself, or so he likes to think. He was sensitive enough to read the room most of the time and he can actually bring the best out of his teammates to the highest degree. An insensitive, selfish prick wouldn't be able to do that without proper observation and lack of awareness for others.

Secondly, he didn't think he was insecure. He didn't have to lift a finger to get the attention he wanted, and it was human to feel envy for those who are better than him because there will always be someone better. It’s just an inevitability he has to deal with.

And lastly, he wasn't petty. He's always been reactive, he knew that, but that was just reaction if not retaliation to those who want to belittle him. That's what he thinks anyway.

But why you had to say those things about him as if you were a female version of Iwaizumi – his best friend who seemed to get off of being too cruelly honest and straightforward about what he thought of Oikawa – was something he didn't understand.

Of course, he was aware of your blatant frankness. He loved that about you. You were just very insistent on your individuality and you had very strong opinions which you stood by without regard to anything. Most of the time anyway. He actually got a kick out of people's reactions when you say something without filtering your words especially when you were children, but like they say, it's never funny when one becomes the receiving end of anything negative.

The larger dilemma was that you were the only girl he sincerely liked, so much so that he was willing to lay down his pride just to have you and call you his. Solely and irrevocably his. But if you thought of him that way, then maybe you actually hated him. It bothered him to no end.

"What the hell did I tell you about over-exertion?" Oikawa heard that familiar deep voice from the direction of the entrance, and before he knew it, the ball crate was being wheeled away from him. "Enough. It's off season."

"Just letting off some steam," Oikawa stated, smiling Iwaizumi's way despite himself.

"You can do that at Kuroo's party," the other male said with finality. "Be out in fifteen." His last words were laced with a threat, and Oikawa didn't have a choice but to do as he was told. The former was right. If it's just to vent out, he could definitely do that at the party.

He couldn't be more wrong in his life.

The moment he entered the premises of Kuroo's house, the first thing he saw was you. You came in just after he did, but you bumped against him without even apologizing as you walked ahead, waving at someone else. You saw him there, but you walked off anyway as if you didn't.

"What the actual fuck?" he couldn't help but blurt out when he saw just who you were talking to.

You've always been agreeable to him as his childhood friend, but you were ignoring him on top of saying bad things about him to your friends. And now, you were talking to Ushijima Wakatoshi whom you knew he disliked with a passion.

The male simply got on his nerves for the fact that he was better at him in the sport they both played. Oikawa also hated how much the guy hounded him to join their team back in high school, talking about how he would be better off. Like how is it better to be in the same team as Ushijima was when he would just outshine him?

His mind started to run amok with questions. What could you possibly want from Ushijima? Better yet, what did he want from you? Since when were you even close to him? Oikawa almost wanted to throw up seeing how you were being buddy-buddy with the cold fish of a guy, actually managing to melt his severe expressions into a soft smile. Were you going out with him now? He couldn't take it.

Without thinking, he grabbed the shoulder of the person who was holding a tray of drinks, taking two shot glasses in his hand, and telling the person to stay where he was standing. He was able to down six shots while standing there, but before he could drink more, Iwaizumi came into view.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded gruffly, telling the poor guy with the drinks to scram.

"Not now, Iwa," he snapped, walking towards the direction of the stairs, rudely telling everyone to get out of his way.

He stayed there for almost an hour, trying to calm his nerves but ending up going feral over this couple who were making out as they pushed the door to Kuroo's room where he was lying down on the bed. To say that he killed their mood was an understatement as he harshly told them to fuck off. Nobody dared cross him being the famous star athlete that he was at the university you both attended. It was, however, useless if he finds himself losing even outside of court to Ushijima who was his equivalent in the neighboring school when it comes to volleyball. It left him with a bitter taste at the recesses of his mouth.

When he finally emerged from the room, deciding to get more drinks, he was still in a foul mood, glaring at anyone who would get in his way towards the kitchen. But his plan was all but forgotten when he saw you standing by the archway that led to the kitchen, leaning there as you nursed a plastic cup against your chest.

For the first time that night, he was actually seeing how beautiful you were, dressed in a crop top and tight-fitting jeans which were tattered in most places. As per usual, you were stuck in your own bubble, bobbing your head to the music as if you weren't aware of all the adoring looks you were getting. Well, you were a person who didn't know her strengths and denied them when he tells you. It was just unfair how he always has nice things to say about you but you didn't think the same way about him.

He closed the distance between the two of you, placed his forearm above your head, towering over you, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, baby," he said in a low tone, leaning down until your faces were just inches from one another.

"Hello, darling," you returned, smiling slightly. "I've been looking for you, but Iwa said you ran off somewhere."

"Have you now?" He eyed you seriously. "Weren't you just ignoring me a while ago for Ushijima?"

He wasn't able to elicit the reaction he wanted from you, and instead, you smirked at him. "Eh?" you responded in a dragged out note. "I wasn't with Ushijima for the sake of ignoring you, Toru. The world doesn't revolve around you."

He stood back in indignation, your opinions of him coming out to the surface. "So why were you with him?" He was aware that his tone made it seem like he had any right to be questioning you of your actions. He had been vocal about his attraction to you, but it wasn't as if he was your boyfriend. Still, he couldn't care less at the moment.

"None of your business, sweetheart," you told him, your words at odds to the saccharine smile you flashed him. He found himself disconcerted especially when you reached up and started fixing his fringe. "What are you acting so jealous for?"

Ah, he thought. It wasn't his place to be feeling that way but he didn't want to respond to your question in any way. So, like he did earlier, he stormed off, sticking to his original plan to get wasted.

He didn't want to say things he will regret even if you were being hot and cold. For a while now, he had the feeling that you were toying with him, but whenever he was around, your actions towards him were always the opposite of your words about him as of late. One time you'd be telling him to go away, but as soon as he does, you're grabbing his arm, telling him to sit still beside you. You'd be complaining to him one second that he was being an annoying brat and then sit on his lap peppering his cheeks with kisses. You'd be with another guy but tell him you're looking for him. You were confusing to say the least.

Oikawa didn't know what happened after he walked away from you. But when he finally came to, he had a throbbing headache and he wasn't in his room. He looked around him, straining to keep his eyes open as he took in his surroundings, shooting up from the bed when he realized he was looking at the familiar layout of your bedroom.

He had been there a million times ever since you were kids, and he had been a witness to all the changes your little corner of the world had gone through. He couldn't help but smile despite his feelings and headache at the thought that what was once a room that looked like it was made of cotton candy was now in scales of black and white, surrounded with things that were just so you.

But after all the changes, you still had that framed photo of you and him in grade school, where he was kissing you on the cheek while you grinned wide for the camera. You were wearing the matching shirts your crazy moms got you, and he knew you still kept them somewhere in your room.

Yes, he told himself, I was there before anyone else. You’ve always been the closest to him even when Iwaizumi came into the picture. Even then, he didn’t seem to understand you well enough to actually lay emphasis on the fact that you’ve known each other since you were in diapers.

Just then, you walked into the room, holding a glass of fizzy water. You were wearing only his old volleyball jersey, padding barefoot on the floor. You specifically asked for it when you both graduated from high school and you've been sleeping in it since then.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted, sitting down on the empty space of the queen bed which he noticed was also slept on. "Drink up."

"What am I doing here?" he asked after downing the whole glass in one go, setting it on the nightstand.

"I took you home. Your mom would have killed you if she saw how fucked up you were last night." You brushed his hair from over his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my head's about to explode," he muttered.

You clucked your tongue. "Why did you have to drink so much anyway?"

Instead of answering you, he laid back down on the bed, turning away from you. He had every intention to ignore you after that, but it wasn't long before he felt you coming closer to him, propping your chin on his arm while you draped yours over his waist.

"You're sulking, Toru."

He took the pillow from under his head to hide his head under it. "I don't wanna do this today, Y/N."

"Do what? What exactly are we doing?"

The audacity to ask, he said at the back of his mind, biting his tongue. He didn't say anything and just stayed still.

"Hey, I asked you a question," you continued to badger him. "You've been acting off since a week ago. What's up?"

He refused to satisfy you with a response thinking you ought to realize what it was exactly that you two had been doing, dancing around each other yet skirting around the real issues between you. You couldn't be that oblivious of his affections and you weren't exactly passive either.

Nevertheless, you always had a way of turning things to your favor, and before he knew it, he was falling off the bed after you kicked him off it, nearly landing face down if it weren't for his fast reflexes.

"Y/N!" he whined, remaining seated on the floor as he clutched on his head. He half expected you to laugh at his predicament, but when he met your eyes, he regretted it, seeing the serious expression you had.

"You should know by now that I hate it when I am denied things I want to know especially those which involve me," you told him, cocking your head to the direction of the bed. You sounded menacing, so far from the gentle voice you always used when talking to him. "Stop being a brat. Get back here and talk to me properly."

"You're the one who kicked me!" he protested as he stood up, doing as he was told nonetheless, sitting up and leaning on the headboard.

"So, what's your problem?"

"I'm jealous of Ushijima," he returned promptly his brown eyes also taking a severe quality to it as he eyed you.

You arched a brow at him. "What's new about that?"

"At least before, he didn't have you, too. Now..." He sighed. "You're friends with him now? What was that about last night?"

"Are you serious right now? I had business with the guy."

Oikawa scoffed. "What business are you talking about that he's all smiles at you like that? He only ever smiles around his girlfriend –"

"Exactly," you countered, openly savoring the look on his face when he realized just what he was saying. "He ordered a huge consignment of rare live flowers for his girlfriend so I informed him it had been delivered. Our family as ikebana* artists and horticulturist do that for a living."

"What?"

You shrugged. "You're assuming things again."

Oikawa blinked, feeling defeated at your sound reasoning, but he still has bones to pick with you. "That's not just my problem with you. What are we really, Y/N? I don't get how you're ignoring me and suddenly being sweet. I'm getting mixed signals here. And don't think for a second that I didn't hear about what you told your friends about me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, smirking when he saw how your eyes rounded, finally able to take you off guard like you usually did to him. For once, he wanted you to lose your footing and come clean about what you really thought about him…how you really felt.

"Hmm. What exactly did I say about you?" you asked, the caution in your tone obvious.

"You know it, Y/N. Don't you dare make me jump all the hoops!" he stated, losing his temper.

You shook your head, not understanding where his choleric attitude was coming from. You knew better than to level your irritation with his, and you were so used to his antics that you found yourself almost unaffected by his crusty demeanor. "I really don't know what you're talking about, Toru."

He glared at you. "You told them you think I'm petty because I'm self-centered but I'm insecure. Ring any bells, sweetheart? And don't lie, I heard it myself."

You ran your hand over your face, frustration emanating from you. At the same time, you wanted to laugh because he looked like an angry kitten instead of the fully grown man he supposedly is.

Oikawa didn't know where your exasperation was coming from when he's supposedly the one feeling it but then you nodded.

"I did say that."

"How could you?" he complained, aware that he sounded like a juvenile dipshit but he didn't know how to react to your lack of denial for it. In the end, he just wanted you to say you didn't mean it even if he already got hurt from hearing it.

"How couldn't I, Toru? That's the truth," you stated, no bars held and your voice ringing clear in the air between you. You were really merciless when it came to voicing out what ran inside your head.

"Well, shit, Y/N. Why didn't you just tell me to my face?" He was about to stand up, but you pushed him down, sitting astride his lap so he wouldn't move. He refused to look at you but couldn’t move at the same time cause he didn’t want to hurt you in any way although he didn’t exactly want you close at the moment. "Get off while I'm being nice about it."

"Iwa and I never fail to tell you every day," you started, placing your hands on either side of his face, gently making him look at you.

"You both hate me?" he asked weakly, unable to imagine life without the two of you beside him.

"No." You shook your head. "Toru, no. Of course not. That's just how you are, isn't it? We never asked you to change. We just couldn't help noticing it, and if we don't tell you, who will?"

Oikawa Toru. So used to being fawned over that he doesn't know how to react when he is being criticized. He could admit to that, but it still hurt hearing you say that.

"Sweetheart, I did say those things about you, but you didn't stay long enough to hear the rest."

He pouted, looking away from you. "And what is it?"

You tilted your head so you would be in his line of vision, grinning the moment you realized you had him. "That despite all that, you're a generally kind person who cares a lot for your friends, your team, for me, and even if you don't know how to show it, deep down, you're a sensitive soul. And I adore that about you."

"Really?"

You scoffed. "I love you, Toru. I thought we had an understanding."

"As friends, you mean?"

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't say anything further, closing the distance between your lips, kissing him fervently and intensely in case the message didn't come across just yet.

He gasped against your lips, caught off guard as usual, but kissed you back with as much fervor, dominating you shortly after your mouths made contact. He nipped and sucked on your lips before shoving his tongue into your mouth, immediately finding yours and delving in to taste you. Oikawa grinned when he rendered you into a panting mess, reveling in the way your hands possessively held him close.

"I waited so long for this," he said against your ear.

"Make up for all those times you missed out then," you told him with a smug grin.

"Heh. You asked for it."

He flipped you both over on the bed making you burst out in a fit of giggles, kissing you stupid, his hands touching everywhere he could reach, your clothes and his mixing in a pile on the floor while he made sweet love to you.

Oikawa Toru. He's self-centered but he's insecure so naturally, he's petty. But he was not just that. He's also the guy you loved to smithereens because you knew that those other facets of him – the good ones – exist.

-the end-

TERMINOLOGIES:

*ikebana (活け花) - traditional Japanese art of arranging flowers

My first try at Haikyuu...god d*mn you, both, @kenkinori and @ushiwaikuroo !!! XD

Before anyone comes after me, the characters are aged up as specified in the story. The beauty of literary creativity!

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY FURUDATE HARUICHI’S “HAIKYUU!”. [20210704]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[ichayalovesyou]

Other Tribute: Amok Time (Pon Farr)

Peddlers of Flesh

~Act One: Man Was Meant To Fly~

Bremen~by Pigpen Theatre Co. from Bremen (Album)

“I would at least like to know what’s going on!”

It wasn’t out of the ordinary, Jim running off into the unknown, Spock so quick to follow, himself, reluctantly trundling behind as always, but this time felt… different. They’d been hijacked by deific wannabes before, but not like this, was it just the transporter, the promise of being trapped underground (or worse, stuck in a wall)? Bones couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was… unnerving the way this, Sargon, had captured Jim’s interest.

Worse than that, he had captured Jim!

“I came across some robbers three, at first I took everything away from them, then they took everything away from me.”

Poor Atlas~by Dessa from A Badly Broken Code (Album)

“Our bodies Sargon, for what purpose?” “To build”

The timer on Jim’s body before this fever stopped the his heart kept ticking in Bones’s head. Were these creatures’ designs really beyond man’s comprehension? Could they really be their “children” as Sargon claimed? Was it their burden, then, to give these things bodies, even for a short, dangerous, time? For every Kolos there were a dozen things like Redjac, Landru, or who knows what else.

Bones didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m building a body from blueprints in braille, I’m building a body where our design has failed.”

Grand Canyon~by Puscifer from Money Shot (Album)

“I was floating… in time and space…”

Fever scare aside, it had been a long time since he’s ever seen Jim this euphoric, this excited about anything. Of course it could be a high on whatever just happened to him. Yet, even as Dr. Mulhall said it aloud, he had his doubts. Those eyes… they were sober, if unusually bright with curiosity. Leonard found himself wondering, what it would be like to experience what Jim had described, it made him think of the Mind Meld… of Spock.

The way he spoke so fondly, so, familiarly of it to Spock.

It stirred uncomfortable feelings in himself.

“One among infinity, witnessing the majesty, calm in this humility, hope as far as one can see, standing on the edge of forever”

Time For Us~by Elsiane from Mechanics of Emotion (Album)

“Not a list of possible miracles, just a plain, simple why, that overrides all danger!”

Fear overrode curiosity in Leonard’s mind, he found it all too convenient that, for whatever reason, Sargon needed both the Captain and the Commander. He could maybe swallow the worry of risking one of them, but not both, not if he could avoid it. It was bad enough they nearly died on every other away mission. Besides, this all sounded too good to be true, why did these god-creatures always have to speak with condescension and vague riddles?! Of all the people in this galaxy they could’ve called upon… why did it have to be them?

No, a promised Renaissance was not enough.

“We need results from this now, we need resolving, cannot waste more time, get resolving now! This is a time for us only, only, only.”

Onward To The Edge~by Symphony of Science from Onward To The Edge (Single)

“They used to say if man was meant to fly he’d have wings, but he did fly, he discovered he had to.”

Oh no, here goes Jim into one of his speeches, there was no escaping now. Even Mulhall seemed interested… Jim was right of course, but the barbs in Leonard’s gut refused to abandon him. He could stop all of this by saying “no”, so, what was stopping him? Bones already knew the answer.

He may be able to say no to a mission.

But he couldn’t say no to that face, not when it was the happiest he’d seen Jim in months.

Here’s to counting on his gut being wrong.

“These are no longer abstractions, these are worlds, maybe there’s life there! They’ve changed how we think about Earth.”

~Act Two: A Sense of Foreboding~

I Hope Your World Is Kind~by Auri from Auri (Album)

“Vulcans value peace above all else Henoch.” “Of course! As do we Doctor, as do we.”

Henoch’s comment about conquering others set Bones even more on edge, why would something benevolent so casually bring that up? He knew how deeply Spock loathed being controlled, worse, being made to hurt others because he was not in control. He thought back to the Blood Fever, he couldn’t let that happen to him again, not if he could help it.

Something about this Henoch was rubbing him the wrong way… Perhaps he’d better keep an eye on him.

“The rooftops all sleeping, underneath them brittle little man-things, unveiled clowns, false kings, every moment the world in writing.”

Close to the Sun~by Porcelain Pill from Close to The Sun (Original Game Score)

“I can find no reason for concern and yet, I am filled with foreboding.”

They’d almost killed Jim, again. Everything was going to plan, but… was he right? Bones couldn’t stop staring at those receptacles, delicate spheres holding three souls. What was it like in there? The promised infinity that Jim described, the oneness, he couldn’t even imagine. It was unsettling, it felt like they were all in the room with him, he felt, compelled, to touch one. It may as well be the closest, Jim’s, he really was there! It was like he was putting a hand on his shoulder like he’d always done.

They really were delicate…

Sargon’s people better hop to it on those android bodies, he didn’t know how long he could let this go on.

“I fear we’re sinking deeper with more speed the more we strive, is that what we get for playing too close to the sun?”

Beekeeper~by Dessa from Parts of Speech (Album)

“He’s dead…”

It was like all the light had left the world, cold and grey. He should’ve been faster, trusted less, fought harder, said “No!” For God’s sake! Leonard felt a strange kinship, almost a mourning for Sargon in that moment, they had both made the mistake of trusting Henoch, and now Jim has paid dearly for it.

He thought of the receptacle that still held Jim’s soul.

Could he find a way?

Was this one death… or two?

“The surgeon and farmer meet, and each greets the other with a bow, they’re kindred instruments you know, the scalpel and the plow.”

~Act Three: The Savage Doctor~

Burned Out~by dodie from Human (Album)

“Doctor… would you like to save your Captain Kirk?”

Leonard’s gut twisted in protest, these people, these things that had stolen the bodies of others, that killed Jim, was there a chance they could be bargained with? What was so horrible that Sargon had forbidden it?

Oh God… That was it.

So, they intended on taking Spock from him too? It figured, but- maybe, if he could get Jim back, could they take both Henoch and Thalayssa on to save Spock? Was it worth risking Dr. Mulhall? His eyes were drawn to the Captain, or what was left of him, lying there, worse than dead…

Then, Thalayssa threatened him, and Bones snapped back to his senses. He knew what she was.

And he knew who he had to be.

“Make me a fairy whatever it takes, and just like her tale, my dream was a scam, you waited smiling for this.”

Girl Into Devil (I Belong To Me)~by S.J. Tucker from Stolen Season (Album)

“Neither Jim nor I can trade a body we don’t own.”

His utter disgust with this woman, this monster, outweighed everything else on Leonard’s mind, even the roiling cauldron of self-loathing that’d emerged from even having been tempted by her offer! How little this creature wearing Dr. Mulhall’s face regarded life that wasn’t her own! How could she think for a second that he, that Jim, would ever abide by something so, unbelievably callous. It would break every oath they had ever made.

Some oaths are worth keeping.

“Stolen fairy tale girls make the difference between life and death, it all comes down to choices now you’ve only the hard ones left.”

Hunger Strike~by Temple of The Dog from Temple of The Dog (Album)

“I will not peddle flesh! I’m a physician.”

Ever fiber in McCoy’s being roared at her meager attempt to convince him again. He was a Doctor damnit! He would not play god! Selfish creatures playing with other people’s lives is what had gotten them into this damn mess in the first place, he would have no part in it! He would not bargain in blood and guts like the dark age doctors that came before him, Jim would never forgive him, and he’d never forgive himself.

She could do what she wanted to him, take by force what she’d tried to bargain for, but he would never break his oath, never.

“I can’t feed on the powerless when my cup’s already overfilled. I’m going hungry.”

The Rains of Castamere~by Malukah from The Rains of Castamere (Single)

“Spock’s consciousness is gone, we must kill his body, the thing in it.”

Even after all of that, the temptation, the bargaining, the suffering, even after getting Jim back… he had still lost. He failed. Here Bones was, thinking that maybe Sargon and his people knew the value of a Human life, a Vulcan life, they proved him wrong. What in God’s- no, to hell with gods, what had Sargon said to Jim to convince him to kill Spock? There had to be a reason, all the torture in the world would never have made Jim give up that green blooded… was he, being controlled?

One look at Jim’s face told him otherwise.

There was nothing left to do, but make sure Henoch didn’t ruin anyone else’s life.

So much for his oath.

“And who are you? The proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat who saw the truth unknown.”

~Act Four: Sacrifice~

The Coldest Goodbye~by Mary Kate Wiles from Spies Are Forever (Original Cast Recording)

“Spock… my friend Spock… if only there’d been another way.”

It was bitter. Cold. Bones stood there frozen to the spot as though still paralyzed by Henoch, there was no comfort in him being destroyed. Part of Leonard wanted to go to Jim, but, what would be the point? Spock is dead. He made the poison that killed him, or at least, what was left of him. Why did death always make an easy solution? It was the past all over again. He was glad, in that case, that he wasn’t beside the Captain, he could tell without having to see, all the light had left the world. It was just like he felt when Sargon- Henoch, killed Jim’s body. And now…

“The warmest hello, to the coldest goodbye, remember, remember, spies never die… spies are forever”

Long Nights~by Eddie Vedder from Into The Wild (Movie Score)

“I could not allow the sacrifice of one so close to you.”

If the Lord giveth and then taketh away, then what did that make Sargon? Oh hell, what was he doing to Christine?! Hadn’t he made it clear to these people, these things, that there would be no trading of life?! It wasn’t as though he could stop it, it was only Thalayssa’s conscience that kept her from obliterating him on the spot. Bones hated being at the mercy of every other god-like being that turned up this side of the galaxy, nothing good ever came of it.

Then… he understood.

“I’ve got this light, I’ll be around to grow, who I was before I cannot recall.”

Bring On The Wonder~by Susan Enan from Plainsong (Album)

“Sargon.”

So many thoughts, words, feelings, carried by that name, Bones found himself unable to say anything else to this being, this god, that brought Spock back to hi- back to them, that would never have let Spock die in the first place. Maybe… maybe he was wrong. For the first time in a long time, Bones hoped he had just bad luck, perhaps there were more Sargons out there in the universe than Henochs, and they had only encountered more malevolent forces because the good had done what Sargon had to… he hoped that-

No.

He prayed that was true.

“Bring on the wonder, we got it all wrong, we pushed you down deep in our souls for too long.”

Dark Days~by Punch Brothers from Songs From District 12 & Beyond (Album)

“Oblivion together does not frighten me beloved.”

Something about that… phrase, hit somewhere deep in Leonard’s soul, resonating with him, he barely heard Chapel though he certainly agreed. He thought about how close he had come to losing the two men closest to him in all the galaxy, just how hard he fought to beat off the specter of death from them, again. And worse! This time he could’ve prevented it all if he had just trusted his instincts! He couldn’t even put into thoughts how much he cared, all he had was this… genuine, warm, decent feeling in his gut.

Maybe together, shouldn’t frighten him.

There… there was something Jim, and Spock, deserved to know.

Fear be damned.

“We don’t have to reap the fear they sow, friends, as long as we hide our love away in the good they’ll never know.”

[lady-charinette]

@bluelipbalm Had the amazing idea for a power imbalance in Nathalie and Gabriel's dynamic. Gabriel himself didn't have the power in that respect, but Nathalie with the knowledge of his identity. I changed the idea a bit, but this is how I thought Nathalie should've reacted in Chat Blanc.

The Shift

The rain slid in uneven rivulets down the smooth glass of the Agreste mansion, the biting chill seeping through the half opened window stealing the warmth from her body, just as the scene before her eyes stole the warmth from her heart.

In all her years of service to the Agreste family, Nathalie Sancouer had never found a moment where she doubted her loyalty to the family or her own beliefs.

But today, today she did.

She watched, silently, as Chat Noir and Marinette Dupain-Cheng held onto each-other at the foot of the stairs to the subway, both crying into each-others arms from the close call of nearly being akumatized.

Until he stepped in and saved her.

Until, before her very eyes, Adrien Agreste had transformed into Paris' superhero Chat Noir, and dived towards his girlfriend just in time to chataclysm the akuma sent her way.

The akuma sent by Hawkmoth.

The akuma sent by his father.

"Nathalie?" Gabriel's voice drifted from her phone but it fell on deaf ears.

In the mansion, in this home, if one could call it that, if it ever had been one, she could sense it.

Feel it emanate from the walls like an icy veil that settled over her skin every time she walked by the ominous portrait of Gabriel and Adrien in the hallway.

Taste it in the air when she opened Adrien's door to update him about his schedule and the smile dropped from his face.

She could see it every time Gabriel shut the door behind him, leaving his son to stand alone in the middle of the hallway, to return to his room for the day.

"Nathalie?!" the voice of her superior, her friend, her secret love finally reached through the fog her mind had seemed to plummet to.

Her fingers curled over the sleek metal of her phone as she brought it to her ear again, her voice as clear and professional as ever. "Yes, sir?"

"What is going on? Why haven't you been answering me?" the clear distress in the man's voice fed the growing ire manifesting in her chest and Nathalie gripped the phone just a bit tighter.

"Sir....your ..your son, Adrien...Adrien is..." the words tumbled from her lips, left in insecure strings held by a thin thread.

Just like her nerves.

"What is it about Adrien? Has Miss Dupain-Cheng followed my orders precisely as I said?"

Nathalie's lips twisted into a thin line, eyes drawn to the figures of Chat Noir, Adrien, carrying Marinette while jumping towards the window to his room.

Despite her straying gaze, it only took her a second to answer. "Yes, sir, all according to your plan."

"Excellent. Nathalie, I'll need you to transform, it seems something must've happened to my akuma since Miss Dupain-Cheng still isnt akumatized." Gabriel sounded irritated but hopeful all the same, pleased that all was going according to plan, except the akumatization of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"...Yes, sir." with that she ended the call and produced the brooch from her pocket.

Pining it into position on her blazer, Nathalie's gaze hardened when she cast one last look on the brief flicker of Chat Noir's tail before it disappeared from sight.

The woman adjusted her glasses, heels clicking harshly against the polished floors of the Agreste mansion as she typed in the code on the golden painting of Emilie.

Darkness swallowed Nathalie for a moment, the platform beneath her transporting her to the dimly lit room of Hawkmoth's lair, pure white butterflies waiting patiently to get akumatized fluttering about.

And the man dressed in dark purple standing in the middle of the swarm, framed by pale light shining through the window.

He turned at the sound of her heels walking slowly towards him, steel grey eyes narrowed. "You're late, Nathalie." he chided but the normal fear she would've felt at his rebuttal was absent now.

She bowed her head apologetically, face carefully composed and stoic. "I apologize sir, there's been a matter for the company that needed tending." the lie fell smoothly from her lips, but the corners of her eyes tightened.

Hawkmoth clenched his fist, gaze averted from her to stare at the opened window. "That can wait! I've finally found the perfect akuma who can make my goal a reality! If I can akumatize Marinette Dupain-Cheng, we will finally have the power to capture the miraculous once and for all!"

The unsettling grin spread wide over the man's lips and for the first time since she'd known him, a creeping feeling settled heavily into the pit of her stomach.

The hole her friend and superior had seemed to have lost himself into, the madness that overshadowed his original motivations and seemed to have completely eradicated any and all lingering affections he'd had for his son.

Nathalie's lips pulled into a frown and her hand grabbed the edges of her glasses. "You're right, sir, we do have the power." Hawkmoth turned at the sound of glasses hitting the ground, a pleased grin adorning his face.

"...But its not on your side." Hawkmoth's eyes flew open, confusion and dismay twisting his features when Nathalie transformed.

"What?" ice settled in his veins once Mayura stood before him, a cold, calculated expression on her face when her fingers plucked a feather from her fan. "What is the meaning of this Nathalie?!"

A smirk curled Mayura's painted lips and the feather flew out of her fingers once the amokization was complete.

"Fly away my precious amok...and grant me the power to use at my disposal." The feather flew towards the window, but soon turned away from it, flying back towards Mayura to morph into her fan.

"Nathalie!" Hawkmoth shot his arm out to stop the miraculous user, but a sudden powerful gust of wind blew him off his feet.

A magnificent creature levitated above Mayura's form, massive in size and intimidating in appearance. The sentimonster took the form of a peacock, its tail raised into a wide fan made up of the same eyes as displayed on the feathers, ominous magenta orbs that seemed to glare menacingly at Hawkmoth.

"You've forced my hand, Gabriel." all formalities dropped and the sentimonster above her released a shrill shriek as it ruffled its feathers. "I've hoped you would retire from being Hawkmoth, but it seems I was wrong. I will no longer allow you to bring harm to him!"

"To him?" Hawkmoth stood up, cane in hand and ready to fight but the sentimonster began advancing upon him as soon as he lifted his cane. "To whom Nathalie?! How can you betray me this way?!"

Mayura's expression twisted with rage and despair and the eyes on the peacock glowed a bright red. "You've betrayed Adrien's trust since Emilie fell ill! The only family that was left for him has abandoned him and I will no longer stand back and watch that happen."

"You know I'm doing all this for Emilie! I'm trying to bring her back with the wish so we can be a normal family! Adrien will understand, he will support me in bringing back his mother!" Hawkmoth clenched his fist, teeth bared in dismay at his closest ally's betrayal.

Mayura moved her fan to cover the deep frown of her mouth, but her glare still seemed to pierce straight through him. "You've long since stopped doing this for Adrien, even for Emilie. My miraculous may be broken, but yours is the one truly corrupted."

The sentimonster released another ear piercing roar before it flew through the window, shattering it into a thousand pieces to hover before it. "Now my beautiful amok, spread your feathers!"

"No!" Hawkmoth tackled Mayura to the ground, but the damage was already done.

The string of a yoyo and the metallic sound of a baton were heard echoing within the lair and when Hawkmoth shifted his attention from his former ally, his face twisted in despair.

"We've found you, Hawkmoth!"

Ladybug and Chat Noir stood before him, a fierce emotion burning in both of their eyes.

Rage.

[onbanksofadragonriver]

Varric x Merrill thoughts

This is a rarepair ship I’ve believed in ever since I saw this fabulous art a few years ago, and the fic “Perfume Shop” (in Russian) has been a major inspiration too. And then recently, @hollyand-writes got me to air my headcanons and to actually get down to writing for this ship, so here we are.

I’ll go by points, but it’s not my goal to somehow attempt to prove that this ship is or should be canon. They’re my headcanons: Don’t like, don’t ship. Also, I haven’t played DA2 in a few years, and have never played any of the DLCs, so feel free to take this with a grain of salt. All dialogue with no specifically indicated source is from the wiki.

Buckle in, this is long!

@geekalogian​, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold​ ♥

>> Amazing banter

All the companions get frustrated by Merrill’s silly questions, though I believe half of them are actually only asked as a joke. They try to explain it or avoid the question, or sigh about Merrill’s naivete. Fenris is downright hostile to her, and Anders tends to get preachy. Aveline treats her like a child sometimes. Isabela is protective and friendly, but sometimes she sounds a bit condescending and impatient with Merrill’s innocence. 

But Varric, he gets her. He gets her silly jokes and just rolls with it, and their dialogues are a pleasure to listen to. It’s with Varric that her somewhat straight-faced, silly humour really shines, because he’s the only one to play along: about frolicking in the woods, and his resemblance to Hahren Paivel, and Bianca having a pretty name, or how his family is like fleas, or Darktown rats following the mage/templar mess, etc. He never brings up her naivete or makes her feel inadequate or as if she’s missed some context. And they’re both so relaxed around each other it’s like Varric has unlocked a whole new dimension to Merrill.

>> Protecting her freedom. The ball of twine and taking care of the gangs. 

I’ve seen meta on how Varric paying off the thugs is him infantilizing Merrill, but he does this for Anders too. It’s his way of caring about people. And also, if you see Merrill’s reaction in case Hawke doesn’t let her have the arulin’holm, you’ll see that she’s perfectly capable of realising when people are coddling her, and letting them know — in no uncertain terms — when that kind of meddling is unwelcome. (see also: Varric and his product deliveries below)

I also like to think that half of the reason “nothing ever happens” when she wanders around at night is because Merrill is a badass mage perfectly capable of taking care of herself. One of her default starting spells is rock armour, and when Hawke meets her, she admits to having fought before, and having done so alone. She’s certainly capable or recognising the stupidity and danger Sister Petrice is walking in as she wanders around Lowtown, and that’s in broad daylight. 

Also, I’m thinking Varric must have put that protection in place after news of some incidents reached his ears, because it’s not something he does by default to other party members who’re new to Kirkwall. So perhaps it is, or was necessary at some point. On the other hand, perhaps Merrill is totally taking care of herself, and the thugs are not even trying to attack her, they’re just enjoying ripping off Varric :P

I like to think that the Viscount’s gardens were an honest mistake and Merrill did cut down on wandering there after Varric’s comment.

The ball of twine is interesting. Her closest friends in the gang seem to be Hawke, Isabela and Varric, but only Varric actually gives her a tool enabling her to find her way around the confusing human city. I don’t know what others did. Did they expect Merrill to just stay in the Alienage if there was nobody to accompany her around the city? Or did they expect her to find her own way through trial and error? Varric gives her a weird, but apparently functional tool for navigating the city until she learns her own way.

And the common motif between ensuring safe streets, an access to gardens and the ball of twine, is how Varric is safeguarding Merrill’s freedom. She’s Dalish, used to living under open sky, travelling from place to place. She’s used to green, growing things and wandering about as she pleases. And she’s used to doing magic freely and in ways that she herself believes appropriate. Now she’s stuck in a barely hospitable alienage of a city with a strong templar and slaver presence, and Varric doesn’t have the heart to scold her and limit her freedom even more. 

Considering Varric is part of the ascendant group in Merchant Guild, who believe in leaving behind Orzammar’s strict caste system and traditions and embracing surface life instead, looks like Merrill’s freedom speaks to something deep in Varric’s own beliefs and values, nonchalant as he seems.

>> Trying to take care of her. Delivering produce.

This gives me feels. First, Varric noticed that something was off. Maybe he missed her showing up at the Hanged Man, maybe he went to visit her. Either way, he noticed that she wasn’t going out, not even to the market. It’s funny to imagine Varric standing in the market scratching his head about what actually goes into food preparation, but more probably he initially just threw some money at the problem, sending someone shopping for her. And then he checked up and saw she’s still not going out. And then he tries to talk her into going for a walk, to get fresh air.

And again this is something I’ve read as coddling and infantilizing, but — when Merrill is clearly not in a mood for teasing, she rebukes him politely: “I’m not a plant, Varric.” She’s not harsh as in case with Hawke and arulin’holm. When Varric leaves, she admits: “Varric is... very sweet. Frequently infuriating and a terrible busybody, but sweet.”

Which at first read as... Merrill not reciprocating Varric’s feelings for her? But on a second thought: what if Merrill is the oblivious one? Not only to Varric’s caring but about her own feelings for him? What if she never considered Varric romantically because she always thought she’d end up with a Dalish partner, and then she becomes friends with Hawke and starts opening up to the idea that what if she takes a human lover? And falling in love with a dwarf has not even crossed her mind yet? (Look lower, queen.)

Because when Merrill cares, she helps people: waters their plants or repairs ancient artifacts. Part of her potentially falling in love with Hawke is due to how they help her, how they have her back. Varric and Merrill have the same love language. I choose to think of it as a mystery, why Merrill is not canonically head over heels for Varric. Maybe she’s so used to his confident, handsome self boasting about all the female attention he gets that she thinks she’s out of his league and has friendzoned herself :P

Additionally, I believe “sweet” and “infuriating” is something that the gang could equally attribute to Merrill herself. Pot calling kettle black? :D

>> Opinions on magic

Varric largely doesn’t have an opinion on Merrill being a mage, a blood mage, or whatever. He’s not afraid, because he has other, more pressing concerns, like Merchant’s Guild breathing down his neck and sending assassins, and when he does mention Merrill’s blood magic being “evil” it sounds like a rehearsed thing that might cause him headache due to other people getting their knickers in a twist over it.

He does acknowledge he’s distrustful of letting “dangerous people run amok” if Hawke sides with the mages in the end of DA2, but apparently he trusts Merrill enough that she knows what she’s doing and leaves it at that. He’s just sick of the whole mage/templar drama.

>> Mutual interest in what they do. 

Merrill is interested in what he does for a living, while he tries to keep her out of trouble that would come from her knowing too much. And Varric is pondering why Eluvian is a mirror, and not some other piece of furniture. Not judging each other, just — curious. Showing they are in each other’s thoughts. And I won’t go into details here, because @hollyand-writes​ has, like, ALL the receipts where Varric thinks about Merrill in DAI, but he does — a lot :) He knows her interest in history and lore, knows that news of ancient elves keeping slaves would upset her, knows she would have liked to see the Dales. He seems to be missing her a lot...

>> Priority. 

LOOK at the sequence he mentions his friends in, Merrill is No.1, while Hawke is almost an afterthought :D

Merrill: How do you do it, living in the city without picking a side? Doesn't it matter to you? Varric: Of course it does. That's why I don't take sides. Merrill: That doesn't make any sense. Varric: I've got you and Aveline, Fenris and Anders. Hawke. Isabela. I've got friends in the Circle and drinking buddies in the templars. All of them matter.

And who’s the first person that comes to Merrill’s mind when Hawke calls her pretty? Varric! :D [X]

>> Comfort in storytelling. 

Yeah, Merrill says somewhere later that she wouldn’t have made a good Keeper because she’s not good with people, but she did receive all the requisite education. She studied lore and elven legends and history, as much as is left of it anyway, and I believe that storytelling, thriving on stories, is something that she and Varric both have in common. 

Maybe she’s too shy to tell her own stories, but she’s definitely enjoying Varric’s and looking for consolation in his stories when things get rough.

Merrill: Varric, how does the story end? Varric: Which story, Daisy? Merrill: The big one. With us and Hawke, the mages and templars. Everything. Varric: You want to know before it happens? You're not worried about spoiling the surprise? Merrill: I might not see it end. Varric: You have to stick with us if you want to find out how it turns out, Daisy.

Merrill: Tell me a story, Varric. Varric: Right now? I don't think we have time, Daisy. Merrill: Maybe a very short story, then? Please? Varric: Fine. "When the cards turned, he lost." Merrill: Oh. Did it have to be so sad?

Merrill: (passing the Hanged Man):  "Do you think there's time for Varric to tell us a story while we're here?"

Merrill: I hope we win. Varric will make it a good story, I'm sure.

>> Conclusions & Future

The thing that gets me the most is how good and kind they are to each other. It’s in their teasing, their jokes, the way Varric takes care of Merrill. I love Merrill’s confidence in Varric’s storytelling talent, and I like to think Varric finds Merrill’s confident tinkering with the mirror at least a little bit hot, even if he doesn’t understand magic (Bianca is/was a brilliant engineer, and I think Varric has a bit of a competence kink :D)

I also enjoy thinking of them both as slightly out of touch with emotions: Varric ignoring his own, and Merrill oblivious to his. I like to think of what happens when Merrill realises Varric loves her: because she’s open and honest in her affections, and it would be awesome to see Varric taken by that storm. To see him openly fall for someone so different, at a first glance, but also familiar: a knowledgeable storyteller, confident in her abilities, believing in free will and freedom. 

I see them moving on together: Merrill learning to let go of the disappointment that is the unfinished eluvian, and Varric learning to let go of his lingering feelings for Bianca. Yes, the past is important for Merrill, while Varric wants to live in the moment, but the point of knowing the past, for Merrill, is to be able to move forward, and Varric certainly knows his family’s past, so I don’t see any disagreements there. If anything, Varric’s resources and connections can help Merrill get her hands on more artefacts and ancient tomes, letting her continue on her path in some other way.

It’s interesting to imagine their life together. After DAI, Varric pours his own funds into various infrastructure projects until he ends up the Viscount of Kirkwall, and Merrill is in Kirkwall too, helping the city elves. Somehow, it feels logical that at least some of those projects would be new elf housing and improvements to the alienage. 

Would they get married? Probably, because I think it would be important to Merrill, and also probably because it might be a better way to protect her, a rumoured/known blood mage, from the Chantry than if she was just the Viscount’s mistress. On the other hand, knowing Varric and his cousin Elmand, and his spy network, and his tendency to successfully evade the Merchant Guild messengers [X], it’s equally possible he’d whip up a completely fake story about how his beloved Merrill is a hatter, and leave it at that. Probably he couldn’t even be found in the Keep, instead preferring to hide out in the Hanged Man or in his wife’s house in the alienage :D

Because, in the end, I think they both enjoy doing their respective Things very much, whether it’s helping elves or writing books, and they let each other do it selflessly, even if maybe it means they can’t live together. (Because can you imagine a Viscomtesse Merrill having to host a ball? Dealing with Hightown nobles? No, I don’t think Varric would ever ask such a sacrifice of her.) But they live close, and help and support each other, and, in short, I think they’d be awesome :)

[wishingforatypewriter]

Chasing the Muse (Part 2)

Summary: In which a young Kuvira just wants peace and quiet, but Baby Beifongs (lil Wing and Wei) are having none of it. (Part one is here)

Kuvira sat cross-legged on a couch in the Beifongs’ library, reading a tome on the military strategies of the Fire Nation throughout the Hundred Year War. History had always been her best subject, especially where important battles were concerned. The tutors said she possessed a rare mind for the humanities in a land as tech-focused as Zaofu, though Kuvira mostly thought this was a roundabout way of saying she was bad at math. But today all the characters were blurring together on the page, swirling about like a sandbender’s cyclone.

She shook her head, trying to focus, but the act only made the throbbing around her temples acutely worse. She let her eyes draw closed and tried to ground herself in the familiar vibrations of Suyin’s estate. The twins were running amok downstairs, driving Master Chan’s blood pressure up as he tried to lecture them on the fundamentals of earthbending. Opal was on a playdate with the Park sisters, drinking kale shakes and dressing their expensive dolls from the United Republic. Huan was Huan-ing as usual, bending scrap metal into contorted shapes up in his darkened room. 

And then there was Baatar, newly escaped from his father’s workshop, and on his way to bother her, no doubt. She traced the vibrations of his steps all through the house—always in an inelegant rush—until he stopped in front of her. 

“Kuvira?” he asked quietly, and she could clearly visualize the concerned expression on his face. 

“Hmm?” Kuvira still hadn’t found the will to open her eyes, but she sensed him take a step closer before he rested a tentative hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you alright?”

She did open her eyes then, wincing slightly against the light. Did Baatar Sr. really have to “revolutionize” all the lighting at the estate and make it so damn bright everywhere? “I’m fine,” she said, and then coughed a bit. 

“It doesn’t take Aiwei to see that isn’t true,” he said, looking her over warily. “I told you not to stay out all night.” 

Kuvira rolled her eyes. To his credit, he had told her, and judging by how much like death she felt, he had probably been right. But there was no way she’d ever admit it. “It was worth it.” 

Channeling her focus, she bent the metal collar on his tunic, removing it from the fabric and calling it towards her. She turned the plates of it to liquid in her grasp and sent it around his head in a graceful arc before reforming the accessory. 

“Incredible,” he said, tracing his fingers over the plates, an awestruck expression on his face. 

“I try,” she replied and then launched into a coughing fit, her throat and chest burning in the aftermath.

“You really should rest if you’re not feeling well,” Baatar told her. “I could ask the kitchen staff to send some tea up to your room.” 

She wasn’t left with enough time to catch her breath and form a rebuttal before the twin terrors descended upon them. 

“Kuvira!” Wing shouted at the top of his lungs, kicking the doors of the library open. 

“Kuvira!” Wei added on for emphasis.

“KUVIRA!”

“AAAAAAA!

“AAAAAAA!”

“AAAAAAA!”

“Yes, Baby Beifongs?” she asked, thinking it best to interrupt them before her ears started bleeding. The six-year-olds would never need to master metalbending with such a deadly skill in their arsenal. 

“Can you teach us how to metalbend with the cables?” Wing asked, pinning her under a wide-eyed stare, which his twin matched in an instant. 

“Master Chan said we’re too young, but what does he know?” Wei added. 

“Yeah, you’re already better than him, and you’re not even as old as Junior.”

“So will you show us?”

“Please?”

“Please?”

“PLEASE?”

“PLEASE?”

Kuvira exhaled deeply, bringing her fingertips to her forehead. Generally, she adored Baby Beifongs. They never grated on her nerves the way Opal sometimes did. But why today?

“Quiet down and stop bothering her,” Baatar said, trying to summon the authority that being the oldest brother was supposed to give him in theory. It never quite worked for him, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless. “Master Chan will teach you when you’re ready.”  

“But we don’t even bother her as much as Opal!” Wei argued. 

“Yeah, or Huan!” 

“Or you! How come you only hang around the training field when Kuvira’s there, huh?” Wei asked. 

“Opal says ‘cuz you like her. Do you like her?” Wing inquired.

“He must like her. It’s not like she can teach him earthbending,” Wei decided. 

Kuvira giggled a bit behind her hands, knowing that Baatar likely had half a mind to strangle them. “He doesn’t like me,” she said firmly, deciding to save him. “We’re just the closest together in age. It’s the same way you guys hang out with Opal and her friends more than you do with us and Huan.”

“Oh,” the twins said simultaneously. 

“That’s what we get for listening to Opal,” Wing said. 

“Anyway, will you show us?” Wei asked. 

“Yeah, will you show us?”

Kuvira sighed. Anything to make them shut up for a minute. “Alright, fine. Training field in ten,” she said. “And I better not hear any crying, no matter how difficult it gets. Am I understood, Baby Beifongs?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” they said in unison, and saluted her playfully before running off. 

Once they were gone, Baatar gave her a long look. “You know, you don’t have to entertain them.” 

“It’s fine.” Kuvira got up from the couch, grounding herself in the floorboards to stop the room from spinning. “They’ll lose interest if they don’t get it in the first fifteen minutes.”

Baatar sighed. “You really don’t look well. Should you—”

“You know, if you didn’t fuss like this all the time, they wouldn’t think you liked me.” To her amusement, that shut him up real fast. “Seriously, though, don’t worry. This won’t take long.” 

[hellpark]

DAMIEN: Start over from the beginning.

TOKEN: Well...

TOKEN: It all started yesterday night... we all played with a ouija board... at Craig’s house.

TOKEN: And then we left when things started getting weird, but we didn’t really think much of it...

TOKEN: We were high.

DAMIEN: That’s really stupid.

TOKEN: Yeah. I know.

TOKEN: Everything seemed fine after we left.

TOKEN: And even this morning, I called Craig to make sure he was alright.

TOKEN: He said he was, but he had a weird dream... about a demon.

DAMIEN: So he passed out after you guys left.

TOKEN: I think that’s what he said, yeah.

TOKEN: And he seemed okay, up until that... new kid joined our class.

DAMIEN: New kid?

DAMIEN: Let me guess.

DAMIEN: He turned out to be

TOKEN: A demon, yeah.

TOKEN: ...Yeah...

TOKEN: But we didn’t know that at the time.

TOKEN: Craig said that he looked familiar, but we thought it was dumb.

TOKEN: And Craig even asked him, like “Are you a demon?”

TOKEN: And the power went out.

TOKEN: And we still didn’t believe him.

DAMIEN: I knew something seemed off when the power went out.

TOKEN: Yeah...

TOKEN: We decided to go out and figure out what was going on.

TOKEN: Craig, Clyde, Jimmy, the new kid and I all went out of the cafeteria.

TOKEN: And in the dark... at the end of the hall, was this guy.

TOKEN: At first, I couldn’t tell who he was.

TOKEN: But when my eyes adjusted, it was...

TOKEN: It was that one kid who died, like... a while back.

TOKEN: A long, long time ago. When we were kids.

DAMIEN: There’s a million kids who die all the time.

DAMIEN: Be specific.

TOKEN: Pip, that british kid.

DAMIEN: ...Uhhhh huh...

DAMIEN: Okay... hmm.

DAMIEN: What next.

TOKEN: ...W-well...

TOKEN: He was saying a lot of stuff, and I was too freaked out in the moment to really process a lot of it.

TOKEN: So we all booked it, including the new kid.

TOKEN: And I thought we all made it out.

TOKEN: I didn’t even think about Jimmy.

TOKEN: I feel so, so bad about forgetting about him.

TOKEN: I just didn’t look back, and then I was too panicked to think straight, and--

DAMIEN: Chill.

TOKEN: [huff]

TOKEN: We ran for a bit.

TOKEN: We only stopped once Clyde couldn’t breath anymore.

TOKEN: And Craig was acting really weird...

TOKEN: Like his mind was super occupied, and he was kind of antsy, which is definitely not like him, at all.

TOKEN: He was kinda muttering to himself, and telling us to shut up, even when we weren’t talking.

DAMIEN: He’s probably got a case of the hell chatters.

TOKEN: Hell chatters.

DAMIEN: Yeah.

TOKEN: You gonna... explain that... or...

DAMIEN: No.

TOKEN: ...

TOKEN: Okay... uh.

TOKEN: Well... he decided, eventually, that all of us were going to Stark’s Pond.

TOKEN: And thinking about it now, it almost feels like he was controlled by someone when he said that.

TOKEN: I have no idea why he wanted to go to Stark’s Pond.

TOKEN: But we didn’t really think much of it and we went with him.

DAMIEN: Not thinking seems to be a trope here with you guys.

TOKEN: Look, it’s all been... super stressful.

DAMIEN: Sure, bud.

TOKEN: So we get there. And we start asking the new kid a couple of questions, because now after everything that happened, we were a little suspicious.

TOKEN: And then Craig starts freaking the hell out.

TOKEN: We try to figure out what’s going on, and he doesn’t make any sense at all.

TOKEN: Then this...

TOKEN: Then someone else showed up.

TOKEN: And then we realised that the new kid was a demon, too.

TOKEN: And so was the guy who showed up.

DAMIEN: Stop omitting details.

DAMIEN: Give me their names.

TOKEN: ...

TOKEN: Well the guy who showed up... it was Gregory.

TOKEN: That really snooty guy, from a while back, too.

DAMIEN: Oh, that sad sack of...

DAMIEN: What reason does he have to be here right now?

TOKEN: Dude, I don’t know!

DAMIEN: Well no wonder you say there’s so many others running around right now.

DAMIEN: Your friend let that guy in.

TOKEN: What does that mean?

DAMIEN: Look man, I have somewhere to be in half an hour, I don’t have time to explain all the dumb intricacies of your issues.

DAMIEN: Just keep going.

TOKEN: Well-- I-- Ugh.

TOKEN: Okay, the new kid’s name was Tweek.

DAMIEN: Ew, of course.

TOKEN: Um... But Gregory, when he showed up...

TOKEN: He did this whole... song and dance number.

TOKEN: With Pip, and Tweek, and eventually, another kid.

TOKEN: I used to see him around school a couple years back, but I never really knew him...

TOKEN: I think his name was Thomas.

TOKEN: ...He seemed like he didn’t want to hurt anybody.

TOKEN: I don’t know.

TOKEN: He’s a demon now, too?

DAMIEN: None of these guys your dealing with are actually demons, you know that right?

DAMIEN: Like, the closest you have to a demon is Pip, the rat bastard.

TOKEN: Wh...

TOKEN: Okay.

TOKEN: They’re all still from hell.

TOKEN: Anyway, they finish that song, and Pip throws... Jimmy’s...

TOKEN: Corpse...

TOKEN: Just. Right out there.

TOKEN: On t-the ground... For all of us to see--

TOKEN: [gag]

DAMIEN: Take it easy, cow boy.

DAMIEN: Let’s wrangle you up a slushie to cool your stomach.

TOKEN: Uh--

TOKEN: Um.

TOKEN: We didn’t know what to do. So we ran again.

TOKEN: And this time, Craig got left behind.

TOKEN: I don’t think anybody else followed us.

TOKEN: I can’t tell.

DAMIEN: Not this far, no.

TOKEN: I don’t know if Craig is still alive or not.

TOKEN: I’m...

TOKEN: I feel awful for leaving him behind.

TOKEN: But...

DAMIEN: Simple flight or fight response.

TOKEN: Yeah, well..

TOKEN: That “simple” response probably got two of my friends killed.

TOKEN: I just don’t know what to do...

TOKEN: What if the police find out?

TOKEN: What if the cops come to question us?

TOKEN: What are we supposed to say?

TOKEN: Demons came and got us?

TOKEN: Oh god, what if they go and kill more people?

DAMIEN: That’s not likely.

TOKEN: Why do you say that?

DAMIEN: Demons, and all subsidiaries, only punish the deserving.

DAMIEN: They don’t generally just... go around killing for no reason.

TOKEN: But... Jimmy...

DAMIEN: Maybe Jimmy was an asshole.

DAMIEN: Maybe Jimmy had it coming.

DAMIEN: You don’t know.

TOKEN: I-- I think I do.

TOKEN: He was one of my best friends.

TOKEN: And he had his face eaten off.

DAMIEN: Look.

DAMIEN: I think unrepentant sinners are more likely than a bunch of rogue demons running amok for no reason. 

TOKEN: But--

DAMIEN: Okay, let’s say they are killing for no reason.

DAMIEN: Let’s say they’re killing and rampaging and possessing anybody they see.

DAMIEN: In the end, it’s all your guy’s faults.

DAMIEN: You let a bad one out.

DAMIEN: If you didn’t want anything bad to happen, maybe you shouldn’t have used a ouija board.

DAMIEN: You went against every warning there was, got high, and played with a toy that lets you talk to any hellspawn that happens across it.

TOKEN: But...

TOKEN: Is there any way we’d be able to... undo something like this?

DAMIEN: I mean sure, if you had a favor or two. But good luck with that.

TOKEN: A favor with who?

DAMIEN: The Ruler of Hell, stupid.

DAMIEN: The guy who runs all of those little shits.

TOKEN: Well...

TOKEN: You-- you said you were the son of Satan, right?

TOKEN: Is there any way I’d be able to get a favor from...

DAMIEN: Yeah, okay, good luck trying to get a favor with the guy who literally runs the underworld.

DAMIEN: I bet you don’t even know how to find him.

TOKEN: N--

DAMIEN: Look, like I said, I gotta be somewhere.

DAMIEN: Enjoy the rest of your drink.

DAMIEN: If you really need me, call me when I’m not working.

TOKEN: ...

[kewltie]

contains: predator/prey dynamic, animal characteristic, uh cannibalism (??), unhealthy relationship dynamic 

The day after an UA’s staff had discovered the mangled and half eaten carcass of one of their students, a weasel third year, the campus was in a shutdown for an entire week as they tried to uncover which one of the carni had broken the Accords and became a headhunter.

Every single herb students was warned once, twice, and too many times to never walk the dark street alone after sunset because while the age of active predation had gone in Para-Dice, behind the stone walls of the Savagelands, they still participate in the Hunt.

No herbivore is safe.

Even in one of the most prestigious colleges in the city, where every vores live seemingly in harmony. There’s always an undercurrent of danger between the two very distinct classes because all it take is a swipe of carni’s claw sinking into someone’s flesh and they’re done. The ravenous hunger will take them, turning a friendly lion who one had shared classes and jokes with previously into a famished beast set out to consume your very flesh.

Their society is built on this precarious balancing act. Danger lives in the heart their closest friend.

"Izuku, are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Ochako asks for the fifth time already, her white wings contracting anxiously behind her.

Izuku waves her off. "I'm fine," he insists, "my dorm isn't that far from here and if you take me home, who will take you back anyway?"

"I'll get Tenya to walk with us!" Ochako persists. She’s a crane; large wings, a noble and beautiful feature, but they’re mainly omnivore and a gentle soul.

He shakes his head, his long ears swinging with it. "He just fell asleep from cramming for his ochem exam, I really don't want to bother him," he argues. "It's okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Ochako bites down on her lower lip. "I just want you to be careful because," she leans in and lowers her voice as though telling a secret, "of the headhunter. It's dangerous right now since they haven't found the vore yet. It'll break my heart if you become another statistic."

"I don't know why anyone would want to eat me, when I don't even taste that good.” Izuku frowns, brows furrowing as he pinches the skin on his arm. "If they were to eat me, they'll just spit me out or maybe they just like the taste of horrible rabbit meat."

Reeling back, Ochako cries out, "Izuku!"

He cracks a smile. "Sorry, sorry!" He laughs, tugging one of his ears down. "I don't mean to joke about it, but you know how I'd lived in the Savagelands before coming here? Well, I'm used to this kind of imminent danger."

Ochako frowns, wings still flapping wildly with every slight movement. "Okay," she says, letting out a long tired sigh, "if you're that sure then." Like, she still isn't used to Izuku's reckless nature that had created such a stir even among their more colorful student populations. Because despite Izuku's herb status and the skittish nature of rabbits overall, Izuku acts like one of the apex predators on their campus—in the likes of wolves and lions, where he moves easily and freely among them as though he was always a part of their class.

He’s bunny herbivore, bred and raised in the curtains of the Savageland, where fear was his constant companion and threat of being eaten had hung over his head every waking second. To live was privilege given only to the strong, powerful, and the ones who hungered. Compare to that, this is easy.

Izuku gives her a thumb up and he quickly grabs his bags and books, making a dash out of her dorm room before she can change her mind. He climbs down the stairs to the first floor and heads toward the exit of Green Leaf Dormitory, one of the only herbivore dorms on campus. Outside the sky is completely blackened with only the full moon and the streetlights to guide him back to his dorm. It's only 9PM on a Thursday but the campus is eerily quiet. The looming danger of a headhunter still running amok keeps most vores locked in their dorm, but Izuku marches on.

On a full moon like this, they say it's when all the wild ones come out. The ominous sounds and shadows that dogged Izuku's steps could be anything from a fallen trashcan, a rustling of the leaves or something else, something dangerous, but Izuku isn't faze by any of it. Strolling his way across a darkened path that isn't as well lit as the more main routes but it cuts his time in half, Izuku hums a familiar song he'd heard in Ochako's dorm room earlier.

It's a love song, light and upbeat in contrasts to the grim setting that surrounds him. Oh, darling we love, love, so tonight we feast like beasts—

Large hands suddenly appear from the shadow to grabs him from behind, causing him to drop his books to the ground. A palm is pressed over his mouth to suppress his scream as the other hand rips his backpack away from him, before latching onto his waist in a forceful grip.

Left defenseless and no direct line of sight to his attacker, Izuku's heart races just for a second before a large sturdy body enveloped his back, head poking over Izuku's shoulder as his breath ghosts Izuku's cheek. He shivers against the familiar warmth and breathes, "K-Kacchan!"

Katsuki spins him around so that they're facing each other properly, his hands never leaving Izuku's waist as green eyes collides with red. "Deku," he says, and it's an entire world in a single word. "You goddamn idiot." His chest rumbles in a low threatening growl.

With the tip of his right ear folding over unhappily at the scolding, Izuku pouts. "I was fine," he insists.

Katsuki glares at him. "There's a wild headhunter on the loose and you're wandering around after dusk like a dumbass with a sign 'eat me' over his fucking head." He grabs one of Izuku's furry ears and tugs it down purposefully. "They said rabbit meat is delicious, you wanna test that out personally?"

Izuku frowns. "You would know that wouldn't you?" he says impishly, meeting Katsuki’s glare with his own. "Taste any bunny boy lately?"

Katsuki's teeth bares, fangs protrudes pass his lips in a snarl that both sends Izuku's heart racing and ears twitching in excitement. He tightens his hold around Izuku's waist but the way his claws dig in, piercing Izuku's shirt but careful enough not to draw blood says enough.

Izuku throws his arm over Katsuki's shoulder, wrapping them around his neck as he pull him down and butts their head against each other. A purr stirs from him as he tries to smooth over Katsuki's aggressive stance. "Sorry, that was mean of me," he offers quietly in chagrin. "You're not like that." He pauses, and shakes his head meaningfully. "Not like them at all. I know you've been abstaining from eating red meat for my sake and—" he looks up, green eyes meet piercing red ones, "even if that wasn't the case, I'm not afraid of you, Kacchan."

"Stupid fool," Katsuki scolds, a familiar refrain that Izuku had heard a thousand times before since the day Izuku was brought into the Forest to be part of the Hunt, where elite carni in the Savageland can get their bloodlust and hunger met like the true beasts of burden that they are.

The Hunt has been long banned and consider barbaric practice within the walls of Para-Dice, but in the Savagelands the tradition not only lived on but thrive in the bosom of the elite carnivores who bred and raised helpless bunnies like him so he can be feast upon later in a game to meet their bloodlust; a lamb reared to be slaughter.

Katsuki was —is— apart of it and he was furiously hunted Izuku’s kind down and was about to rip his flesh apart that day in the Forest, but Izuku had went to him on trembled knees and begged to be eaten first so others can live. Katsuki had rightfully called him a stupid fool and kept him instead.

Izuku still doesn't know what had made Katsuki stop, taking him by the arm instead of a taking a bite out of him. Katsuki had thought him foolish and mad to offer himself up as food, while Izuku thought Katsuki was foolish and mad to not eat the food left out for him, but Katsuki swore to the next red meat he’ll eat it’ll be Izuku’s and Izuku’s only.

Quite frankly, they're both a little foolish and mad, choosing each other despite the hunger and fear that permeate their entire relationship. "Ah, but you adore me," Izuku says confidently, spoken like someone who had escaped the jaw of death many times over and reveled in it. He had been cheating death long enough now.

Katsuki growls, his chest rumbling in annoyance as he opens that dangerous jaw of his to reveal sharp canine teeth that had cut the flesh of many herb like him down in the past. Dangerous teeth from a dangerous beast, and Izuku's goes breathless as it descends upon him.

Katsuki presses those menacing jaw against his cheek, grazing his flesh like pinprick nail beds then he bites down — razor, soft nibble that make Izuku's cheek stings and his body arches up in response, hands clawing at the back of Katsuki's neck to push for more. Always pushing, wanting, and teasing.

Izuku’s the dangerous one. He had brought to heel this wild beast and made Katsuki his as much as he is Katsuki’s.

With eyes dilating with a throbbing desire and breath heavy, Katsuki draws back a bit reluctantly even if his face retains it frowny feature as though Izuku is his trials to bear. "I'll take you back to your dorm," he grunts out, carefully putting Izuku back in place.

Now, it's Izuku turn to frown, because really. "I'm fine," he says. “It’s not even that far off anymore.”

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snaps, then pauses, before correcting himself, "Don't be even more stupid. Some dumbass is out there hunting dumber asses like you, so I'm not taking any fucking chances. You’re not going to become rabbit meat for someone else."

"I wouldn't let a rogue headhunter have me," Izuku argues, because if he's going to be eaten it would be Katsuki who do it. His body, his heart, and everything he could offer, he wants Katsuki to be the only one to have him like that so even if he die, he'll forever be bound to him. Tied together as one. Carni and herb’s mating aren’t frowned upon but they aren’t encouraged either, because it often results in either death or someone getting eaten. Or both.

Instinct is hard to fight off even with fabricated white meat to tame the carnivore’s aptitude, but for high aspect apex predator like Katsuki food and love is often the exact same thing. Sometimes, when Katsuki look at him Izuku can see hunger and want wars within him, and he doesn’t know if he wants to eat or fuck Izuku.

It’s all very confusing and, quite frankly, delightful at times. The fact that Izuku has lived this long while Katsuki hadn’t managed to sink his fangs completely into him said enough about Katsuki’s feelings and self-control for Izuku. He got this wild untamed wolf leashed and properly collar, but sometimes Izuku like to toe the line and see where Katsuki’s draw his boundary, just to get a taste of what it’s like to this close to death and come out alive every time.

Katsuki's eyes narrow, like he knows exactly what horrible thoughts are brewing in his head because Izuku had confessed all his twisted up desire under the cloak of darkness of their bed — eat him, rip him apart, and oh, how he wants to those teeth to sink into him one day. Death is inevitable for all vores, but to choose how one could die is a special privilege. And Izuku had already chosen.

Katsuki’s flashes those exact impeccably white teeth at him. "No, you wouldn't," he agrees gruffly, pulling Izuku along. Because he, too, wants him in that same twisted way, but not yet. Not now. They still have an entire lifetime ahead of them. There's plenty of chance for that in their future.

It's not that Izuku is fearless in the face of predation of his own kind and the hunger that keep vores like Katsuki chained to their most primal instinct. It's because Katsuki had promised him when the time is right, Izuku would be the only to offer up his heart to him and he’ll devour it like the rest of Izuku’s body.

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 16

A/N All right guys, there’s only one more chapter after this! But don’t worry your beautiful heads off, I’ll be doing some one shots to continue the story. Let me know what you want to see. I would love to get your ideas for the future of this beautiful couple!

Kate sat in the nursery with Gally curled up next to her and Dodger sitting with his head on her leg.  She looked around the room and admired hers and Chris’ handiwork.  They had gone with a Winnie the Pooh theme, using the original drawings of the characters since the colors were softer.  Chris had bought a beautiful and very plush, white and gray glider with a gliding foot rest for the nursery and it was Kate’s favorite place in the penthouse now.  She would spend hours rocking in the chair and dreaming up what her child’s life would be.

The glider was the only piece of furniture in the room beyond a bookshelf that was already starting to collect books.  The travel system from Ellen was sitting in one corner of the room with a large box full of the rest of the amazing gifts from her.  The rest of the furniture hadn’t been bought yet.  She and Chris were ordered not to buy anything beyond the glider.

Kate was now four weeks away from her due date and was beyond ready for it to be over with.  The world tour she’d joined Chris for had taken a lot out of her.  While she had had a ton of fun, her body just hadn’t been up to the task of that much fun and growing a small human at the same time. She had taken another week off and then gone back to work.  Unfortunately, the doctor was worried about her blood pressure and her showing some early warning signs of preeclampsia, so he had asked her to stop working as much as she had been.

Danielle had been amazing about everything.  She had two kids of her own and understood what Kate needed better than Kate herself did.  She had promised that Kate’s job was secure when she was ready to come back full time. Until then, she would only work part time if she felt up to it.

Chris walked into the nursery and chuckled. “You know, you can’t hide forever.”

“Who says I can’t try?” Kate retorted.

He just held his hands out to help her stand up. “Everyone is downstairs waiting.”

She took his hands and let him lift her to her feet. “I hate baby showers. And bridal showers for future reference.”

“Noted.  Not like I can do anything about it.  You’ve met my mother.  And my sisters and my brother.  You’re welcome to fight that.”

“Chicken shit.”  

“But hey, the cake is really pretty.”

“You weren’t supposed to go downstairs.”

“I needed something to drink.  They kicked me out pretty quickly.”

Lisa, Carly, Shanna, Scott, and Helena had all decided that they were going to decorate and Kate and Chris weren’t allowed to see any of it.  They didn’t even know who was on the guestlist. The whole thing had been kept hush-hush from the parents-to-be.

“I can’t wait to get our place to ourselves again.”

“It is feeling a bit crowded this week.  Careful!” Since the doctor had mentioned the preeclampsia (and Chris had done research on it), he had been hyperactively protective of her.  He freaked out if she tried to walk up and down stairs by herself.  She just rolled her eyes at him.

“Happy baby shower!” Everyone yelled and Chris and Kate came down the stairs.

There were so many people there!  Helena, Bill and Jan, and Lisa, Carly, Shanna, and Scott were obviously there; Chris’ dad, Bob and his wife; Kate’s aunt Charlotte had come up from Virginia and her uncle Ron and aunt Debbie had come in from Chicago; Scarlett Johansson had come; Downey and his wife were there; Chris’ best friend, Tara, had made it down; April was there; Danielle had come with her husband, Charles; Amy had driven up for the occasion; Sebastian Stan had shown up; and Megan was there, too.  The place was decorated with pink and blue streamers and balloons that said, “It’s a Boy” and “It’s A Girl” on them.  There were a few that said, “Boy or Girl?”  There was a massive pile of presents in the living room.  The cake and food had been set up in a beautiful display on the kitchen island and a drink station with a blue punch and a pink punch was set up on the kitchen counter.  There were little woodland creature decorations everywhere, too.

Carly and Scott walked over to Kate and Chris.  Carly draped a “Mommy-To-Be” sash over Kate while Scott pinned a “Daddy-To-Be” button to Chris’ shirt.  Lisa and Helena were both wearing pins that said “Grandma-To-Be.”  Someone had made a diaper cake and set it next to the actual cake, which was two tiers of cutesy woodland creatures running amok.  There was a photobooth area with different props for the pictures that Danielle had kindly set up and offered to run.

“Happy baby shower!” Carly squealed, kissing Kate’s cheek.

“That is a fuckton of presents.” Kate said.

“We’ll get to those.  Right now, we want pictures!”

Chris and Kate were stood at the photobooth and the guests that wanted pictures were allowed to pick the props.  It took a good half hour before they were allowed to get food.  Chris fixed her a plate so she could go sit down.  The love seat had been decorated with blue and pink streamers and someone had created the backs of thrones out of cardboard. One said Daddy and was painted blue and the other said Mommy and was painted pink.  There were even fake pink and blue jewels glued to both of them to make them even more throne-like.

Carly made Chris and Kate sit in their respective seats while people ate and Shanna hosted the three games they had planned.  April won the game where the guests had to use string to guess how big around Kate’s stomach was.  She received a gift bag filled with home spa items.  The second game was where the guests had to guess what candy bar was melted in the different diapers.  Tara had won that game and was given a gift bag filled with candles, an engraved picture frame, and various candies.  The third and final game was called “My Water Broke” where everyone had been given an ice cube with a plastic baby in it.  The first person who’s baby was free of the ice had to yell that their water broke. Sebastian had been overenthusiastic when yelling it, startling everyone in the room.  He had walked away with a $50 VISA gift card.

While everyone started throwing their plates away, Helena had Chris and Kate cut the cake.  She stayed to serve the pieces to everyone while the parents-to-be took their love seat thrones again.  Carly, Shanna, and Scott had begun moving presents closer to the love seat to be passed over to Chris and Kate.  While they waited for everyone to get their slices of cake and eat them, Scarlett came over and sat down next to Kate on Chris’ side of the loveseat.  Chris had gotten up and was across the room talking with his father and Bill.  Probably getting some dad advice.

“You’re not having any fun, are you?” Scarlett said conspiratorially to Kate.

“Not in the slightest.” Kate said. “I hate showers.  And I feel like a bloated whale.”

“I hate these things, too.  Just give me the presents and don’t make a fuss.”

“Exactly!”  

“And for the record, you don’t look like a bloated whale.” She held her hand out to Kate. “Your fiancé sucks at introductions.  I’m Scarlett.” “Kate.”

“I’m sorry we’re just now meeting.  I wanted to come along on the Civil War tour, but I had some prior engagements.”

“It’s ok.”

“Chris has talked almost non-stop about you and the baby.  I’m so happy for you guys.”

“I’ve actually been kind of nervous to meet you.”

“Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Chris talks so highly of you.  You’re one of his closest friends.”

“Oh, I’m not that scary.”

“I didn’t think you would be, and hey, I survived meeting Tara.”

“She’s a cool chick.”

“Yeah.”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been kind of nervous to meet you, too.”

Kate laughed. “Me?  Oh god, why?”

“Well, I’ve met a few of Chris’ girlfriends.  None of them, in my opinion, have measured up to what I think my friend deserves.  I can be a little protective of him.  I was a little nervous that you wouldn’t measure up, too.”

“That scares me.” “Don’t worry.  From what I can tell, you exceed expectations.  Chris looks genuinely happier than I’ve ever seen him. Downey, Mackie, Lizzie, and Hemmy all sing your praises.”

“They’re sweet.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Um…. Done.  I’m feeling done.  If Jelly Bean wants to vacate the premises, I won’t stop him or her.”

“I remember those days.  They pretty much sucked.”

“Yes.  Yes, they do.”

“You’re in the home stretch now.”

“Thankfully!”

“Any contractions yet?”

“Lots of Braxton Hicks.  They’ve been happening a lot on and off today.”

“It’s all the excitement.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Oh god, have you started nesting yet?”

“Yes!  It’s insane! It’s been driving me batty not to have the furniture we need to finish the nursery.  We were told to hold off on the big stuff.”

“I would love to see it.”

“Yeah?” Kate started the struggle to get up and Scarlett helped her to her feet. The two women headed around into the kitchen and started up the stairs.

“Whoa, hey.” Chris came rushing over. “Where are you going?”

“To show Scarlett the nursery.”

“I’ll come with.”

“Chris, baby, I can walk up the stairs without help.”

“But….”

“Go back to the party, Evans.” Scarlett joked. “You’re being a helicopter mom right now.”

Chris looked at them with wide, puppy dog eyes. “I’m immune to those things now.” Kate said. “Put them away before you strain your eyes.  I’ll be fine.”

Scarlett laughed and followed Kate upstairs, turning briefly to mouth to Chris, “I really like her.”

Ten minutes later, the two walked back downstairs arm in arm and laughing. It made Chris happy to see that they had hit it off and seemed as thick as thieves already.  Lisa walked over and apologized to Scarlett before taking Kate away. She and Chris spent the next hour and a half opening all of the presents that their guests had brought and ones that had been sent from friends that couldn’t make it to the shower.  Carly was writing down what they got and who sent it so Chris and Kate could send out thank you cards later.

When the shower finally wound down and people began leaving, they were given cute little gift bags with travel-sized hand sanitizers from Bath and Body Works, mini-jar candles from Yankee Candle, some butter mints in a little baby bottle, and little engraved frames holding a picture from Chris’ and Kate’s maternity shoot that Danielle had insisted on doing.  The only ones left at the end of the night were Amy, Lisa, and Scott.  Helena and Bill had declined the offer to stay at the penthouse and had gotten a hotel nearby.  Lisa and Amy were staying at the penthouse in the two guest rooms while Scott was taking the couch from Kate’s garage apartment that Chris had put in the downstairs guest room that they had turned into an office for him and Kate.  Carly and Shanna had driven back to Sudbury so Carly could get back to her kids and Shanna could get to work in the morning.

“We’ll start working on putting this all together tomorrow.” Lisa said.

“I can’t believe we got all of this stuff!” Chris said. “Everyone is so sweet for doing this.” Kate let out a heavy breath and rubbed her stomach. “What’s wrong?” Chris was on instant high alert.

“Braxton-Hicks.” Kate said. “They’ve been happening on and off all day.”

“Are you sure?  Should we call the doctor?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow.  I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need anything?” Lisa asked.

“Actually, I’ve got a headache and I’m feeling kind of tired.  I want to go upstairs and lay down.”

Chris stood up and helped her to her feet. “I’ll be back down in a little bit.”

“Go on up and stay with her.” Lisa said. “We’ll clean up down here.”

“Thanks, ma.”

Kate sighed as Chris helped her change into her usual oversized T-shirt she slept in, take her contacts out, and lay down on their bed. “Thanks.”

“Are you ok?”

“Could you grab some Tylenol for me?”

“Of course.” Chris rushed into the bathroom and came out with Tylenol and a glass of water.  He set to work massaging her feet, but stopped when he noticed how swollen they were. “Babe, are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m a little dizzy, but I think that’s cause of the headache and all the fun today.”

“Kat, your feet and legs are really swollen.  That’s a sign of preeclampsia.  So are headaches and dizziness.”

“The doctor did say I was at risk.  We’re going tomorrow, so we can ask then.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to call now?”

“Chris, it’s late.”

“It’s nine at night.”

“Well, that’s late enough.” Kate curled up on her side. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth and take my contacts out, then I’ll join you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He leaned over and kissed her.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris woke up to the sounds of his name being called between gagging coming from the bathroom.  The clock said it was around three in the morning.  He quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.  Kate was clinging to the toilet, shaking and crying. “Hey….” He moved to her side and let out a curse when he saw the blood in the toilet. “Kate!”

“Chris, I don’t feel good.” Kate sobbed.

“We’re going to the hospital.” He jumped up and ran out of the room. “MA!” Chris burst through the guest bedroom door, startling his mother awake. “Ma, it’s Kate!  Help!”

Lisa was up like a shot.  She followed Chris into the bedroom and then pushed past him when she heard Kate. “Oh no! Sweetheart…. Chris, get her some clothes.”

“What’s going on?” Amy asked from the doorway to the bedroom.

“I’m taking Kate to the hospital.” Chris said, grabbing a pair of yoga pants out of one of Kate’s drawers while dialing the number to a car service on his cell phone. “Can you go wake up Scott?”

“Yeah!” Amy turned and ran downstairs.

Lisa was running a washrag over Kate’s face, whispering comforting words to her. “Come on, Katie.  Let’s get your clothes on.” Chris came over and gave his mother the yoga pants as he dialed the emergency number to Kate’s doctor.

Scott ran in, throwing a shirt on. “What’s going on?”

“Scott, come help me.” Scott rushed over and helped his mother get Kate into her pants and shoes. “Amy, honey, do you have Helena’s phone number?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Amy said. “I’ll call her.  Where are you going?  I mean, what hospital?”

“New York Presbyterian.” Chris said. “It’s not far.”

“Ok. I’ll call her.”

“Here,” Chris grabbed the pen and notepad out of Kate’s nightstand drawer. He quickly wrote down a number for the car service and another number underneath it. “Call this number and give them this account number.  Send a car for her family, they’re at the Millennium Hilton, and then get one for yourself.  I’ve already got one on the way.” He turned and swept Kate up into his arms.  Scott and Lisa helped steady them as they walked down the stairs.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate looked around the private birthing suite and sighed.  She had been poked with needles and had an IV in her arm, ready to administer drugs if needed.  They had brought in an ultrasound and had hooked her up to a fetal monitor after taking her for a CT scan.  Chris sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand.  He was the only one allowed in with her right now.

“I just want to go home.” Kate said, laying her head down on Chris’ shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know, baby.”

Doctor Beauchamp walked into the room and looked at the waiting couple. “Well, the blood in your vomit is from a small tear in the lining of your esophagus. Sometimes this happens with the nausea and vomiting during pregnancy.  It’s manageable if we can control the nausea and get you to eat soft foods for seven to ten days.  What concerns me is the protein in your urine, Kate, and how high your blood pressure is.  We talked about you being preeclamptic and you’re showing enough of the signs right now.”

“So, what’s the plan, Doc?” Chris asked.

“I want you, Kate, to try and make it to 39 weeks.  Right now, you’re still within reason to give birth naturally like you want, so what I’m going to do is keep you here for the next two weeks so we can monitor you, but you’re on strict bedrest.”

“You’re not going to induce?” Kate asked.

“I could and I might even be able to do it more naturally than giving you Pitocin since you’re dilated to one, but I don’t want to and I know you want to avoid the Pitocin at all costs.”

“Yes!”  

“I want Jelly Bean to bake for a little longer, so two weeks here on bedrest. You’re only allowed out of that bed to go to the bathroom and to take very quick showers.  Chris, you may want to go home and pack some of Kate’s stuff. Comfortable, loose fitting clothes, please.”

“You got it.” Chris said. “Anything.”

“Ok. I’m going to go discuss with the nurses everything they need to know and I’ll be back later with a list of some super fun bedrest rules.” Doctor Beauchamp walked out and Kate burst into tears.

“Hey,” Chris pulled Kate to him tightly. “Shh, it’s ok.  It’s only two weeks and then we’ll meet our little Jelly Bean.”

“But there’s so much to get done before then!”

“Ma isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and neither is Scott.  I’m pretty sure your mom isn’t leaving now.  I can call in whoever else we need to get the stuff put together before the baby arrives.”

“But I won’t get to help.”

“I can bring some stuff here for you to work on.”

“I just want to go home.”

“You will.  And when you do, you’ll be holding Jelly Bean.” Chris kissed her sweetly. “I’m going to go let everyone know what’s going on and see if we can have anyone back here besides us.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Over the next week, Kate didn’t show much change.  Which wasn’t a bad thing.  She had started to dilate some more, so the doctor was happy that she might even give birth without any help.  Bill and Jan had gone home, but Helena had decided to stay to be there with her daughter.  She and Lisa were staying at the penthouse with Scott.  They Facetimed with Chris and Kate so the couple could help finish decorating the nursery with the furniture they had gotten.  

On her twelfth day there, July 8th, Dr. Beauchamp had decided they didn’t need to wait any longer.  She decided to try the more natural induction of labor by going in and stripping the membranes.  It was extremely painful, and Chris had no idea how that much of the doctor’s arm fit up inside his fiancée, but it was effective.  Kate’s contractions had set in and she went into active labor.  Chris was by her side for every single minute with Lisa and Helena taking turns on Kate’s free side.  Kate labored for fourteen hours before it was finally time to push. Dr. Beauchamp allowed Kate to move around and try to find more comfortable positions to deliver the baby in, but nothing was working.

“Kate, the baby is stuck and going into distress.” Dr. Beauchamp announced. “We need to get this baby out now.  I’m going to have to do a c-section.”

“No.” Kate growled, trying to push again.

“Kate, you need to stop pushing.  This baby isn’t going to come out naturally and you’re only going to hurt yourself and the baby if you keep trying.”

Kate let out a scream as another contraction bore down on her. “I need to push!”

“Kate, your blood pressure is through the roof.  You need to calm down.”

Chris tried soothing Kate, but nothing helped.  Doctor Beauchamp called for the anesthesiologist to meet them in the OR with a spinal tap while she administered an anti-anxiety medicine. Kate was so scared and so worked up that the medicine didn’t have much of an effect.  Chris was made to stay in the room while they got Kate prepped for surgery.  He paced the floor, waiting for them to come get him.  They had told him it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes.  It had now been thirty minutes.  He was about to start kicking doors in when a nurse came to get him.

Kate was strapped down to the OR table with a sheet pinned up as a screen. She was still panicking and gripped his hand tightly.  He whispered comforting words and tried to keep her focus on him.  She kept complaining about how bad her upper back was hurting and she couldn’t get comfortable.  The doctor and nurses begged her to stop writhing, but she was in too much pain. They gave her a booster on her spinal tap and that seemed to do the trick some.  The doctor took advantage to quickly perform the c-section.  Chris stood up to peer over the curtain to see the baby come slithering out of the open wound.  The baby’s cry echoed in the room and Kate closed her eyes in relief.

“It’s a girl!” Doctor Beauchamp announced.

Chris turned to Kate and started to say something, but the words died on his lips as the sound of the alarm on the heart monitor went off.  The nurses came up and told him to leave, but he refused.  He began yelling at them to help Kate and security was brought in to physically remove him from the room.  They took him back to the birthing suite where his mother and Helena were waiting.  They jumped up and he started to sob.

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Chris cried. “They won’t tell me anything. She was in pain and they gave her more drugs and just after the baby was born, her heart rate dropped.”

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[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Pure (Red Daughter x Morgana AU) 

Lena brings books -- mountains upon mountains of books -- to the DEO, and Red Daughter pleads for Morgana to read them to her, because her voice is beautiful – rich, like wind through the fir trees back in Kaznia, she says.

Sometimes Red Daughter speaks to her of Lex, and all he was to her, and her voice becomes small and broken when she remembers that all of it was a lie

The Kryptonian hates the name Red Daughter now, she winces every time she hears it, as if it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. So Morgana calls her by a different name.

Katya, the name suits her, Morgana thinks, and the Kryptonian smiles widely – her smile a brilliant living thing on her face – when Morgana tells her the meaning of the name. Pure.

AU in which Morgana is Lena’s “dead” twin, who was turned radioactive with Kryptonite by one of Lex’s experiments. 

Look, these babies both deserve a happy ending, okay, and I need Red Daughter to live

So, I’m still a little pissed about how they “resolved” the Red Daughter storyline, so of fucking course, I made an AU, and I gave her her own OTP, cos baby girl deserves it.

This AU has 3 different versions. And in each one of them, I gave Lena a twin (before you dismiss it, hear me out):

In this version, I made her twin Morgana.  Yes, Morgana is the other half of this OTP in this AU, cos she also deserves a good ending.

I deliberately didn’t change her name to an “L” name for this one. (I actually named Lena “Magdalena” in this to match Morgana but that’s unimportant, except for the fact that Alex teases her mercilessly about it when she finds out).

So, Lena and Morgana are twins, but Morgana “dies” when they’re around 16 or so.

Morgana is “the forgotten Luthor” (I hc an article Kara found on her with this title when she was researching the Luthor family history when she first became friends with Lena). There’s very little information to be found on her.

Lena and Morgana were close growing up, sharing secrets and ideas, keeping each other safe in the treacherous waters of Luthor family life.

Morgana was the more outgoing one, charming, the one who easily adapted to their luxurious lifestyle in elite social circles.

Lena was more quiet, the one who got her knuckles rapped for reaching a little too eagerly at the table, who always got the disdainful look from Lillian (“Straighten up, Lena! Luthors don’t slouch!”)

In bed at night, Lena cries into Morgana’s shoulder, and Morgana tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “It’s a show, Lena. It’s all a show, like the ones we used to put on for Mum, remember? We just have to give them a good show.”

Growing up, Lex tries the same psychological tactics with Morgana as he did with Lena. Y’know, belittling her inventions and all that.

EXCEPT for this one invention she made when she was 16 that he realized would be helpful in eradicating Superman.

See at around this time, Lex has already starting to get obsessed with ridding the world of the “Kryptonian menace”. He had just started making his synthetic Kryptonite, but it was too unstable to use.

When he finds out about Morgana’s breakthrough he immediately starts trying to manipulate her into giving it to him

Her invention is Inception. Yeah, going-into-a-person’s-subconscious-and-manipulating-their-perception-of-reality Inception

Lex figures that he can use Inception to bring down Superman, because as Morgana later tells Kara and Red Daughter “Even Kryptonians dream.”

Morgana, who is about 16 at the time, realizes Lex’s plan and realizes how determined he is to get a hold of Inception (in one other version of this that includes Gwen, Arthur and Merlin, it involves isolating Morgana from her friends and killing off Arthur, but that’s a long and complicated story no one wants to hear)

Morgana attempts to foil Lex’s plan by destroying all of her research on Inception, as well as the machine she used for it.

Inception only exists in Morgana’s mind now, and since no amount of manipulation will make Morgana yield to Lex’s plan, he eventually kidnaps her and keeps her captive in one of his labs.

Basically Lex tries experimenting on her and torturing her so she’ll give him Inception.

One of his experiments involved injecting her with some of his concentrated Kryptonite stock. Like the pure stuff, actual Kryptonite from Krypton. He did it to see how the human body would process it and if it could be synthesized, since he failed in synthesizing his own Kryptonite

The end result is that Morgana literally becomes radioactive. Like how radiation chemo makes people radioactive but WORSE. She literally can’t touch anyone. Because in this AU Kryptonite is harmful to humans too.

Which is why when Morgana eventually escapes Lex’s lab she doesn’t go back to the person she cares about most, Lena.

Lena doesn’t know about any of this. All she knows is that her sister died in a failed experiment. The family has a quiet funeral, Lena is the only one who cries and stays at the graveside.

Lillian scolds her in contempt “Luthors do not cry, Lena.”, and tries to get her in the car. But for the first time, Lena is immovable. She doesn’t wipe her tears or compose herself like a lady. She just kneels in the dirt and shakes with quiet sobs. Lillian finally leaves her there

Fast forward years later, to when Lex eventually goes to prison and Lena takes over L-Corp.

During this time, Morgana has been living almost completely isolated all these years, because of her radioactivity.

She does have one ally. I don’t remember if Daxamites are immune to Kryptonite (tbh I didn’t really pay attention to that part of the show), but let’s say they are.

Morgana uses a Daxamite, Mor-Dred to conduct most of her business with the outside world (yes, that Mordred). Her house has been safeguarded for her radioactivity, and most of her business is conducted within it. On the rare occasions when she does have to go out, she wears special lead-lined clothing.

Fast forward to Red Daughter running amok disguised as Supergirl under Lex’s orders. I’m just gonna disregard the ending they did for Red Daughter, cos it pisses me off.

Morgans reveals to Lena and the rest of the DEO that she’s alive, and volunteers to stop Red Daughter since she is pretty much Kryptonite on two legs.

The Kryptonite weakens Red Daughter, and they manage to capture her. But since Lex brainwashed her, she’s still under his influence, so Morgana uses Inception to find out exactly what Lex told her so she can undo his work, she uses Inception to implant the doubt in Red Daughter’s mind.

Kara decides to help reprogram Red Daughter from her brainwashing, and convinces the DEO to let her stay in the facility.

Morgana is another problem, however. Since she is literally the Supers’ weakness and toxic to everyone else, the DEO refuses to let her run around free. They keep her in a lead-lined cell, “for everyone’s safety ”

Lena, Alex and Supergirl try to protest but to no avail. Morgana is kept in the cell across from Red Daughter.

At first, she only talks to the Kryptonian because she’s trying to see the effects of the idea she implanted in her during Inception. If the doubt she’d sown was enough to undo Lex’s brainwashing.

It’s there, she finds, and Red Daughter is susceptible to deprogramming.

So Morgana decides to stay for a while (cos let’s face it, Morgana being Morgana AND a Luthor in this AU the only reason she stayed in that cell was because she chose to; if Lex couldn’t keep her contained, what chance did the DEO have?)

Morgana tells herself it’s because it’s nice to have company again after years of self-imposed isolation, necessary though it might be. It’s also nice to be able to see her sister every day again, even if it’s through lead infused glass

But she’s beginning to enjoy the other Kryptonian’s presence. She’s a clever one, this Red Daughter. So curious and eager to learn, so very lovely in her earnestness. She listens so intently to Morgana’s stories of the world she doesn’t know, not knowing that Morgana herself hasn’t known the world in many years.

Lena brings books, mountains and mountains of books, and Red Daughter pleads for Morgana to read them to her, because her voice is beautiful – rich, like wind through the fir trees, she says.

Sometimes Red Daughter speaks to her of Lex, and all he was to her, and her voice becomes small and broken when she remembers that all of it was a lie.

The Kryptonian hates the name Red Daughter now, she winces every time she hears it, as if it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. So Morgana calls her by a different name.

Katya, the name suits her, Morgana thinks, and the Kryptonian smiles widely – her smile a brilliant living thing on her face – when Morgana tells her the meaning of the name. Pure.

(I literally can’t with the name “Linda”. I cannot write smut with “Linda”. So she’s Katya now)

But eventually, Morgana knows it’s time to go. Captivity is acid to her soul. She’s lived through it once, and she won’t go through it again. A life of hiding and isolation may be lonely and dangerous, but it’s her own.

As she leaves, she turns to Katya, the closest she’s made to a friend in all these years – even closer than Mor-Dred – and takes pity on her, the beautiful broken Snowbird, betrayed by a Luthor and stashed away like a toy the world would rather forget about.

Morgana frees her. And there’s a moment, just before the cell doors open, when Katya – lovely Katya with her pure, earnest eyes – asks Morgana to take her with her.

Morgana meets those eyes, and a voice inside her whispers “Maybe…. maybe…”

But then the doors open, and the moment glass parts and Morgana steps closer, glowing green veins begin to creep over Katya’s face, and she begins to wince involuntarily at the pain.

And Morgana shakes her head at her own folly, her own wishful thinking.

She presses a kiss to Katya’s cheek, and Katya hisses in pain despite herself.

Morgana draws back regretfully. She smiles wryly and pulls away “it’s been a pleasure, zvyozdochka.” (Little star)

Morgana goes underground, since she’s effectively a fugitive again (She has some safehouses prepared in case something like this happens, but they’re not as radiation-proof as her home).

Kara finds out Katya escaped, and takes her in to hide her from the DEO. But eventually, Katya runs away. To find Morgana.

(I have a vague scene in my head where Katya, poor Katya who has no social filter and doesn’t know to conceal or label her feelings, confesses them to Morgana)

“I was so lonely without you. Kara tried, she helped, and Lena visited me everyday  - but they’re not you. When I’m around you, yes, I’m in pain, but that is nothing to the pain I felt without you. It hurt. It hurt so much, Morgana. Why does it hurt so?”

Morgana tries hard to keep herself cold, to harden herself against Katya’s sincerity.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson from Lex? We Luthors are not made to love. He poisoned your mind, and I am built to poison your body. The love of a Luthor is a wicked thing. You should know this by now, Katya. We bring more harm than joy to the ones we love.”

Katya shakes her head vehemently, tears running down her face. “I don’t care. I don’t care! If you feel the same way, – if being with me makes you feel as warm and light as being with you makes me feel, if you hurt as much as I do when we’re not together – I don’t care about anything else.”

Katya takes Morgana’s face in her hands and presses their foreheads together. Immediately, green starts to snake over her face, seeping into her eyes. She doesn’t have her strength because of the Kryptonite, and it’s almost easy for Morgana to wrench her hands away.

“You may not care about yourself getting hurt, but I do. I won’t be the reason for your pain.” And she walks out and puts as much distance between them as she can in the safehouse.

Also, I hc that Morgana likes to keep her hair long and curly (which is how people used to tell her apart from Lena because Lena has straight hair). And despite her radioactivity and the traces of Kryptonite in her hair, her long tresses are Morgana’s one point of vanity that she refused to chop off after being tainted by Kryptonite. Her one indulgence in a life of restraint and control.

Katya sees it long and loose once while they’re at the safehouse.

She can tell Morgana is inside the room, the telltale Kryptonite churning of her stomach alerting her to the other woman’s proximity. Even muted by the lead lined walls, it’s still enough for her organs to want to expel their contents. But the sick sensation is almost welcome after the hollow emptiness she’d felt without the other woman.

Katya moves closer to the room when she sees the door is open a crack, fighting the nausea and the beginnings of acid in her blood.

Morgana is standing at the foot of her bed, clearly still getting ready for the day. Her high-necked blouse and her signature black gloves are still on the bed.

She’s clad in nothing but her skirt and bra, but Katya can’t even see the rest of her body because it’s covered by the living black mass that is Morgana’s hair

She’s only ever seen Morgana’s hair up, always meticulously arranged in an elegant but severe updo that doesn’t hint at the wild beautiful tresses on display right now. It makes her want to see it all the time in its untamed, uncurated state, flowing unchecked down Morgana’s shoulders and back.

It makes her want to bury her hands in the black mass - as surprising and mysterious as the woman herself. She wants to feel the texture of each curl and strand, to discover the secrets buried in the rich darkness.

It’s only the tendrils of sick glowing green that snake up from her fingers up her arm that stop her reaching out her hand to open the door and just touch.

Instead she watches Morgana slowly gather her hair and painstakingly curate each curl. She’s just as lovely with her hair up, but it paints a sadness in the center of Katya’s chest, like an ink blot spreading, that it’s even necessary, that she’s forced to hide this part of herself.

Of course, since I need a happy ending, Morgana eventually gets cured.

In one version of the AU, they discover Lex knows a way to extract the Kryptonite from her system, and Morgana uses Inception to find out how to do it. While inside his mind, she also implants an idea in him. Three days later, they find him dead with a gun in his mouth and a bullet in his brain.

When Morgana gets cured, Katya is right there beside her. She’s the first person Morgana touches (in like 10 fucking years).

It starts as a soft, tentative touch at first – gloves are removed and trembling fingertips touch Katya’s palm – but Katya being essentially Kara is super tactile and it ends up being the tightest embrace Morgana can remember. She ends up breaking down and crying.

Also, in this AU, Lena finds out that Kara is Supergirl through Inception. When Morgana first enters Katya’s subconscious, she takes Lena with her (kinda like how Kara took Lena and Alex to Juru), and it’s revealed that Katya knew about Kara’s identity.

Like in the show, Lena doesn’t reveal to Kara that she knows. Instead, she slowly separates herself from Kara and begins isolating herself, ashamed of how she’s let herself be fooled, of how much she’d revealed, how much sentiment she’d let herself indulge in.

Morgana doesn’t let her. “You think you know what it’s like to be truly alone, Lena? You have no idea. For years, I lived with no other company but my own shadow. No human contact. I haven’t touched another person in ten years because my very skin is poison. I’ve lived in the shadows, in unease, afraid of killing someone, or Lex killing me. You may think you’ve got no one, but look around you -- you have a family, Lena! The one thing we never thought we’d truly have again outside of each other. And it’s a family that loves you, that cares for you. Yes, she lied! The woman you love -- don’t even bother denying it -- lied to you, for years! Perhaps she did it for a good reason, perhaps her reasons aren’t good enough. You’re allowed to be angry about that -- rage, cry, scream all you want! But don’t isolate yourself. You still have a choice, I don’t. I know what it’s like not to have the luxury of that choice. Don’t choose to be alone.”

Eventually, Lena forgives Kara (but that’s a story for another time).

_____________

By SorrowsFlower

I just really needed a nice happy ending for my baby Red Daughter, also my baby Morgana. So here it is. Sort of. What am I gonna do for the rest of the hiatus???

[askkrenko]

SWORD AND SHIELD THOUGHTS

Alright, just finished the main game/post-game of Sword and Shield ,and I have... thoughts, general impressions, and feelings about the game. I’m going to try and be spoiler-free, but some things will have to be talked about, and though it might be indirect, no promises. Here’s my thoughts on the game overall...

First off, It’s Pokemon. I’m not going to discuss the parts of it where it’s Pokemon. At this point, you should know whether or not you like Pokemon, and if you DON’T know... start with FireRed and LeafGreen. Still the best gameplay experience.

Graphics are... meh. I understand and accept that they’re really not up to the standard of other Switch games, but you’ve got 400 pokemon, lots of people, locations, etcetera. Battle Animations continue to be pretty weak for the most part, with pokemon mostly wiggling around and a special effect showing up. Nasty Plot’s animation is offensively bad in this regard. Sure, some moves look cool, especially ones unique to individual Pokemon, but this game’s visual advances still result in mostly-static battles where your pokemon doesn’t even move across the screen to use melee attacks. You know how in old Final Fantasy games you rush to the enemy before doing your generic sword swing? Can’t we at least have that? 

The new Pokemon are bitching. Sure, there’s winners and losers, but overall I love Galar’s lineup. There’s new type combos, interesting abilities, a lot of cool designs.

Dynamax is... just not interesting. The idea of giant pokemon are cool, but when you actually use them they replace your cool, interesting moves with heavy-hitting moves that have minor secondaries that are hard to leverage. My best pokemon at the end was a Wishiwashi that knew Aqua Ring and Dive, so my battles involved doing the former, and then Diving, so with Aqua Ring + Leftovers I’d be healing a huge portion of my HP between every attack... In Dynamax, Dive turns into a heavy hitting water move, Aqua Ring turns into Protect, and it doesn’t even last long enough for a tank-build to work. In the gym battles the right answer is basically always “Dynamax when your opponent does so you don’t get one-shot”, and in Raids it’s just “Dynamax when you can.”  Gigantimax is a cool idea, too, but... you just don’t get to do it. You get a Charmander that can eventually do it for free in the post-game, but he’s a baby and your pokemon at that point are level 70+ and you probably already have a fire type who loves you so there’s no reason to train him up.  

On Difficulty: I played a Nuzlocke with no items in battle, so I can’t really speak to difficulty normally but... camping makes healing you party super cheap, and every dungeon and challenge seems shorter than in most games. I only remember one real cave system and it was relatively short, and gyms all seem to have exactly three trainers (or three pairs of double-battle trainers) before the leader. Further, enemies always ask if you’re ready instead of ambushing you, and many will give you a full heal before or after the battle. I had some challenges against gym leaders, sure, and I did wind up losing the Nuzlocke to the final fight against the ‘big bad’ (and then just continued in non-nuzlocke method) but I never hit one of those points like a Rock Tunnel or even one of Alola’s Trials where I felt like the encounters on the way to the boss were really whittling down my resources.

Quality of life: Infinite Escape Ropes and free Fly make Krenko a happy gobbo. Except I never used the escape rope because there’s nothing to escape. Other basic QOL stuff is updated, too- moves are marked with effectiveness once you’ve seen a Pokemon before and presumably know it’s types, the menu felt very comfortable overall (though with all the different types of items I’m starting to think the bag needs MORE pockets), and the hotbutton to pokeball in an encounter is great. Having an EXP ALL as a core mechanic makes leveling up pokemon so much easier. There’s now a name rater and move-rememberer in every pokemon center, and I use that guy so much. Any time I newly catch or evolve a pokemon, I take it right to him to see what else it can get.

Dynamax raids I... didn’t do much of. Because the difficulty of the ones that show up apparently increases with the story or something. The first few I encountered I could handle with my pokemon at the time, but now that I’ve beaten the champion, it feels like every raid location I see is five stars and I need pokemon higher than the level 70+s I have to handle it. It doesn’t help that the NPCs they summon to help you are incompetent. Sure, a few have useful abilities, but why is there a level 49 Magikarp, and why doesn’t this Solrock seem to know any attacks, and what even is this Wobuffet doing here?

Story:  Story is easily the weakest part of Sword and Shield. The story is both boring and too exciting for the game itself. The characters are both too cool and too bland. In the ‘main story’ where previous pokemon games have it, you are doing the gym challenge. This is fine. This is normal. There’s some cool stuff in there that makes it more of a proper sport than just a kid wandering around. You ocassionally have encounters with Team Yell who are trying to stop you, but... Team Yell is never threatening, they don’t accomplish anything, and the game seems to be very inconsistent on whether or not you have to accept that they’re in the way or if you can just kick their butt. When you finally get their super secret origin story, it’s... fine, and I like it, but I’d have liked it more if they had literally any impact on the game. The worst thing is, they compare unfavorably to Team Skull. Team Skull had strong leadership, and though you kicked their butts, they were regularly in the way and up to no good. Also, Guzma was awesome. Team Yell is just... running around being a general nuisance. Which would be fine if there was another real villain but...

Well, it turns out there IS another real, main villain... Who you don’t have reason to believe is a villain until after you’ve beaten all eight gyms, whose plot and motivation makes no sense, who has no convictions, and who you as a character have no real relation to. I literally don’t understand why this character was doing villainy.  And their evil team you only fight in the handful of battles immediately leading up to the big fight, and they make absolutely no impact other than standing in your way for reasons that you don’t really understand. That whole segment had nothing to do with anything, wasn’t properly built up, and didn’t feel like it went anywhere except the game handing me a Legendary pokemon.

Then there’s the post-game villains, who are... eh. They’re a lot more interesting, and I’m not even sure it’s fair to call them post-game. Unlike in most pokemon games, once you become champion the plot doesn’t just stop or say “now go to the challenge areas.” Instead, you have another, shorter storyline where you revisit all the old characters (who are all really cool on the surface and have NO DEPTH so you can’t get attached to them) and deal with stuff involving more dynamaxing and the box-art legendaries. This isn’t the worst plot, but it again suffers from no dungeons. You just fly from Gym to Gym having one fight at each gym. The game wants you to get to know and appreciate each Gym Leader, but because there’s so many of them, plus three rivals, plus the Champion, plus two professors, plus a handful of other NPCs, even the one that spends a fair deal of time with you in the post game never gets any real development. Here’s a key for story-writers: If your character’s not going to develop over the story, you don’t need to make a point of them showing up four different times. I don’t feel more connected to Nessa than I do to Flannery because she kept showing up and I got a card detailing her backstory. I just feel like you could’ve let me play faster instead of waiting for cutscenes.

I could rant about the story for a long time, but the point is: It’s bad. And the worst part is, there’s a bunch of cool stuff that seems to happen... that I don’t get to see.

So, my BIGGEST, absolutely most major complaint about the story is that two of the characters closest to you, Hop and Leon, do all sorts of really cool and interesting stuff... just offscreen. Hop is your main ‘rival’ and best friend, and he’s sharing in your adventures but also has some of his own. He has battles, he has a character arc, he starts really annoying but grew on me over time and I genuinely like him... But it’s hard to feel attached because all his formative stuff happens just off-screen. This isn’t a ‘Blue’ situation where he’s doing the stuff you are but faster and getting in your way, and you want to smush his stupid face in. This certainly isn’t like Hau who was just one step behind you the whole time. Hop has a couple battles that he talks about that alter who he is as a person that you don’t get to see because the game decides you don’t watch them. You’re not racing this guy- you hang out all the time- but for some reason you don’t get to watch his fights. I understand it’d be boring if they forced it and it played out like a normal fight, but give me a cutscene! Hell, I wanna know who he faced at the end! Hop has a mystery battle against someone else who completed all eight gyms that he beats and we never find out anything else about this person... 

But it’s even worse with Leon.

See, a big part of the game’s storyline is giant, Dynamax pokemon running amok and the Champion having to stop them. This means for the FIRST portion of the game, Leon is going out doing heroic things, battling giant pokemon that you never see. Sure, you can dynamax battle, but he’s involved in all these cool, great, crazy adventures... just offscreen. And then when you become the champion, YOU get to fight these rampaging dynamax pokemon... ... by walking to the area you’re told they are and immediately showing up in a dynamax fight. The game has models for pokemon walking around the overworld. Pokemon all have various attack animations. If Dynamax pokemon are running wild, can’t you SHOW me them running wild? There’s so many ‘cool things’ that happen in the game that I just don’t get to see, even when my character should be able to watch them, and it’s annoying as hell. If you can’t SHOW ME rampaging giant pokemon, don’t make the story ABOUT rampaging giant pokemon!

....Okay, done talking about story.

THE WILD AREA is a cool idea with poor implementation. I absolutely love this big area with all sorts of pokemon that change with the weather and different sections having different levels, except the wild area only really connects two locations (you get there via train the first time,) so there’s not much in-game reason to go back except for grinding, it’s small enough that it’s mostly the same terrain, and the level progression of the area doesn’t really match where you are in the game in the way just having routes used to. Also, for some stupid reason once you’re champion everything there suddenly becomes level 60 instead of scaling to different areas.  Which, sure, I get it, for post-game stuff people just want higher level Pokemon, but it’s so weird that suddenly there’s level 60 zigzagoon running around.  The Wild Area would have been much cooler if they’d just done away with traditional routes entirely and had free wilderness between EVERY town- blocked off in part by tunnels and forests which still counted as wild area, sure, but not gated by ‘you must have this many badges to progress.’  Just gated by ‘the pokemon here are level 30, are you sure you want to proceed?’ The only reason the game forces you to face the gyms in a certain order is to lock you into a narrative that’s mostly a waste of time. Not being allowed to catch ‘very strong’ pokemon is dumb, too. You could’ve made us able to catch them and just not train them because they’d do things like go to sleep and use the wrong moves and loaf around like a traded pokemon.

Camping with your Pokemon is cute, but needs more variety. There’s like seven toys, but only one of them isn’t a ball you throw and they fetch. You can make curries, and you will because it’s the cheapest way to heal your pokemon on the go, but the curry minigame is identical every team and gets very boring very quickly. You can talk to your Pokemon, but none of their responses have any meaning or impact or anything at all. It’s not like they’ll give you hints in the game or randomly give you items or ask for specific items for huge happiness boosts or whatever. It’s cute, and they get experience from it, but camping feels like it should’ve been expanded a whole lot.

....In summation: Pokemon Sword and Shield is not one of the better Pokemon Games. It’s still Pokemon, and if you’re into that, there’s still plenty of fun to be had in it, but it’s heavily flawed. 

[flicky1984]

The Sega Arcade Revolution: A History in 62 Games

Flicky (September 1984)

Maze games were very popular during the first half of the 1980s. Hits like Pac-Man had made large sums of money for Sega’s rivals, and though the video arcade industry was no longer moving at the same speed it had during its early years, the genre was still popular enough that publishers kept up a steady rhythm of releases. Sega looked to its R&D division to come up with something that could keep pace with Namco and Bally/Midway. What it got was a little blue bird named Flicky.

Flicky’s development team was led by Youji Ishii, a Sega designer who would one day be responsible for the classic game Fantasy Zone. Having joined Sega in April 1978 after graduating with a degree in electrical engineering, Ishii was interested in creating games that were bright and colorful, and he believed that his works should be happy experiences for players. He started working on sound effects for games like Deep Scan and Zaxxon and got his first chance at design with 1983’s Up’n Down, a pseudo–3D arcade driving game. It sold enough for Sega to assign him to another title, one that was likely more important to Ishii’s career as it was to his employer’s bottom line. Sega meant for Flicky to be its response to Namco’s Mappy, emulating the time-based maze dynamic that was popular at the time. The visual style and gameplay Ishii had in mind would give Sega the competitor it wanted (Derboo, “Flicky”; “Fantasy Zone—2014”).

Flicky put players in the role of a blue sparrow who must rescue her chick friends, called Chirps (In Japan, they were called “Piopio,” a misspelling of the Japanese word “pyopyo” which means “baby bird”). The chicks had run amok inside an apartment building, and Flicky had to gather them all and guide them to the exit. Hungry cats called “Tiger” in the Western version and “Nyannyan” in Japanese actively chased the chicks, as did an iguana named Iggy (Choro in Japan). Touching the chicks put them in line behind Flicky, who had to avoid enemies while bringing all the chicks to the door. Items such as cups and trumpets were scattered throughout the stages, and Flicky could shoot these items at the cats and iguana to temporarily incapacitate them. The Nyannyan couldn’t hurt the baby birds, but they could kill Flicky with a single touch. The game lasted 48 stages before looping with a harder difficulty (Derboo, “Flicky”).

Ishii’s adorable character designs were brought to life by the talented hand of Yoshiki Kawasaki, a young artist who had joined the company because it was the closest job offer to his home. He had been a big fan of pinball and driving games, playing in the dark arcades of Hibiya, Japan, so the chance to join Sega was an exciting opportunity for him. Kawasaki was hired at Sega in 1976 as a designer. Though he was an artist, he started out in the purchasing department, and he spent many an hour playing Head-On. His work soon came to the attention of Hideki Sato, who recognized his talent and moved him over to the visual design division of Sega’s research and development department. His first assignment was the SG-1000 version of Golgo 13. After working on the laserdisc game Albegas and another release called Sinbad Mystery, Kawasaki began to long for something more interesting. He got his chance when he was handed the proposal for Flicky from the game’s lead designer. Kawasaki would finally have his big chance to put his programming abilities to greater use (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”).

When Kawasaki was assigned to Flicky, all that existed was a simple four-page proposal. There was to be a labyrinth and a simple game character. The concept was just a derivation of Namco’s Pac-Man, where players would collect dots in the maze. Ishii liked maze games, and he knew he wanted the game to follow that motif. He was certain of one thing: Flicky would not penalize players for falling through the floors as Mappy did. This was the starting design premise for the game and the reason why a bird was chosen as the main character (“Fantasy Zone—2014”). The problem was that nothing was detailed; there wasn’t even a description of the game’s background. The character profiles were also incredibly vague, reading “since the maze can be simple lines, the characters can look simple too. You can leave the background black.” Kawasaki based the main character, Flicky, on a lyric from a popular 1977 song called “Densen Ondo,” which referred to three sparrows on an electric line. Kawasaki wondered why birds would move on electric lines when they could simply fly. He figured that perhaps they jumped, so he decided to have Flicky jump (or “heroically jump,” as he put it) instead of fly. The Chirps were an evolution of the dots in the maze. Kawasaki revealed how he developed the little birds in an interview for Sega of Japan’s website:

The dots were originally really just dots. When you collected one it would disappear. But then, I thought it would be interesting if the dots didn’t disappear but instead line up. So, I made the dots line up behind Flicky. That’s when I really started fleshing things out. I asked if I could make the dots 8 × 8 pixels big, but in the end, I couldn’t do anything with 8 × 8 pixels. Then I thought: If they were little birds, I could do it [“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”].

At first, he simply had the Chirps follow their bird friend back to the exit door. That was too simple, so he had them scatter when touched by a cat. When it proved too easy to gather up all the Chirps, Kawasaki spiced things up by having some of them race off in different directions. He gave these “Bad Chirps” sunglasses so that players would be able to recognize them (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”).

Creating those cute little chicks with attitude wasn’t very easy; none of the character models were. Kawasaki had to use a rudimentary tool that was similar to Sega’s TV Oekaki, a tablet-like device that came with a light pen. It plugged directly into televisions and was made available commercially for Sega’s SG-1000 in 1985. Using such a simple tool was problematic, particularly getting it to draw single pixels. It would often draw three or four at once (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”).

Kawasaki’s original level design had horizontal lines on the screen that resembled power lines. These lines were to act as the maze walls; however, once Flicky’s characters were completed, Kawasaki found the lines to be dull and unengaging. It was only after gazing out the window at an apartment building across the street from his third-floor window in Sega’s R&D annex building that Kawasaki found the perfect setting. Why not have the action take place in an apartment building? The residential setting let Kawasaki insert household items, like cups and baby bottles—things that would be found in a home with children. They would also help Flicky fight off Tiger and Iggy (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”).

Flicky played differently than most games of its type, most notably in the way the main character jumped. The control was very floaty and heavy with inertia. Players had to time their jumps correctly, particularly when coming down from the top of the screen. Ishii believed this was the product of the hardware limitations of the System 1 arcade board. These restrictions also influenced the design of the labyrinth stages, which did a decent job of creating the illusion of size. Ishii commented about this challenge in a 2014 interview with STG Gameside. “With Flicky, we challenged ourselves to make the stages feel like wide, expansive spaces despite the tiny memory available” (“Fantasy Zone–2014”).

Ishii was also able to make Flicky seem larger than it really was using free-scrolling stages. Players could move either left or right almost indefinitely, giving the stages a larger sense of scale. The inspiration for this design came from two sources: Williams Electronics’ 1981 smash Defender and a far-lesser known Commodore 64 title named Drol, which involved a flying and shooting robot. “Basically,” Ishii explained to Shooting Gameside in 2014, “I just like that style. I like how you can rush forward, then turn around really quick and retreat if you need to.” Ishii would revisit this design for his 1986 hit, Fantasy Zone (“Fantasy Zone—2014; Ishii).

The stages themselves weren’t random scenery. There was an overall theme to them that was very close to the team, particularly Kawasaki. As the gameplay centered on the concept of saving children, Kawasaki’s group wanted this objective to be Flicky’s driving theme. It wasn’t just about bringing some birds to a door for points; there was more to it than that. Kawasaki wanted players to feel the maternal instinct of protecting defenseless children from predators. He felt they could sympathize, even though the chicks were merely game characters on a screen. After all, Flicky was a sparrow, not a chicken, and while she was only the chicks’ friend and not their mother (despite being labeled as such in the SG-1000 port of the game) she could still want to protect them. “Children face a variety of dangers when they go outside,” he commented in a 2016 interview, “and the feeling of ‘wanting to return them safely to the nest’ is something that I think is experienced 80 The Sega Arcade Revolution by not just parents, but anyone who is around children. And it’s that emotion that drives Flicky, a sparrow, to protect the chicks, even though their parents are actually chickens.” Examples of this design are present throughout the game. The bicycle and balloons (which symbolize dreams) on the title screen, the apartment resident in the bonus stage windows—all were meant to drive the point home that the chicks were children who were in mortal danger. The later stages developed this narrative. For example, the outer space background represented the future, one that would be cut short if Tiger and Iggy got their way. Such themes were not uncommon to games made by Kawasaki. None of his games featured characters dying, and he preferred to make friendlier and cuter games to counteract the bad reputation arcades had in Japan at the time (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”; Szczepaniak).

In development for a year, Flicky could have been much larger than it finally was. The design team had around 100 stages done but few backgrounds, and there was very little memory space left. Kawasaki opted to keep only four backgrounds, differentiating them by color, and the stages were reduced to a total of 40. After playtesting the game, the team added a monster that would appear in windows and breathe fire. Iggy was also conceived at this point, primarily to keep players from standing still in a stage. He ran throughout the level, making it unsafe to remain too long in a single spot. Kawasaki wasn’t too fond of the lizard because he was added at the end of development. He had wanted Iggy to be an insect, but his lack of motivation for the character made the design look more reptilian. During Flicky’s development, Kawasaki developed something of a reputation for taking such shortcuts, a behavior that earned him the humorous nickname “Sabori Kawasaki,” or “Slacker Kawasaki” (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”)

Flicky changed names twice during development. The original title of Busty was switched to Flippy due to a trademark issue in the U.S. (Bally/Midway also noted that “busty” was American slang for women with large breasts). The next choice, Flippy, was eventually deemed to sound too much like Mappy, so the title was changed again (“Interview: Yoshiki Kawasaki”; Szczepaniak). The game—with its final title of Flicky—was released in Japan in May 1984 and worldwide that September. A decent seller, it would sadly never receive a sequel. Ports of Flicky were released on multiple home consoles and later in compilations, and Flicky herself has made several cameos in other Sega games but has otherwise been forgotten as a character. The closest she’s come to fame has been in Sega’s Sonic the Hedgehog series as one of the animals released when Sonic defeated Eggman and cleared a zone. All the bird friends that Sonic rescues are called “flickies” and resemble her (“Flicky”).

While it’s unfortunate that Flicky has not been given a second chance, the original game remains an important step for both Ishii and Sega. Much of what Ishii learned from making Flicky would manifest itself in a major way in his masterpiece Fantasy Zone only two years later. His experience with Flicky would also be influential in his later work on other platformers like Teddy Boy Blues (both arcade and Master System versions) and Ristar (Genesis). Sega, on the other hand, got a solid maze-chase game that provided valuable experience to someone who would become one of its most talented and prolific producers. Ishii was part of a major pool of talent that would explode over the next few years, soaring to incredible heights on the wings of a little blue bird.

[queencamellia]

Summary:

They’ve made it to the other side. Bustling malls, beautiful parks, towering skyscrapers — with Norman and Ray by her side, it’s all that Emma’s ever dreamed about and more.

“Emma,” Ray says urgently, catching her sleeve when Norman wanders away to grab them ice cream.

“I know,” she replies, still smiling. It’s a lie, yes, but it’s a beautiful one.

Unformatted version under the cut! Bless @selephi​ for her comics that introduced me to this fandom and inspired me to write this (and push through until the end lol). Incorporated several theories!

Emma wakes up to the sound of birds chirping. It’s still a foreign sound, but she enjoys it, nonetheless: their chirps merge together to form a chaotic yet beautiful melody. She throws off the silk covers of the bed, rushing to the windowsill and soaking in the liberating feeling of safety and contentment that morning brings.

This is the beauty of nature that so many of the books back at the orphanage had described.

Though the day has just dawned, some of her neighbors are already bustling about. Down below, Emma can spot an old woman hobble down to the marketplace, baskets of woven trinkets in tow. A few apartments down, she can see a middle-aged man water the begonias growing on his patio flower box. In the distance, she can even see the large skyscrapers where many of the adults work. “Business” is a new concept to her, but it’s not unwelcomed.

An air of tranquility settles over the neighborhood, one that Emma knows won’t be broken by demons like that world.

She tilts her head and oh, huh, strange—it feels oddly quiet waking up to no children running amok or monsters to face.

You have to get used to it, Emma, she reminds herself, and with a firm nod, Emma backs away from the window and moves towards the drawers. After rummaging about the new clothes—all provided by one alive James Ratri—she finally decides on a white sundress.

(Which, in retrospect, is strange: after all they’ve gone through in the same old white clothing, Emma’s gravitated towards clothing of soft pastels that suit her age and remind her that she’s worth more than just “livestock” waiting to be slaughtered.)

Emma can’t exactly remember why she’s hurrying so much through her daily morning routine, but all makes sense once she hurries down the stairs, whips open the door, and faces a beaming Norman.

“Norman, it’s been forever!” she exclaims, her grin growing broader.

Her friend looks different, better without the fate of the world weighing on his shoulders. Though his smile is a bit hesitant, it’s genuine, nonetheless, and she’ll take it. With one last glance at the interior of the tiny house—and Emma briefly wonders why she feels the need to soak in all the details, to remember the peace and security which wrapped around her so easily in the safe confines of her bedroom—she crosses the threshold and gives him a half-hug.

“I brought flowers,” Norman explains, holding out the small bouquet to her. “You always said you wanted to see a rose garden, so I brought the closest thing I could find.”

Roses are out of season right now, Emma remembers Ray saying when she asked him about the “pretty red flowers of love” that she wanted to give to everyone. No doubt, the bouquet had been expensive. (It had taken her awhile to get used to the concept of “money” in the way that the materialistic human world used it, but Emma’s always been a quick learner. Quicker than the others, anyways.)

(She’s also always been a quick observer, which is why Emma is able to note the almost eerie way Norman examines her expression as she takes the bouquet from him and gives it a sniff.)

Emma never wanted to lie to Norman, but something in her (some primal instinct that has still yet to leave her from their times before) tells her not to show her discomfort.

“They smell so nice!” she enthuses. “We should bring them to the others.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Norman says, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “I thought that today, we could have an ‘us’ day.”

“An ‘us’ day?” she quotes.

“Just you and me,” Norman clarifies, giving her a shy and almost nervous look. “It hasn’t been that way in awhile, right?”

Immediately, Emma’s wariness melts away. This is just Norman, for pete’s sake, not somebody that she has to look out for. Besides, when’s the last time that she spent some quality time with her friend? Between his drive to lead the humans to revolt and her focus on taking care of the children, they’ve had hardly any time to themselves. She’s been lonely. Alone.

(No, no she hasn’t. A presence, somebody’s figure briefly flashes in her mind, but the memory is smothered by Norman’s enthralling smile.)

Emma nudges him, bouquet of flowers still in hand. “Lead the way, then!”

They stroll down the cobblestone path. If Emma had been thinking harder, she would’ve realized that the path is free of any distractions children. Nonetheless, she’s too busy basking in the warmth of the sun and Norman’s steady presence. With him by her side, she feels invincible: nobody can strike her down with Norman guarding her.

She spots a bookstore and suddenly reaches forward to tug on Norman’s sleeve. “Hey, hey, Norman, why don’t we go inside?”

He turns and stares at the shop for a second before giving her a surprised look. “I didn’t know you enjoyed reading that much, Emma.”

There are many things she can say to that; for one, Emma’s always had a penchant for fairy tales and stories of fantastical adventures. But more so, she found back in the shelter that reading was a good way to immerse herself in a different world and free herself from her troubles. Though it’s certainly not her favorite pastime, she doesn’t mind spending a day inside as much as she used to.

Instead of saying such, though, Emma puffs out her chest. “I might’ve not been as smart as you, but I still could keep up with your scores! Besides, everyone had to read and research a lot to make sure our shelter—”

Emma pauses.

“Well? Go on.”

She laughs nervously.

Inwardly, her mind is racing. Why had she forgotten so easily about her best friend?

“No, it’s just that...well, I thought that Ray would probably enjoy this place a lot. We should invite him!”

Norman smiles at her, grabs her hand with a nonchalance that she never knew he possessed, then resumes walking. She rolls her eyes, but quickens her pace to keep up to him. They leave the bookstore behind, continuing along their path. “You’re always thinking about others, Emma.”

“You need to think about yourself more,” she says without a second thought, and Norman stills, as if her words have struck him both motionless and silent. Emma stops too, though a confused expression mars her features.

“Do I?” he muses.

She nods assuredly. “You need to help yourself first, or else how are you supposed to help others?”

“Does that mean…” And here, his eyes slide to meet hers. “...I can be selfish?”

The creeping sense of discomfort suddenly comes roaring back at full force. Emma had honed her instincts in that world, and they’ve never guided her wrong before. But she pushes against the instinct to run away because she won’t abandon her friend (not again, not after Yuugo), especially not Norman of all people.

Still, Emma suddenly becomes hyper aware of the fact that he’s still gripping onto her hands. Her throat suddenly feels dry, and though Emma scrambles for words—any words, lies or truth—she’s unable to find anything.

“Emma?”

“Norman…”

Her eyes suddenly catch on something shiny and Emma tugs on his sleeve, pulling him along. “Look, they’re so pretty!” she gushes, pressing against the antique shop window to get a better view. The objects in question, a beautiful display of shimmering crystals, catch the light wondrously, the light reflecting in multicolored fragments.

The tense atmosphere dissolves and suddenly they’re just “Emma and Norman” again. He laughs behind her. It’s a wonderful sound that simultaneously warms her chest and lowers her guard. This is just Norman.

She doesn’t have to put up a front around him. This is Norman, the boy who always sided with her and helped her through her troubles back at the orphanage. This is Norman, one of her closest childhood friends and closest confidants. This is Norman, the boy who once proposed exterminating…

...her mind is buzzing.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Norman offers, heading towards the door before she can reply. She follows him into the shop, eyes rounded as she takes in the brass trinkets and crystal statues. Norman disappears briefly behind a shelf of glass masks and Emma has to hurry to catch up to him.

When she turns the corner, she’s met with the sight of Norman examining an antique watch. It’s a beautiful copper color, but it doesn’t appear like something that’d suit his complexion. Emma, having grown more tactful in the past few years, bites her tongue and instead chooses to observe the rest of the store.

They’ve stumbled upon the clock section of the store, evidently. A grandfather clock towers over her, grand and old. A cuckoo clock springs to life to Emma’s right, startling her and nearly causing her to bump into the shelf. It’s almost eerie, in a way, but it’s also strangely comforting.

With an air of forced casualness, Emma steps closer and peers over his shoulder. “Are you gonna buy that?”

“Maybe.” Norman hums contemplatively.

Her eyebrows crease in confusion. “But it doesn’t work.”

His gaze, fixated on the watch, finally turns to her. “I’ll fix it later,” he promises. “Just give me a moment and I’ll pay for it. Is there anything that catches your eye?”

Emma turns back towards the window display of crystals, but she spots something even better than them. “Look, Norman, it’s Ray!”

“Wha—”

She throws him a beam, then hurries to the door. Over her shoulder, she calls, “I’ll wait for you outside, okay? I have to make sure he doesn’t wander off before we can catch up to him.”

Ray’s strolling along the sidewalk at his usual languid pace, his head tilted towards the sky. He’s wearing the same expression he often adopts when he’s deep in thought; when she calls out to him, his head immediately turns to scrutinize her.

“Hey, Ray! Wait up!”

“Emma,” he greets shortly. Over the years, she’s learned to read him well. There’s a puzzled glint in his eyes; something about Ray’s demeanor almost seems wary, but after a few seconds of examining her, he relaxes minisculely. “Why are you here?”

“Norman,” she answers simply, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

“No, but why are you here?” he insists, stepping closer.

And, once again, she nods. “Norman,” she answers, and then gestures to the white-haired boy quickly exiting the shop. Ray stews behind her, falling silent as the other boy approaches.

“That was quick,” Emma addresses him, her mind racing with thoughts. Realization dawns upon her, but she pushes aside the revelation in favor of beaming at him.

(Don’t think about it not yet just a little longer please I don’t want this to end pleasepleaseplease—)

“I didn’t want you two leaving me behind,” Norman replies, handing her a bag. “I bought you this.”

“Oh,” Emma says quietly, staring at the mesmerizing crystal. “Thanks, Norman.”

“Ray,” Norman greets. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Ray meets his gaze levelly. “Something drew me here.”

“Hm, is that so? Lucky us.”

“Why don’t we walk around together since Ray’s here?” Emma suggests, quick to cut through the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. She may not always keep up with the genius duo, but she’s grown enough to sense the underlying tension.

“Great idea, Emma!” Norman exclaims, clapping his hands. “Why don’t we head to the park?”

Emma shoots a look at Ray, and luckily, he understands.

“...the park?” Ray repeats, scrunching his nose. It’s the first normal thing he’s said to either of them. “Why?”

“We’re kids, right? We’re allowed to act frivolously every once in awhile. Besides...it’ll just be like old times. We can play tag together.”

“I dunno,” Emma says, glancing at her dress. “My clothes aren’t really the best for running.”

“No, they’re not,” Ray agrees.

“They look nice, though,” Norman adds, shooting Ray a mock-stern glare. “You look pretty in white, Emma.”

“Ray looks pretty in white,” Emma corrects, and to her satisfaction, the raven-haired boy scowls at her. Had it been a few years ago, Emma would’ve thought that he was pissed off at her. But now, after years together, she just grins. The way his eyebrows crease and lips purse belies his embarrassment.

Folding his arms over his chest, Ray says, “I doubt you two came here to discuss fashion. What were you planning to do?”

Though the question seems superficially aimed towards both of them, Emma senses that the question was actually directed towards Norman.

“If not the park, then why don’t we grab some snacks together?” Norman suggests.

Emma notices that he evades Ray’s question, but doesn’t point it out. Neither does Ray, though his eyes sharpen.

“I didn’t bring any money,” Ray says only half-apologetically, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Emma squawks with horror, glancing at her dress and realizing that it has no pockets. She must’ve forgotten her wallet back at the apartment. “Neither did I! Ah, man, and I wanted to try ice cream, too...”

“I can buy some for us,” Norman concedes with a sigh. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She moves to follow him, intent on picking a delicious flavor, but something holds her back.

“Emma,” Ray says urgently, catching her sleeve when Norman wanders away to grab them ice cream.

A weight settles over her shoulders.

“I know,” she replies, still smiling. It’s a lie, yes, but it’s a beautiful one. Would it be selfish for her to pretend for a little longer?

Ray studies her expression, then crosses the distance between them and squeezes her shoulder in an awkwardly comforting way. “I get it,” he murmurs, his voice heavy. Her shoulders shake, but not one tear falls.

He squeezes his eyes shut, then reopens them and meets her eyes, repeating softly, “I get it.”

Deep, sorrowful understanding runs between them. Then, deceptively tranquil silence reigns, seeming to stretch for an eternity as they reach a nonverbal agreement.

She inhales, soaking in the scent of spices from the marketplace and sensation of the cool breeze rushing past her hair. Her mind carefully imprints this (fake) memory into her mind: perhaps, one day, it can become reality.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Emma accepts her ice cream with exaggerated awe. “Wow, strawberry! It’s so pink.”

Ray’s less enthusiastic. “Thanks, Norman,” he says simply, any grief previously in his expression disappearing under their childhood friend’s scrutiny.

They settle on a sidewalk bench, Ray to her right and Norman to her left, and nothing’s ever felt more perfect.

The ice cream is cold and sweet; Emma wonders if this is how ice cream actually tastes, or if it’s just a reconstruction from what little they know about the delicacy. She consumes it quickly, and though her lips feel cold afterwards, she welcomes the foreign sensation.

“Emma?” Ray probes, seeing the subtle change in her expression.

“My lips are cold,” she explains, giggling. And, to her satisfaction, his lips quirk upwards to mirror her smile. “Say...Ray, Norman…”

“Mm?”

Emma purses her lips, tilting her head upwards and staring at the sky, just like Ray had minutes before. “We’ll always be together, right?”

There’s a pause, then Norman responds with a resolute nod. “Right.”

Ray doesn’t answer her question at all.

She’s unsure of which response she likes better.

“Emma,” Ray says.

“I know.”

Norman watches their seemingly nonsensical, taciturn exchange silently.

Can we just...stay like this? Just for a little more.

Emma’s selfish, through and through. Though she’s aware of the abnormalities in the dream-like world she’s in, she doesn’t want to let go quite yet. Ray understands, and accordingly falls silent. She’s unsure about Norman’s reaction, though; it’s gotten harder and harder to read him. He’s changed. Or, perhaps, she’s the one who’s changed.

She contemplates that notion for a few moments.

It’s undeniable that Emma would change through the passage of time, but her innocent and carefree self seems like a lifetime ago rather than just two years ago. It feels like a distant dream—a beautiful, idyllic childhood long since past. Even with Ray and Norman’s familiar presences by her side, everything feels different.

And maybe, “different” doesn’t mean bad. Granted, Emma and her friends had to grow out of their childhoods much too quickly, but she doesn’t mind being this new “Emma” either. It’s still her, at the core, just...changed. Grown. A bit more jaded, but still the same.

He who moves first...

Emma recalls the nights of chess that feel so long ago and wills her mind to remember this moment—this beautiful, peaceful moment of warmth and them, together, safe.

“...you know, we should go see Phil soon,” she comments.

Norman shifts almost uneasily. Ray’s lips curl upwards into an approving smirk. “We should.”

They exchange glances.

Ray makes the next move. “Say, Norman...have you given up the idea of exterminating demons?”

“Why are you talking about that?” Norman laughs. “It’s been ages since I’ve thought about that world.”

“How long has it been, anyways?” Emma wonders, tapping her finger against her chin. “I don’t remember.”

Norman hums thoughtfully. “Well, we’re here now, and that’s what matters. Right?”

Emma’s ready to answer in the same vague fashion, but Ray beats her to it with a direct attack: “Wrong.”

“Hm?”

Ray drops all pretenses and stands up, looming over the more petite boy. It’s funny; even now, Emma can’t see Norman as a bad guy. He’s just Norman. Just misguided. Surely.

Ray’s voice draws her out of her thoughts. “You can’t turn back time, Norman.”

Norman stands up as well, drawing to his full height as he asks lowly, “Who says I want to?”

Emma laughs nervously, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “H-hey, you two...let’s calm down a little, okay?”

Her effort goes unnoticed. Ray narrows his eyes. “What are you planning, Norman? Where are we?”

“Don’t you see the stores right before your eyes?”

He grits his teeth, fists clenching and trembling. “Norman. Where are we?”

Norman smiles. “A place where you two will be safe.”

Emma’s face crumples as she staggers to her feet to join them in their standoff. “Don’t lie to us, Norman,” she pleads, and it’s almost eerie how calm the shorter male is.

“I haven’t lied to you. Not once.”

Emma feels the same roaring anger she felt when she first learned of Ray’s treachery and willing sacrifice of their siblings. It threatens to consume her, but staring at Norman’s face and remembering the memories they’ve shared together helps ebb the tide, just a bit.

Grabbing Norman’s hands, she gives him a brittle (almost threatening) smile. “You haven’t answered us, either.”

Norman stares at her blankly for a moment, almost dazed. He resembles Adam. Then, gently, he squeezes her hands. The action sends a shiver down her spine.

“I’m doing my best to build us a future, Emma,” Norman says, his voice suddenly sounding very distant. “And I know that you two would get in the way.”

Ray starts, but Norman shoots him a knowing smile. “I’ve always been two steps ahead of you,” he reminds the raven-haired male, and suddenly Ray looks just as vulnerable and lost as he had back in the orphanage. Emma shoots him a look of concern, but her attention is refocused on Norman once he draws away.

“Norman?”

“I’m very sorry,” Norman says, and to his credit, he does seem apologetic.

Emma’s seized by a sense of panic. “Norman, what are you doing?”

Norman tilts his head towards the sky. “Do you know where I came from, Emma?”

“You came from Grace Field House, just like all of us.”

“But where did I come from?” Norman insists. “I would sometimes think about that back in those days, you know. Who were my parents? Who was my mother? If things were different, would I have lived a happy life with them? But once we learned the truth...I started wondering more. And at the Lambda farm, I finally got my answers.”

“You found your mother?” Ray asks, and by the look on his face, he’s as blindsided as Emma is.

Norman smiles. It’s a very pretty smile.

Emma resists the urge to shiver.

“Adam was the first,” he says. “Fitting, I suppose. He was a failure, but his physical strength was a strange benefit that they couldn’t manage to reproduce afterwards, not even for me.”

Emma, to her own surprise, is able to read between the lines before Ray can.

“Clones?” she asks, and it takes all of her will not to take a step backwards (because this is Norman, even if he may be a clone). “Why?”

“No, Emma,” Norman chides.

There’s a cold, calculative edge to him that she’s rarely seen directed towards her. It’s always been a part of him, this apathetic and scary Norman, but he’s always had some semblance of warmth in his eyes. Now, though, Emma’s unable to find anything but cool, chilling resolve.

“What you should be asking is...of whom?”

The wind picks up, sending the autumn leaves fluttering in a mass of scarlet and gold.

“Minerva,” Ray says flatly. “You’re a clone of William Minerva, or rather, James Ratri.”

Norman’s lips curl upwards. “You’ve always been quick, Ray.”

“I try.” The sarcasm in his voice would’ve made Emma laugh had it been any other moment.

“But,” Norman continues, and suddenly everything grows silent.

Emma watches, mesmerized, as one of the falling leaves freezes in mid-air, its vivid crimson shade bleeding out until all that is left is a monochromatic grey.

Time has frozen. The world has stopped moving. And though there seems to be nothing binding her down, Emma finds herself unable to move nor speak.

Norman gives them one last bright smile. Then, his features cool. “You’re not quick enough.”

“What have you done to us? What are you going to do?” Ray demands. Emma would’ve thought that it was a distraction tactic—Ray often does those sort of ploys—but the tremble in his voice belies his confusion. This is different from anything they’ve ever experienced.

For the first time, Norman gives them an answer.

“I’ve put you two to rest for a bit,” he says. “You see, they decided to enhance my abilities a little more while I was at the farm. I wasn’t very durable before, but with the new blood that runs through my veins, I’ve learned a surprisingly large new set of skills.”

“You’re a demon,” Emma whispers.

“Of a sort,” Norman agrees. “I am the perfect monstrosity, don’t you realize? I stand as the single largest threat to the Ratri family and the demons alike.”

Ray takes over, sensing Emma’s disconcerted thoughts. “What’s your goal? What do you want?”

“It’s simple.” He flexes his hand experimentally. “I will destroy all of those monsters until I’m the only monster left.”

“What are you planning? Why are you keeping us here, then?”

Norman’s tone saddens, but his expression remains placid. “You may not agree with my methods.”

“Norman—”

“Sometimes, you have to sacrifice things for the greater good.”

It’s a perversion of his advice from years ago. Emma remembers their late night chess games and can do nothing but stare as Norman backs away.

“I’ll be back soon,” Norman promises. “I’ll purge our world of any evil. Then, we can make this world a reality.”

He literally disappears right before her eyes, his figure dissolving away into nothingness. One tentative swipe at where he once stood reveals there’s nothing but thin air. Emma’s breath catches in her throat and abruptly, she stumbles and plops back onto the bench, feeling strangely weightless.

“Was he always like that, Ray?” she asks desperately, because it shakes her to her core that Emma can see traces of her childhood friend in the strange being (not a monster, she doesn’t think that she can ever view something with Norman’s face as a monster) standing among them moments ago.

Ray’s stare is piercing.

“I think,” he says slowly, after a few more seconds of contemplation. “Well, that was Norman, no doubt about it. But they’ve twisted him, Emma. There isn’t one person who doesn’t have an ugly side to them, but whatever the people at the farm did to him...changed him.”

“We have to get him back.”

“We have to get ourselves back first,” Ray corrects, clenching his fist. “This isn’t a place, and I doubt we’re here physically. We haven’t encountered every demon, so it isn’t possible to assume that they can have abilities that affect the mind. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Emma confirms. Something about Ray’s composure pulls her together and anchors her; she can think, now. “I kept thinking that some things were weird, but I didn’t think much about it.”

“We don’t know how much he’s affecting our minds right now, but it can’t be everything, or we wouldn’t be talking about this,” Ray reasons. “It’s more likely that he can just plant suggestions in our mind, or maybe push us in a certain direction.”

Emma scowls, kicking at the dirt. “But why did he put us here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Ray tilts his head towards the sky again, squinting. “I told Gilda and Oliver that if anything happened to us within the next few days, she should be wary around Norman.”

“You suspected something would happen.”

“Norman’s been different,” Ray explains simply. “And I always take precautions. I didn’t expect for something like this to happen, though...”

Her eyes trail upwards. “So is this a dream, then?”

“I’m not sure. If so, then is there a way our minds can be linked? Assuming that you’re not a figment of my imagination, of course…”

“...I have an idea.”

He turns to face her, eyes probing but undoubtedly trusting. “How can I help?”

And it strikes Emma then that if Norman is her guard, her knight, her safety net...then Ray is her equal, her trusted confidant, her partner.

And as such, Emma doesn’t hesitate to reach over and pinch Ray’s cheek as hard as she can. The boy flinches and jumps back, nursing his cheek and demanding, “What are you doing, Emma?”

She beams, unperturbed by his animosity. “It hurts, right?”

“...it does. But that doesn’t prove anything.”

“Do you remember Minerva’s story about the butcher and the sheep?” Emma persists.

Ray pauses, undoubtedly recalling the tales they once loved (still love). Emma knows all of the stories by heart, and she has no doubt that Ray—the boy who had always spent his days seated under a tree with a book in hand—knows them better than her.

It’s one of the more eerie tales in Minerva’s book. A herd of sheep are led to believe that a mysterious shepherd is leading them to graze in a pasture, only to realize that the pasture is actually a slaughterhouse. They escape narrowly by feigning innocence and biding their time to find to exit.

The story may not have been referring to Norman specifically, but Emma’s sure that it must signify something about the demon world.

Ray must’ve come to the same conclusion that she did, for he gives her a curt nod before glancing up at the sky one last time. “Let’s explore,” he suggests, gesturing towards the direction she and Norman came from.

Emma nods, her resolve hardening. “Right.”

Though they’re both on their guard as they walk through the still bustling town, Emma can’t help but admire the color and detail of each shop. It looks similar to Goldy Pond, only it’s not a death trap.

“Or is it?” she wonders briefly in her mind, but Emma really doesn’t want to believe that Norman would send them off to their deaths with a remorseless smile.

She’s scanning the town for abnormalities but can’t find anything, and it’s starting to make her panic. What is Norman going to do? If he wages war with the demons, how many of her family members will die? Though Ray had once been the one making calculative sacrifices for the greater good, Emma doesn’t doubt that Norman would sacrifice others for his goal.

Even if they get out, how can she stop him? Will he listen to her? She still doesn’t know everything Norman and his underlings are capable of, and Emma doesn’t want to fight him. But what other solution is there? Besides, is she even in the right to demand that they establish peace with the demons?

“Emma.”

“Yeah?”

Ray gives her his signature half-smile, half-smirk and chides, “Believe in yourself a little more, yeah? We’ve been in worse situations before. Just because this is new doesn’t mean we won’t figure things out. We’ll pull through.”

And it’s just so, so funny because once upon a time, Emma had been the one who could see through Ray and cheer him up.

“It’s like our roles are reversed,” she laughs, and though she doesn’t elaborate, Ray gets it.

“Well, someone has to say it,” he replies, scowling. He’s embarrassed. “And I’m just extrapolating from our patterns so far. We’ve always made it through impossible situations, and that streak is not going to stop here.”

His words hearten her, and Emma shares a grin with him.

I can do this. We can do this.

Think...think...what have I seen that can help?

“I saw skyscrapers,” she says. “In the distance, I mean, over in the other direction.”

“...what?” Ray deadpans. “This is a small town. Skyscrapers should only be in large cities.”

She blinks, but doesn’t doubt Ray’s words. “Huh, really?”

“So this world is limited to whatever Norman knows,” Ray mutters, adopting his usual thinking position. “Let’s head there, then.”

They quickly switch directions, and Emma leads the charge, skipping along the sidewalk with a levity she shouldn’t really possess considering the circumstances. Eventually, the smaller stores grow scarce and they begin passing by taller and bigger buildings. Selecting one of the skyscrapers, Emma skids to a stop once she reaches the entrance.

She can’t help but stop to stare at her reflection in the glass door.

The girl reflected in the glass looks small and dainty in her pretty white sundress. She doesn’t look like Emma, not really, because Emma may be petite but she is a warrior.

She is a survivor.

“We need to hurry, Emma,” Ray interrupts her thoughts, pulling the door by its shiny metal handle and hustling her inside. His urgency is like a cold shower: she shakes off her contemplation and focuses on the matter at hand.

Oliver. Gilda. Don. Violet. All of her family.

There are people out there possibly counting on them.

“This way,” Ray says, glancing at a sign. Emma has to increase the length of her strides to keep up with his rapid pace. “I don’t trust the elevators. Let’s use the stairs.”

She nods firmly. “Got it.”

They throw open the door to the staircase—supposedly, there are sixty flights of stairs, according to the sign next to it. Emma hopes that they won’t have to climb all of them, but nonetheless, she doesn’t hesitate to follow Ray up the stairs.

They trudge higher and higher with little more than slightly labored breathing. This is nothing compared to their trek to Goldy Pond, after all, and there aren’t any immediate dangers impeding them, either. Emma’s lost count of how many flights they’ve climbed when suddenly Ray slams into something invisible and nearly tumbles down the stairs.

“Ray!” she squeaks, grabbing him by the scruff at the nick of time and pulling him to his feet. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Ray grins victoriously, bearing his teeth. “We finally reached it. You noticed it too, didn’t you, Emma?”

She nods, approaching the empty space where Ray had fallen cautiously. She probes the invisible wall above her head experimentally. It feels solid, but that’s about it: she can’t see it nor feel its texture. “So this is the ceiling?”

Ray joins her, examining the invisible space warily. “I guess so. We’ll need a way to break it.”

“It probably depends on the material, but we’re probably not strong enough to break it,” Emma comments thoughtfully.

Ray hurries to the side door that leads to one of the skyscraper’s floors. She follows him, and they enter a room full of cubicles yet devoid of people. It feels empty and weird. “I doubt it’s metal, though. I was keeping inventory of everything about Norman’s place.”

“What about this?” she suggests, holding up a floor lamp that feels suspiciously light in her hands.

He takes it from her and tests its weight against the invisible ceiling experimentally. “Perfect. Step back.”

“Wait.” Emma strides to the window and tries to memorize the view of the mismatched city skyline. She stares at it for a long moment, then rejoins Ray at the stairs. Her gaze is steel. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Ray nods, then darts forward and throws all his weight into slamming the floor lamp into the invisible ceiling. She sees a crack of drywall, and suddenly the illusion of the skyscraper is fading away. Ray tries again, this time hammering at the fissure in the ceiling, and his blow rings true.

Reality shatters.

The bright and brilliant colors of Norman’s carefully crafted, fake world fade away. Emma inhales a breathful of dust and begins coughing, clutching her throat as they’re enveloped by a cloud of dust and pieces of drywall rain down upon them. Her hands grasp air, grabbing around confusedly until they finally catch on fabric and relief floods her chest.

She can't see anything, but when Ray tugs on her hand and pulls her forward, she follows without hesitation. They take several steps before Ray stops abruptly and she nearly runs him over.

Slowly, thankfully, the cloud of dust subsides and her sight, blurry as it is, returns.

She and Ray are dusted in white from head to toe, but they’re undoubtedly in the same outfits they had worn in the illusory world, confirming Emma’s suspicions. Their perception was fooled and their minds duped. Norman couldn’t create a world: he could only shape one.

Ray’s holding a metal pipe instead of a floor lamp, now. It’s one of many metal pipes packed in tidy bundles and stacked on the elevated platform she and Ray standing on. They’re in some sort of large warehouse, and breaking the ceiling was enough of a shock to break the illusion.

Emma’s registering all of this as she continues coughing, but as time slowly trickles by, her coughs subside.

Ray gives her an approving nod, squeezing her hand. “Ready to go?”

She grimaces, snatching a metal pipe from the bundle. It’s nothing like her bow and arrow, but it’s better than nothing at all. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The steps creak under their weight.

As they hurry down the stairs—were there really only that many in the illusion?—she can’t help but blurt out, “I really wanted that world to be true, you know.”

“I know.” Ray glances at her. “Me too. But the die has been cast, Emma, and we’ve got to work with what we have.”

“Yeah…”

He reads her easily. “...what?”

“...we’re going to have to confront Norman, Ray. This isn’t just some...some nameless demon. This is Norman.”

They reach the bottom of the stares and make a beeline for the doors. Ray pauses, presses his ear against the door, and hesitantly pries it open. Usually, they’d be more cautious about such matters, but they have no time to waste and Emma sorely doubts that an extra twenty minutes of reconnaissance will help.

Besides, if someone had been here, they would’ve already barged in once they figure out that we broke out, she reasons.

“I know it’s Norman,” Ray says, and he clenches his fist. “So that’s why we have to think even harder to outsmart him. That guy...from what he was saying, it doesn’t sound like he’s working with the Ratri family nor the demons.”

“What if we can’t stop him?”

He locks eyes with her.

“We will.”

She takes strength in his words.

“We will,” she repeats.

[lovemesomerafael]

EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 3:  Didn’t See That Coming

You can read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 using these links.

The crisis appeared to be over.  Those who needed to be hospitalized had been transported to Med, and the people with minor injuries had been bandaged up.  The building was going to take a bit longer to repair, but the pipe bomb that had exploded in the lobby of the Chicago Police Department’s District 21 headquarters hadn’t been severe enough to require the unit to move out.  By 7 p.m., Sergeant Platt had sent everyone home.

Of course, most of the Intelligence unit was going to the hospital to visit Voight, who had been the intended target of the bomb.  Fortunately, the bomb wasn’t very well made and, although he was closest to it when it exploded, even he had been several feet away.  He was injured enough to be hospitalized but not injured enough to be quiet about it.  He was furious both about the bomb and about the fact that the firefighters and paramedics from Firehouse 51 had given him no choice about going to Med.  Halstead, Ruzek and Atwater were looking forward to giving him shit about it, even though Dawson had strongly advised them not to. He was going along to run interference when they made the mistake of trying it.

The day had been too long for Laura, however.  She had spent the entire afternoon following the blast helping to triage injured people, clean and bandage wounds, and put the district station back into as much order as possible.  As soon as she brought the damaged surveillance equipment down to the tech room, she was looking forward to an AA meeting and then a quiet night in.  

She placed the heavy box of equipment onto the counter, calling for Mouse.  She didn’t really expect him to be there.  She hadn’t seen him since the explosion, and thought he had probably been involved in the investigation and the subsequent cleanup work. Most likely, he’d left when Platt told everyone to go home.  As Laura turned to leave, she heard a scraping noise that seemed out of place. There was very little light in the room, since the electricity hadn’t been fully restored to the building yet. She’d been navigating more by memory than sight, but did have a flashlight with her.  She flicked it on.  

What had she heard? She didn’t think anyone was there and, given that it was a police station, wasn’t concerned that someone was lying in wait.  But she was intensely curious.  She went behind the counter and shined the light down the floor between the large shelves of electronics and other equipment in the room to the heavy table against the wall at the end.  The table was long, with the shelves set against it on both ends so that there were spaces underneath on each side that were behind the shelves.  Laura’s flashlight caught the edge of a shoe in the space on the left.  Mouse’s shoe.

The moment she saw his shoe, she knew that Mouse was under the table in the hollow behind the shelf.  And she knew why.  Although she didn’t know him very well, it was fairly common knowledge that Mouse was recovering from some heavy psychic wounds as a result of his service in Afghanistan.  Of course the explosion this morning had freaked him out.  Laura had no idea what shape he was in, or what to do, but she knew she couldn’t just leave him there.  She sat down on the chair in front of his computer and turned it toward the table.

“Hey, Mouse?”  She said softly in the gloom.  “I can see you’re back there.  Can I help?”

He didn’t respond except to stretch his leg out, since there was no longer any reason to try to hide his presence.  

“I guess, um, that explosion must’ve been…  I mean, it scared the hell out of me.  So I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”

“I’ll be fine.  Go away.”

Now it was Laura’s turn not to respond.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, Mouse, I’m still here.  It’s just… I don’t really think I should leave you.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I definitely do not want to talk about it.”  He sounded almost angry.  

“OK.  Do you want to talk about… anything?  Because I could just sit here with you and not talk.”

She thought he had decided not to answer her, so she turned the chair around and sat with her elbow on his desk and her head resting on her hand, settling in.  But he surprised her.  Through the half darkness, his voice came quietly from under the table.

“You could talk. Just… I don’t want to think about what happened right now.”

“OK.  What do you want to talk about?”

“Something else. Anything else.  Just… talk to me, OK?  Why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be Voight’s assistant or something.”

“Well…  Let’s see,”  Laura thought fast.  “He dictates his reports, did you know that?  It’s like seeing into his thoughts.  I know he’s all guns and fists and everything but, you know, he’s actually pretty brilliant, too.  You should hear those files.  He sometimes forgets he’s dictating, and he’ll just start theorizing to himself. It’s fascinating.  And then he’ll just pick up where he left off and start dictating again, without bothering to erase the part where he’s talking to himself. Interesting guy, Voight.”

No noise came from where Mouse was sitting, still entirely hidden from Laura except for one lower leg and foot.

“And he doesn’t edit himself at all.  He leaves that to me.  He’ll be like, ‘So I popped the bastard one,’ which I translate into ‘I used necessary physical force to subdue the suspect.’  I’ve always thought it would be hilarious to type what he actually says.  I think the funniest one was when he said ‘and then the bloody fuckwad pulled a piece’, which I typed out as ‘the suspect brandished a firearm’.”  

Laura spent the next fifteen minutes talking about things that had happened in the course of working for Voight.  She told Mouse little anecdotes about funny things the detectives had done, made harmless complaints about the nuts and bolts of trying to keep a unit composed of such characters running as it should, anything she could think of to distract him from whatever demons were running amok in his head.  She thought she heard a snicker once or twice, so she figured she was doing all right.

She was shocked to hear his voice come from the dark recess under the table.  “Tell me about it,” he said.  “Atwater cannot keep a concealed radio in one piece.  Every single time it comes back to me in shreds.  And don’t get me started about Ruzek and cell phones.”

“Ruzek should never be allowed to touch anything with an on/off switch.  The man managed to delete an entire year’s worth of timesheets. He’s a menace.”

This time Laura was sure she heard a soft chuckle.    

“Hey…  Mouse… I feel kind of stupid sitting out here basically talking to myself.  Do you think I could maybe come under there with you?”

The silence that followed seemed to suggest that she’d made a mistake.

“Or not.  I’m OK here.”

“No, it’s OK.  I guess I just didn’t expect you to ask that.”

“So can I come over there?”

“If you want.”    

Laura slowly walked between the shelves to the table and carefully lowered herself to her knees. Leaning forward, she crawled underneath the table and into the hollow behind the shelf opposite where Mouse sat with his back against his shelf and his legs stretched out.  He leaned his head back against the shelf and didn’t look at Laura.  

“Huh” she said.  “This is nice.  Feels safe.  I might start hanging out under here.”

When he didn’t respond, she began to tell a story about Kim Burgess losing an earpiece and thinking a friend’s dog had eaten it.  Kim had come to Laura asking for advice about how to break the news to Mouse.

“She never told me that,” he said.

“That’s because she found it in her car.”

A companionable silence ensued.  Laura thought Mouse’s body language suggested that he was calm but still not ready to deal with what had happened.  He seemed comfortable as long as they stayed in this dark, enclosed, concealed space and talked about relatively safe things.

“I saw you bandaging wounds today.  Didn’t seem like it was your first rodeo.”

“I used to be a nurse.”

He looked over at her. “’Used to be’?  What happened?”

She sighed.  “I used to be a drunk.”

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“Yeah, the State of Illinois isn’t very forgiving when it comes to nurses who drink on the job.”

“Is that how you came to work for Voight?”

“Yeah.  My old boss called in a favor.  I owe both of them a lot.”

“Sounds like me.  Jay got Voight to give me this job.  Saved my ass.  I was into some bad shit.”

“Well, all hail Voight, then.”  Laura held out a fist and Mouse reached his arm out to bump it in the dark.

Mouse let out a mirthless laugh.  “And now look how well I’m doing.”

Laura looked over at him. He shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, telling her he didn’t want to pursue the subject.

“Hey… are you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“It’s gotta be at least eight.  You hungry?”

“I dunno.  I guess.  I might have a PowerBar or something in a drawer.”

She pulled out her phone. The screen seemed painfully bright in the gloom.  “Pizza.”

“Not sure anyplace delivers to ‘the space under the table at District 21’.”

“No worries.  We’ll get it delivered to the desk and I’ll go get it.”

 An hour later, a near-empty pizza box sat between them and Laura was yawning.  

“You could go home, you know.  I’m not suicidal or anything.”

“You kicking me out of your fort?”

Mouse smiled. “No.  I’m just… not ready for the world yet.”

“Me either.  Would it be OK with you if I stayed?”

“Whatever.  My fort is your fort.”  

 Near midnight, Mouse lay on his back with his hands behind his head, telling Laura about the men in his unit in Afghanistan.  She was on her side facing him, head cradled on one arm.  They both seemed to have forgotten that there was any reason to be anywhere other than where they were, talking together in the now-complete darkness. They had just let the conversation take them wherever it would.  This was the closest they’d come to talking about the ghosts that haunted Mouse.

He talked about what it took to graduate Ranger school, and the different set of skills it took to actually function in active combat.  At first, he told her about accomplishments he was proud of; technological challenges he’d overcome and successes he’d had in making something difficult work.  Soon enough, that led to more painful tales about what he’d seen and done in Afghanistan, and how he felt about it.

And then he began to talk about the day his convoy had run into an IED and his entire world had been blown up with his Humvee.  Laura was fascinated by the fact that he could have this conversation as calmly as he could, given what he had been through then, and what had happened just this morning.  But she didn’t say that.  Rather, she listened and responded as calmly but honestly as she could, thinking that it had to be good for him to be talking about this rather than just isolating himself in a hidden cubbyhole, letting it eat him alive.  

It seemed natural that, after talking through the worst events of his life and their aftermath, Mouse was exhausted.  The conversation ebbed, with each of them making a random comment now and then.  After a lull of about five minutes, Laura suddenly realized from the sound of Mouse’s breathing that he was dozing.  She smiled to herself.  

She felt good.  She hadn’t known Mouse as more than a casual work acquaintance before, and didn’t think he would ever have thought of her as a confidante, but she’d turned out to be the friend chance sent to him.  And she thought she had done OK being there for him.  

She also found herself really liking Mouse.  She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t the sweet, intelligent, thoughtful man she’d gotten to know here in a dark corner of the tech room.  He was a fascinating combination: a little goofy, definitely geeky, and at the same time, a battle-scarred warrior from an elite branch of the Army.  She’d noticed that he was really good looking, of course, but hadn’t given it much thought.  She thought she was still in mourning for her relationship with Peter.  So she was intrigued to find herself looking over at him, softly snoring a few feet away, and wondering what it would be like to date him.  To kiss him.

She fell asleep herself, thinking about that.  

 The next morning, early, Mouse woke Laura.  He said that he felt OK, and offered to drive her home to shower and change for work. She declined.  She had a change of clothes in her locker, so she could just shower in the locker room.  She preferred to do that so that she could get another couple of hours of sleep.  

“Here?”  He asked, a little bewildered.

“Sure.  Why not?”  She croaked sleepily.  “Told you, I like it here.”

He shook his head. “Suit yourself,” he grinned.  

“See you in a few hours,” she said, adjusting her position and re-closing her eyes.

“So, uh…  Thanks for hanging with me.  It helped.”  

“Anytime,” she murmured, and fell back to sleep.

Huh, he thought.  He just spent the night with Laura Parker underneath a table in the tech room.  And she sure was cute when she slept.