#in terms of the rest of camp I feel like it's incredibly tense because like

[youngpettyqueen]

I just wanna know what camp atmosphere was like after the events of Period of Adjustment

[unwrittenlibrary]

Sole Survivor -> III

summary -> days nineteen through twenty-three; confessions, secrets, more immunity idols, and wavering trust.

words -> 5.0k

warnings -> survivor typical wording (immunity idol, idols, tribal council) cursing, mention of past steve x reader

notes -> we find out a little more about steve & reader, the beginning of the merge (i’m so excited!!!) & trust is crumbling.

series masterlist here

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PREVIOUS <- CHAPTER III • OUTLAST -> NEXT

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Day Nineteen

Bucky won’t talk to you.

You’re unsure if it’s because of what you had said or because he’s just giving you space, but the tension between you two is palpable.

And for some reason, you hate it.

You’re not used to this feeling of regret, especially within the game of Survivor. Your motto had always been there are no regrets in this game, you hold your head high and live with how you’ve played.

Only, Bucky had so quickly become your anchor in this game, just going one day without him by your side felt wrong. You couldn’t even pinpoint when it had happened. Was it the first vote, where he had shown you just how strategic he could be? The jokes in the water? The way his arms wrapped you in the storm? 

It had never felt like this with Steve. His arms had always been just a little too tight and things had always felt a bit too forced. You had always know Steve was a means to an end, you would get far and avoid being hurt. You had just assumed that would happen this time too, you hadn’t prepared for a Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky was more subtle touches and bright eyes. Bucky just felt right. You suppose that’s why you hate not talking to him, because he felt right. Because deep down you knew he wasn’t Steve, he wasn’t a means to an end, he was real in a sense. Someone you wanted around and didn’t want to see go. 

A laugh escapes you. One loud enough that it garners Bucky’s attention from his spot in the water. 

The two of you stare tentatively before he looks away. There’s a second where you debate staying where you are, but right now all you and Bucky had was each other and showing weakness to the rest of your tribe would lead them to strike at you again.

You swallow your pride and stand up with a purpose. You and Bucky would forgive each other and move on, there were no other options.

“Bucky.” You call out. His head whips around to look at you again. Surprise filters across his face as you wade through the water towards him. “Can we talk?” You ask about two feet away from him.

Bucky nods. “Of course.”

“Things got tense the other night.” You start hesitantly. You don’t really know where to start. You don’t want to take the entire blame to make him better, but you want him to know you truly did trust him. “We both got upset and I-“

“-I’m sorry.” Bucky cuts you off quickly. “I wasn’t trying to downplay your game, I’m just nervous. For both of us. If we don’t merge soon, I’m afraid it’s the two of us on the line.”

You smile up at him. “You gotta have more faith, Bucky. In both of us.” You emphasize softly. “We’ve made it this far without numbers, I’m sure we can do it again.”

A moment of silence before Bucky’s fingers intertwine with yours and he pulls you towards him. “I have faith in you.” He says softly. “I’ve just played a weak game, riding your coattails.”

“As long as you can admit it.” You smirk. Bucky snorts and pushes you away so you stumble into the water. You re-emerge with a spluttering laugh. “I was joking.” You push him back.

Bucky smiles with a shake of his head. “You and me, sweets?”

“You and me, Barnes. We work together, not just one or the other doing it all.” You smile up at him, your eyes squinting in the bright sun. “But if you’re mean to me again, I’ll send you packing.”

Bucky presses his tongue against his cheek, but you can see the smile he’s forcing back.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s stuck with me.” Bucky laughs. “I don’t… Til the end of the line, I hope.”

Day Twenty

“Bowling!” You cheer as your tribe walks up to the challenge, where two bowling lanes are set up next to one another. “I kill at bowling.”

Bucky laughs from behind you and he can see that even Natasha cracks a smile at your pure excitement. Some of the heroes, like Peter and Shuri, look excited at the prospect of bowling too.

“Heroes, getting your first look at the new villains tribe. Tony voted out at the last tribal council.” There’s a wave of murmurs as the heroes look at one another with wide eyes.

Everyone perks up when Jeff announces that todays reward is a feast. Bucky can feel his mouth watering at the idea of steak and vegetables cooked to perfection.

Even better, he can picture the clue wrapped in a napkin waiting to be found by a winning tribe member. “Hope you’re not lying, sweets. We could use a win.”

A bright smile is sent his way. “Promise, handsome.” It makes Bucky’s heart melt, the way you at him with sparkling eyes and upturned lips. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s become a little infatuated with you.

Jeff goes through rules pretty quickly, considering it’s just basic bowling and Clint is up first against Thor.

“What do you think the heroes think?” Bucky whispers into your ear from behind you. He keeps a pointed eye on the heroes team, making sure they don’t see the two of you talking. He knows what you’ll say before you say it.

You know what Bucky’s doing too. He feels a surge of pride that the two of you work so well together. “That us girls are getting you boys out one by one. I promise they haven’t given up that theory.”

“You’re brilliant, sweets.” Bucky smirks to himself. Thor gets eight pins to Clint’s nine. The two of you cheer with the rest of your tribe before the next two take their places at the lane.

You lean back a little, your eyes still on the hero tribe as well and whisper, “Try to look pathetic. Like you know you’re time is coming. If we merge, they’ll try to recruit you and give us secrets.”

Shuri gets eight whereas Darcy gets nine pins. Bowling was the villains game, apparently. You cheer again, completely pulling away from Bucky. He immediately misses your warmth, but he knows too much associating and it could hint the heroes into what’s really going on.

You’re up next. You walk up to the lane with a bounce in your step, far more excited than Peter who looks nervously at the wooden bowling ball.

Bucky cheers when your wooden ball knocks down every single pin. “Strike!” Your voice rings out as Peter’s ball only knows down one pin.

When you return to your seat, Bucky squeezes both of your shoulders proudly. “Nice job, sweets.” He says quietly before standing up to take his own turn.

In the end, the villains win, sweeping the heroes in every round. It’s a moral boost, watching the heroes gather their things and take the walk of shame back to camp. The villains are led to a clearing in the jungle, where a small table filled with food is set up and a waterfall stands no more than thirty feet away.

“This is incredible.” You murmur in awe as you look around. Bucky watches you softly as you pull him towards the table by his wrist.

It’s almost natural, you pulling him. At least, it feels natural for him to follow you. It almost hurts how attached he finds himself to you, because he knows it’s all just a game to you.

This is what you do. Anything to win the game you love. Bucky’s not stupid, at least, he knows more than people think. He’s almost sure the people who watch at home will watch in disbelief as he falls into what everyone else tells him is a trap.

But when your hand finds his so naturally, your leg brushes against his thigh and you turn to smile at him brightly after the first bite of food, it doesn’t feel like a trap. It feels so real he almost forgets to breathe.

Maybe that’s why he’s been ignoring the piece of his mind that tells him the best thing to do would be to turn on your before the merge. Maybe you’d forgive him this early on. When the reunion if filmed, he could apologize and beg for a chance in the real world after you’ve had months to cool off.

It would be smart. Turn on you before you turn on him, but he won’t do it. He can’t. Not after you put your life in the game on the line and gave him the idol. He owed you and he couldn’t betray you. Bucky knew himself pretty well, the guilt would destroy his mind and in turn his game.

“Oh, Bucky.” You moan as you swallow down a bite of the steak on your plate. Bucky has the force himself to breath calmly and not allow his pupils to blow at the sound. “It’s so good. Eat!” You push your plate towards him and reach our for more food.

He takes a bite. “You’re right, sweets. This is delicious.” He moans around his second bite of steak. He’s sure even if the steak wasn’t cooked to perfection he would still find it delicious.

The two of you look at each other with smirks before letting out small laughs. Bucky reaches for the napkin wrapped to the right of his plate.

When he unfurls the white fabric, a rolled up piece of paper falls into his lap. He shoves it into the pocket of his shorts without a second glance, making sure nobody across the table had their eyes on him as he did so.

He turns to look at you, to see if you’ve caught what just happened, but you’re too busy eating the fest in front of you.

He’ll show you later. You’ll find it together.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“This,” he holds up the small piece of paper with a victorious smile, careful to speak quiet enough nobody can overhear, “is our ticket to the merge. I just can’t believe my luck.”

Bucky is fidgety. It’s making you nervous as the two of you relax by the fire and listen to the crickets chirp and whispers among the rest of your tribe, which isn’t many anymore.

You can hear them vaguely. Natasha is asking Clint about his family, who seems to light up when he’s able to talk about them. Darcy sits with them, but she doesn’t say much besides a question here and there.

It’s relaxing, getting a break from talking about game play and plans. You feel like it’s been full speed ahead since day one and to just sit by the fire with Bucky in comfortable silence is something you didn’t know you needed.

You swallow thickly as you glance over at him. He’s twiddling his thumbs over his lap as he stares into the fire. The light casts an orange glow over his skin that makes your heart pick up a little bit.

“You okay?” You ask quietly. You lean towards him without really realizing it, but he doesn’t really seem to mind. “Your head is somewhere else.”

Bucky looks at you with a smile that makes you feel warmer than the fire. He knocks his knee against yours in support and gives you a reassuring look. “Nothing bad. I’ll tell you later.” He nods to the group near enough they could hear you if he spoke over a whisper.

You furrow your brows, but nod. “Tell me about home.” You urge quietly.

While you and Bucky had been working together for almost the entire game, you didn’t know much about his life. You knew what little things hr had mentioned on his first season, like what had happened to his arm and about his job.

“Like what?” There’s a handbook you get when you get chosen to be on the show, filled with rules you’re required to follow. One of the biggest ones being ignore the camera when you’re not giving a confessional.

It’s hard to pretend they’re not there. You know they keep people from admitting a lot about their personal lives. “Anything. Family. Work. Girlfriend.” You smirk when Bucky laughs.

“Promise I’m not out here disrespecting a girlfriend. I’m a good boy.” He looks at you with bright eyes. The words make you laugh loudly. “How about you?”

You shake your head. “No boyfriend at home.” You look down at the sand on your feet. “Guys are kind of intimidated of me. I know that’s shocking considering how mundane I come off.”

“The right guy won’t be intimidated by you. He’ll see how impressive you are.” Bucky states with an air of confidence.

The words make you smile. Something small and completely unlike you because it’s embarrassed instead of confident.

Bucky did something to you. Something you were so unused to. The way his smile made you warm and how butterflies fluttered in your stomach when he looked at you with those bright blue eyes. It was all unchartered territory, feelings you had never really let yourself have for someone. Especially someone you had planned on betraying when you needed to.

“The right guy, huh?” You ask quietly. Your heart racing and heat on the back of your neck. “Let me know when you find him.”

You and Bucky watch one another before you both look away. It’s a crafted choice of words, one that seems to make things settle gloomily between you two. “How about family? I remember you mentioning some sisters.”

Bucky nods. “A little sister. Her name is Rebecca.” He lets out a laugh. “She told me I wouldn’t last longer than a week out here. I remember seeing her on family day, I never thought I would miss talking to her as much as I had.”

The admittance makes you smile. You can vaguely remember the tight hug shown on screen when his sister had come running out. “She believe in you more this time?”

“I sure hope so.” Bucky laughs. “I like to think that they’re proud of me, my sister and mom. That they’re not too humiliated by me out here.”

Your hand finds his in the sand. “I think they are proud. I’ve seen a lot of guys on this show, none of them quite as good as you.”

It’s the truth. Whether or not fans labeled Bucky as a villain, he had been good the entire game. He hadn't turned against you and with only one small fight in your wings, he had been good to you.

"I'm sure Steve Rogers fans would disagree. Nobody gets sweeter than that." He gives you a self-depricating smile and his words let on more than he may think.

You shake your head. “Steve is sweet. As sweet as they come, maybe. Doesn’t mean he’s good though.” You swallow thickly and look down at your feet. “It looks like I ruined his game, like I took that million dollars from him.”

“It does.” Bucky agrees easily. You shrug. “Is that not what happened?”

You almost glance up at the camera man sitting a few feet away, but keep your eyes steady on the fire. “I will never deny that I screwed Steve over. I just… Steve had just as much to do with what went down before he got sent home as I did.”

Bucky nods slowly. “And you wanted to turn on him before he turned on you?”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise. You can’t really believe he understands that, not when so many people saw you as the villain who ruined Steve’s game. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause where neither of you say anything before you speak up again. “I cared for Steve. Maybe I played into the romantic bit too much, but I cared for him as a friend.” You say adamantly. “And I’m sad to have lost that friendship, but we both wanted that money and we both were going to do anything to get it whether he wanted to admit it or not.”

You look at Bucky with fierce eyes. “I made the move first because I knew if I didn’t that I would never make final council.”

The admission makes you feel a little lighter, but you can see the weariness in Bucky’s eyes. It’s like he has the thought of well if she did it to him…

“I guess there’s a lot that viewers miss out on.” Bucky finally says. “You and Steve haven’t spoken since?”

“No.” You shake your head. “We avoided each other at the reunion and after that there was no need to. I know how it looks and I don’t regret what I did. Not for one second.”

You know the words seem harsh. That they’ll only fuel the villain ideal behind your name. The words may even turn Bucky against you, show him that you’re here for you and nobody else.

His silence worries you too. Your mind swirling with thoughts of him betraying you or this being his deal breaker.

You take a breath. “I don’t feel that way about you.” The secret pushes itself past your lips and into the tense silence. “I truly hope we can make it to end together.”

“When did you get soft?” Bucky chuckles awkwardly and your chest tightens. The words aren’t reassurance you had hoped for and you seem to have worried Bucky more than reassure him.

You force out a laugh. “Soft? Don’t ever say that again.” You nudge him with your shoulder before moving to stand.

Bucky looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute. You try not to think about it too much.

You - Villain Tribe

“I was hoping talking about Steve would get him to trust me more, but it looks like he’s even more guarded now.” You rest your chin on your bent knees. “I’ll just have to be prepared for the worst.”

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I want to tell her about the idol, but I need to start looking out for myself. I truly don’t think she’ll turn on me, but I just can’t gamble away my faith in the game like that.” He looks away, his profile illuminated by the moon. “I can’t.”

Day Twenty-One

The merge is around the corner. There’s no doubt about that as the competition enters it’s third week and there’s only eight remaining players.

It will be a battle of who has more people going into it, at least that’s what both tribes are thinking now since neither of them truly know who may flip if given the opportunity.

“Tree mail!” Natasha’s voice wakes you up a little more as you turn to look at her and Clint returning and the rolled up piece of paper in her hand. “Think it’s the merge?”

You shrug. “Let’s find out.” She unrolls the paper and frowns. Not the merge, you think a little disappointedly. You weren’t sure if you and Bucky could make it one more elimination if it came to it.

“Castaway, rate your tribe members from weakest to strongest as a group. Bring your rankings with you to today’s challenge where the rest will be explained.” Natasha reads aloud to the camp.

You all exchange glances, utterly confused by the instructions and unwilling to voice who is the weakest first.

“I think we’re all pretty strong.” Darcy says quietly. “I mean, we all have our strong suits. Does it say physically weak or socially? Mentally? How are we supposed to rank?” She sounds more agitated by the second.

You know it’s nerve wracking. Not knowing exactly what these rankings mean is horrible. Your entire tribe is left to fight it out over who is the strongest and weakest and they don’t even know the prize.

Will the weakest be sent home? The strongest pitted against the hero’s strongest in a fight for reward? Not knowing anything put a stunt in your tribe’s ability to figure this out.

“Let’s just vote for physicality.” Natasha says evenly. “Majority wins. That way it’s simple and we can prepare for the challenge. These are probably just for pairs in today’s challenge.”

Everyone agrees easily and Natasha decides to start with the strongest vote. “They’ll probably vote Steve or Thor the strongest. I say we make Bucky our one and Nat or I our two.” You declare.

Everyone glances at each other before nodding. “Okay so, all in favor for me as number two?” You ask and Bucky, you and Natasha raise their hands.

At you confused look Natasha smirks. “I don’t want to go against Steve or Thor if that’s what these rankings are for.”

The words make you all laugh and some tension is obviously lifted from everyone’s shoulders. “All in favor of Clint third?” Nat cuts in before you can say anything else.

The rest of you raise your hand in agreement. You can tell nobody wants to argue much about this and create an awkward environment at the actual challenge. “Then Nat, then Darcy.” Clint marks it on the paper before anybody votes, but nobody argues it.

Darcy Lewis - Villain Tribe

“I got named our weakest player and I guess I saw it coming. Two and two against one, I was never going to be voted the strongest. I just feel like I’m being severely underestimated by them all. Somehow I’m the odd one out when the plan for the last few tribals has been Bucky or Y/N.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“I can’t wait to see how they did this. What they assumed. Heroes just have no idea if our rankings will help us or hurt us. It’s stressful.”

Bucky can’t contain his smile when he sees which challenge is set up behind Jeff. The walls, all different colors, have foot mounts attached to them that get smaller and smaller.

Bucky knows this challenge. Bucky has won this challenge. He turns his head to look at you and he knows you’re thinking the same thing he is.

The villains have this one in the bag. Bucky knows it, especially when Jeff explains that each competitor will go against their equal rank from the opposite tribe.

It’s obvious that being lighter will help more than brute strength especially as the foot mounts get smaller and smaller.

Bucky can’t help but smile as everybody takes the first steps towards the wall. The match ups seem to have worked in the villain’s favor today.

Bucky takes his place on the other side of Thor, who struggles almost immediately. While Bucky would definitely have a hard time, he knee this challenge and he was lighter than Thor.

You were matched up against Steve, who seemed less than thrilled when he realized how much lighter you were compared to him.

“You’ll stand on the first mount for ten minutes.” Jeff explains as everyone settles in. “This is for immunity. Now more than ever your tribes need this.”

Bucky knows that Jeff is right. This far in the game it becomes a battle of which tribe has more going into the merge. It didn’t matter if people thought they would flip or if there were other deserters. All that mattered was who appeared stronger going in probably got to decide who went home.

The villains needed the numbers going in. Bucky was sure that wanting to get rid of strong heroes would be the only thing that protected him post merge.

Thor slips off before they even make it to the second mount. “Villains gain a point, Bucky you can step down.” Jeff orders as Thor stumbles to the small table set up for them to wait at.

“That was tough.” Thor grumbles as he rubs at his bare feet. “Not my thing.” He smiles politely as Bucky sits beside him.

Bucky laughs silently as he turns his attention to the challenge. Nobody else seems to be struggling on their mounts, showing the game will continue on far longer than Bucky and Thor had.

Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe

“I’m embarrassed. They ranked me the strongest of our tribe and I lose first? It’s just humiliating, there’s no momentum for our team.”

Your feet are aching by the half hour mark. Jeff has moved you all to final mount to stand on until the last person falls off, meaning you could be here for hours.

You’re jealous of Bucky, who’s relaxing on the sidelines with Thor, Wanda and Darcy. Darcy had fallen after moving to the second mount, leaving both tribes tied with one point.

You can hear Steve groaning to himself. You assume he’s adjusting his stance and trying to hold on and you’re considerably impressed. Steve has stayed up much longer than you thought he would, longer than he had when you had played a version of this challenge on your season.

“You can come down, Steve!” You call out with a teasing laugh. “Nobody will judge you. I could do this all day.”

It’s silent for a moment, as everyone waits for Steve to respond. The two of you hadn’t interacted at all throughout the entire twenty-one days and there had been no reason to do so.

“I’m not losing to you.” Steve says in a cold tone. You could only imagine the cold blue eyes that matched and his steeled face.

You bite down on your lip to conceal a smile. The retort on the tip of your tongue. Something along the lines of you’ve lost to me before. You settle on a shrug he can’t see and call back, “We’ll see!”

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She looks good up there. She’s not breaking a sweat. Everyone else has shaking legs and can’t hold still and it looks like she could do this all day. Steve can’t even see how good she looks, no way he wins this.”

It’s another close game, one that comes down to you and Steve battling it out for the last point.

You look great up there, and Bucky thinks it in the least flirtatious way possible. You always look great, but you haven’t broken a sweat in this challenge.

It’s obvious Steve’s muscle mass and height is working against him in this game, so Bucky’s impressed by him, just not as impressed as he is with you. You lean your shoulder against the wall in the most casual way possible and you make sure to not adjust your feet to often. All while Steve struggles to stay still. It’s clear from his flexing and pained groans that his feet are cramping and he can’t find a comfortable position at all.

Bucky’s not worried. While the rest of his tribe watches with bated breaths and the hero tribe chews on their nails, Bucky is relaxed.

It’s like it happens in slow motion too. Bucky watches with a small smile as Steve moves to adjust his grip just a little too quickly and his foot slides off the mount.

“Villains win immunity!” Jeff calls out as you step down from your mount. Your eyes find Steve, who’s laying with his back on the sand and eyes closed. The two of you watch each other for a brief moment before you smile at him.

“Good effort.” The words are genuine. “You did really well.” You hold out a hand for Steve to take and help him to his feet again.

Bucky watches the scene with interest. He knows it’s good sportsmanship, a friendly gesture and it’s one that may help you in the long run of the game. If Steve moves on from his resentment, he’s a number.

But Bucky knows he would be a number for you.

You - Villain Tribe

“My feet are killing me. My arms are dead. I’m exhausted, but this win is one of the best yet. I earned us this win. I beat one of their strongest players. And I’m safe for another tribal.”

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“Now that we know what it’s like to win, losing is so much worse. That feeling of being so close and losing by an inch? I just can’t stand it. We’re better than them, I’m better than them.” He purses his lips and his blue eyes are filled with rage. “We can’t lose anymore people, not with a merge so close. They’ll knock us out one by one by one.”

Day Twenty-Three

“Buck.”

There’s a crate sitting in front of where your tree mail is normally put. You can’t contain your smile when you see the note attached to the lid. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Bucky smiles as you pull the paper off of the crate. “Expect some visitors today to unlock this crate and the clue inside.” You look down to inspect the crate and notice a padlocked strapped to it.

“We made it.” Bucky says quietly. “The merge. We’re so close to the end, sweets.” Bucky’s arms wrap around you and you giggle as he lifts you into a hug, you legs wrapping around his waist with ease.

“Nobody can say we haven’t played a good game.” Your hands tangle in his hair. It’s gotten longer in the twenty-something days you’ve gone. “You and I. To the end, right?” You ask again.

Bucky smiles up at you as his hands tighten around your hips. “To the end.”

There’s a moment, where the two of you just look at one another, where you want to kiss him. Then you think it’s not just a moment, it’s just you realizing that you’ve wanted to do it all along.

“We should bring it to camp.” You clear your throat and Bucky hastily drops you back to your feet.

You look up at him again. Your cheeks are warm with nervousness and another feeling you’re unused to. This feeling of adoration. The care you have for Bucky is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You want to kiss him. You want to know what it feels like to have him in your arms and be in his with your lips pressed against his. You wonder what his stubble will feel like and if he’ll rest a hand at the back of your neck.

“We should.” Bucky agrees easily. He meets your eyes and the two of you share a look.

You wonder if he’s thinking the same about you.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“Everyday I don’t tell her about my idol, I feel worse and worse. Especially as we become better friends. I just… I’m paranoid. I’m scared. I need this safety net.”

— ➶ —

notes -> hi! i cut this part into two because this felt like a strong place to finish the chapter (and i was already at 5k words) hopefully you’re not too upset having to wait for more of the merge.

thank u for reading this au if you are! i’m having so much fun writing about one of my favorite reality shows.

[catboycafe]

I Will Now Express Every Thought I Have About Pacific Rim: The Black 

⚠️ spoilers for the whole thing baby

I actually forgot Pacific Rim: The Black was premiering today until I saw it in an article this morning! When I first heard about it months ago, I was decidedly not sold on a Pacific Rim anime. Uprising burnt me the fuck out and I don’t have a lot of trust left in me for new entries to the franchise. But I had heard rumblings of Raleigh and Herc being referenced after going into #pacificrim and I decided I may as well check out to see what was up! I binged it in 4 hours and it sure was a whirlwind, I’ll tell ya

The Plot

I really enjoy the setting and initial concept! We’re so use to seeing Kaiju/Jaegar shenanigans play out within these major cities with helpless civilians everywhere that spending so much time in a lonesome desert and these destroyed civilizations was really cool and indicative of the changes Pacific Rim has undergone in the last few years. I also looooved the Desert Settlement from the beginning!! It seemed really homey and picturesque; I wish we’d spent more time with the other survivors and got to see more of their day to day aside from farming and sitting. 

I also found the first episode set up to be really tight and well written! I was hooked during the initial flashback, Hayley and Taylor’s fight was really poignant and well acted, and the reveal of Atlas Destroyer felt really huge and epic!!

But once we left the Desert Settlement and the plot started actually moving along, the pacing becomes suuuper rough. We spent way too long in Bogan with Shane and Mei; there’s only 7 episodes and we spent, like, 3? 4? within the confines of that camp and I felt it weighed the plot down. Boy is introduced in the 2nd episode and, because the narrative spends so much time on Shane’s evil machinations and Mei’s back story, we still don’t know anything concrete about his origins or purpose 3 episodes later! That felt frustrating to me

The story beats overall were very predictable. I was able to pick up on Mei’s backstory via her dynamic with Shane in their introductions, so her memories felt too built up and too hollow once they were revealed. The same with the reveal of Boy’s Kaiju form; he was in a big green test tube in a PPDC base - I assumed immediately he was a part-kaiju experiment and again his reveal felt hollow, especially after the glacial pace of it’s development. 

Even when events weren’t predictable, they lacked weight. The appearance of several Kaiju Breaches in “Boneyard” felt very cheap for some reason; I wasn’t scared and I didn’t feel tense about these odds mounting against the protagonists. This was just happening and I was just watching. 

The Art Direction and Animation

I’m very obsessed with all the new Kaiju we got from this; I love how Copperhead is rendered, they’re a joy to see on screen!! The Rippers are also very cute and deserve little plushies...i love these neat little dogs. Boy’s Kaiju Form is very intimidating with an interesting color palette and I loved seeing him next to Copperhead’s highly saturated design!

That’s unfortunately all that I liked however; All the human character design is unmemorable to me. Every character looks exactly like another easily identifiable anime character from a different property (Hayley looks exactly like Zero Suit Samus to me, for example. And Mei kept reminding me of both Bernadetta Fire Emblem and Motoko Kusanagi from GitS. The list goes on). 

I can sort of understand why they’re so bland? A franchise going from Live Action to something as heavily stylized as anime is probably a really difficult transition and these designs are probably meant to be more lowkey than more unique anime designs in order to help that transition. But realistically stylized designs can still be recognizable and unique! These feel uninspired and bare bones.

 I have no problem with the switch to CGI animation that modern anime is doing because I know it’s a lot cheaper to produce and it can still be really unique and striking! But The Black’s model animation felt very stilted and inconsistent. I don’t have a lot of knowledge about animating so I don’t think I can accurately describe what I disliked? Wooden is probably the best term. Character movements felt wooden and things like hair and clothes felt plastic. 

Impacts also had very little weight. The fight between Tayler/Mei and Copperhead reminded me of when you’re in a dream and trying to punch something, but you can’t punch hard. It was simply too floaty and too soft. The final showdown in “Showdown” was better, but not by much. It was very immersion breaking seeing these Giant Robots and Giant Monsters unable to throw a real solid hit!

Characters

My favorite character was unequivocally Joel Wyrick. We love Joel Wyrick in this house! Joel’s character has real charisma and charm. I love his flirtations with Loa, how his cocky disposition is juxtaposed with his drinking problem and later insecurities over his lost memories, and his genuine kindness shown to Mei, Taylor, and Boy. No one ever plays with Boy, they just run after him and drag him around...but Joel has this moment in “Escape from Bogan” where he kneels down to Boy and helps him collect rocks. It was sweet!

So of course, when Joel dies for absolutely no reason 5 minutes later - pissed! I was pissed! I yelled “COME ON” aloud in my studio apartment! I was genuinely so excited to see him interact more with the rest of cast then, poof. No More Joel.

His death felt like it was for shock value to me rather than actual narrative development. Why kill him when we still don’t fully understand his and Mei’s relationship? Why were they so close? Were they childhood friends, or just coworkers that happen to become friends? Why did he specifically know all the details of Shane’s abuse towards Mei before she did? 

What did his death accomplish? It made Mei sad...ok? She was already...very sad. Her running away from Shane already had consequences - the consequences of Shane coming after them for revenge in the future. Why did Joel have to become a causality? 

His death is ultimately tied to Mei’s character arc which is, unfortunately, my least favorite :c I find Mei to be a really one dimensional character with a personality, backstory, outlook, and motivation that I’ve seen done a million times before with a million other characters. She feels very out of place in the franchise as a whole - Pacific Rim is, at it’s core, a story about connecting with others. Her self-centric arc and lack of desire to connect outside of drifting really alienates her from the story at large and it frustrates me how long The Black’s narrative spends on her. 

Hayley and Taylor were otherwise very interesting in the pilot episode, but become similarly one dimensional at the story chugs on. Taylor’s unflinching (bordering on unhealthy) faith in their parents was really interesting next to Hayley’s complete acceptance of their parents’ death. But once the two of them make up their differences, they lack an interesting dynamic and become very passive protagonists.

 Taylor especially has no personality - how would you describe Taylor? He’s...brave. He’s the older brother. He’s a leader? He’s nice? There is nothing noteworthy about him at all, which is sad considering I think he has the potential to be a really interesting way to explore the original movie’s influence on The Black’s story.

Hayley’s grief and self-blame are more interesting than Taylor’s...nothingness, but she still falls into this one-note trope of being the naive, excitable little sister. I guess I feel abnormally frustrated about this flat character writing because Pacific Rim’s incredibly unique cast has always been an inspiration to me! It feels sad that this new iteration into the series is full of what feel like stock characters. 

Then we get to Boy. How come Boy can’t have a person name? It’s specifically written in a dialogue between Taylor and Hayley: “I’m not going to call him Chad or Barnaby or one of those names for a baby brother you wanted as a kid,”

Why?

He’s by all accounts a human child when they find him. Yes, he was found in a big green test tube - but he walks and acts just like a human child. The only difference, seemingly, is that he is non-verbal and engages in strange/annoying behavior (running off, eating bugs, etc). So he isn’t deserving of a name?? I don’t know why that makes me so mad, it just does. it’s like they refuse to treat him as a human even before they find out he’s a Kaiju  - it’s super weird! How can the story sell me on the three of them becoming found family (like they’re seemingly trying to do) if the protagonists won’t even treat this kid like a kid??

Misc. Thoughts

The callbacks to Stacker, Herc, and Raleigh were cool! I also like that Herc is a major plot point! We love Herc Hanson and it’s what he deserves. I also find Loa’s connection to Horizon Bravo very interesting...and the fact we’re getting Kaiju cultist lore! Love that! Love that!

Fucked up that the only two dark skinned characters were: 1) removed from the story 10 minutes in with no call back yet, 2) Killed after having 1 line of dialogue and fridged for the character development of the blonde white girl. I really need to know what the deal with those 4 characters leaving in the beginning was about - I absolutely thought we’d see them again by now, but no dice

I don’t know how to feel about Ajax and have no clue what their purpose in the story is. They’re cool, but whats the point? 

If Mei and Taylor are paired up together romantically, I’m putting Craig Kyle and Greg Johnson in the time out box. Very tired of seeing random hetero romance B plots in stories that can’t even get their A plots together

Overall, it’s kind of subpar! It has the foundations of a really interesting story, but the pacing and characters really took me out of it. I’m interested in Season 2! I know season 2 is already ordered and I’d love to see how things continue to develop, see if the character writing gets any better - but I’m not too hopeful unfortunately. I really really love Pacific Rim after all these years and I’m happy to still be getting content and world building! There’s just sooo much I would change about this however. At least fanfiction’s free! 

Thanks for reading all this, I have ADHD and just go on and on if u let me. hmu if You Too have thoughts about Pacific Rim: The Black and have no one to talk abt them with

[emachinescat]

I Shall Have Lived a Little While

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 26 - recovery

Summary: Sequel to "Pain Has an Element of Blank." The knights bring a broken Merlin back to Camelot, and he and Arthur are finally reunited. 

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Gaius

Words: 3,661

TW: mentions of slavery

Note: This is a direct sequel to my stories “I Should Not Dare to Leave My Friend” and “Pain Has an Element of Blank.”  I highly suggest reading those before you read this one, because you’ll probably be a bit lost if you don’t. :)  This is the full, finished version of the piece I posted on Day 26 of Febuwhump.  I hope you enjoy!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

You smile upon your friend to-day,

To-day his ills are over;

You hearken to the lover's say,

And happy is the lover.

'Tis late to hearken, late to smile,

But better late than never:

I shall have lived a little while

Before I die for ever.

- "You Smile Upon Your Friend To-Day" by A. E. Housman

Arthur was days away from striking out on a quest to rescue Merlin while injured himself when the search party returned. Gaius had told the king many times over that he was not well enough to embark on a journey to find his stolen servant, that he should wait and let the knights handle it. He'd even placed a bodyguard over Arthur – Percival – but slowly, the king found his strength returning. He'd warned Percival in advance that he would be staying in Camelot only until he could move about on his own, and then he would ride out. If that meant fighting Percival and the guards to get to his horse and out of the citadel, that's just what he would do.

Ultimately, though, escaping his own castle ended up being unnecessary, because his men succeeded just as Gaius had predicted they would. Arthur was conflicted when he heard of their approach – of course, he was delighted that they were returning, Merlin in tow, though no one knew yet the severity of the servant's condition, only that he lived. Another part of the king gilded itself in resentment and shame, for he had not been there for his friend when he'd been taken. Arthur knew Merlin well, and understood that his servant would have been waiting for – expecting – the king to come for him, to lead the rescue. And Arthur had let Merlin down, had not been there for his friend when he needed him the most.

A third part of Arthur felt immediate relief that he would no longer have to drag himself onto his horse and ride out into unknown dangers, because he knew full well that his wound – a nasty, deep sword-cut across the ribs – had not healed as much as he was trying to convince Percival – and himself. Of course, Gaius hadn't been fooled for a moment. Neither had Gwen. But both knew that there was only so long they could hope to contain Arthur when Merlin was missing.

Arthur insisted on meeting the knights in the courtyard, and felt like he had just fought a dragon by the time he got there. His wound ached, his body felt weak and limp and heavy, and his breathing came in ragged bursts. Beside him, Percival took hold of his arm to steady him. Arthur glared, but didn't pull away. He tried to ignore the knowing gleam in the man's eyes, one he knew without having to look also resided in his Gwen's and Gaius's gazes.

Despite the pain and exhaustion from the exertion, Arthur managed to break into a stilted run when the knights, red cloaks announcing their return, rode into the courtyard. "Gwaine!" Arthur panted, because it was Gwaine who held Merlin gently in front of him on his horse. The servant was unconscious, but he was alive. Arthur looked up at Gwaine, who had yet to hand Merlin off to any of the now dismounted knights, and made no attempt to dismount himself. A stirring of dread plucked at Arthur's heart like a lyre.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, and his voice came out much weaker than he wanted it to. His eyes traveled back to his servant, taking in the drawn, pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way that Gwaine held him so carefully, as if afraid he might break. There was something else, something that Arthur could not identify, something that radiated a sense of wrongness. Arthur kept studying his friend, and for some reason, his gaze kept moving back to the servant's legs.

Gaius shuffled up beside the king. Arthur could sense the worry and relief coming off of the old physician in waves, but he did not turn from the unconscious servant. "Gwaine?" he prompted, as the knight had not answered his question.

But it wasn't Gwaine who responded. Gaius had already begun his cursory examination of his ward, and when he spoke, Arthur's head snapped around to meet his gaze. "His legs are broken, Sire. Both of them."

***

Arthur felt numb as he followed the knights, Gaius, Gwen, and Merlin back across the courtyard, up the steps, and into the castle. Both legs broken. Arthur knew at once that Merlin's injuries hadn't been an accident. He hadn't slipped and fallen and broken his bones. Of course, it sounded exactly like something clumsy Merlin would do. But Athur also understood the kind of people that had taken his servant. He had spent a large portion of his time as King of Camelot attempting to rid his kingdom and the surrounding areas from the influence of slavers. These were men who were ruthless, cruel, and unfeeling.

It was clear to Arthur that they had broken Merlin's legs intentionally, and at first the king was so stunned by the level of violence done to his servant that he didn't feel anything. He just couldn't stop thinking about how it might have happened. He didn't have to ask why. Merlin might have been scrawny and unassuming at first glance, but he was also incredibly stubborn and determined, and sometimes even clever, on the rare occasion he wasn't being a complete idiot. He would have tried to escape from his captors, Arthur was sure. Maybe multiple times. And to keep it from happening again, they'd shattered his legs, made sure he couldn't run.

They arrived at Gaius's chambers, and Gwaine carefully laid Merlin out on the well-worn patient's cot. Gaius shooed everyone out of the room, save for Arthur, who as king could not be "shooed" anywhere, and Gwaine, who dug his heels in and refused to budge. Arthur and Gwaine watched in tense silence for a while as Gaius examined Merlin further, checking to make sure his legs had been set properly, binding them, treating a nasty wound on the back of his head, washing the blood and muck and filth out of his hair, spreading salve on bruises and cuts and tipping potions down his throat.

Eventually, as Gaius fell into a rhythm, Arthur turned to Gwaine. "What happened?" he asked in a low, even voice. That numbness still froze his heart, but he could feel the anger beginning to thaw the icy disbelief. "Where did you find him?" The unspoken but obvious question lingered between them: Did you kill the bastards who did this?

The king had fully been expecting an enraged, ultimately triumphant tale of the knights discovering the slavers' hideout, bathing the walls with the blood of the men who had tortured their friend, and sweeping Merlin into his arms and carrying him home like the swooning maiden he was. But to Arthur's surprise, Gwaine hesitated, a faraway, almost uncomfortable look in his eyes. "I'm not actually sure," he finally answered.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "How are you not sure of what happened? Have you been drinking?"

Gwaine's response was serious and immediate. "Not on a quest this important. Not when Merlin's life was at stake." Arthur nodded curtly in approval, then waited for Gwaine to explain himself. The knight took a deep breath, then told Arthur everything that had happened. Along the way, Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye that Gaius had finished with Merlin, and he stood stiffly, his spine as tall as he could manage, listening intently.

When Gwaine had finished, Arthur shook his head in confusion. "That makes no sense. He just appeared at the edge of your camp?"

Gwaine shrugged. "We thought he might have escaped and stumbled upon us, but with his legs…" He trailed off, dark, flaming eyes darting over to the servant as if to remind himself that Merlin was home, and he was safe.

Gaius turned around and joined the hushed conversation. Arthur thought he saw a flicker of something he couldn't quite place in the old man's gaze – it might have been understanding, or fear, or something else entirely – when Gaius urged, "Since we are at a loss to explain these things at this moment, perhaps it is best to find comfort in Merlin's return – and maybe, once he has awakened, he can shed some light on how he came to be in your camp." Somehow, though, Arthur had the feeling that Gaius didn't expect Merlin to have the answers.

***

Merlin woke the next morning. Gwaine and Arthur had both refused to leave over the night, and so Arthur had slept in Merlin's bed and Gwaine had fallen into a restless slumber slumped over the table in the physician's chambers.

Arthur awoke early, at first confused as to why he was in such an uncomfortable bed, then he recognized his surroundings and spent a few horrified moments trying to figure out why he was in his servant's room, in his bed, but then everything flooded back to him in a great rush, and he thought he might be sick.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, the familiar deep ache in his ribs more pronounced after sleeping in such a hard, threadbare bed. Well, sleeping was a generous term. The king had only fallen into a fitful, anxious sleep in the early, still-dark hours of the morning and felt less rested than he had before he'd drifted off. It wasn't the discomfort or pain that had kept him awake, however – it had been his own mind, the boiling rage that had hit him full force as soon as he was alone.

The fury was accompanied by equal parts disgust and heartache, and his mind had been alive and seething with images of what Merlin had gone through, the pain he had endured. He'd actually fallen asleep once, only to wake up minutes later with a pounding heart and coiling gut, the crisp snap of bones in his dream much too loud and real in his mind. And when all of the emotions had been boiled down to their basest forms, the thought that resounded through Arthur's head was painfully simple: Merlin didn't deserve this.

Merlin was just stirring when Arthur limped his way down the steps into the physician's main chamber, right arm curled instinctively around his burning midsection. Gwaine still slumped over the table, snoring loudly. Gaius was gone, most likely on his early morning rounds. It was comforting to see that Gaius had thought Merlin well enough to leave more or less alone while he was gone. It meant that he was in no immediate danger.

"Arthur?"

Arthur hastened to his servant's bedside and eased himself carefully into the chair that Gaius had vacated when he left. Arthur responded with a smile and a whispered, "Hello, Merlin. It's about time you woke up." He wasn't sure why he kept his voice lowered, other than a desire to have a moment to speak to his servant alone, before Gwaine woke up.

Merlin looked terrible: His face was pinched in pain, his eyes glassy and legs bandaged and propped up on the mountain of pillows Arthur had ordered brought to the chamber. Still, he smiled at Arthur's light jab. "How… how did I get here?" His voice was weak and dry; Arthur saw a flagon of water on the bedside table and helped Merlin drink, holding his body rather more stiffly than usual to minimize his own pain at the movement.

Arthur's heart dropped a little. There went his answers. "You don't remember?"

Merlin shook his head, his eyes somewhere far away. "The last thing that I recall is…" He trailed off, his long fingers picking anxiously at his blanket.

Arthur leaned forward the tiniest bit. "What?"

"I was at the fortress. The, uh, bandits' hideout."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Do you know where it is? Could you lead us there?"

Merlin tilted his head to the side, confused. "Wasn't that where you found me?"

Merlin's words were like another sword in the gut. Merlin assumed that Arthur had been the one to rescue him, the one to lead the search party. And why wouldn't he believe that? That was what should have happened. If it hadn't been for Arthur's injury, it would have been him carrying his servant home instead of Gwaine. Of course, Merlin couldn't have known that. Arthur forced a smile that he hoped didn't look too fake onto his face and shook his head. "You weren't found at any fortress. None of the men who had taken you were nearby." Guilt gnawed at him for his purposefully vague description of the rescue party, but he shoved it aside. He would not take credit for what his knights had done alone, but he wasn't ready to divulge his own injury to Merlin yet.

"What do you mean? I know I couldn't have escaped on my own, I–"

"What?"

Merlin had cut off, the tiniest spark of something lighting in his eyes. He dropped his gaze. "Nothing. I can't remember."

Arthur had a feeling Merlin wasn't telling the full truth. He could have sworn that the expression on Merlin's face, for the briefest of seconds, was that of realization. As if he'd figured out exactly how he'd managed to get away from the bandits with two broken legs. But he let it go, for now.

"Well, you were found feet from the rescue party's camp," Arthur continued. "Lying in some bushes, unconscious. With your legs…" He didn't finish – he didn't have to. The pain lines in Merlin's face deepened.

Merlin scrubbed a shaky hand through his hair, then winced when he hit the cut. "Ow."

"Don't touch it, you idiot," Arthur chided.

Merlin rolled his eyes, settled deeper into his pillow, and regarded Arthur with something far too close to suspicion.

The silent staring got to Arthur far quicker than he liked to admit. "What?" he snapped waspishly.

"You talked about the rescue party like you weren't a part of it," Merlin observed, and Arthur sighed. Even when badly injured, the servant was annoyingly observant in the most inconvenient ways. Why couldn't he pick up on subtleties in situations where it would actually be helpful?

Despite his exasperation, Arthur was truthful. "It was a party of knights who brought you home," he admitted. "I was not one of them."

Merlin looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he said simply, "Oh."

"Merlin–"

"No, no. That makes sense," Merlin interrupted, and it was more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur. "I'm just a servant. You're the king. You had many important… king things to do."

"King things?"

"Like being a royal prat."

Arthur smirked. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Merlin's insults while he'd been stuck in bed worrying about the missing servant. He didn't rise to the bait, though – not yet. "You know very well you're not just a servant, Merlin. You are…" He hesitated only briefly; seeing his servant being hauled away by slavers, then spending weeks wondering if he'd ever see his friend again had opened his eyes and battered down his defenses, and ultimately made it easier to say his next words. "You are an old, dear friend. And I feared – I thought I'd never see you again."

Merlin's eyes shimmered in the candlelight. He looked like he was about to cry. Arthur prayed he wouldn't. Then, Merlin smiled and complained, "If I'm such an old, dear friend, then why am I still scrubbing your floors and washing your undergarments?"

"It's your job, Merlin. Being friends with someone shouldn't stop you from doing your duties."

"Then can I have a different job? One that doesn't involve running after your every beck and call?"

Arthur chuckled. "Absolutely not. And don't let what I said go to your head. If you ever tell anyone I said it, I'll feed you to my dogs."

"You can try, but since I'm the one who's been walking them for years now, I think they like me more than you."

They shared an amiable laugh, but the unresolved issue of Arthur's role – or lack thereof – in Merlin's rescue still hung between them. Arthur sobered. When he next spoke, his voice was grave. "The only reason I did not ride out after you, Merlin, was because I was injured. Gwaine and the others had been gone for days before I finally woke up."

Instantly, Merlin's entire demeanor changed. Like he had been struck by lightning, every aspect of Merlin's frame snapped to alert. His face hardened, his eyes flashed, and he levered himself up onto his elbows. He gave off an almost frightening aura, one of worry, as Arthur had expected, but also of… fierce protectiveness? Arthur was touched, but also somewhat unnerved. Something akin to power sizzled in Merlin's blue eyes as they searched Arthur up and down for injury.

"What happened? Who did it? How are you now?"

Arthur blinked, then shifted uncertainly in his chair. "I… I took a sword to the ribs – I'm fine, lie back down – but it missed anything vital. One of the bandits who attacked us got a lucky hit in right as you went down. He's dead now, by the way."

The flames flared before dwindling down into embers. "Good. And you? Are you recovered?"

Arthur thought about lying, about telling Merlin he had never been better, but instead he said, "I'm well on my way. A few more weeks, Gaius says, and I should be as good as new."

Merlin eased himself back down onto his back, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and the movement pulled at his legs. Arthur glanced at the broken limbs and hesitated before asking the question he both desperately needed and ardently dreaded the answer to.

"Merlin… what did they do to you?"

Merlin's face, already whiter than usual from pain, took on a faintly green tint. "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

Arthur wanted to retort, No, it's not all the same to me! But he took a deep breath, and thought about what was best for Merlin. He would have to talk about what was done to him eventually. Even if it wasn't to him, he would have to relive the terror and the pain and the memories. But he had just woken up. If he needed some time, then who was Arthur to begrudge him that?

Only, he had to know – "Just one thing, then," the king implored, and Merlin's eyebrows raised, surprised that Arthur was giving up on his quest for information so easily. "Can you tell me… did anyone do anything to you? And did they actually come to the point of… of…"

Merlin's voice was troubled, but he finished Arthur's question with a quiet strength. "Selling me?" He shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. I know there was an interested party–" Arthur's gut rolled over on itself, and he thought he might be sick, "–but I honestly can't remember anything that happened after he knocked me out." He looked up at Arthur almost shyly. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember. But to answer your first question, other than breaking my legs, they didn't touch me."

Relief flooded through Arthur. "Honorable slavers?" he asked incredulously.

A hint of mirth touched Merlin's lips. "I think they were afraid of me," he whispered conspiratorially.

Arthur snorted. "Afraid? Of the likes of you? What were you going to do, kill them with your incompetency?"

"I have many talents that you don't know of," Merlin said mysteriously, and if Arthur hadn't known better, he'd think Merlin was being serious.

"You have one talent," Arthur deadpanned. "And that's irritating your king."

"Glad to be of service," Merlin joked.

"That would be a first," Arthur shot back. Then he said, "Merlin, I'm sorry I wasn't able to rescue you myself. I know you would have done the same for me."

Merlin shook his head. "You were injured, sire."

"That wouldn't have stopped you." He regretted the words, and the guilt that permeated them, as soon as they left his mouth.

Merlin studied him seriously for a few moments before responding with a slight grin, "Maybe not, but aren't you always saying I'm a reckless idiot with no mind for my own safety?"

"That, you are," Arthur agreed heartily. A beat. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me, too."

In the comfortable silence that followed, Arthur realized something – he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a snore from Gwaine. Slowly, he turned around to see the knight still sitting on the bench, his upper body sprawled on the table, face-down. "Gwaine?" Arthur asked.

All was quiet for a handful of hopeful seconds. Then – "...Yes, Arthur?"

Arthur groaned. Behind him, he heard Merlin stifle a chuckle. "How much did you hear?"

Gwaine popped up to an upright position, cracked his neck, popped his knuckles, and sent his friends his most shit-eating grin. "Enough to wonder if you're actually engaged to the right person," he answered chipperly. "You two are so sweet."

Arthur felt the blood rushing into his face, and he steadfastly refused to turn around to look at Merlin, sure that the servant's face, too, would be bright red. "Why, you… I… that's treason!" Arthur exclaimed indignantly, even though it wasn't.

Gwaine shook his hair out of his face, stood, stretched, and ambled his way over to the sick bed. "Merlin, my friend. It's good to see you recovering."

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin responded, and Arthur did look back at him now, noting that a fierce blush was indeed just beginning to fade from his cheeks. When he smiled, first at Gwaine, then at Arthur, it was a tired smile, but a hopeful one, too.

"It's good to be home."

FebuWhump2021

Febuwhumpday26

Recovery

Resolution

Sequel

Whump

Hurt Merlin (Merlin)

Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Friendship

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Broken Bones

Sword Wound

Gen or Pre-Slash

Protective Merlin

Protective Arthur

Protective Gwaine (Merlin)

Protective Gaius (Merlin)

everyone is protective

Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Worried Merlin (Merlin)

Everyone Is Worried Too

Arwen Is Referenced

Heart-to-Heart

arthur shows he cares

Bromance

Epic Bromance

Mentions of Slavery

[anniebibananie]

Hi can you please a little fic of Jon and Arya on thier way back from KL talking about their loves (Sansa and gendry) and a little reunion scene for both of them!

a/n: better late than never? and maybe not quite what you asked for? this is: snippets of jon and arya on their way back to winterfell.

They’re a week into their journey back to Winterfell when Jon finally speaks for the first time. He’d been shell-shocked, uncommunicative, and Arya had never been one to push. Maybe if Sansa was here she could reach out, place a comforting hand on his shoulder, and unlock his chest to reveal all that deep-seated trauma. 

Arya was not as generous as Sansa, though. She struggled with the idea of reaching that palm out when there was still so much waging a war in her own chest. But she sat on a horse, riding beside him even when he slowed or raced away, and she thought sitting beside a person as you both bore weight was a kindness of its own. Sometimes the most Arya felt capable of giving. 

“I didn’t think you were going to come home,” he said. His voice was near a croak from lack of use. 

Arya felt her heartbeat jolt before controlling it back down. He spoke nothing but the truth, and yet it hurt somehow to hear it aloud. 

“Neither did I.” Arya considered herself a world class liar, but she still found the thought of lying to Jon pointless beyond measure. 

“Then what changed?” His eyes stayed strained forward. One hand kept a loose grip on the reins. 

Arya had no idea how to answer him. There were too many reasons, truthfully. She thought about Sansa watching from a parapet just to see no one return. She thought about never returning to Winterfell’s walls. Of Jon riding back alone—the desire to run off into the woods and disappear just as alluring as home. Maybe Arya was doing it for Sansa then: returning Jon to her, knowing the two needed each other more than anything else and both incredibly unlikely to admit it. 

But she knew too, as unwilling to admit it as they were, that part of her wanted to see Gendry at least one last time before… before… before whatever came next. She was tired of not saying goodbye and of not hearing it in return. 

She’d said goodbye to him, though, hadn’t she? So why did it feel insufficient?

“Are you doing it for him?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. 

“Who?” 

He snorted. “Arya.” 

“Jon,” she tested, obstinate. “And what are you going to do about her?” 

He tensed. “Who?” 

“Oh fuck,” she cursed. “You’re horrible.”

“Like looking at your own reflection, isn’t it?” 

Arya couldn’t argue that. She’d never been able to, never really wanted to. So she grunted, didn’t say anything, kept riding in relative silence. 

___

Jon sat across from her, staring into the flames like a brooding actor. Much of the rest of camp had turned in for the evening already, but neither of them had taken to sleeping well after everything. When Arya really thought about it she wasn’t sure she’d slept in years—not properly at least. 

“How did you know?” he asked. “About… her.” 

Arya’s knife stopped mid-slice of the apple in her palm. Truthfully, she was quite surprised he had brought it up without the air of alcohol or further prompting. She held the apple up in front of herself. 

“There’s this sleight of hand entertainers do. They have you looking right here, do everything to keep your eyes focused on the apple so that you never notice what’s happening in their other hand.” She threw the apple up, catching it easily with a sharp slap of apple against palm. “I asked why in the world you kept throwing Daenerys in our faces. Why make it so obvious? There were political reasons, obviously, needing the army and support but…” 

Jon’s face remained impassive. He truly was better at playing the game than anyone ever gave him credit for, herself included. 

“You shone a light on Daenerys so no one would see how you looked at Sansa. Most importantly the Dragon Queen herself,” she finished. 

“But you saw.” 

She nodded and finally took a bite of the abused apple. “Yes, I saw. Mostly because I see how she looks at you in return, and then it’s not that hard to put together the dots.” 

Jon ignored the comment. “She didn’t deserve what I put her through.” 

Arya shrugged. “None of us deserve anything we were put through. Doesn’t actually matter.” 

“And what does?” 

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” The truth was, Arya didn’t actually know anymore. That’s why she’d nearly left in the first place. Arya had run so long—the to and from barely mattering as long as she was going—and she figured the rest of her siblings had as well. 

But what happened when you stopped? How did you figure out where to go? Even worse, how did you come to terms with staying, with simply being, when the opposite was what was familiar to you?

“The war is over, isn’t it?” she asked. “We can stop destroying things and try building instead.” 

“Is that why you’re heading back? To build?” 

“I’m going back because… because I don’t know where to go, and this is just as good a spot as any.” 

Jon nodded and didn’t speak. Arya was more than happy to let the fire crackle. 

__

Some nights Arya dreamt of the battle—smoke as thick as fog. Others she dreamt of Cersei’s beady eyes, staring at her even in death–you couldn’t shut my eyes forever, they seemed to say. Other nights, she dreamt of a blacksmith’s hands on scarred flesh. 

Occasionally, rarely, she was on her father’s shoulders walking Winterfell’s grounds. 

No way to know, really, what you would get. A toss of a coin. It was best to try not to dream at all. 

__

“I like him if that helps,” Jon spoke. 

Arya felt uncomfortable that they even had to be talking about this. 

“Wonderful,” she muttered. She paused, unsure of why she was contemplating allowing this discussion at all. “He wants me to be his wife.” 

“What?” Jon’s voice carried enough that Arya could sense the few men on horses in front of them give little looks over their shoulders before looking away again. “You’re too young for that.” 

“I don’t think I will ever marry,” Arya said. She couldn’t imagine the life of being wed, of those duties weighing around you like some sort of cage. It didn’t matter how she felt about Gendry or anyone, not if it meant submitting herself to a life she couldn’t live. 

“If I learned anything with the wildlings is that you don’t have to be married to someone to have love or a commitment.” Jon shrugged. He looked uncomfortable even bringing the topic up. “Not that I could condone that sort of thing, but…”

“Thanks, Jon.” Arya paused. They’d round up on Winterfell’s walls in a handful of days, and she couldn’t begin to imagine all that would come when they got there. She had no idea what their lives looked like now. “Jon?” she asked. 

He humphed in response. 

“You know I’m not some idiot bleeding romantic, but…”

He sighed. “But?”

“But what’s the point if you don’t get to be happy?” 

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “I did a lot of bad, Arya.”

“Sorry, I should have known I needed to rephrase this. What’s the point of it all if she doesn’t get to be happy? And she wants you.”

“She wouldn’t if she knew—”

“She knows it all. She’s smarter than all of us.” Arya laughed, the sound broken but alive and escaping from her. He joined in with a brisk laugh of his own. “When we get home I think the best thing you can do for her is give her the truth.” 

“You ever think about taking your own advice?” 

Arya snorted. “Not usually.” He was staring at her, and she gave him an aggravated look. “I’ll think about it. If you do, too.” 

He nodded, satisfied. 

__

Arya dreamed of snow—heaps and heaps of it. She dreamed it was falling all over Winterfell, and she couldn’t seem to keep on top of the pile of it. Finally, she stood on the precipice. And when she looked down at her feet, she could see a sprout of green pushing its way through. 

__

The crest of Winterfell peaked over the horizon. Arya knew from now on it would only get bigger in their sight, and that at any second both her and Jon were equally likely to kick their horses to urge them on forward. 

Arya wanted to be in her sister’s arms. She also wanted to be in her own bed. 

“There’s a lot more life ahead of us,” Jon said as if the thought surprised him, as if he’d only just realized. 

“There is,” Arya agreed. Having the same realization she’d had what felt like eons ago now, standing across from Sandor as he looked down at her with that foreign sense of affection, she said, “I want it.” 

Jon nodded. “Me too.” 

“Race you for it?” she joked, but they were both pushing their horses forward without a second thought. They raced toward their home. 

And Arya didn’t know what the next day looked like, certainly not far beyond it, but she knew she could be brave and happy and home. She knew her and Jon had a chance to have that without fear of it being yanked from their tightly clasped fingers. 

She wanted that. She was ready to go and get it. 

[manage-mischief]

Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows

Chapter 3: The Risky Play

Read on: AO3 or FF.net

Chapter Summary: A familiar face graces the halls of Hogwarts.

Notes: Chapter 3! Yay! So, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be posting Sundays every week. Keep a lookout! Thank you so so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. I really appreciate it. Also, thanks to my incredible beta reader: @leah-ravenanne :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

September 6th, 1978

Quidditch tryouts were Saturday and Regulus was quite looking forward to them. He was never happier than when he was playing Quidditch. He had played Seeker on the Slytherin Team for three years now, and had enjoyed every moment of it. The freedom of flying through the air, the wind whipping through his black locks, the sting of the frost on his face—all of it made him feel alive. This year, his good friend Woodrow McDrew, would be captaining the team. Although McDrew was not a member of Regulus’s normal circle of friends, Regulus respected McDrew all the same. He was a highly talented and fiercely kind individual. Avery and Mulciber often mocked McDrew, commenting that he should have been in Hufflepuff due to his friendly, outgoing demeanor and staunchly pro-Muggle views. However, Regulus found McDrew to be a breath of fresh air. He demonstrated the best qualities of Slytherin House, and, despite his disapproval of Regulus’s friends, always treated him with respect. No one deserved to be Quidditch Captain more than McDrew.

“’Ello, Regulus!” McDrew greeted him with a wide smile and a firm handshake. “Have a good summer?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. How about yourself?”

“Oh, you know, nothin’ too interesting to report. Well, until I found out about being Quidditch Captain!” He lowered his voice, suddenly serious. “I’ve been studying up on the other teams, you know? Who they’re likely to keep, who’s gone, and that sort of stuff. We’ll win this year, I know it!”

Regulus laughed, appreciating his confidence. “That’s great. Who do you reckon are going to be toughest to beat?” he asked, although he already feared the answer.

“Ravenclaw, as always.” McDrew rolled his eyes. As if on cue, the Ravenclaw team stormed merrily out onto the pitch, trailed by a hopeful group of newcomers ready to try out. The Ravenclaw Quidditch Team was daunting, there was no denying it. Their offensive strength lay in their elite group of Chasers. Gwenog Jones, who had clearly been named Captain, was a force of nature. Rumor had it that she had already signed a contract with the Holyhead Harpies and would be leaving Hogwarts immediately following the Quidditch season to play for them. George Fleet, a lanky, sandy-haired seventh year, came from a long line of Quidditch royalty. His father had, until very recently, played for the English National Team. Regulus had remembered cheering for Giles Fleet when he was a child. And then, there was Des Lewis. For a girl raised by Muggles, she had immense skill. Regulus remembered the conversation he had overheard her having with Slughorn. Gwenog had taken her to training camp with Holyhead this past summer.

As the blue-clad team passed the Slytherins, McDrew tensed his shoulders. He tersely nodded at Gwenog Jones, who cordially returned the gesture. “Going to the Slug Club next Friday, McDrew? I hear he’s got Ludo Bagman coming in.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” McDrew replied. There was an awkward pause before Gwenog cleared her throat and signaled to her team to move down the field. “See you around, McDrew. Black.” She stomped away.

McDrew exhaled deeply after she had gone. “What a woman!”

---

As Regulus packed up his broom after the conclusion of Slytherin field time (during which he’d flown beautifully, thank you very much), he noted a fleck of maroon in his peripheral vision. Sure enough, the Gryffindors had arrived for their time on the pitch. However, Regulus was shocked to see an old familiar face. Laughing along with the rest of the team, with his untidy black hair and smug grin, was none other than James Potter, the brother-stealer. What was he doing here? Come back to relive his glory days? James caught Regulus’s eye as Regulus stared loathingly across the pitch. Bollocks.

With a new sense of urgency, Regulus haphazardly shoved the rest of his equipment into his bag. He tried to blend in between a group of young Gryffindors cheering on their team as he rushed toward the field’s exit. He wasn’t so lucky.

“Oi, Regulus.”

Regulus walked faster.

“Hey! Hey Reggie, come back!” James Potter sprinted towards him, seizing his robes and yanking him backwards. “Didn’t you hear me shouting?” James asked innocently.

“Oh dear, I guess I’d better get my hearing checked,” Regulus snidely remarked. “What do you want, Potter? Why are you even here? Finally realize that you’re nothing outside of school?”

James looked uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and fiddled with the cuffs of his robes. “It’s…it’s for work! You know what? That’s none of your business! Listen. I need to talk to you. It’s about Pad—Sirius. It’s about Sirius.”

Regulus’s throat constricted. “What about him?”

“Well, he…um. He wanted me to talk to you. He, uh, well… he wants to say he’s sorry for leaving and sorry that you guys lost touch…”

Regulus was shocked and enraged. “Oh, poor Sirius! How will he go on? Well, you can tell that traitor that if he was truly sorry, he’d have come to me himself, not had his replacement family do it for him! Or better yet, he’d have had the balls to come talk to me a year ago when this whole mess started. So, you tell dear Sirius that I’m sorry his guilt has finally caught up with him, but he can take his guilt and shove up it up his—”

“Stop!” James interrupted. “Don’t you understand how hard it was on him? He’s only just come to terms with being disowned. He thought he’d put you in danger by talking to you himself. He didn’t want your mum and dad to hurt you.”

Regulus remembered the threats his mother and father had made before he returned to school last year, warning him against having any contact with his disgraced brother.

“We will know...”

James seized Regulus’s moment of pause as an opportunity to continue. “He’s fine, now. But he…he’s seen how you’ve changed since he left. We can all see it. He’s afraid that you’re going down a dark path.”

Another wave of rage coursed through Regulus’s veins. “Oh yeah? Well you don’t know anything about my life, and neither does he! He went out and found himself a new family. Well, I did the same!” he shouted, not caring about the younger onlookers surrounding him.

James’s faced contorted. He was angry now too. “You think those Death Eaters are your family? That’s sick, mate. Absolutely sick. Sirius always told me that you were different from old Orion and Wally. He said you didn’t really believe all that pureblood, anti-Muggle shit. But, I guess he was wrong. You’re in just as deep as the rest of them. Spineless. You disgust me, mate.”

Regulus blanched. “Just— just because I’m in with them doesn’t mean I believe all they have to say. I- I can make my own decisions!”

Potter scoffed. “Clearly not. You think that old Voldie’s going to let you think for yourself?! Then you’re way too naive to be caught up in this mess! You’re either in or you’re out. This is a war, mate! I know you know what’s on the horizon. And if you choose the side of hatred and bigotry…well…then you’ll get what’s coming.”

With those scathing words, Potter spun on a heel and stormed back towards his old teammates, leaving Regulus standing there, shocked and confused. Sure, he’d been having some doubts but…He was where he belonged, wasn’t he? His mind raced. His cheeks burned with shame. What did Potter know, anyway?

Turning down a corridor into the castle, he ran into Ginger, whose hair was now putrid green. She was covered with flecks of something dark and wet.

“What happened to you?” Regulus asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I heard Lewis use the Dark Lord’s name in the hall. So, I hexed that Mudblood friend of hers, Bode. Used one of Severus’s old curses. It worked wonderfully—he’s in the hospital wing now. But, Lewis got me with this jinx before I could get away. It’s not too bad, though. Avery reckons he can fix it right up. Those little Muggle lovers don’t have the balls to do anything serious! Pathetic!” She cackled. Regulus found it to be a shrill, ugly sound. He realized the dark spatters peppering Ginger’s face and robes were specks of blood. His head pounded. He felt like he was going to vomit.

“I’ve gotta go.” Regulus spun around and quickly walked away from Ginger and the Slytherin Common Room.

Regulus aimlessly wandered about the castle, reflecting on Potter’s words. He had always told himself he wasn’t as bigoted or as prejudiced as his friends. He had attempted to justify his involvement with the Death Eaters by blaming others; but Sirius hadn’t given into the pressure like Regulus had. Besides, Regulus had wanted a family, he had wanted people who accepted him for who he was. But, did they accept him? Or, did they only want him among their ranks because of his prominent, Pureblood status? He remembered when they had approached him during first year.

“We know enough about you…” What had they known, really?

Back then, Regulus had refused. He had felt that he had higher moral principles. Sure, he had been raised by his parents to hate and fear Muggles. But Regulus had never personally believed Muggles and Muggleborns were less than human. He hadn’t then… did he now? He thought of the boy Ginger had sent to the hospital, just for fun. He felt sickened by himself. How had he let himself end up here?

---

The rest of the week dragged on. Regulus had become detached and distant. He poured all of his time and energy into his classes. He barely slept. He thought about reaching out to someone, but didn’t know who he would go to for help. He could send an owl…but who would he write? Sirius? They hadn’t spoken in years, what would he even say? Plus, Regulus still harbored some animosity towards his brother for abandoning him. James? Not likely after that verbal thrashing. Regulus would be too embarrassed. And they had never quite gotten on, even before Sirius’s flight. He racked his brain. He barely knew anyone outside of his Death Eater circle, now. Dejectedly, he plopped himself on his bed and pressed his fingers over his eyelids, trying to block the oncoming migraine. Quidditch practice tonight was going to be a pain.

Quidditch…McDrew! That was it! He would talk to McDrew. Regulus knew he could trust his fellow seventh year. Cheered up slightly, he grabbed his broom and Quidditch bag and headed to down the pitch, hoping to catch his captain there before the others arrived.

Sure enough, the Slytherin Captain had also arrived early and was currently pouring over a strategy book in the locker room as Regulus walked in. Engrossed, McDrew didn’t notice his entrance. Regulus coughed, and the boy looked up.

“Oh, hey Black! Didn’t realize you’d be here this early. I was just reading up on some new moves I want us to try.”

Regulus forced an awkward smile, suddenly extremely nervous and shy. McDrew noticed something was off.

“You alright, mate?”

Regulus sighed. This was his opening. “Can…can I ask you something?”

McDrew raised an eyebrow, confused. “Sure.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

A prolonged silence filled the room. McDrew considered his answer, deep in thought.  “To tell you the truth, mate, I don’t think anyone is really a bad person. I think people make bad choices, especially when they’re lost or confused. But, deep down, I don’t believe anyone can survive without a little bit of good in them.”

“That was philosophical.”

McDrew laughed. “Yeah, I suppose it was.” He became serious again. “But, I think it’s true. Look, Regulus, I don’t pretend to know everything about you. But, I spent my fair share of time around your brother and his friends, so I’ve heard things. Heard things about what it’s like living with your parents, with all of that pressure, with some of their…disciplinary methods…”

Regulus paled and averted his gaze.

“…And I think growing up like that would be enough to send anyone over the deep end. Considering all you went through, you seem pretty sane to me. But, I think you’re lost. You’re angry. You’re scared. And, I think that’s caused you to make some bad decisions. To fall in with some bad people. I know it’s hard. In Slytherin, there’s this expectation to follow exactly what old Salazar used to say. ‘Purebloods first, Muggles are scum,’ that sort of thing. I, myself, think that’s all bullshit. Sure, I’ve made some enemies, especially among those whom you consider to be your friends. At the end of the day, though, I see it as my duty to speak up. To go against the grain, to prove that all that rhetoric is troll dung. There comes a point where you’ve got to make a choice about who you want to be. And, I think it seems like you’re at that point. So, mate, if you decide that you don’t want to continue down whatever path you’re currently on, you know where to find me. Me and my friends’ll gladly take you in. Don’t let the fear of being alone—of making others angry—ruin your own life.” McDrew smiled. “You’re a good bloke, Reg. I just think you’ve lost your way.”

Regulus fought back the pricking of tears in his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear those words. All he had wanted was to be loved and accepted. Yet, so far, all love in his life—from his family, from his friends—had been conditional. The fear of losing their love had caused Regulus to conform, to become a person he barely recognized. But, here he was, sitting in the musty Quidditch locker room, presented with a way out. A way to rediscover himself and become a better person. Energized by the prospect of this new life, he broke into a wide grin. He heard the rest of the team coming down into the changing rooms.

“Practice is starting, I guess,” Regulus said. “Maybe we can talk more at breakfast tomorrow?”

McDrew smiled crookedly. “Of course, mate! I’ll look forward to it!”

[purrincess-chat]

So guess who came up with another angsty adrinette story last night?? I promise I didn't forget about the LadyNoir one I made you all press f for. I was writing it out to surprise dump it on you cause I think it's gonna just be a one shot, but it was taking longer than I thought to write, but I will post it this weekend probably!

But anyway this new one that I thought of will likely be either multichapter or one huge one shot (like 10k) but the basic premise is the class goes on a trip to the countryside to go camping in the summer, and they all stay in cabins and they pull a swap with Kim and Max who are rooming with Nino and Adrien so Kim and Max go to stay with Alix and Ondine who is also there don't question it, and Marinette and Alya go bunk with Adrien and Nino because Alya and Nino want to cuddle all night so they kick Marinette into the bed with Adrien, and in the night, Adrien and Marinette huddle closer for warmth and Adrien comments that he's kind of glad that they did this switch so he can cuddle with a cute girl instead of Nino then quickly backpedals and says not that he thinks about her like that since they're just friends, so Marinette gets upset and rolls over and Adrien is like wait, what'd I do??

So the next day, Marinette won't talk to him, so he gets really self conscious and tries apologizing but she's like I'm fine don't worry, but he can tell that she is not fine. So that night, Adrien brings it up to Kim, Nino, and Max, and Nino tries really hard to steer the conversation, but Kim blurts that it's because Marinette has a crush on him and relates his experience of being clueless with Ondine. Adrien is in shock, and Nino is like ohhh nooo this is bad.

The next day, Adrien keeps staring at Marinette at breakfast and it freaks her out, so Alya goes over to chat with Nino and pry, and Adrien asks her to confirm that Marinette likes him, but when Alya tries to dodge, he tells her not to lie because Kim told him, and then she punches Nino in the arm for letting him find out, and Adrien is like so it's true then...

Later that afternoon they're going to go on a nature hike to look at plants and stuff cause this trip is educational, and Adrien picks Marinette to be his trail buddy meaning they will be walking together the whole time, and it's tense and awkward for a while until he finally broaches the subject, and says he's really sorry for not returning her feelings, and Marinette tries to storm ahead of him, but ends up slipping and falling down a slope where she hurts her ankle, and Adrien tries to get her to let him carry her, but she is just incredibly embarrassed and mortified, but in the end after trying to walk for a while, she lets him carry her back the rest of the way, and they have to take her to the hospital for xrays so Alya volunteers to go with her and Marinette cries into her shirt the whole way.

When they get back that evening, Kim comes in to visit her and brings her a piece of cake from the cafeteria and apologizes for spilling her beans for her and remarks that he was so blind with Ondine and didn't consider her feelings until he knew about them, so he was hoping that if Adrien knew that he would realize himself and they could get together, but that isn't what happened so he is sorry for meddling. Marinette forgives him because she knows he didn't mean any harm.

The girls refuse to let Adrien see her because he broke her heart and now they're all in Mama bear mode. But eventually Marinette comes to terms with it and they talk and he tells her that he values her so much as a friend and cares about her, but at the moment he is in love with someone else, and Marinette says she understands and it's just a lot of love square bullshit because you know he actually is in love with her, just her other side. But yeah. This is where my brain went at 2am, so here you all go. I may or may not write it someday. Who knows.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Many Dark Places | Chapter Five

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Eventual)

Words: 1,190

Warnings: hurt!Reader, trauma/PTSD, references/flashbacks to past torture, emotional and physical hurt/comfort, past and attempted kidnapping, Thor being a darling.

Summary: When cleaning up a camp of dark magicians near the new Asgard, Thor stumbles upon Y/N - the daughter of an Asgardian nobleman, who disappeared before Thor first traveled to Midgard in 2011.

A/N: I started writing this fic pre-Endgame and, as such, it exists in a strange world where they didn't make new Asgard on Earth and also maybe Thanos didn't win? Idk. (Loki's still dead, though. Sorry.)

Betaed by @samsgoddess​ and @the-soulofdevil

Header by me

Check out Thor's scent

---

Verdandi is a tall, lithe woman who sweeps into Thor's small study with an air of confidence so intimidating that you can't speak for the first half-hour you spend in her presence - thankfully, she understands and directs her initial questions on the situation at Thor. Once she's satisfied with the information he's given, she quickly ushers both your father and Thor out of the room, assuring them that you're in good hands before shutting the door in their faces.

"Now," she says, practically gliding around the study as she opens the heavy curtains and begins to prepare tea from the tray a servant brought earlier. "Would you like tea?"

You shrug, eyeing her warily.

"I'll make you a cup. You don't have to drink it but it's there if you want to." She asks a series of yes or no questions until she's made the tea the way you like it. You take a tentative sip when she hands you the mug and she seems pleased by the soft sound of pleasure you make.

"Glad I haven't lost my touch." She stirs honey into her own mug and then sits in a chair across from where you’re reclined on the couch, injured ankle propped up on a small pile of pillows Thor arranged for you. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes," you murmur, glad she's not jumping right into things. It eases the tightness in your throat.

"Let me know if that changes. And, of course, if you need to stop at any time or you want someone to be here with you, that's okay. I would rather you push through it and learn to handle these things on your own but I'm willing to make an exception today considering how fresh the trauma is."

A wave of gratitude washes over you at those words. You understand exactly what she's saying - you can't always run to Thor when you're scared.

Verdandi eases you through the conversation, listening patiently when you can speak and asking a different question when you can’t. By the end of your time with her, you’ve already had one of what she called a “panic attack” - a term she apparently picked up while doing research on Midgard - but you managed to get through it with her guidance. She’s also given you some suggestions for when you have flashbacks.

“I know I said I want you to work through things on your own,” she says, taking your now empty mug from you and returning it to the tea tray along with her own. “But I recommend you find someone to support you through panic attacks and flashbacks. It seems the King himself is a safe person for you but I’m not sure how often he can be around. I would like to speak with Lord Tyr and Thor again, give them some guidance on how to help you through these things. Is that all right?”

You nod, hugging yourself.

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll send them in once I’m done. I will see you next week.”

It’s strange and a little frightening, being alone in the room. You rub your hands against your upper arms, trying to drive the sudden chill from your body.

“Thor,” you manage, eyes darting around the room. The window is covered by a heavy curtain and your mind races, your heart following suit. You didn’t hear it open but could someone have…? “Thor!”

The door flies open and suddenly Thor is by your side, huge hands cradling your face and forcing your eyes to focus on his. Your breathing is ragged, coming short and quick.

“I’m here,” he says, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. “Deep breathes, Y/N. Deep breathes. Like me.”

He takes slow, deep breaths and you focus on that, doing your best to match your breathing to his as you curl your hands around his wrists. Gradually, your heart rate slows and you feel yourself relaxing.”

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know what happened. I was just… alone.”

You glance over Thor’s shoulder to see your father in the doorway, and suddenly feel self-conscious. You don’t want him to see you this way.

Thor seems to sense your discomfort and he glances over his shoulder to see Tyr. “Please give her a moment,” he requests. “I will fetch you when she’s feeling better.”

Tyr tenses, instinctively going on the defensive. “I’m her father. I should be here for here.”

You duck your head down, shaking it a little. Your father must see because he murmurs “Nevermind, I’ll go” and then you hear the door latch.

“He’s gone,” Thor tells you, gently lifting your chin. “You were alone and it frightening you?”

You make an affirming noise, relaxing under his attention. For some reason, every fiber of your being finds comfort in Thor’s presence, and you remember what Verdandi said about him being a “safe person”. That sounds like the right label for whatever Thor is to you. His warm hands lift you up so he can sit behind you on the couch, your body resting against his chest, and you happily snuggle in close, allowing his proximity to draw any remaining tension from your body. 

“Better?” he asks, voice a low rumble in his chest.

“Better,” you echo. You’re still hurting, mourning the loss of Bjorn and your old home, and you know you have a long way to go but right now, in Thor’s arms? ‘Better’ isn’t too far off.

You settle into Thor’s embrace, letting the warm strength of his body and the steady beat of his heart lull you into that state between being awake and asleep. Eventually your father comes in. He and Thor begin speaking over you, keeping their voices low so they don’t bother you. You drift in and out, catching only bits and pieces of the conversation. You’re only really pulled back to attention when you hear your father say your name.

“Thank you for taking care of Y/N,” your father is saying. “I am… unsure how to handle all of this, especially since she doesn’t seem comfortable with me knowing anything about what she’s gone through.”

You open your eyes a sliver to see Thor looking down at you with a soft expression. One huge hand curls around your head, thumb rubbing back and forth, before he resettles it on your upper arm.

“She is… something else,” Thor murmurs. “I’m surprised by how comfortable she is with me.”

“Verdandi did call you her safe person,” Tyr reminds him. “Y/N is already relying on you a great deal. As her father, I need to know - is this temporary? Or will you be here for her, no matter what?”

You stay quiet, curious to hear what Thor’s response will by.

“I know warriors who’ve gone through much less than she has and not recovered,” Thor says slowly, “and yet this lítit álpt… she’s is incredible. Perhaps it’s her strength that draws me in. Perhaps it’s something else. I’m not sure. All I know is that I need to be here to help her heal, however long that will take.”

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Translations:

- little swan (f) - lítit álpt

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Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @manawhaat​ @laughing-at-the-darkness​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @imsuperawkward​ @books-and-icecream​ @emoryhemsworth​

Team MDP:

[lumiose-fletchling]

Okay, now that I’ve set down the game after playing all day, here are my 12 hour thoughts (while having a cold):

I think the graphics are really pleasant to look at. While there are things that lack detail (lamps, other small decor items), overall, character design is nice and character animations have been improved. Hop does have one repeated animation that is absolutely carried over from Hau; is this lazy? It’s... visually boring if you’ve played SuMo. He does have his own quirks, though.

Did you know Leon has no sense of direction? He gets lost! Haha, gosh, is he bad at knowing where to go. If he didn’t have Charizard... Well, who knows where he’d end up! Leon’s hopeless at these things. Why, he’d be wandering the Wild Area for years if you didn’t give him a map, and even then, can we please stop hammering this point every time we see him please

Sonia is interesting to me, because it seems like she’s holding back for a reason. That comment that Hop made about how she came out of the Weald in a huge state is... compelling. What if she doesn’t want to find out the truth? Or what if she knows too much, and this is pushing her to lie about it? Her relationship with Leon is tense, too. Did he move up and onward while she seemingly stagnated? Who is Leon when he’s not The Best?

Customization in terms of clothing is really good, and you will spend thousands on your Look.

Controversy over Nessa’s outfit and Nintendo’s trend of creating dark-skinned characters with revealing clothing is a tough one to judge. Believe me, I get it-- the trend is there. But place Nessa in the water gym where everyone is dressed like that, give the player a chance to wear her outfit, and put her amongst other water trainers in the series, and she fits right in. Heck, what she’s wearing is a professional racing suit. But again, following Olivia... there’s an argument to be made. I’ve also seen cosplayers and artists who identify as poc love her, and I’m not about to tell them they’re wrong, so, I’m not sure there’s a clear answer here. I see both sides.

Other controversy was over “void backgrounds,” which largely happens inside buildings. It does come across as incredibly lazy. There couldn’t have been a background created with hotel counters or walls or... something? It’s strange.

However, there are plenty of environments that are well done and nice to look at. The cities and towns have a wonderful feel, and I’m liking them immensely.

Pokémon have their own personalities that really come out in camp. I love camp. I just watched my Dubwool, Sage, race my Dottler, Pepper. Sage won by not just a mile, but at last a few minutes as Dottler slowly crawled across the screen to her, dust cloud and all. It was ridiculous. I loved it. This, as I sat there waving a pokétoy and trying not to get killed as two other team members pummeled the dang thing. Have you ever seen a giant snapping turtle chortle with glee at a jingle bell? Dear Arceus on high, camp is the best.

Making curry is fun! And I really like how all this stuff is actually a huge help when things are dragging in the overworld, or you need to rest. There are so many benefits to this feature, and I’m glad they put it in.

While moving along, I genuinely ran into the problem of leveling up too quickly? Things evened out, but by the first gym, I had some sassy teens in the group who could only be smoothed out by that badge. Journeys between towns go by quickly, but I almost feel like this is going by too fast? 12 hours later, and I’m on my third badge. That’s not... fast... but it feels that way.

I think there’s a rushed sense to the plot so far where Hop is barreling forward, always racing his own race, saying how slow we are, and even Oleana at the second major town is like, You. Go get your water badge. Now. And I did. Yeesh! Did we even eat with the Chairman? Hot take: Oleana is obviously evil. Chairman Rose is well-meaning but easily led. He’s also too powerful for comfort. Powering the region, owning major companies heavily invested in the Gym Challenge? Yup. I found the plot!

But, maybe this will be tempered soon.

What I did like, looking back, is that my team is all new pokémon. Even now, as I’m picking and choosing who goes where, there’s enough to explore and wonder about. Snapple the Applin is... confusing to me. I don’t know what he does yet, but, he’s in a box until I find out.

Honestly, at this point, there is no justification that I can think of for no National Dex, so either you can get over it or you can’t. The boycotts are really silly at this point, and I doubt we’ll see any major change. Still having fun regardless.

And that’s what it comes down to-- I’m enjoying myself. Things are different for me, enough so that I like exploring, and I’ll continue to play the game because there’s still a lot of joy to be had here.

[nathanneedsausername]

The MCU (So Far) Ranked

With Avengers: Endgame right around the corner now feels like a good time to talk about all 21 films that brought us to this moment.

#21 -  Thor: The Dark World (Alan Taylor) 

Rating - 3/10

Look, there always has to be one.

Thor: The Dark World suffers from the same problem that most bad comic book movies do it is simply forgettable, this is the worst type of film to write about because I have noting to say. Far from being insultingly bad but also far from being any good. Honestly if you ever plan on cramming these films again do yourself a favour and skip this one.

#20 -  The Incredible Hulk (Louis Leterrier)

Rating - 4/10

You can skip this one too. 

The Incredible Hulk is a product of its time, in the late ‘00s this was about as good as action movies not called The Dark Knight got. This one isn’t unwatchable and the bit were The Hulk kicks Tim Roth into a tree is pretty cool but given how little this film has effected the franchise going forward you really wont miss anything by skipping it.

#19 - Iron Man 2 (Jon Favreau)

Rating - 4/10

I get why they made this movie, but I’d rather they hadn’t.

Iron Man 2 is basically just a teaser trailer for the better movies that were about to come out. This movie consists of boring conversations between Tony Stark and Nick Fury and even more boring scenes with the villains that really kicked of the cliché that these movies have boring villains. The suitcase Iron Man suit is really dope though.

#18 - Ant-Man and the Wasp (Peyton Reed)

Rating - 6/10

Meh.

Ant-Man and the Wasp is actually pretty good. Paul Rudd is allowed to fully explore his comedic talent making this a very watchable film however the script lacks any focus and it is ultimately difficult to stay invested in anything happening on screen. It’s a mixed bag but it’s pretty fun.

#17 - Thor (Kenneth Branagh)

Rating - 6/10

Kenneth Branagh made a super-hero movie, this is about as good as that idea could ever have been.

Thor is a surprisingly small movie, revisiting this film now feels slightly strange given what we have since seen of the character. Branagh was always the wrong choice to direct a Marvel movie especially during a time were the studio had far more say than any of their filmmakers. It’s worth revising this film to set up the Avengers but other than that it isn’t anything special.

#16 - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Joss Whedon)

Rating - 6/10

It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that this movie is just ok.

Avengers: Age of Ultron should be so much better than it is but it ended up being the poster child for when a studio gets cold feet and tries to take over on directors vision. Joss Whedon is an excellent story teller but this does not so off his talents at all. Once again this certainly isn’t a bad film it just isn’t great, there is some good dialogue and the introduction of both Scarlet Witch and Vision is worth seeing.

#15 - Captain America: The First Avenger (Joe Johnston)

Rating - 7/10

Way more camp than I remember .

Captain America: The First Avenger feels as though it has taken the framework of a more conventional war drama and just thrown in some superhero stuff and I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing. When this film embraces its campness it can be very entertaining. Chris Evans was a prefect casting choice for Steve Rodgers and this film does go in an unexpected direction by making Captain America basically just a mascot but once again the villain is weak and large sections of the plot are forgettable. Overall worth re-watching it is probably better than you remember. 

#14 -  Captain Marvel (Ryan Fleck, Anna Boden)

Rating - 7/10

I’m sorry, I like this one.

Captain Marvel might be the most controversial film in the whole franchise. I have some grievances with this one, namely lack of any style or originality in the writing or direction but the chemistry between Brie Larson and Samuel L Jackson helps to make this an enjoyable watch. I know you probably don’t agree with me but this is my list and I like this movie, so there!

#13 - Iron Man (Jon Favreau)

Rating - 7/10

Not as great as I remember but still pretty good.

Iron Man will forever be remembered as a film that changed cinema witch is so weird to me having re-watched it recently. This is a rather slow and somewhat  cliché 2000s action flick with a paper-thin plot. Robert Downey Jr. and Jeff Bridges both give it their all and I have nothing but respect for Jon Favreau for turning RDJ’s mad ramblings into a coherent film.

#12 - Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (James Gunn)

Rating - 7/10

I’m still not sure how to take this.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is the most visually stunning film in the MCU, almost every shot could be used as a laptop wallpaper. This also has quite possibly the strongest theming as its story about fatherhood and toxic relationships can bring a tear to your eye if you let it. So it is such a shame that this film is full of jokes that just do not land and weird side plots that feel like set-ups for movies that Marvel would probably never let James Gunn make. I kinda love this movie but this is as high as I can put it on this list.

#11 -  Captain America: Civil War (Anthony Russo, Joe Russo)

Rating - 8/10

The fight scene though!

Captain America: Civil War is one great fight scene that is all anyone ever wants to talk about. I think the rest of the movie is also pretty good, this was our first look at how the Russo brothers would handle a larger ensemble cast and every character gets the screen time they deserve. Really though the airport fight is amazing!

#10 - Doctor Strange (Scott Derrickson)

Rating - 8/10

The word Strange is in the title.

Doctor Strange has a remarkably safe plot given the source materiel, although that can all be forgiven given how amazing the visual effects are. This is a very entertaining film mainly for the creative and ingenious uses of special effects. This film can drag a bit but it is worth it to see something that gives the end of 2001 a run for its money.

#9 - Iron Man 3 (Shane Black)

Rating - 8/10

And you thought my views on Captain Marvel were controversial!

Iron Man 3 is great and I will not change my mind on that. This was the first team up between Robert Downey Jr. and screenwriter/director Shane Black since 2005′s Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and it was worth the wait. The dialogue is sharp and the plot with Tony Stark dealing with P.T.S.D. after the events of The Avengers makes for a great character study. 

I am aware that the general consensus is that the plot twist sucks but with Ben Kingsley’s fantastic performance and the wonderfully absurd way that it is reveled I can’t help but love it. In all honesty I just to big a Shane Black fan to hate this (the same logic does not apply to The Predator).

#8 - Ant-Man (Peyton Reed)

Rating - 8/10

I can only image how great the Edgar Wright version of this would have been.

Ant-Man is so much better than people give it credit for. The dialogue is constantly funny and the screenplay is paced perfectly so that the film never has a dull moment even in the quieter character scenes. Moments like the train-set fight and the first time Scott Lang uses the Ant-Man suit are among the best scenes in the whole franchise. Like most people I have to believe that the Edgar Wright version would have been better but I must say that Peyton Reed did a pretty great job piecing what he had together.  

#7 - Black Panther (Ryan Coogler)

Rating - 8/10

Marvel’s little awards season darling.

Black Panther is somehow one of the most important and talked about films of the decade and in all honesty it sort of deserves it. Coogler does what other MCU filmmakers would never do and dives head first into real world political issue, ending his film with a poignant note about free trade and open borders. Michael B. Jordan as Killmonger adds a nuance that is missing in most comic book movies. Overall Black Panther is a breath of fresh air in an over-saturated genre. 

P.S that soundtrack is awesome!

#6 - Thor: Ragnarok (Taika Waititi)

Rating - 8/10

How did this happen?

Thor: Ragnarok is everything I wanted it to be. Taika Waititi is one of the most interesting filmmakers working today and it is great to see a major studio allow such a unique voice to make the exact film that they wanted to without sacrificing their creativity. This is not only one of the best Marvel films but one of the best straight comedies of the decade. I cannot wait to see what Waititi has in store in the future.

#5 - Spider-Man: Homecoming (Jon Watts)

Rating - 8/10

Things are looking up for Spider-Man.

Spider-Man: Homecoming was my favourite Spider-Man movie up until very recently. This genuinely feels like watching an 80s John Hughes film in the 2010s that also happens to action sequences in it. The scene where Peter Parker and Adrian Toomes are in the car together is brilliantly tense and shows of the dramatic range of both Tom Holland and Michael Keaton. The characters feel real and fleshed out and the breezy feel of the editing brings the world to life through the naive eyes of a young Peter Parker. I honestly can’t believe how good this ended up being.

#4 - Avengers: Infinity War (Joe Russo, Anthony Russo)

Rating - 9/10

This simply should not have worked.

Avengers: Infinity War is one of the most ambitious films in cinema history. I have so much respect for the Russo brothers for managing to make a film with this many characters and this many plot points feels cohesive and endlessly entertaining. I think the real triumph of Infinity War is how watchable and fun this movie is despite being 2 1/2 hours long, full of characters and constantly hitting you in the face with really depressing stuff. Let’s hope that the Russo brothers can pull of the same trick twice. 

#3 - The Avengers (Joss Whedon)

Rating - 9/10

This movie isn’t given enough credit anyone.

The Avengers was a huge gamble back in 2012 and although it may now feel quaint given the achievement that was last year’s Infinity War Joss Whedon was able change the landscape of blockbuster cinema and make this whole thing possible. Almost every plot point in this film has since become cliché, Whedon and Feige laid out a blueprint for success that no one else has been able to copy since. The Joss Whedon humour and snarky dialogue  helped to pave the way that these characters would interact in the future and his unique approach to  utilizing an ensemble cast makes this film worth revisiting over and over again.  

#2 -  Guardians of the Galaxy (James Gunn)

Rating - 9/10

James Gunn hit the mainstream with a movie about a talking raccoon, I can never complain about the Hollywood system ever again.

Guardians of the Galaxy should not work on most levels but Gunn was just crazy enough to pull it off. The character interactions here rival the Wheadon penned interactions in The Avengers and the Gunn’s direction brings the strange worlds he has created to live in striking ways. Gunn was given a chance to showcase his humour and he ran with it, Guardians goes from dark and meandering to fun and rapidly paced within seconds and it is a complete joy to watch no matter how many times you have seen it.

#1 - Captain America: The Winter Soldier (Joe Russo, Anthony Russo)

Rating - 9/10

The Russo brothers came out swinging.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier is an entertaining, tightly directed, brilliantly acted, fast paced and well edited action film that just so happens to be a squeal to the First Avenger. Many of the best moments in the franchise are in this film including the elevator scene and the fight on the bridge, this film also has great character interactions especially with Steve Rodgers and Nick Fury. This feels like an update on classic James Bond stories with a modern edge, this is everything that a comic book movie could be and I highly recommend checking it out again if you haven’t seen it in a while. There is no question that The Winter Soldier is the best of the MCU.

Franchise Rating - 7.1/10

Nathan Needs A Username’s Must See Movies: https://letterboxd.com/nathan_r_l/list/nathan-needs-a-usernames-must-see-movies/

Nathan Needs A Username’s Avoid At All Cost Movies: https://letterboxd.com/nathan_r_l/list/nathan-needs-a-usernames-avoid-at-all-cost/

[roemyheart]

Double Trouble

A/N: for @marvelmymarvel bc she really wanted a reader x babe x malarkey love triangle but I am so BAD at writing anything remotely angsty (I am committed to fluff) so idek what this is, I just kind of went with it. Also I’m super sleepy so I barely proofread this rip but I hope you still enjoy! Based on the HBO show characters, no disrespect to the original heroes.

When Winters handed out weekend passes and told Easy company to enjoy the nice weather, you did not imagine that you’d be enjoying the nice weather on a Friday evening outside a cozy Bavarian pub with Edward Heffron’s hands tangled in your hair. 

That’s not to say you weren’t enjoying yourself. In fact, you thought this situation might be a little too enjoyable as Babe trailed kisses across your jaw, pressing his hips against yours. His mouth was soft and hot but when he pulled back to gaze at you, all heavy breathing and flushed cheeks, his eyes were a blazing inferno. “Babe,” you breathed softly, chest heaving, fingers digging into his clean uniform. Babe smiled gently, in stark contrast from the way he’d all but ravaged you against the side of this building. He wound one arm around your waist and the other cupped your cheek gently, calloused palm against warm skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” You smiled coyly, standing on your tiptoes to brush another searing kiss to his mouth. When you nipped at his bottom lip playfully, he made a surprised noise at the back of his throat. “I kind of have an idea of how long you’ve waited for that.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And how’s that, Y/N?” You leaned further into his space, grinning. “Lucky guess?” Babe titled his head down. “That’s a load of malarkey.” He murmured against your lips. You tried to avoid jolting in surprise because malarkey had taken on a meaning very different from bullshit. “Maybe a little birdie mentioned that you’re always staring at me like I put the moon in your hands. Maybe I got a little curious.” His hands, splayed wide against your back, began traveling downward. “There are some other ways you can keep my hands occupied…” You caught his wrists, bringing them up to your mouth to kiss his hands sweetly. “I have no qualms about making out with you next to a bar, but I do have standards, Private Heffron.” He pouted, resting his forehead against yours. “Yes, ma’am.” “We should head back in.” Babe sighed, looking at you mournfully. “How am I supposed to go inside and enjoy myself now? Nothing is ever gonna be as good as kissing you outside in the middle of the night.” You smiled at him, shaking your head. “I’m flattered but let me buy you a few drinks. You might change your mind.” Babe did indeed change his mind once he downed a few more beers and Luz dragged him onto the dance floor. You watched him from a booth, smiling fondly. He threw his head back and laughed at Luz’s antics, lighting up the tiny pub with his infectious, intoxicated energy. Sometimes, you wished he would change his mind about you. Babe was fiercely devoted and incredibly charming. He was no longer boyish and reserved; he had blossomed into a fine young man with a heart that radiated honor and compassion. He was sweet, he was hardworking, and he deserved more than you thought you could give him. If he changed his mind about you, you wouldn’t feel so guilty that Donald Malarkey spent more time than appropriate on your own mind. 

A goodnight kiss couldn’t hurt too much though, right? Not when Babe wrapped his arms around you securely, his mouth featherlight against yours. 

“Babe,” You whispered hoarsely, fighting the whimper in your throat as he trailed his lips down your neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck. “Hmm?” He continued his slow, sensual assault. “Y-you have to go sleep. In y-your own room.” You warbled, inhaling sharply. He pulled back slowly, looking at you much more like a sad puppy than a guy trying to get into your bed (in every sense of the term). “I guess…” He sighed, pouting at you for the second time that night. You squeezed his hand. “Can’t have you getting in trouble.” He grinned at you crookedly through the dark shadows of your room. “I’m in plenty of trouble.” Babe kissed you once more before heading to his room, leaving you reeling and your heart aching. Babe was already in trouble because of how deeply he adored you but one day later he got into even more trouble. Trouble that came in the form of an awful head cold after going for an unwise late night swim with Tab and Bull. Though the latter two men suffered only from a runny nose, Babe was bedridden (Doc’s orders) with a wicked cough and a fluctuating fever. You visited him several times throughout the day, bringing him tissues and newspapers and hot coffee. It was hard to believe that the sulky bundle of blankets was the same man that made your knees wobbly with smooth words and wandering hands. So, you left Edward Heffron and his addictive kisses in the room down the hall to recover. But that left you yearning for physical affection. Before the war, you’d never given much thought to the intimacy of simple human touch. You worked hard for your family and studied even harder for your classes – getting a boyfriend seemed like a world away, along with all the tender touches and sweet words entailed in a relationship. When you joined the war effort as a medic, human touch became less simple. Saving wounded men was often complicated, and you woke up restless many nights as the memory of bloody hands and anguished screams plagued your dreams. Your hands had been remarkably less bloody throughout your time in Berchtesgaden, but sometimes you felt like they could never be completely clean. As you neatly folded your clothes, barely noticing the chaotic rumble of the men downstairs and outside, you wondered if maybe that’s why you were so drawn to Babe. Despite the horrors of war, every scar jagged and deep, he still seemed to retain his wholesome light. Your conscience could never be clean, but you were pretty sure Babe’s soul was. When he smiled, it was impossible to believe in hopelessness. A knock against the doorframe startles you out of your thoughts. 

“Jesus, Malarkey, you scared the crap out of me!” “What’s really scary is that you’re spending our free Saturday night folding clothes.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “Folding clothes is the most fun way to spend a Saturday night, you just have no taste.” “I couldn’t agree any less.” You rolled your eyes, laying your pants in the wardrobe that was much too big. Malarkey moved his hands from behind his back to reveal a case of beer and a deck of cards. You cracked a smile. “Is that all for me, Don? You didn’t have to, really.” He smirked at you, light eyes dancing, and shook his head. “It’s for me, actually. But I like you so I’m willing to share.” You shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You could only take so much. Don barked out a laugh every time he beat you, leaning into your space, and you felt like you were absolutely burning. He smelled like summer and fancy beer and clean laundry. You desperately hoped he was too drunk to notice the way you ogled at the dog tags glinting against his collarbone and at his muscular arms when he tugged off the top of his uniform, leaving him in tank top that nearly had you drooling. 

He was killing you, and not just in this game of Speed. “Oh come on, Y/N, you’re not even trying!” You frowned at him, teetering just off the edge of tipsy as you took a long pull from the bottle. “I am trying. Just not as hard as you, apparently.” His mouth curled up into a devious smile as he shuffled the cards. “I’ve got a deal for you, doll.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?” “If you win, I’ll do whatever you want me to for one hour. If I win, you do what I want for an hour.” “Hmmm.” You pursed your lips pensively. “Whatever I want?” You tried to ignore the way your stomach flip-flopped when he practically purred, “Anything your sweet heart desires.” Flustered, you could only laugh nervously. “Even run around butt-naked through the dining room?” He nodded solemnly. A little voice at the back of your head told you that this was only headed in one direction. “You’re on, Malarkey.”

Several minutes later, it was Malarkey who was on you. He caged you against the bed, radiating heat and kissing you like his life depended on it. You couldn’t even really remember who won – did anyone win at all? It was Malarkey, wasn’t it? Or did the late night and strong beer finally take hold of your good sense? The way Don growled when you tangled your fingers in his hair sounded dangerous, but honestly, he was the person who always made you feel the safest. You often found yourself wrapped securely in his space. He’d held you close when you got hit in Carentan and Arnhem. He’d clung to you throughout the raging firefights and awful casualties of Bastogne. He’d tucked your head against his chest the night after you found the camp. In the moments when the world seemed to crumble around you, Don made sure to keep you from getting swept up in the rubble. Though, you did feel like you were drowning in his hot and heavy kisses – in a good way. Despite the haze of sleep and alcohol, you couldn’t help but notice how different this was from kissing Babe. These kisses and caresses held the weight of the world. It was more intense, every sigh, every gasp, every touch. It was strong and it scared you, but he murmured your name tenderly against your skin and nothing had ever sounded so right. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” You tensed up involuntarily because you’d definitely heard that before. “How long?” You asked softly. Malarkey hovered above you, gently brushing the hair out of your face, still breathing hard. You couldn’t tell if your heart or his heart was pounding loudly. He smiled, almost bitterly. “Since Toccoa. Since you took my spaghetti.” Your eyes widened. “That’s…a long time.” He kissed your nose, resting his weight against you comfortably. “Tell me about it.” “And it took you this long to tell me?” You playfully pinched his arm, disregarding the toned muscle and how your stomach lurched. “Hey, getting shot at is scary. But telling someone you like them while getting shot at is even scarier. I had to wait until I knew it was completely safe.” His smile was softer the flower petals and his gaze sweeter than honey. You squeezed him to your body, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re safe here.” “You know who isn’t safe here?” You pulled away to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Who?” Malarkey looked at you sternly. “Heffron.” He pinched your waist and you squeaked, becoming so flustered you were nearly lightheaded. “W-what?” “You heard me right. If he comes in here asking for Y/N to be sweet to him, he’s got something else coming. I’ll sock him right in his pretty face.” You wound your finger around an orange curl and tugged gently. “Don’t get so bothered about Babe. Just be sweet to me.” You rubbed your nose against his affectionately and he smiled softly. His voice washed over you like the Atlantic ocean. “I can only be sweet to you, Y/N. You make everything about this bitter world a little better.”

(Apparently this bitter world had it out for you because you ended up on a bus ride squeezed between a fuming Malarkey and a snuggly, sick Heffron soon after.)

[ganymedesclock]

Following up on my post about Lotor’s kill count, I stand by the fact that Lotor pretty clearly does not enjoy killing people.

Let’s focus on Lotor’s two confirmed kills [Raht and Narti] and his reactions to them going in and afterwards.

Raht

Lotor opens this scene tense. I’ve mentioned before that while the rest of the team is actually unsure if there’s anything there, before they’re sure their radar anomaly is anything, much less a person, Lotor proposes that it’s someone deliberately evading their radar protocols (implicitly, as Acxa points out, that the empire is spying on them) and he orders Zethrid to shoot around it, stating “I want to know who’s after me.”

Thus before they’re even sure Raht’s ship is that- or that anything’s even there- Lotor has set the mindset that this is a person, they’re probably a galra or have an in via the empire, and they are maliciously “after” him.

When Lotor’s hunch is confirmed and Raht is flushed out of hiding, his tension does not evaporate, but he is distinctly smug that he was right:

“Let’s invite our guest aboard.”

And this is the last we see of Raht alive.

Again, worth noting Lotor didn’t necessarily give the coup de grace himself. Zethrid immediately picked up Lotor’s insinuations and wanted to shoot the anomaly down:

and Ezor, as you can see in the background, was equally angry. So it’s not even just Lotor and Zethrid who are culprits here- it’s pretty likely it was, well, a team effort- whoever actually killed Raht probably had the entirely willing and enthusiastic help of all four of their teammates.

That said, there’s a repeated pattern in the people Team Sincline is especially aggressive towards: Throk and Raht as obvious examples. In Raht’s case, they had no idea who he was until they got him on board, and Zethrid was mad enough to advocate killing the anomaly not knowing what it was.

Going only on the specific implication, as Lotor himself felt, that something was maliciously following them.

Team Sincline really doesn’t like to feel chased. Or cornered, for that matter.

After the fact, Lotor confronts Haggar, and is rather loud and belligerent- uncharacteristically so for him. The smugness he had at outfoxing Raht is gone- what’s here instead is angry, threatened, and he withdraws unsatisfied, with no guarantee this won’t happen again.

There’s no real sense of happiness or pride in what he did. Again, Lotor’s “let’s invite our guest aboard” line does seem proud and smug. Implicitly, Lotor’s proud of outsmarting Raht. He shows no such pride about what they did to Raht, and delivering Raht’s severed arm to Haggar appears to be something he tries to use to force Haggar to listen to him.

Narti

We see clearly that Lotor is the one to kill Narti and we actually see his expression doing it. He looks, in a word, terrified. There’s no smugness, there’s no certainty, and unlike with Raht, there is no “Ha ha, I outsmarted you.”

The biggest thing I’ve heard leveled against Lotor in this context is that he showed no remorse or regret.

That, to me, is a strikingly shallow read of a character. People do not express grief in the same manner. Because a character doesn’t fall to their knees crying and ripping at their chest doesn’t mean they are not feeling pain.

Here’s the thing: you can basically box all of Lotor’s behavior up to Narti’s death, and all of his behavior after her death, into two separate categories. In the latter, Lotor absolutely kicks up a distress call here: he starts acting pointedly against his established character.

S3e1 up to that decisive moment in s4e3, Lotor is cautious. Incredibly cautious- he takes the time to painstakingly and personally isolate any variable on the field he doesn’t like the sound of. His hunting Raht was “three of the same type of error in the same day? This can’t be a coincidence. We need to respond as if our security’s been compromised. Let’s start trying to flush something out of hiding.”

Lotor is also very proactive- he’s a workaholic and kind of a busybody from what we’ve seen. He wastes absolutely no time as soon as he gets the comet turning around and turning it into a ship and it’s heavily implied in s4e1 that he spent those months of timeskip hunkered down focusing only on his Sincline project.

The first thing Lotor does after killing Narti is... nothing.

S4e4 takes place chronologically after s4e3, and follows the paladins over the course of several days. This is a longer span of time than s3e5 which was mostly a flashback- we see the events of several prior episodes, most noticeably s3e3. Between the end of s3e4 and the beginning of s3e6 Lotor built the first comet ship.

S4e5 and s4e6 also can’t be flashbacks themselves- because they take place on an incredibly tight schedule (the time from the gate failing to the generals’ betrayal to Lotor fleeing is a very narrow window) and because we also see what the paladins are doing at the same time.

From s4e3 to s4e5, we can see that Lotor and the generals have seemingly done nothing but float in space, presumably avoiding deep space beacons and sleeping in shifts. Lotor hasn’t talked to any of the surviving generals, he hasn’t explained anything, he hasn’t made any new plans. In s4e5 he directs them to the rift gate, insists this is going to fix all of their problems, and it fails embarrassingly without anything.

Consider in s3e4 Lotor had a contingency plan for “what if Voltron gets stuck on the other side of the rift?”

In s4e5 he had nothing. The gate was a highly experimental piece of technology he admitted he didn’t know would work and he genuinely didn’t have a plan for what to do if it went wrong.

This is not “the mastermind slipped up and put a pawn in the wrong place”. this is “you have failed basic thinking through your actions 101″

That is a huge, drastic, messy mistake for Lotor to make. This is “someone who normally has their surroundings on such hypervigilance that you can’t bounce a rubber band off the back of their head just accidentally stepped into a crosswalk when the do not cross sign was beeping at them and nearly got run over.”

It’s a stated fact that Lotor killed Narti. It’s also a stated fact that basically nothing goes right for him afterwards, and he fails to see any of it coming.

Lotor gets shot by Acxa? Stands there staring right up until she shoots him, has a split-second of panic, but is unable to defend himself at all.

Tied up by the generals? Finds a way out of it and flees the scene, losing half of Sincline in the process and completely isolating himself.

After that... the entirety of s4e6 for Lotor is just one bad thing after another.

See anon I have kind of a reputation of delivering sad Lotor faces and the thing is like... with the single exception of a very flat smile that he directs the paladins right at the end of s4e6 (“I think it is time we had a discussion”) you can freeze basically any scene of Lotor in that episode and he will be suffering. Guarantee you. Like 90% of my sad Lotor faces are from one episode.

The point of this exercise is not “you can’t be mad at him for committing murder, he’s sad about it!” because that’d be a ridiculous thing to insinuate.

The point of this exercise is... there’s a reason I draw the analogy of Lotor killing Narti to sawing your leg off to escape a trap. Not to insinuate Narti belonged to Lotor, but to insinuate that... this was an ugly, messy, horrible thing that hurt everyone involved- it hurt Narti, it hurt the other generals, and it hurt Lotor himself- that Lotor did acting mostly out of terror and panic and a sense that if he didn’t do this immediately he’d die here.

It was still wrong. And part of my analysis of Lotor’s behavior here is the contention that he knew it was wrong, the entire time. That when you’re going “but how can anybody forgive or trust Lotor after what he did to Narti?”...

...that one of the people who would agree with you was Lotor. Remember he literally said “I understand,” when he heard that the generals were going to sell him out to Zarkon for a pardon.

“I understand, you have your reasons,” is not something most people would say to their former allies who are in the process of turning them over to people who have very explicitly made clear they intend to murder them where they stand.

That’s why I use the amputation metaphor. It’s the difference between “this was something he did to survive” and “this is something he thought was a great idea and a nice way to finish off his Tuesday.”

Very few people would just take an axe and cut one of their limbs off because it strikes them as a fun party game. A markedly higher number of people would do so if losing that limb was between them and the rest of their life. Most of the people in the latter camp aren’t coming to the realization that they actually really hated having two hands.

Lotor didn’t hate Narti. He killed Narti, and that’s something you can hold against him, absolutely. But he didn’t hate her, he’d never planned for losing her, and I think it’s pretty blatant text to say that right now, Lotor’s grieving her, even if she went down at his own hand.

Because time and time again we see Lotor had an ease and comfort- he was happy with the generals. He liked spending time with them. This is the only time we see him genuinely happy, is talking to them.

They really were his only friends. And I think that’s a big reason why, psychologically if not practically... a part of Lotor genuinely gives up after s4e3. There’s a sharp divide where he pretty much stops planning in the long-term and starts living hand-to-mouth where his only concern rapidly decays into “how can I make sure the fleet doesn’t find me in the next five minutes?” and operating at a pace that pretty obviously isn’t going to work out for him.

It’s basically a fluke that lands him in the paladins’ lap in a position he can exploit. And for that? His whole second wind here?

Here’s what the s5 trailer shows us of Lotor:

A few shots of him fighting, tense and angry.

A shot of him, seemingly stuck in a cryopod, yelling for the paladins not to play into Zarkon’s hands. (To me, it sounds a lot like Lotor is going to be in more danger from the paladins than they are from him)

A shot of him standing, noticeably disheveled and beaten up.

He’s still miserable. And what we can infer from the paladins’ reactions, he’s not immediately rebuilding those strong interpersonal bonds he’s used to with the paladins. They... really don’t seem to like him at all, which makes perfect sense. It just also means that Lotor’s continuing to be isolated, upset, and running on empty.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the divide in the team we’ve been promised isn’t between people who think Lotor’s Totally Trustworthy and people who are hostile to him, as much as the warier members of the team versus the people going “...I dunno, I think he just seems kind of sad and pathetic right now. Like I tossed off a snappy one-liner at him and he just sort of stared vaguely into space.”

What this seems to suggest about Lotor and murder:

Lotor enjoys outsmarting people and having a strategic upper hand. He flat out expresses scorn of ‘aggression’ when he’s challenging Throk, and seems to place much more value on ‘soft’ power (emotions, communication, diplomacy) than on ‘hard’ power (combat and warfare).

And narratively, the two times Lotor explicitly kills someone, things don’t work out for him. Raht is an empty victory- Haggar’s the actual mastermind and Lotor, despite knowing exactly who and where she is, can do absolutely nothing to stop her. She’ll pick another spy, which she does, and when she does, it’s Narti, who basically taking her out ruins Lotor’s entire organization.

Losing Narti is a net loss. Lotor gains nothing. His only tiny victory is that he’s able to prevent Haggar from tracking them any more. For that, he pays the landslide price of all four generals, his home base, one of the Sincline ships, and his entire emotional health, and he basically realizes immediately that it’s going, but is completely powerless to prevent... any of it.

None of this predisposes Lotor to go “y’know, murder? that really worked out for me. I should do more of that, it gets me good things.”

[welcometophu]

Not Your Love Song: Chapter 13

Marked Book 2: Not Your Love Song

Chapter 13

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Rory slips into Coven just as Pawel finishes speaking and gestures at the snack table. He’s only five minutes late, so if Pawel’s already done with business, it’s definitely a coffee and dessert kind of club night. Rory missed dinner while caught in a song fugue, so he gets in line and grabs a plate of pastries from a box bearing the label of the vegan bakery over in Valiant. He has to wait for his turn at the hot water for cocoa, then balance everything along with his bag to find a chair.

He barely gets settled when Kit drops into the chair next to his. “I met with Thorne again last night,” Kit says. He leans back, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, leaning down to inhale the steam. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon do little to mask the bitter scent of the coffee underneath.

“I know.” Rory kicks his bag to one side, balances his plate on his knees and manages to sip the cocoa. It’s still too hot to drink properly, but he’s afraid that if he sets it down, someone will knock it over. “We should get them to put tables in this room if all we’re going to do is eat here.”

“We could move out onto the balcony.” Kit gestures at the door, then reaches for Rory’s bag. “There didn’t seem to be that many people camped at the tables yet.”

The third floor of the Madison student center is built around a balcony that overlooks the central cafeteria of the second floor. Most people gather to study in the cafeteria after hours, but there are tables lining the balcony as well. The sound echoes, but it’s also good for people watching. Rory’s already spent time there during the first semester working on songs, even if it’s not his first choice of locations.

“Where’s your stuff?” Kit asks. Rory nods and Kit picks up Rory’s bag for him, leaving him free to balance his plate and cocoa on his own. They find a table only one down from the door to the meeting room. They aren’t the only ones to have drifted into the hall; there’s a cluster of people at the closest table, and Pels stands a little further down, staring at a painting on the wall, her jaw set and angry.

“You should go in and get snacks,” Kit calls out.

Pels doesn’t look at him. “Thanks, I know,” she mutters.

“Don’t take it personally.” Rory keeps his voice low. “She lives on my floor, in the triple, and none of us have really been able to get to know her. I mean, she’s nice, and she gets along with both Nikita and Jennifer—who hate each other, so that’s impressive. But she doesn’t really talk to anyone.”

Or well, she doesn’t talk to anyone but herself. Pels is grumbling something under her breath, hands moving as if she’s having an entire conversation.

Rory worries about her sometimes, wonders if someone needs to know about her behavior and if she’s off meds that she needs. But no one else seems worried, and Pels definitely isn’t a danger. She’s lucid and clear, neither manic nor depressed. Just constantly in conversation with herself.

“Do you ever wonder if there’s a gene for extroversion and introversion?” Kit asks. He wipes the table, brushing crumbs away before he sets down his coffee. “It seems like everyone here is either very loud, or very withdrawn. Which makes it hard for both sides to interact.”

“Was Thorne okay last night?” Rory asks. He takes a bite of a mini-pie, the apples crisp, sweet, and tart. It’s almost as good as going to visit Gram. Maybe he can check for leftovers at the end, get something to take back to his room for later.

Kit waves a hand. “Thorne’s fine. You were right; I got over myself and I was blunt, and he agreed to stop flirting entirely with me, and I don’t care if he’s flirting with other people when I’m around.”

“As long as it’s not Serina?”

Kit gives him a dark look. “I don’t own Serina. If she wants to flirt, that’s fine, too. It’s her own choice. If this thing with us goes anywhere, I trust her. And if she’s not into it being just us, we’ll talk about that, because I’m pretty sure I’m totally monogamous.”

“Thorne is so not,” Rory murmurs, and it makes Kit laugh for some reason. “You realize I’m the only one in my family who is, right? Well, other than some grandparents. Dad’s parents are still completely and utterly weirded out by our family, and we try to keep them away from Dad’s parents, who believe that a commune is the best way to raise children and are fairly pan and poly within the commune as well. Mom’s parents are incredibly monogamous but are happy for Mom, so that works out.”

“I think I like your maternal grandparents—I like how they get that it’s possible to be one thing, but respect something else,” Kit says. “That’s why I don’t want to be possessive. I shouldn’t ever tell someone who or what they should be. If I’m with them, I should accept them for who they are, right?”

After their conversation Sunday night, Rory’s aware of how many levels this conversation is happening on. “Right,” he agrees, because it is. There’s never a point in trying to change someone into who you want them to be, rather than who they are. “So, how’d it go with Thorne?”

“I got my assignment done.” Kit reaches down, pats his side, and rolls his eyes. “I left my bag back in my room before dinner, then ran right here, so I can’t show you the rituals I worked out. I have three options, and I think all three are valid. Two are designed to work with Thorne, and one is the bare bones of something larger. I wanted to have an idea of a way I could work with Carolyn, even though that’s not the assignment.”

“I bet it’ll be an assignment sometime later in the term, though. It sounds like the kind of thing Pawel would do,” Rory points out.

“Exactly.”

Kit takes a long gulp of his coffee, and Rory uses the quiet time to pull of a long strip of crust, pop it in his mouth. Rory figures that since Kit came to see him, there’s probably a reason for it. Might as well eat while waiting for him to come out with it.

“After that was done, I got to thinking about your friend Darrik.” Kit hesitates on the word friend, but Rory can’t think of a better suggestion to use. “And all the stuff we were texting about. Trying to think about ways we can combine our Talents.”

“Are you sure you still want to help? Putting yourself on the radar of the Shadowwalkers might not be your best idea.” Rory knows that he can’t hurt himself more than he already has; if he’s already considered dessert wine, he’s probably not going to make it worse by poking at things. “Once they’ve gotten a look at you, they might come after you again.”

Kit’s laugh is dark and rueful. “You said they like power. I’m not powerful, Rory. That’s the whole point. I’m part of a lineage whose Talent doesn’t flow through the men in the line. So I’m trying to develop something. If they want to drink my soul, I probably taste like cardboard.”

Rory’s gaze narrows. “Probably not. You’ve got Talent, right? That means you’d hold some appeal for them.” He wishes that there were a way to feel what he’s turning off when he touches someone. It sounds logical to his mind, that when he shuts someone’s power down, he should know what it is. But it doesn’t work like that, which is only more proof in his mind that the shadow was wrong. He’s not taking anything away. If he could, he’d know what power he was storing. He’d feel it.

“I said it’s fine!” Pels shouts. Rory goes silent, turning to look at her. She gestures at the wall, then down the hall to the door. “I don’t know what you want from me,” she grumbles loudly. “There’s no point. I don’t fit in here. I know you think this is for the best, but it’s not doing me any good. I just feel awkward. Like usual.” She quiet abruptly, mouth in a small O. “Seriously?” she mutters after that, and stalks down the hall. She gets closer to the wall, edges around Rory and Kit, then avoids Shane and his crutches in the hall before she enters the meeting room.

“Hi, Professor Szczek.” Her voice is loud enough to be heard in the hall, an edge of anger to it. “Yes, I’m still supposed to be here. Thanks for the cookies.”

Shane swings the crutches back, uses them to pivot so he’s facing the table. He pauses, reaching out for one of the free chairs. “That was… weird.”

“Normal,” Rory says.

“You haven’t ever asked who she’s talking to?” Kit leans his elbows on the table, and Shane pulls the chair out and sinks into it, leaning his crutches against the edge of the table.

“She doesn’t really answer. Or talk to people much.” Rory shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not going to push her if she doesn’t want to be pushed. I know what it’s like to have people poking at you, and if she just wants to be left alone, I can do that.”

Shane’s attention is still on the open doorway to the meeting room. “It sounds like someone we can’t even see is the one really bugging her,” he muses. “I wonder what she sees?”

“It’s her business.” Rory finishes the apple pastry, pushes aside the rest so he can get out a notebook instead. “If you’re serious about helping, Kit, we should talk.”

“I’m serious.” Kit makes a face, shoulders tense. “I should’ve brought my own notebook. Even if this isn’t for class, I’m taking it seriously.”

“What are you working on?” Shane slumps down in his chair at the end of the table. Rory pulls his feet back as Shane stretches out; it’s not comfortable, but it’s better than playing footsie, and with Shane’s leg in the brace, it’s hard to avoid.

Kit glances at Rory, shrugs, and Rory figures that at this point, it can’t hurt. “We’re working on some ideas to help a friend of mine,” Rory says slowly. “His friend is in a coma, and we have a vague idea of what hurt her, but she’s not waking up. She’s physically healed. The doctors thinks that there is no medical reason for her to still be in a coma, and they’re getting ready to transfer her to a long-term care facility.”

“How long has she been in the hospital?” Shane asks.

“About three and a half months.” Rory doesn’t go into details, although he catches the way Kit is staring at him, waiting for him to warn Shane off as well. Rory licks his lips, not sure just how much detail to get into. If Shane’s not sticking around, there’s no need to warn him.

If he is, then he needs to know.

Rory’s been over Lora’s medical history with Darrik; it’s the one thing they’ve managed to cover in some detail so far. He’s not sure if it’ll help, but he hopes that having a good understanding of where they begin will let them know how to get somewhere from there.

“She was cleared as medically fit—unconsciousness aside—about a week ago, and her parents were trying to place her,” Rory explains. “Her family’s local—she actually used to date the guy whose family owns the arena where we played. They’ve got a facility, she’s moving just before the weekend I think.”

“Is it going to be easier to get access to her in the hospital or once she’s in the long-term care facility?” Kit asks, drawing on the table with his finger. “It’ll probably be more comfortable in the facility, but if she’s in the hospital and anything goes weirdly wrong, she’ll be safer.”

“Nothing’s going to go weirdly wrong.” Rory tries to keep from being sharp, but Kit recoils anyway, hands up.

“Do you need another brain on this?” Shane asks. He spreads his hands, and Rory sees the flash of mottled grey, a fresh reminder that Shane’s as stuck as he is in this waiting for a soulmate thing. “One of my goals for this year is try a bit of everything, see if I can figure out what my innate talent is, if I even have one.”

“A part of me wants to say so you want to experiment with us but that would be really hypocritical,” Kit says dryly.

This project seems to be gathering steam, a momentum of its own. Rory leans forward. “Remember those legendary creatures Pawel said to stay away from?” he asks. Shane tilts his head, nods slowly. “This will probably put you in their crosshairs.”

Shane cranes his head, looking back at the door. Noise spills out, the meeting, such as it is, still in full swing. “Did you tell him?”

“He knows I want to help Darrik,” Rory says. He hasn’t exactly gone into details on what they may or may not be doing, but he doesn’t think Pawel needs that. As long as they keep an eye on the potential problems, they’ll be fine. “There’s one more person I want to get involved, but I haven’t quite yet. I was thinking that we need to try to reach Lora first, before we try to move on from there.”

“You said they were doing a questioning ritual when everything went to hell,” Kit says. He’s drawing something on the table with his finger, leaving faint tracks against the wood. “And we were talking the other night about how predictive Talent is innately a form of questioning. So can we build a ritual which uses my supposed innate Talent as a base, but also uses a more traditional questioning basis above that? Use that to try to reach out to Lora’s unconscious mind. With three of us, we should have enough energy.”

“Darrik will want to be there, but he’s not a Mage.” At Shane’s questioning look, Rory clarifies. “He’s Clan. Human, actually, but Clan. Lora, however, is a Mage.”

“So you’re saying we’re going to be two Mages with issues helping one normal Mage try to reach a broken Mage,” Shane muses. “I get the feeling something there is waiting to go wrong.”

“Hospital,” Kit says, and Rory finds himself nodding.

“If we can. I don’t think we’re going to be ready before Friday,” Rory points out.

Shane digs out a notebook as well, rips out three pieces of paper and hands one to each of them. “Okay, then let’s get started. If it’s going to be in the long-term care facility, we’ll need to get permission.”

“We need to get permission from her family and whichever facility either way,” Kit says, and Rory writes a note to himself to talk to Darrik about it.

Shane taps the papers. “List off your strengths and weaknesses. Rory, do you have an innate ability?”

Rory bites his tongue, exhales slowly. The more he works with others, the more he’s going to have to explain it. “I stop Talent,” he says. “That’s why I was part of Ángel’s and Hayley’s ritual—I’m trying to work more on using my abilities to enhance and combine power, rather than just stopping it altogether.”

“That’s probably both a strength and a weakness.” Shane starts writing, gestures for them to do the same.

After an hour, people drift out of the Coven meeting. Rory notices when Pawel leaves, when the table next to them empties of Mages and fills with seniors working on a capstone project instead. But he’s still working with Shane and Kit, making notes and lists, brainstorming through ideas for another hour, until they agree to let it sit. It’s time to let the subconscious work and see what they come up with, then maybe they can start to build a ritual.

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[prettyfunkyunorganized]

If Things Had Been Different - Gabe pt 3

The lovely @zarcake-writes inspired me to keep going with this one, so have some more pre-fall Gabriel and baby Sonya. She’s finally here! And not doin’ so good. Because I’m cruel. A bit over 3,000 words.

WARNINGS: premature babies, struggling newborns, talk of drugs, talk of infant death. Sorry peeps. No one is dying on my watch though! I ain’t that evil. Yet.

More If Things Had Been Different - Gabe: pt 1, pt 2

Reaper’s Original Daughter Series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

It was another night camped out by the NICU – Neonatal Intensive Care Unit – for Gabe. He’d been here every day for a month, and things didn’t seem to be getting much better. When little Sonya was born, he’d been at the base. And it had happened over a month early. By the time he arrived, a doctor had been waiting for him with a very, very grave face. Everything was a blur of confusing medical terms with occasional blurbs he understood.

‘Premature.’

‘Difficult delivery.’

‘Decreased lung function.’

‘Ventilator.’

‘Incubator.’

‘Opioid addiction.’

Fucking opioid addiction.

Thank god Ruby was in some rehab facility far away, because Gabe wanted to strangle her. His daughter was born addicted to fucking heroin.

He’d never been so angry in his life.

Or destroyed, just utterly demolished inside. The first time Gabe saw his little girl she was in another room, in what looked like a terrifying glass cage, tubes hooked up to her tiny body with a giant one strapped to her mouth, all sorts of sensors and . . . things stuck to her. She was so tiny.

And beautiful. Trembling, discolored, and flailing about wildly, but stunning.

There was a wash of baffling emotion and Gabe instantly knew he loved that little bundle more than anything else in existence. Nothing would ever be more important to him, ever.

Since then, there had been innumerable conversations with doctors, nurses, and Jack. Gabe was doing his best to juggle Overwatch, Blackwatch, and itty bitty Sonya, but it was proving daunting. That other month to prepare would have been great, but too damn bad. Being a father was about manning up and doing what was necessary. Somehow he managed to get a little apartment and a very expensive nanny set up, but now they just waiting for his daughter to come home to, but not yet.

Still, not yet.

Hell, he still hadn’t held his baby properly. The nurse had tried to hand Sonya over to him once, but her tremors had spiked so terribly that they put her right back in the incubator. Gabe had flat-out cried, unabashedly. He just wanted to be close to her, comfort her, tell her to hold on and show her how loved she was. But no. She was too sick. Struggling too much. So much more than any infant should.

At least he was able to rub her back and belly a few times, his hands slipped through the holes in Sonya’s little cage. Her heartbeat had evened out a bit at the contact, but Gabe had the bigger reaction – falling all over himself laughing and beaming when Sonya grabbed his finger.

Even fighting for her life, she was perfect.

With a deep sigh, Gabe leaned against the window and gave a small wave to the head nurse on duty. Andrew, his name was. Good guy. Kind, caring, all that good stuff and, somewhat surprisingly, just huge. Ripped, over 6 ft tall, and hands that could hold four regular sized babies, much less the little preemies in his charge. Incredibly gentle though.

Andrew waved back, holding up one finger as a signal that he would be out soon. Hopefully that was good news.

“God I hope so,” Gabe sighed, trying to pop his back.

“Perhaps if you got some proper sleep, you wouldn’t grimacing like that,” a familiar voice came from behind.

He twisted around to see Ana and Jack walking toward him. It looked like Jack didn’t want to be here, and Ana was in the mood to start shit – which Gabe could not handle tonight. Why the hell were they here?

“You do look tired, Gabe,” Jack said standing beside his friend.

“I am,” Gabe responded flatly, “but I’m not going to sit in my office and do paperwork when I could do it here, watching my baby girl.”

“You know, when I had Fareeha everyone told me that a little separation is a good thing,” Ana said snarkily, eyeing Gabe, “why don’t you – ”

“Stop,” he snapped, Gabe’s hands clenched in sudden anger. “This is different, and you know it, Ana. All I’ve had is separation! I can’t feed her, I can’t hold her hand, I can’t kiss her forehead – hell! I can’t even be in the same room as her! My Sonya is a month old, and I’ve never even held her!”

“Wait,” Jack butt in with a frown, “still?”

“Still! But ya know what,” Gabe said leaning off the wall and taking a step closer to Ana, staring her down as she began to worm away a bit, “despite the fact that I have to bond with my newborn child through the plaster, I’m still at work nearly every day, planning missions, reading dossiers, and managing my team. If that’s not enough separation for you, you can kiss my ass and tell me – ”

“Gabe,” Jack said tentatively, trying to stop the situation before it got even more heated, but it was too late.

“AND TELL ME,” Gabe repeated through a tight jaw, “how did you feel when people were telling you how much to hold your child? How would you have felt if doctors had told you that little Fareeha was too weak to breathe when she was born? That she couldn’t stop shaking or stop vomiting or hyperventilating? My Sonya’s lived most of her life with a fever and has already had more morphine than most people will have in their whole lives! Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m doing something wrong, because I’m doing the best I can in a situation you can’t even fathom. Fareeha was born healthy and stable and ready to come into the world. Sonya wasn’t. So yeah, I’m here at the hospital a lot, but no more than you were in Fareeha’s nursery when she was this young.”

Ana took a deep breath and put her hands up in surrender once Gabe had finished. She wasn’t one who liked to admit she was wrong, but she stood down this time, keeping her lips tightly pressed together. Gabe only huffed and turned back to Sonya.

The three old friends stood side by side silently, not sure where to go from this tense state, but eventually, Jack spoke up again, soft and understandingly.

“Any idea when you will be able to take her home?”

“No,” Gabe murmured, “she’s had a few good days, but her lungs have been holding her back.”

“Poor kiddo,” Jack whispered, shaking his head. “She’s got so much . . . stuff hooked up to her.”

“I know. I know . . .”

Jack all of a sudden snorted out a rough laugh, making Gabe frown at the blonde man confusedly. “Sorry,” Jack said with a small laugh, “it’s just that she has so much hair! I don’t think I had that much until I was like seven.”

Gabe burst out laughing. “Yeah, she gets that from my side of the family. Definitely a little Reyes.”

“That she is,” Jack said with a smile, “and if she’s got half as much strength as you and the rest of your family, she’ll pull through.” He put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “I have faith in her.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Gabe said, letting himself relax a bit.

“You were right,” Ana said quietly, “I can’t imagine going through this.” Her eyes were locked on Sonya as she spoke. “I knew things were bad, but . . . I shouldn’t have insinuated that you were doing anything wrong or that you shouldn’t be here. I overstepped, and . . . I’m sorry.”

Both of Gabe’s eyebrows leaped up. Ana? Apologizing? Damn! She was a proud woman and apologized to no man – which was great, Gabe absolutely loved that about her. It also made her apology twice as meaningful.

The two men exchanged an impressed glance then grinned in perfect unison. Of course they had to give her a little shit, too. Just a little.

“Um,” Gabe smirked, “what was that? Could you say that again?”

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get my phone,” Jack said grabbing at his pockets. “I gotta record this!”

“Oh, fuck you guys,” she said rolling her eyes, smiling playfully.

And just like that, all was forgiven again, the air around the three of them light again.

“Well, we just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Jack said with a stretch, “but I suppose we’ll head back to the base. Unless you need some company?”

“No, no,” Gabe said shaking his head, “I really do have a big old stack of paperwork I should be doing right now. I’d like to be a bit more caught up when Sonya is cleared to go home. I’m hoping I can take a few more days off, if that’s possible. Even just two or three would be amazing.”

Jack nodded furiously. “Of course, Gabe. You’re still entitled to all the paternity hours you would have received if things had happened more, uh, traditionally. Things are a bit more complicated since you’re heading Blackwatch, but we’ll cover for you as much as we can.”

“Yeah,” Ana agreed. “I can run those loons of yours through some proper drills, do some proper survival training with ‘em. That’d keep a bunch of your guys busy for a while.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Gabe said nodding slowly.

“I know,” Ana said in a sarcastically smug tone. “Just let me know when you want me to whip them into shape.”

“You just tell us what you need, and we’ll figure something out,” Jack said slapping Gabe on the back, “and for Christ’s sake, sleep in a bed, man. I know you want to stay close, and I think that’s great, but take six hours out of the workday if you’ve got to. Your fucking eyebags are sticking out as far as your damn cheekbones.”

“I’ll crash soon, I promise,” Gabe replied with a chuckle.

“Good, good. You should be glad Angela didn’t come with us,” Ana said, “she would be lecturing you into the ground right now.”

“Oh she sends me a long, scolding email every day,” Gabe groaned.

There were a few more goodbyes and some wishes of good luck, but soon Gabe was alone in the hall again. Unfortunately, the glaring fluorescent lights and hospital-y smell seemed more oppressive now. The loneliness was creeping in again. Maybe he should have kept his friends around a little longer.

“Mr. Reyes,” someone said, pulling Gabe from his meandering thoughts.

“Yes, Andrew” he replied, rubbing his eyes before looking up to see the large nurse in front of him.

“I’ve got an update for you.” The smile on the man’s face made Gabe’s heart feel a little lighter.

“What’s up?”

“Sonya’s lungs have responded to the newest treatment wonderfully,” Andrew said, “We were going to remove her ventilator and give you another chance to hold her again.”

Gabe straightened up and was at least twelve times more alert. “Seriously? I can hold her?”

“We’re hoping so,” Andrew said with a nod. “We are going to see how she does breathing on her own, just give her a few minutes, but then if she’s doing well, we will let you in. At the very least you can have a bit of physical contact tonight.”

The wave of relief that wrapped around Gabe was practically euphoric.. “That would be incredible, Andy, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr. Reyes. We’ll start as soon as I get back in. If you see or hear anything unusual, don’t panic. This is a big step for her, and she’ll need to adjust.”

He nodded eagerly, eyes glued to Sonya as the staff gently handled her. It was a frightening thing to watch, but there wasn’t any panic. Holy shit, she was doing okay. She was okay! She was actually getting better! Maybe the end of this constant terror was finally in sight.

A few minutes passed slowly by before Andrew looked up with a smile, gesturing to the door. Gabe had never sprinted so fast in his life.

“She’s alright, right,” Gabe asked before Andrew could get a word out, but the nurse only laughed.

“Yes! Sonya’s doing fantastic, we’re feeling excellent about her progress over the past few days. All upward motion.”

“Thank God,” Gabe whispered, rubbing his tired face.

“Hopefully a little snuggling will help her out, too. Come on,” Andrew said waving Gabe in.

Stepping into an intensive care unit always made Gabe’s stomach clench, but being in a room specially designed to keep struggling babies alive just tore him apart inside. No matter how excited he was to hold his Sonya, he knew there as still a chance that the children around him might not ever leave this room alive.

“Are you feelin’ okay,” Andrew asked, rousing Gabe out of his sickening stupor.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Where do you want me?”

“Right here,” Andrew said patting a chair beside Sonya’s incubator.

Gabe settled himself, automatically leaning toward her. She was looking at the world much more alertly than she was the last time he was here. The staff said that was normal for addicted newborns, but it was still severely disconcerting watching her have no reaction to touch or sounds. Now, she was wriggling about like any other infant.

“She’s more active now,” Gabe said as Andrew approached. “That’s good, right?”

“Very good,” he nodded in response, reaching down to lift Sonya.

A sudden, worried tightness tightened Gabe’s gut. Did he know how to hold her right? His baby training was such a crash course . . . What if he didn’t support her head right? What if he supported her head too much? What if he did something and made her regress? What if something happened and all that progress was destroyed?

“Stop panicking,” Andrew said with a poorly hidden smirk.

“Wha-what,” Gabe said, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

“I have handed babies to scared moms and dads for years, so I am very well trained in spotting panic. Just hold out your hands, be mindful of her neck, and be gentle. You’ll both be fine, I promise! And I’ll be close by the whole time.”

Of all the things the Blackwatch commander had ever done, having Sonya placed in his arms for the first time was by far the most intimidating. And the most amazing. She was all bundled up in a tight little package, but Gabe could still feel how warm she warm she was, how soft. Her eyes wandered a bit, but kept roaming back to her father, which made him melt. Her eyes were stunning – dark and gorgeous and massive. Her chubby little arms seemed fascinated with the feel of his shirt but didn’t quite have the control to grab it. She was fumbling about the world, and it was incredible to watch.

He loved her. He loved her so much. Her scent, her curiosity, the way her body felt in his arms.

This was perfection, utter –

A series of beeps started bleeping away on the other side of the room, drawing everyone’s attention and making Sonya squeak in protest. Gabe held her tighter, bringing her a little closer to his face, murmuring soft reassurances, but his kind words fell flat when Andrew went darting over to the other incubator.

Something was very wrong with the other infant. Orders were being barked, and syringes were being grabbed. How could a baby that small need that much . . . whatever that was? It took a full five minutes before the frenzy ended and no one looked optimistic at the end of it all. Gabe had shifted Sonya to lay on his chest without thinking. He was pressing soft kisses into her perfectly round cheeks, half trying to keep her calm and half trying to calm himself.

“Is everything alright,” Gabe asked as another nurse came to his side. Andrew was still busy with the other baby.

“For now,” the woman said with a sigh.

“Do I need to leave,” he asked worriedly, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to.

“No, not yet,” she responded with a weak smile, “Sonya needed some time with her dad. We firmly believe time with parents is one of the best treatments of all.”

Gabe swallowed hard before asking his next question, steeling himself for a possibly terrible answer. “I’ve gotta ask,” he began, “Andy was telling me that Sonya’s been doing better, but is she . .  doing well enough? Is she gonna, well – Christ – is she gonna make it?”

“Mr. Reyes,” the older woman said putting a hand on his shoulder, “Sonya is getting stronger every day, made leaps and bounds over the last few days! She knows there’s more out there and she wants to see it. I absolutely think she’s going to be out of here, and soon, too. Just give her a little more time.”

“I will, of course. Anything she needs, she’ll get it, I just . . .  I really needed to hear that,” Gabe said softly, pressing his head against Sonya’s. Every fiber of him wanted to hug her until the end of time.

“I understand,” the nurse nodded, “you just snuggle that sweet girl for now, and we’ll try to let you stay as long as we can.”

“You’re going to have to drag me away,” Gabe teased gently, nuzzling Sonya and grinning as her eyes went wide at the new sensation. It was painfully adorable.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the nurse snorted oddly seriously while walking away.

“You think I can take ‘em,” Gabe whispered to his daughter jokingly. “We could make a run for it, you and I. Just book it for the door and keep running ‘til we get home. Would you like that? We’d get you out of this abysmal little room and show you some sunlight, play you some music. I bought you so many stuffed animals! Your nanny thinks I’m nuts, and, let’s be honest, she’s right, but how could I not spoil the most beautiful baby in the world?”

Sonya wormed in a way that seemed agreeable, and Gabe laughed.

“Oh my itty bitty Sonya, mi tesoro, mi cielito,” he hummed happily, “you’re everything I’ve ever needed, aren’t you? Feels like all I’ve been doing the past few months is get more and more empty, but you – you!” He rubbed his curly mustache on her forehead and Sonya made a cute little grunt. “Everything about your just feels good, mija. Except that you’re sick, of course, but look at ya – my tiny fighter. You’re a strong one, aren’t you? You’ll get through this. We will. We’re both going to get better, I can feel it. Give it a few days, and we’ll be holed up in our new home, forgetting all about this nastiness. I know it. I promise. I love you, Sonya. So, so much.”

@collinssie @zarcake-writes @watch-your-grammer

[kvlpa-moved-blog]

Chrom & Tempest’s Relationship @nagahearted​

Alright so as with all these metas I’ve written/am planning on writing, this info will affect interactions that are assumed to take place in Tempest’s main verse, unless there’s some sort of conflict (i.e - I’m interacting with a different Chrom, a Chrom-specific child that isn’t Tempest’s or a Lucina with a preferred other mother, stuff like that).

It also, uh... causes a fairly important section of Awakening’s plotline to be... sort of canon divergent too, but uh. We’ll get to that when it comes up I don’t wanna spoil it.

Anyways alright here we go.

Tempest is recruited very early on during the first war with Plegia - before the Shepherds have successfully won the tournament for Khan Flavia. It’s on their way to Regna Ferox that they stumble upon a village near the border of Ylisse and Ferox, separated from Plegia only by an inland sea. It’s being attacked by a group of Risen, all of which are being fended off by what looks to be one dark mage - that would be Tempest.

When Chrom and co. approach her she almost takes Chrom head off with a spell because he surprised her and she thought it was just another Risen. Upon the clarification that they are not, however, she does apologize, but follows it up with telling them to leave if they’re not going to help, as they’re only serving to distract her. They agree to help, much to her surprise, and when the battle is over they ask her to join their group, having been impressed by her skills and in need of as many helping hands as possible. As luck would have she was impressed by them as well, and agrees to tag along - although she does state that if something better turns up, she’ll leave as it suits her - no guarantees on her staying forever.

From this point onwards, plot proceeds as regular - they head to Ferox, win the full ruling for Flavia and secure an alliance, go back to Ylisse, rescue Maribelle, all that jazz. Over the course of time all this takes place during, Tempest and Chrom gradually grow closer - Chrom attempting to coax Tempest into actually maybe becoming friends with everyone, since she stays pretty much closed off from the group out of a desire to not form attachments, while Tempest takes a great liking to flirting with and teasing him whenever the opportunity strikes - she takes great pleasure in making him blush and splutter, she finds. This leads to them becoming friends (much to Tempest’s surprise, honestly) and eventually starts to lead to them developing feelings for each other as well - something Tempest refuses to acknowledge and sits in outright denial of for the longest time.

Eventually, though, things come to a head and they end up sleeping together. It’s after this that Tempest realizes the true depths of her feelings for Chrom, and to be honest it terrifies her - she doesn’t have a good history with love, it’s not something that’s done her any favours in the past. This realization causes her to start to pull away from him a little bit, though she tries to hide it (albeit not very successfully).

It is during this time where she pulls away, also, that Tempest discovers she is pregnant.

Shortly after this is the ambush attempt on the Shepherds when they’re escorting Emmeryn to the Eastern Palace. While that is successfully stopped, with Emmeryn returning to Ylisstol while the rest head to Ferox to make their request for reinforcements, suspicions among the group begin to mount, especially to those who seem distant or are not known very well by the others - especially Tempest, with how withdrawn she’s been ever since the incident with Chrom (in her defense, she’s... trying to figure out a lot of things, there are a lot of things she has to figure out how to tell/talk to Chrom about...). But they’ve already been betrayed once, by someone who had been a trusted friend to the royal family for years - who’s to say they wouldn’t be betrayed again by someone they knew even less well?

As it so happens, another ambush does occur while they’re on the way to Ferox. There is no tip off that anyone betrayed them and set them up for it this time (and in fact, no one did - this group had been relying off of the same information passed on by the Hierarch, with orders to intercept them should the first group fail). While no one says anything outright, suspicion is thrown Tempest’s way, and it leads to the core group of Shepherds having a meeting later that night after they’ve made camp, to discuss the situation and what to do with any potential traitors. 

Seeing as Tempest is one of the ones under suspicion, she is not informed of this meeting, and unfortunately for her she decides that it’s probably about time she told Chrom about everything and they talked things through. She gets to his tent just in time to hear someone accuse her for setting them up for the ambush, and turns around and leaves almost immediately, before she even has a chance to hear Chrom leap to her defense (which he does).

Taking advantage of the fact that they’re all busy pointing fingers and unaware of the fact that they were just overheard, Tempest makes a rather hasty, snap-judgement decision to leave, without telling anyone. She packs her things and darts off into the night, heading back to Plegia, to a small village deep in the desert. She remains there for the remainder of the war with Plegia, hearing news of the Exalt’s death and eventually Gangrel’s as well, and it is here that she eventually gives birth to Lucina. She spends the next two years in this village, living among the locals and raising her daughter. Meanwhile, back in Ylisse, Chrom, having been distraught when it was discovered Tempest fled, remains unmarried.

When the first of Valm’s fleet steps foot in Port Ferox, it doesn’t take long for word to spread, and it does reach Tempest’s ears. It takes her a sleepless night or two to decide on what to do, but eventually she does come to a decision; leaving Lucina in the care of an older Plegian couple she trusts in the village, she makes her way back to Ylisse, intent on offering up her services as a sorceress to help in the war effort, for she knows that should Valm successfully invade, there will be no safe haven for she and Lucina to stay in any longer.

It’s safe to say that her reunion with Chrom is... incredibly tense and awkward. She’s hiding the fact that they have a child together, he feels betrayed and hurt by her having left without a word, and it’s been two years for all those feelings to be left to sit and fester. For quite a long while they go out of their way to avoid each other, only interacting as is necessary for official duties and such.

Of course, this.... becomes a problem when they’re ambushed on Carrion Isle and it’s revealed that ‘Marth’ is actually Lucina from the future. Chrom has no idea Lucina even exists, remember, but it doesn’t take long for the full truth of the matter to come out - that she is indeed Chrom and Tempest’s daughter, from a future where Tempest didn’t leave and she was raised in Ylisstol with both parents, rather than in a desert village with only her mother.

Things are kind of... even worse, after that. While they don’t have an outright fight, Chrom does confront Tempest on the matter, and she does tell him the truth of it all, and things seem to become even more tense between them, if that was even possible. Matters are definitely not helped when the rest of the future children start to appear and Leilani appears with them, also claiming to be their daughter - a story which both Lucina and the brand over Leilani’s heart confirm.

It’s safe to assume that they try to keep the exact particulars concerning Lucina and Leilani’s origins relatively hush-hush, as well, though. It’s not hard for the others to draw assumptions, of course, concerning the girls appearances and the rest of the future children in tow, but the only one who is told of the full situation by default would be Robin. Others will have to be discussed on how much they know, although it is safe to assume suspicion by default.

It’s safe to say that for a little while Leilani and Lucina are concerned about this time’s Leilani even having a chance to exist, as their parents are on less than good terms and the chances of them getting back together seem incredibly slim. This leads to them trying to bridge the gap between the two, with varying rates of success (read - very little or none at all).

Eventually, though, the rift does begin to mend little by little. Something that helps immensely with this happens at one point when the Shepherds have returned to Ylisse and are making their way back to the capital - Tempest asks Robin if they can stop at a certain village nearby, as they need to rest and resupply, and now would be as good a time as any. It’s agreed to with little hesitation - and as it turns out, the village they arrive at is the self same one Tempest had been living in - where she’d left this timelines Lucina. It is for this reason mainly that she suggested they stop, and she takes Chrom to meet their daughter for the first time while the rest of the Shepherds are preoccupied elsewhere.

Aaaand this is what we’ve got for now. At some point, the pair does eventually fully make up and get together, although tbh Via and I haven’t gone into to much detail about how/when/why it happens, we just... know that it does. 

SO yeah. The main things this affects are which of the Shepherds will know Tempest and when - going by in-game chapters, she leaves shortly after the events of Chapter 7, before Chapter 8 starts, and doesn’t come back until after the two year skip, shortly after the events of Chapter 12 - meaning characters recruited in between that time will not know her or of her past history with the Shepherds. It also means that Chrom doesn’t automarry any of his options or the village maiden, nor is there a lil baby Lucina left in Ylisstol when the war starts - instead she’s two and in Plegia and no one knows about her until the ambush on Carrion Isle.

I think that’s it tbh? If I realize I forgot something I’ll edit/reblog it later.

[casualarsonist]

Assassin’s Creed: Origins first impressions

Yes, once again it’s time for me to play 20 hours of a game and only be able to give a ‘first impressions’ review, because in this day and age if you’re not able to play a game like a full-time job then are you even playing at all?

I must admit though, for all their flaws as a developer and as a publisher, Ubisoft have, for the last few months at least, given me some of the most consistent gaming enjoyment that I’ve experienced in a while, and it’s due in no small part to the marked increase in quality in their recent releases. It started with Far Cry 5, which I will talk about once I’ve finished it, and continues with Assassin’s Creed: Origins, which is easily one of the top three games in the series. 

However, (and we’re talking about Ubisoft here, so of course there’s a ‘however’) there’s something I want to talk about first, and that’s a little thing I call the ‘Ubisoft Enjoyment Curve’. 

If the title isn’t self-explanatory enough, the UEC is a visual representation of my enjoyment when playing a Ubisoft game, and it’s a pattern that is consistent among most of their games in most of their franchises. If one were to do a shitty MSPaint drawing of it, it would look a little like this:

This particular mock-up pertains specifically to AC games, but generally speaking, the UEC tracks a boring tutorial followed by a sharp increase in enjoyment as the world opens up, followed by a plateau when one starts getting into the repetitive gameplay loop. This is followed by a sharp decrease in enjoyment as the loop gets tedious, ending on a low as the final battle underwhelms. My experiences with Ubisoft games tend to follow this exact same pattern every time because the company consistently manage to do certain specific things very well, and certain specific things very poorly. For example, no-one designs an open-world like Ubisoft. While the world of, say, The Witcher 3 is a stunning place filled with gorgeous visual detail, it’s still a collection of discrete zones that can only be travelled between via loading screens. Origins, however, is one enormous, stunning, and SEAMLESS representation of Hellenistic Egypt, and somehow it performs like a dream. When the game first offered me a mission to leave the starting village of Siwa and travel to a different city, I finished everything there was to be done because I was convinced that, like Assassin’s Creed 2, for example, I’d be transported to another self-contained city sandbox, cut off from the rest of the world. So imagine my surprise where I realised you could just ride from one end of the country to the other on horseback, and as soon as I was loaded into Alexandria, I could turn right around and walk straight back to Siwa if I wanted to. You can gaze across the deserts surrounding Giza and see the glorious lighthouse at Alexandria towering on the horizon miles  in the distance, and if you want, you can make a beeline for it and rarely encounter stuttering and pop-in, with nary a loading screen at all. This technical sorcery is one of Ubi’s greatest strengths as a developer, and although, for example, Black Flag had attempted something like this in their open world, the fact remains that that world is a collection of islands, lacking even half the detail and landmass featured here. Even the most recent game before Origins - Syndicate - took place in the city of London alone. A large city, but much less a ‘world’ and more a ‘zone’. So once one slogs through the grind of the mandated Ubisoft tutorial (as if you’re not just playing practically the same game as you were ten years ago), the enjoyment spike that comes along with exploring the expanding world is dramatic. 

But then, after a few hours of running round on an exotic virtual holiday, they hit you with the god-awful present-day missions. Now it’s not that I object to the meta-narrative - failing to adequately follow-up Desmond Miles’ storyline is actually one of the series’ greatest mistakes, in my opinion. The promise of that story, and in particular (SPOILERS) the stunning and fantastic anti-climax for Ezio Auditore at the end of his life’s search for the secrets of Eden, as the Ancients delivered their message through him and over hundreds of years of time to Desmond, was one of the main reasons I was so excited for the follow-up entries following Ezio’s retirement as a character. But it’s specifically because they’ve failed to give the player any reasonable incentive to care about the meta-narrative that these missions are so unbearable. I mean, there’s also next-to-nothing to do in them, but it’s unsurprising that a lack of compelling storytelling begets a lack of compelling gameplay. I genuinely think that they could have thrown that shit out entirely with this entry - I would have been more relieved than anything if they had - and while I can’t comment on how this particular story develops, there seems to be little, if anything, going on as far as I’ve played. It’s more engaging than the confusing, entirely cutscene-based meta-story of Syndicate, but still, the present-day portions of Origins that I’ve played so far take place in a tiny, relatively featureless environment that offer little more than an annoying distraction from the true wonders of the game. 

After leaping back into the past, however, it isn’t long before the comfortable familiarity of the AC formula and the wonder of the game world begins to offer diminishing returns. Because once one has explored enough of the map, it becomes pretty clear that whatever changes Ubisoft have made for this entry are ultimately pretty superficial - Egypt may be beautiful to look at, but in many ways it’s like the pre-rendered backgrounds of old in that there’s little by way of interactivity here. At its core, this Assassin’s Creed game is fundamentally the same as that Assassin’s Creed game, and you’ve probably got another 50 hours ahead of you before you’ve finished with it. And while this plateau in enjoyment can hold out for 5, maybe 10 hours, eventually, always, the repetition of the gameplay and the lack of true content always gets the better of me, and rather than investing in what I’m doing, I start enjoying my time less and less. I stop listening to what the characters have to say and just perform side missions by rote, and I’ve noticed that, for all the talk of Origin’s side-missions being more developed than in other AC games, this is only superficially true, and it still falls into the old trap of cut-and-paste content. On the surface, it would like you to think that the old dog has learnt new tricks, but when you find yourself unlocking a cage and carrying a captive out of an enemy camp for the twelfth time you’ll see that Origins still embodies some of the longest-standing flaws of the series as a whole. And it’s all the more annoying because the repetition in the side content doesn’t necessarily have to be such an issue, but as always, the busywork still ends up taking up an enormous amount of your time in-game, vastly outweighing the time spent engaging in any kind of story-related content, and it saps away a lot of the life the game might otherwise have.  

So, with that said, what does the game do right?

The story begins in media res, and it does a fairly good job of catching the player up on the history of the main character - Bayek - and why he has you doing the things you’re doing. While it might initially felt like I’d skipped past interesting parts of a bigger story, I can’t help but feel like there is so much more to be revealed that I don’t know about yet, and this parallels the journey of Bayek himself, who begins the game equally ignorant as to how deep the conspiracy he has found himself embroiled in goes. For what I’ve seen, the game takes a rather hands-off approach to telling its story, as opposed to, say AC2, which leans into its historical figures and has a lot of fun with its fictionalised version of history. Origins opts instead to spend as little time as possible explaining its story via cutscenes, and throws the player into the doing rather than holding them up with the telling, and in my opinion it could have afforded to play with its history more. But again, I’m not sure how much of the story I’ve played so I can’t comment on how this changes later on. 

The time period of the setting is absolutely inspired as well, and depicts Egypt when it was the point of intersection of three diverse cultures - the Greek, Egyptian, and Romans all meeting as civil war stirs between the armies of Cleopatra and her brother/husband (yeah) Ptolemy XIII. This incredible time in history lends the game an immense diversity of both architecture and people, and the player gets to experience the joy of interacting with these, and playing the lynchpin of the political machinations of some of the most fascinating figures ever to have lived. 

Another area in which Origins excels over its previous games is the interaction between its various gameplay systems, and while it isn’t anywhere as detailed as say, something like Far Cry 2 in terms of emergent gameplay, it’s still a step up over previous entries. For example, I’ve seen soldiers affected by beserk darts crack open cages holding rebel prisoners, who have then gone on to cause extended chaos amongst the soldiers protecting a stronghold, leaving me free to slip in and out unnoticed. Sleep darts thrown into fires will explode in a cloud of sedative gas and knock out handfuls of people at a time. Poisoning corpses and wandering away can result in you returning to a dozen dead bodies strewn over the place as guards investigating dead comrades have carried disease back to their living counterparts. Tense battles can and will be interrupted by crocodiles or hippos racing in and devouring your enemies. Punt boats can be set on fire and sunk from under the people standing on top of them, or rammed and tipped, leaving their pilots swimming for their lives. Oil jars can be thrown into water, broken, and the spreading oil slick ignited. On multiple occasions I’ve avoided danger because the person who spotted me dropped dead on the spot with disease, or was attacked by a predator in the process of attacking me. I wish the game had gone farther with its fire mechanics, and I suppose in the grand scheme of things it feels a little half-hearted in terms of its implementation of some of these ideas, but still, it’s better than it has ever been. 

Origins also has the tidiest implementation of its climbing mechanics of any AC game yet. There’s a far more definitive use of  ‘press X to climb, press O to drop’ that leaves little room for you to be unsure as to whether you need to hit one or the other to scale that small ledge. The game is also much more forgiving in terms of which surface it will let you climb and where - as a result, Origins is much less a puzzle-climber than other games in the series, and it’s rare that you’ll end up getting stuck on something because the designers have simply decided that you’re not allowed to cling to that particular thing above your head. They also removed the infuriating restriction on jumping that was a particularly frustrating part of Syndicate - the one that completely stops you from leaping from ledges above a certain height - meaning that you’re free to leap to your death if you CHOOSE to, because this is 2018 and I should be able to make my characters commit suicide if I damn well want to. These movement tweaks open the way for more free-flowing experience, and allow for instinctive and reactive control by the player: if you’re chasing someone transporting resources and they disappear inside a stronghold, you don’t have to spend the next five minutes wandering around the perimeter looking for an entry point only to find that you can’t get down from the wall you just climbed - now you can just just take it in your stride and continue hunting your prey. 

These small quality-of-life improvements make a big difference to the overall feeling of ‘tracking and attacking’ (trademark, me, 2018), particularly when combined with the overhauled combat. No-longer is the combat system a poor-man’s knockoff of the Arkham series; instead you have direct control over blocking, light and heavy attacks, dodging and parrying, and characters are free-moving with the ability to lock on. It’s a bit more button-mashy, but you don’t have to spend your time waiting for the enemy to attack; instead it encourages movement and pressing the initiative. You’re even able to equip up to four weapons, including two bows that operate as a stealthy and fully-featured replacement for the pistols/throwing knives that appeared in the previous games. In response to this, enemy awareness has been ramped up, meaning that even the quietest assassinations will alert any guard close enough to you, and you can and will be spotted fairly quickly if you creep without care. That said, even on hard, the game becomes easy as soon as you level up higher than the enemies around you, but you’re offered a menu option to make enemies level up with you, and for those that want the game to keep pushing them (and I’d say it’s necessary to hold off some of the tedium of the gameplay routine) I’d recommend it.   

Lastly, I’d like to go into greater detail about the world design. From the gorgeous Mediterranean waters of Alexandria, through the verdant Nile Delta areas, to the desolate sands of the southern deserts, and the immense and haunting Giza pyramids, the game’s visuals are every bit the pinnacle of Ubisoft’s efforts. It can’t be overstated how amazing Origins looks, and there’s so much joy to be taken from simply standing and looking around, or touring the backstreets and bazaars and temples and cobbled carriageways. In a game like this it’s easy to get buried by the repetition and fail to see the forest for the trees, so it’s certainly a joy to snap out of that every now and then and just go for a walk and admire the level of detail on display. More than Syndicate with it’s rows and rows of similar buildings, or Black Flag and Rogue with their giant stretches of water, Origins feels like a world designed by hand and with care. Every surface and texture feels like it was placed with intention, and it gives you that very ‘Assassin’s Creed’ feeling in which you wonder just how close to the design the reality of the place actually was. 

Collectively, my first impressions are skewed quite positive, although even now I’m finding myself falling prey to a fatigue common to my experience with these games. Taking the extra year for development has certainly done it some good - it’s clear that the ambition and quality in its presentation has increased with the increase in development time, and that a few fresh ideas have managed to penetrate the wall of executives that make all the decisions for this type of thing. But one shouldn’t be misled - Assassin’s Creed: Origins is still the same old Assassin’s Creed, and if there’s any core feature of the series that you despise, chances are you’re going to run into it here. That said, it still remains one of the best games they’ve made. It’s huge, detailed, gorgeous, open-ended, with visceral and bloody combat, a number of entertaining systems that interact to hilarious effect. When it works, it works really well - it’s fun. But it does suffer from the fact that the size and scale of the game means more faffing about with relatively meaningless busywork, and it’s this repetition that dulls the shine of the world around you. In some ways it feels more of a throwback to older AC games whilst still having some new ideas of its own, but when it comes down to it, it’s the latest AC game. So...get it if you like AC games, I guess? Because it’s the latest one.