#it weren’t for this one arc that I found so damn funny that I decided to write the entire thing for the sake of one scene in it. it’s not

[wolfieslae]

"liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself"

it’s no surprise to anyone, i’m a tiny bit obsessed with thiam.

when theo first arrived to the show i liked him already, i felt like he was an interesting character with an interesting backstory, i wanted to learn more. the more i did the worst it got but i kept thinking he was interesting and i liked seeing how he was able to plan his take on the pack. he managed to insert himself in the life of the characters and turned it around, when his plan failed, he still got his pack but ended up killing them all, i admit, kinda real bad, and then he got drag down to hell.

during the fifth season we found out that when he was ten he was manipulated into thinking his older sister – tara – wanted him to have her heart, because his had a genetic disorder. he believed the dread doctors when they told him they could make him better and he killed his own sister – taking her heart. he then left with them and was raised by them, raised believing that power was all that mattered and that he would be nothing and no one without it.

in season six episode six liam and hayden decided to bring him back because they needed his help with a supernatural creature in town, while hayden was more resistant, liam did not hesitate to smash kira’s sword into the ground and free theo, saving him from his never ending nightmare at the same time.

very rapidly we understood that whatever power theo might have stolen from his chimera pack – more specifically josh – he wasn’t in possession of them anymore, he was back to "classic theo" part coyote and part wolf. after he helped with the ghost rider, liam and hayden locked theo in the holding cell at the sheriff station. theo wanted out and liam wanted answer, they made a deal and liam broke the sword and with it any chance of theo going back to hell, his never ending nightmare.

when they needed him more, liam and stilinski broke theo out of jail but unfortunately the sheriff was taken and only theo and liam were left, leaving them no choice but to work together to flee the ghost riders. they – liam – had one goal, lure them away from scott, lydia and malia who were trying to get stiles back.

the both of them ended up at the hospital where, and i quote, liam said "when the ghost riders find us, i’m not gonna do anything for you, i’m not gonna help you, i’m not gonna save you, i’m gonna do exactly what you’d do to me, i’m gonna use you as bait". we all know he did not keep that promise, in fact, while fighting with a ghost rider, he pointed a gun at the one theo was fighting and shot, saving his life in the process. to "pay him back" and maybe prove that he wasn’t as bad as liam made him out to be, theo offered himself as bait.

while we all thought he had been taken in the hunt, we found out he hadn’t when out of nowhere he came back and saved liam from one of the ghost riders at the school, leaving liam able to get on with his god awful – but working – plan to get into the hunt.

while theo later on fought at the side of scott, malia and peter, he was forgotten and left alone. obligated to live in his car.

we found that out on season six episode twelve, where i noticed that the deputies coming to wake him up seemed to always wear a different uniform, did theo move around? or is the beacon county just, that big?

he was shot and didn’t come back until three episodes later (not gonna lie, these were the three most stressful weeks of my life).

when in episode twelve we found out he was living in his car, we also found out that he might have been the first target for the anuk-ite. thankfully, theo caught the spider early and got rid of it before it took his body and with it, his life.

when he came back in episode fifteen, he was hang up and tied to an electric fence in gerard and monroe’s headquarters. along with two other werewolves. when he thought he was free, he ended not being and was taken into custody.

during episode fifteen, when nolan was caught trying to sneak into the sheriff station liam automatically recognized him as the one who tried to make him shift in front of the whole school by beating him up. by scott’s reaction we understand that he might not have told him. but some of the shots during this scene were interesting, showing liam on the first plan with a close-shot accompanied by a blurry theo in the back. we understand why in the next scene that they share, in the bathroom.

theo confronts liam about what is happening, saying he will not risk his freedom. while liam first manages to stay calm during the discussion, he looses control when talking about brett and lori’s death. he punches theo before heading out and saying "i’m still working on my anger".

while we don’t know what happens between episode fifteen and episode sixteen, we understand that something might have clicked in liam’s brain, because, while he reacted poorly, theo seemed to be the only one noticing that something was wrong with liam. could this be why he brought him with him at the zoo? maybe.

it could also be because theo seems to be able to handle liam. theo has a past and liam knows it, theo doesn’t shy away in front of danger and maybe this is what liam needs at the moment? someone who will not hesitate to get in the way to stop him from doing something stupid?

there is also a line in this episode where theo says "i’m not dying out here because you want pay back against a kid who kicked your ass" and while i have no recollection of anyone explaining to theo what happened in the prior episodes with nolan and liam, maybe someone did between episode fifteen and sixteen, liam perhaps?

the car conversation is also interesting because now theo knows how bad liam has it with his anger, and the fear the anuk-ite brings is not helping "people only feel one emotion at a time liam". he also knows liam needs help "you brought me here because that thing that came out of the wild hunt is affecting you too" at this moment theo has already made up his mind, whether liam wants his help or not, he is going to get it.

and funny enough, liam doesn’t seem that resilient – oh he is yes – but not so much because deep down he knows he needs it, he also knows that whatever technique theo uses, it seems to be working because in episode seventeen, during the locker-room scene, liam calms down a bit too quickly for my liking (wrong i absolutely loved that).

theo uses reversed psychology and makes it to seem like liam would turn into a murderer, into someone like him "i’m the one with experience here", theo even uses "we" so that liam can feel more of a "bad person" because of what he might do. but in the end, it works and liam calms down.

now here is my favorite part, right after that liam asks theo "why do you keep trying to save me" and while theo answers something so dumb i don’t even want to mention it, i know it’s because liam saved him first and now theo feels obligated to return the favor (well, he does seem to enjoy it anyways).

theo can be seen in the next episode, number eighteen, right at the beginning, in the animal clinic with scott, liam and mason.

mason agrees with theo and liam doesn’t seem to like it, everything he says to or about theo seems to come out as an insult, but why? they seemed to be getting along well in the prior episode? finishing each other sentences when showing the dead bodies gabe brought them to to scott and malia? maybe because he’s starting to realize he might need theo more than he thought? and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it?

either way, theo and mason are sent to the tunnels to find aaron. they are both clearly uncomfortable being with each other but theo even more because the tunnels are where everything started and he surely does not want to stay or be here at all.

mason ends up hurt, and theo decides to try and take his pain away. first of all, great decision, it shows that he is trying to change, that he at least knows he can do it at some point and wants to. unfortunately he isn’t able "you can’t take pain if you don’t care". theo still decides to stay with mason while waiting for help.

the next time we see theo, it’s at the beginning of episode twenty, the finale. he is in his car, driving to somewhere on the phone with scott.

here are some details that don’t sit right with me. their phone call lasted twenty six seconds. there is no way theo answered the phone, got in his car, and drove to what seems to be the highway in twenty six seconds, so where was he going? was he leaving town because of what had happened with mason in the tunnels or liam’s sneaky comments at the clinic? because even after all his efforts, he is still not being accepted and knows he probably never will? probably. but i’m glad scott called and asked for his help.

he got to the hospital and saved liam’s ass – again might i add.

then, there is what is for me, their most important scene, for their relationship but also for their own character’s arc.

the elevator scene.

where they promise each other they weren’t gonna die for each other. where they lie their ass off.

i have a theory about this scene. remember the look? yes that one, the famous look down. based on my calculations, it is way too low to be directed to liam’s lips as people believe it to be, no, i think it’s directed to his chest, most importantly, his heart. because liam lied, and theo heard it. now of course theo lied too but he’s a professional he knows how to keep his heart steady.

and of course liam knows that theo knows because the look gives it away, which is why he accepts to fight with him (and damn, they make a pretty good team! i mean, that back roll? come on!) and i think in that moment they understood that no matter what, they can’t hide from this anymore, whatever this is (my money’s on anchor with a touch of love).

but in that moment i knew. i knew that because liam allowed himself to get help from theo, allowed himself to be anchored by theo, he anchored theo too. he gave him a reason and the opportunity to stay on the right path, on the path to redemption. and in that moment theo realized that he mattered, that he had a purpose.

can we also quickly talk about the small shot of theo flinching at the sound of the gun going off? when has he ever done that? he was literally raised by the dread doctors, he’s not afraid of anything, but not knowing if liam was on the other end of that gun shot scared him.

now we all know that part of why theo was able to take gabe’s pain was because he saw himself in him, the kid who trusted the wrong people and suffered the consequences, just like he did. but part of why he was able to care was because liam cared. liam gave theo a reason to care.

and this is why i love them so much. because their relationship, again, whatever it is, is special. it’s unlike any we’ve ever seen in the show. it’s important because it takes into consideration who they are on their own. it doesn’t exist just to add a relationship or a story-line to the show, it exists to fit on their own story-line, to make them better people.

as the title says, liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself (and fell in love with him in the process).

they are so important to me because i like when relationships have meaning, and theirs seems to be just that, meaningful.

[starrybouquet]

On Seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1

A note: I wrote a series of essays several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly crappy. I'm not particularly proud of them--they're pretty dramatic--but they do explain several of my more personal fandom feelings. I know I don't always tend to be the best at explaining things on the spot, so I'm posting these with the hope that I can refer people to them the next time that happens.

Um, I mentioned they're a little dramatic. I'm really, really sorry about that. But hey, if I can't be dramatic on Tumblr, in fandom, where else is that gonna go?

But still - if you're feeling a little sensitive today, maybe you wanna skip this. Or not. Just a light warning. :)

This piece is on seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1, but they aren't all Stargate-related. I'll be posting them in the next few days, hopefully.

To those of you who like s9-10: I have nothing against you. Some of you I know better, some less well. In general, though, I like you, you seem like fine people. This is not about you, I hold nothing against you for liking those seasons. In fact, I envy you. This is more a personal post about why I'm an idiot. If you want, feel free to scroll down past this. I won't be offended. I'd put it under the cut but I'm on mobile.

Okay. Why, hello, those of you willing to read this rant...

No matter how much I denounce and ignore it, I cannot get past the pain of seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG-1. I've never watched them in full. Seen a few episodes here and there.

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT stand the thought today. It hurts.

It's an old pain, and it's not just SG1. SG1 is just one of the highlights in a long line of books and shows that have repeatedly broken my heart by being SO GOOD and then taking an, uh, precipitous right turn, shall we say. Because a hard right seems too kind, and a precipitous drop too harsh.

I love SG1. I love love love it. I like the plots and I love the science, but what I really fell in love with was the characters.

I loved all of them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if Sam, Daniel, or Teal'c had been on any other show, I guarantee you they would have been my favorite by far. Jack is just so...Jack that he has to be my favorite. That's SG1 for you.

I've never had super close friends. I have good RL friends, don't get me wrong. They're nice people. But we don't have much in common.

That's okay. That's been my experience forever--really nice folks who maybe didn't always get me or have anything to say to me, but were good, decent people.

And this is good. Really, it is. It's just that SG-1, for me, has always represented the promise that there *are* people out there that are your true friends, and you will do brave and brilliant things with them. It will happen.

It's naive, I know. But I haven't been able to let it go. Maybe someday. But not right now.

Which brings me to s9-10 of SG1. It hurts.

It hurts that SG1 scattered to the wind.

It hurts that they sent Jack away from a place where he was happy, where he'd found friends and meaning in life again, away to fucking DC. To be...what? A politician? I could write a whole post just about this. Actually, I have. I could still write more posts about it!

It hurts that Sam went to Area 51, and nobody seemed to mind, the 'Gate didn't spontaneously combust as we were always led to believe it would.

It hurts that Daniel's personality supposedly changed that much, in the absence of his friends. Though some of his lines are funny, they aren't the earnest, idealistic, thoughtful Daniel I fell in love with. I get the idea that new-look Daniel would roll his eyes at s3-8 Daniel, and beat up floppy hair Daniel. And floppy hair Daniel is my baby and anyone who doesn't appreciate his brilliance can face my wrath. That includes you, buff s9-10 Daniel, and also whoever decided/approved that change in characterization.

Really, the only one who doesn't hurt is Teal'c. Because it feels like he's moving forward, toward happiness.

So...here we are. Season 9. Mitchell, Landry.

I often say I hate Mitchell. Do I resent him for replacing Jack? Yes. I do. We can talk about plot reasons and all that, but at the end of the day, I was going to hate anyone who tried to be Jack.

This is true in real life, too. You can't try to be anyone else. You've gotta walk your own path.

Now, people say that I didn't give Mitchell a chance. I say that the way he was portrayed, in the few episodes I've seen, tells me enough.

I can think of lots of ways Mitchell could have been interesting. How would Daniel and Teal'c react to an old, actually bad tempered (not Jack bad tempered, actually bad tempered) hardass after eight years of their best friends leading them? Or--start with his actual character. Mitchell, he hasn't been at the SGC. Wouldn't he get some flack from the longtime team leaders of SGs 2-5ish? They'd be insulted, right?

Or we could've gotten a nice Daniel Teal'c episode arc and then we could've had one Samantha Carter as team leader, though we won't get into that.

Bringing me to my next point. Co-leads?? Seriously?? You're trying too hard, folks. Telling me Sam used to know Mitchell does not actually make me like him.

Same thing with Landry. Unlike Mitchell, I guess I don't really have an opinion on Landry. He's just....there? No character development for this man.

Anyway, back to the team.

One of the things I love about SG1 is how the humor and friendship was so damn natural. Other than a few episodes (Urgo comes to mind), the plots weren't intentionally humorous. They were campy sci-fi plots sometimes, sure. They were funny because Jack was funny, yeah. They were lower budget than some other sci-fi. But they were as serious as sci-fi gets. It was how the characters reacted that made it funny.

Similarly, we were never told SG1 were found family. We just Knew. Because of the way they acted with each other. Because of the way Jack would "order" them to do things.

And hey, by the way, they weren't always family. Sam used to be less willing to ignore Jack. Daniel used to be less willing to trust Teal'c. Jack used to be a little more stern.

So...they meshed together. Like all found families do.

Every time I see a photo of new-look SG1 in seasons 9 and 10, I can't help but feel that they're trying too hard. I don't get the family feel because they aren't a family, damn it. It doesn't matter how many times you *tell* me they're super close. One of the reasons the original team got so close is because they all needed each other. Jack was depressed, Daniel was grieving, Sam was alone and had lost her mom and wasn't speaking with her dad and had never opened up to anyone in her life, Teal'c was an alien fighting for freedom after spending 100 years essentially as a slave.

And partly because of that, by season 9? Daniel and Teal'c (and Sam, when she comes back) don't need a family the way they used to. They have each other. They have Jack, or at least they *should*. *Glares in angry at Jack in DC vibes*

So...they simply don't have the relationship with Mitchell they do with each other.

It'd be different if Mitchell needed a family. It's not that SG1 hasn't added people before--I think Jonas is a perfect example of this. He wasn't Daniel, and that always hurt. But he was young, and naive, and innocent, and he needed SG1 because he'd left everything he'd ever known.

And that worked.

Without needing family, Mitchell is just a coworker. He can be a friendly coworker. A friend. But if he wanted to become better friends, family, he needed to show depth and vulnerability. He needed to need SG1.

And he never does, from what I've seen and heard about and read about. Or if he does need SG1, he doesn't need them badly enough to show more than an occasional bout of thoughtfulness before returning to his normal pale-Jack-imitation ways.

Now, I don't know why that is. I lean toward bad writing. I haven't watched Farscape (it's on my to watch list) but it seems like Ben Browder is a fine actor.

So, seasons 9 and 10 are probably fine TV. I'm never going to watch them through, so don't ask. I've tried and failed and every time it just tears my heart a little more and I'm won't be doing it again.

Those seasons...they just lost everything I watch SG-1 for, and so...yeah. I feel the hate strongly. Not because they're bad--I think they're different, not necessarily bad. My hate is only because in creating those seasons, they tore down the parts of SG1 that I loved most.

So s9-10 show me a few nice hugs and laughs? That's nice. I like comedies, I do. However...that's not my Stargate. Not the one I love. I liked the sarcastic one, the one full of wonder, the one where they had to scrape and claw their way through the galaxy with naivety and courage and brilliance. The one where they ate together, fought together, died together, were resurrected together.

It hurts, man. It hurts when the things I love turn into something that's lukewarm. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That's why we have fanfic. And, with any luck, I'll actually start that AU I've been talking about.

It's fanfic, and so it'll be my Stargate. The ending I wanted--which really wasn't an ending at all, more of a closure of one chapter of the story.

Damn, did that turn dramatic. Um, sorry about that, and also sorry for spilling my feelings all over you guys. Thanks for reading, if you got to the end of this.

[whetstonefires]

Since you like the Hellboy...*perks up* Can I ask what you like about it? Does this need to be part of the ask game, if so, smash it in there. But opinions! I would love!

Ooh! Hm. This is actually surprisingly hard to articulate.

I’ve been ‘into’ Hellboy for like. Half my damn life now, and while I could have gone on at length about all the things about it I found fun as a teenager it was at its core very much a ‘this makes me Feel Happy’ thing. And now that glow is less intense but it’s bolstered by that habitual sort of attachment you feel to like. Family members.

Let’s see how far I can break this down lol.

I have never been able to much like most of the BPRD tie-in type materials and I was not at all pleased with the films, so to an extent I think I can say confidently part of what I like is the way Hellboy is situated in a superhero-comic-adjacent space while being very much coordinated by one overarching creative sensibility--like, other people were brought in to work on Hellboy a lot over the course of the run, but Mignola always had a unifying voice and even when I don’t actually agree with his taste or values that level of artistic...intentionality? Judgment? Presence? Something like that. Gives the work a sense of...integrity? Maybe just unity.

Anyway makes it feel less plastic than comics often do. This is a corporate product of course but it’s also just Mike Mignola hanging out doing whatever he thinks would be cool. Drawing rocks and monsters because that’s what he wants to draw. I like that.

Some of the higher-quality webcomics you get nowadays, when they don’t take themselves too terribly seriously but aren’t outright comedic, can land similarly in terms of voice, but even just fifteen years ago webcomics weren’t really at that point yet as a medium, and even now most are still amateurish as well as amateur. Which is fine, but different.

To get slightly less meta, I love the collection of genres that are smeared together for Hellboy--we’ve got a lot of detective noir stuff cut together with cosmic horror and like...the genre where people research folklore and then mostly punch it. Does that have a name? And then there are a bunch of other influences stirred in, sometimes for only a single issue, sometimes more.

Mignola managed to be significantly less offensive than average about the way he adapted world folklore into his weird groddy kitchen-sink fantasy system, which is pretty funny because he doesn’t come across as being careful about it at all. Not that I think there was no effort made, but also he just used research as a basis for narrative much more often than he started with a story premise and stretched the creature to fit, which by default gave him less scope for dickery.

Also I think the only god he ever fights is Hecate and she’s handled from a 19th-century-occultist angle rather than a Classical angle.

Also Hellboy fights Nazis and cyborg gorillas as well as like. Baba Yaga and vampires. The balance of schlock and gonzo nonsense to pathos and sensitive emotional bits is usually about where I like it.

The episodic format is really well used. It lets the storytelling style lean heavily on the late-19th-through-mid-20th-century short story genres that it borrows a lot from, and which honestly has always worked better for comics than end-to-end long-arc serialization. I like how the anachronic order of many sections of the series allowed for a lot of ‘building outward from the middle.’

Also it means the story can stay true to its roots and kill off a lot of characters in gothic excess without constantly sloughing main cast or having to do fakeouts.

...I can’t believe that since Hellboy isn’t really emotionally involved with the issue of his birth parents except inasmuch as it explains the world-ending stone hand, the single angstiest part of his backstory is technically when he went on a drinking binge road trip around Mexico in his teens and made friends with vampire-fighting luchador triplets but then the youngest one whom he was closest to was kidnapped by the vampires and Hellboy had to kill his best friend, and this is all established in a random side story that pushes the intentional genre absurdism to its breaking point and is equal parts comedic and grotesque.

(The second angstiest is probably the bit in volume 1 when he finds his dad murdered by frogs.)

I also just love characters who wear trench coats and are actually really clever and knowledgeable and kind but tend to resort, in extremity, to just hitting problems really hard. Okay? I like that. That’s a fave.

Hellboy’s whole character design is very strong, a bunch of dramatic broad-strokes decisions that contrast interestingly against one another, and then a lot of subtler elements layered in crosswise.

The way his relationship to the narrative ‘occult-fighting antichrist figure’ could be really straightforward, but keeps stepping a little sideways off the usual shape of the tropes in a way that creates depth.

He’s a giant red demon guy who stopped aging in the 50s; he’s never going to be able to be ‘normal’ or pretend he isn’t what he is--but also he’s a dude with a government job and probably a Social Security Number who goes and interviews people about the situation and says ‘I’m Agent Hellboy’ and gets called ‘Mr. Boy’ and is just this guy who knows his shit and can take a beating.

(This was one of the major things I hated in the first movie, that they decided to make him this weird secret cryptid whose dad keeps him locked in a vault when he’s not fighting.)

The way the identity thing is never reduced to comfortable binaries with him except by enemies trying to psych him out is just really satisfying. He fights monsters not because he hates them or himself but because he was recruited into this career young and he’s really good at it, and he feels good about helping people who are being victimized.

When something occult isn’t hurting anybody he’s down to chill, and if it turns out they secretly are after all he’s always so tired and disappointed, and if they really aren’t then he has a new friend. Whom he may never see again or may hit up for a game of cards next time he’s in town.

(I also like how he combines ‘being pretty private’ ‘being very casually friendly’ and ‘being an asshole who makes a lot of enemies’; it’s not that unusual a combo for his type of main character but it’s one I enjoy.)

When he breaks off his own horns as part of his rejection of being Anung Un Rama it’s not ‘choosing humanity’ or w/e it’s choosing not to be used for this. His name is Hellboy, which is an objectively awful name but it was given to him by people he loved and who chose him, not the people who made him or brought him to this world to be used, and he chooses it.

And that has weight. That has force enough behind it to carry a world.

Just in general in spite of all the identity stuff he gets swamped with he’s really good at self-knowledge and letting other people’s ideas of who and what he’s supposed to be just wash over him. As the story goes on and shit gets weirder his sense of identity gets shaken, but he never quite loses that anchor in the knowledge that he is the ultimate arbiter of his own identity.

His exasperation on being told via stabbing that he doesn’t get to be King of England even if he is the first male descendant of King Arthur since Mordred is so funny. Why is this a thing, says Hellboy. Why am I finding out like this. Why do I always find out this shit like this. Why would anyone think I wanted to be King of England. I already punched so many skeletons about not wanting to be King of Witches.

He’s got so much righteous anger that comes out when people are treated as disposable, or as less for being not human or less human or superpowered, and of course it’s founded in his own experiences and his own fight for respect but it’s not about him. It’s about the person who’s suffering now.

One time his combat one-liner before shooting something started with ‘The Torch of Liberty said I was the worst shot he ever tried to train’ that’s so funny! I love that!

He’s my boy okay.

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

In regards To the abandoned arc Au I’d like to see how jaunes family reacted to his uncle dumping him some where and if possible how they reacted once Jaune got to Argus with his team

(I decided to focus on keeping this more as an origin post. I can answer the “meeting in Argus” part in another ask though.)

(Angst and dark themes ahead. You have been warned)

Nicholas looked down at the bundled up blanket in his arms as he stood in a somewhat crowded hospital room. His wonderful wife was resting after she finally finished giving birth their eighth child, who was also their first son! 

When Nicholas and Juniper found they were expecting a boy, they nearly fainted from both joy and relief. Raising eight girls would have been an even bigger nightmare.

But after a long night, as the clock just ticked past 11:00 P.M., Juniper had finally given birth to their newest child Jaune.

Sadly, it wasn’t a picture perfect moment. Their poor boy….he had been born without his left arm. In the place where the limp was supposed to be was only a fleshy lump.

But that didn’t mean a damn thing to Nicholas, Juniper, any of his daughters, or Jaune’s grandparents. He was their family, no matter what he looked like, be it deformity or disability, they loved him and they would always love him. They all looked on with love as Nicholas held his child.

He looked down at the small face of the newborn in his arms. His first son…he finally had a son. He loved his daughters and wouldn’t trade them for the world, but he’d always dreamed of having a boy of his own. He knew Juniper did as well. When they got the news that this time their child was gonna be a boy, they felt over the moon!

Now, it was bittersweet. Their son had a hard life ahead of him with only one arm…. but maybe when he was older they could get him a prosthetic. Sure they were really expensive, but he could just take a few extra mission every now and then to save up for it! Though, Juniper might not like it. She was suppose to be retired, and she had been begging him since their first child to only take small, easy missions close to their home town if they needed any help to cover any unforeseen expenses. They had investments around their hometown for regular income.

A hand being placed on his shoulder drew Nicholas out of his overthinking mentality. Nicholas looked away from his son to trace the arm back to his older brother, David. They had the same build, both being broad shouldered and well muscled upper body overall. Though where Nicholas had a short, rough beard that was well trimmed, David had no facial hair whatsoever. His hair was also buzzed to contrast Nicholas’s shoulder length golden locks.

David spoke before Nicholas could ask anything. “Can I hold him?”

Nicholas smiled warmly as he nodded lightly. “Sure thing brother. Hold out your arms.”

David did just that and Nicholas carefully transferred Jaune’s sleeping form over into his brother’s arms. David looked like he was holding a glass bomb that was ready to blow at any second, but Nicholas only found that funny because that’s how he always looked whenever he held any of their children as babies. Somethings just never change. 

David didn’t have much time to look uncomfortable with Jaune though before the Arc family was interrupted by a nurse opening the door and stepping inside. “Excuse me, but we need to have your newborn moved to the maternity ward to be monitored for the night. I can take him there if you’d wish.”

“No need.” David was the one who answered. “I’ll take him there.”

Nicholas tried to intervene, thinking it was his duty to take his son. “Dav, you don’t-” 

“Stay with your wife Nick. She’s had a long night and needs her rest, and you need a break. I’ll get him where he needs to go.”

Nicholas looked his brother in the eyes before looking back at his disheveled wife in her hospital bed. She had two of their daughters laying down with her as they slumbered, but her full attention was on Nicholas and David. She gave her husband a slight, reassuring nod to show her agreement. Nicholas looked back to his brother and passed on the nod. “Okay.”

David turned around and offered a somewhat distracted, “I’ll be back.” and moved towards the nurse.

“Okay then, follow me sir.” Together, the two of them left the room, the door quietly clicking shut behind them.

Little did they know the nightmare that was about to happen.

After about 30 minutes of either silence or quiet small talk, the door opened again. The nurse from before came in. After she did a quick survey of the room, she started to become frantic. “T-that man. The one that followed me out of the room. Have you seen him?” 

Nicholas brow furrowed in confusion. “My brother David? Not since he left with you. Why?”

“O-oh dear.” Without another word, the nurse hurriedly walked out of the room once again.

Silence permeated the room. No one spoke a word as they all tried to understand what just happened. Before anyone came to a conclusion, the nurse returned through the open door, this time being accompanied by a handful of doctors and security staff. 

A man stepped forward. He was wearing a uniform and a utility belt so Nicholas knew this was a security guard. His graying hair showed that he was much older than the other guards. In a very serious voice, he asked, “Everyone, are you all absolutely certain that none of you have not seen the man that left with your child?”

Juniper’s tired voice spoke up from her bed. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

“The man that left with your newborn. Have you certainly not seen him since he left this room?”

“Are you talking about David?”

The nurse from before spoke up, “Yes, your brother, the one you gave your son to to follow me to the maternity ward.”

“N-no… we haven’t seen him since he left with you.”

The nurse rounded to face an older looking doctor. “Just like I said!”

“Michelle, calm down.”

Nicholas’s father, Alexander Arc, seemed have had enough being in the dark. “Will anyone please explain what the dust is going on?!” 

The guard was silent for a minute. Then he spoke in a flat tone, “We believe that your brother possibly le-”

Before the man could finish, another person walked into the room. It was David. He walked through the open door of the hospital room and paid no mind to all the sets of eyes that turned to look at him as he sat down in one of the cushioned chairs. Things weren’t silent for long as the same guard that had been speaking started giving out orders. “Michelle, go check the maternity ward again, Rick, go with her, radio me what you find.” The nurse and a security guard ran out of the room. “Vicky, go check the security cameras. If you see him leaving on any of them, radio in where.” A female security guard nodded and took off herself. The older man, now only accompanied by one other security guard, turned towards David. “Alright sir, where is he?”

David didn’t say a word. He just kept looking down at the floor. 

So instead, Nicholas spoke up. “Okay, for the last time. What is going on!?”

The security guard glared at David before turning to look at Nicholas. “Michelle, the nurse from before, told us that when these two reached the maternity ward, she’d just finished putting the ankle tag on your boy when she turned around for moment. She claims that when she turned, he was gone and the baby was nowhere to be found.”

“So what? Your saving my brother abducted my son?” That’s stupid, he’s right here. Tell him Dav.”

David once again said nothing. 

The radio on the guard’s shoulder ‘chhrk’d to life and a voice called through it. “Sir. The child in nowhere in the maternity ward.”

The guard leaned in towards his radio and pressed a button. “Roger.” The guard sent a David once again. “Tell us where the kid is. Now.”

Nicholas had enough of this. He stepped between his brother and the guard, holding up his hands towards both of them. “Okay, look. I’m sure this is all just a mistake. My brother wouldn’t do a thing to hurt my children. Tell him Dav.” Nicholas got no response. That prompted him to turn his head to face his silent brother. “David?”

David looked up finally, meeting his younger brother’s gaze. Then his lips parted and he finally spoke up. 

What he said horrified everyone in the room. “I did what I had to.”

…

…

Screams of surprise came from the people in the hospital hallway and lobby area as a wall exploded in a shower dust and drywall. Two bodies came sailing through the cloud of dust, one was tackling the other to the ground. Several dull ‘thuds’ were heard from the settling cloud. As the dust thinned, they saw exactly what was happening.

Nicholas was kneeling on top of David, his fists were raining down into his older brother’s face. Blood sprayed as his nose shattered. Aura be damned, Nicholas’s punched harder than a Ursa Major. 

David tried to fight back, throwing is own punch up at Nicholas. Nicholas caught the punch by David’s wrist. Without a second though, Nicholas hammered his free hand as a fist into his elbow, bending it inward and breaking it with an unforgivable ‘CRACK’.

David screamed in pain as his arm fell limply to his side. Nicholas slammed his hand down on the shattered elbow, getting another scream from his ‘brother’. With a look of absolute rage, he roared in the bleeding man’s bloodied face. “WHERE IS MY SON YOU BASTARD!?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM!?!”

Through what was probably a broken jaw, a concussion, and pool of blood forming in his mouth, David sputtered out, “B-ba-ac…g-ga-targ.”

“WHERE!?!”

David had to swallow the blood pooling in mouth to speak again. “G-g-ta-age.”

Garage. Nicholas didn’t waste anytime jumping to his feet, accidentally knocking down the few people that had been trying to pull him off the man. Nicholas bolted off down the hallway.

As Nicholas’s thunderous footsteps grew quieter and quieter. Another sound was heard by the crowd that had gathered to see what all the commotion was. 

Juniper Arc sobbed openly into her hands. Her mother-in-law quickly stepped over and hugged the distraught mother into her shoulder. She wailed on as everyone watched.

Everyone except Alexander Arc. The old man walked forward towards his one....son. The man was now sitting up, but being detained by the security guards that had been in their room. The blood was no longer in his mouth and was instead running down his chin onto his shirt. “What have you done David...”

David looked up at his father. The cold stare that was staring him down was something he’d feared since he was a child. With his Aura finally kicking in to repair the damage Nicholas had done, he was able to speak a bit more clearly. “W-what needed to be done. That disfigured thing would only have been a disgrace to the Arc family.”

Alexander’s glare didn’t change. “No....the only disgrace to the family here is you. And you better pray Nicholas finds his son.”

...

The door into the hospital’s parking garage blew open as Nicholas slammed through it. “JAAAAAUNE!” He new his son couldn’t answer him, but he hoped for something. A cry, a gurgle, a cough, a sneeze. Anything that could help him find his son. 

Nicholas sprinted through the entire garage, looking around every corner and under everything. He kept calling out his name and asked everyone he saw, but no one had seen a child missing his left arm. Nicholas reached the last floor of the garage, and he hoped and prayed his boy would be here.

But he wasn’t. His son wasn’t here.

Nicholas fell to one knee on the concrete. Tears had started flowing sometime during his search, and they only flowed harder now. His son was gone. Somewhere out in this cold world all by himself.

Nicholas let out one last “JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUNE!!” before his voice cracked and he broke down, weeping into his hands. 

Jaune Arc, his son who he’d only had the chance to hold for a few measly minutes, was gone...

(This is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written, but it was a nice change of pace.)

[cxptain-rex]

Hi so uh, I was wondering if your could write a oneshot with one of the clones (maybe Fives, Echo, Wolffe, Rex, and or even Dogma?) or a head cannon about the clones reacting to their SO/reader having a major panic attack? Their SO is calm and collected, fun to be around and a skilled fighter so walking in on them having a major panic attack completely throws them off guard? (About the war, losing brothers? Not being good enough or even family issues that left invisible scars?)

Two Souls {ARC Trooper Echo}

pairing: echo x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety attacks and so on.

A/N: Woo! I’m back everyone! It has been so long since I’ve been here. I’m sorry, I decided that I needed a break after the Clone Wars Season finale. I still have pieces to finish for you guys! But let’s get into it!

***

Echo has never been one to break the rules, he follows regulation every single time. In other words, he does things right so he does not face weird outcomes. Of course, he meets you, a skilled Jedi Knight. He immediately falls for you, for your kindness, bravery and rightness. He thinks you’re perfect in every sense of life itself.

After Echo is lost in the Capital everything turns dark. Your bravery turns into cowardice, the rightness turns to doubting but your kindness prevails. No matter how harsh your lover’s death took on you, the person in you managed to carry on slowly.

A full year after his supposed passing the mourning had not run it's course.

The heaviness was in your limbs as much as your mind. Things you used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. He should have been there to laugh with you, or at you, or just near you. He should be making his caf in that damn expensive machine and complaining about the price of eggs. He should be gawping at holopics of fast ships on the holonet and planning what to spend his future GAR credit on, even if he got to have it. He should be gossiping about the vods he worked with worse than an old woman.

But most of all he should be there to hug you goodnight and kiss you before you left for a deployment.

You missed all that.

Back then there was just nothing, a holopic that bore his name and his cold bones rotting in a planet full of evil. You had always been agnostic, but now you put all your faith in the Force to care for him and reunite them when your life was done. Nothing and nobody that good could simply disappear, he was waiting, you could feel it.

So when you found out of Echo being held captive by Techno Union, you marched right towards Anakin and demanded of his help to safe your lover. And so you did, Rex along with Cody and a special batch of troopers went with you. You led them all towards Anaxes and fought your way through.

Slashing and forcing droids to crumble in heaps of metal. With nothing but a yearning of hope perhaps shedding its way in your heart. When you saw him, your heart stopped and your lungs contracted. Your lover hooked on a machine, all frail and pale. Echo seemed to acknowledge you and for a moment you felt at peace.

But you will not forget. You can’t forget how they ripped him appart and how small he looked. You haven’t forgotten, it still lives fresh on your mind that sour memory.

***

The war has been won. The clones have manage to overthrow the villainous Palpatine. Now they are all scattered amongst the galaxy to keep the order and peace. Echo has managed to keep his ARC rank and he manage to keep you as well. Your love growing stronger each day.

Now you live in a house granted by the Organa’s in Alderaan. Echo has built it for you with the help of his brothers. Since then you’ve managed to live in a basic perfect life.

Everything was okay.

Until one night you remembered. The panic starts out as thin cellophane, something your fingers can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes your mouth and nose. That's when the attack becomes absolute, shutting your body down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button.

You try to call for Echo but nothing comes out and as you stand shaking in your kitchen. There is a distance in your eyes as your takes a few steps backwards, bumping into the kitchen counter like you weren’t expecting it. Your head rolls with the impact, eyes glazed. Your voice comes out thin and distant, "What, but, no, it didn't, that's... not... right..." You’re breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air.

Echo trudges into the kitchen with a holopad in hands. His gaze follows your form, he drops the pad and rushes towards you. His hands, both human and mech, grab you as he searches for you. He has no idea what to do, he never saw you before like this. He remembers Fives and Rex helping him overtake one of his own attacks.

He pulls you into his lap, soothing your hair slowly. “I’m right here, cy’are” he assures you as you clutch unto his blacks upper piece. “Echo?” You sob clinging onto the trooper, he nods slowly. Realization falls on him. He knows from where this panic attack comes from.

“I’m here and I’m not leaving you” he reassures slowly as your breaths fall into rhythm. Echo’s heart clenches as you whimper against him. You hug him tighter as he buries his face on your hair.

The panic dies and void emerges. You blink slowly meeting Echo’s gaze slowly. He’s here, your subconscious remarks causing you to tremble and cry against him. Echo’s heart clenches in his chest as he holds your crying figure, he has never seen you like this and it scares him.

Silence strokes the atmosphere, only bits of your sniffling is heard. These attacks were not something you’ve grown fond to, they were constant though since you saved Echo. And now you suffered one in his presence, shame filled your veins like water being spilled into the floor. You advert your gaze detangling yourself from his limbs maintain your eyes towards the floor. Echo frowns, he notices how you step away to retake your long forgotten duties, doing the dishes.

Echo tentatively steps circling your form, he can sense the tension with yourself. He lays fluttering kisses on your bare shoulder until you close your eyes and take a ragged breath. You close your eyes frowning as you tremble, an insharp take makes you turn around and blink away the tears gathering in your eyes.

“They started when you came back. I’ve never felt something like it, I even felt like I was becoming unbalanced.” You explain softly fidgeting with your hands. Echo nods softly as sad features edge on his soft brown eyes. “I tried so hard to contain it but it scares me. The fact of losing you is unbearable. I did it once, I just can’t do it again” you say as your voice breaks in the end. Echo encourages you to come towards him again.

You lay your head on his shoulder. Echo frowns sadly as he takes your face into his hands. His gaze meets yours.

“You have no idea...how much I missed you and yearn for you. Everyday they managed to torture me and turn me into a machine, but I fought hoping that one day you would come and save me. And you did. I love you, Y/N” he says as warmth embeddes itself on your skin and envelops your heart squeezing almost pleasingly.

Nothing comes from your lips as you nuzzle your face on his neck as the sun of Alderaan begins to fade painting an amazing palette on its sky. Warmth sleeps through the walls of your lovely home and everything is perfect. Echo is here, you are here and nothing will take him away from you.

As your souls intertwine in a slow dance across the stars of your mind, a smile edges on your features. Peace has been made within yourself as you come to accept the fact that your lover is alive and well by your side.

***

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy it! I think this is very cute, as always like and reblog for more content. Slowly I will begin to get back on track for you guys! I haven’t forgotten. I’m sorry for disappearing on you guys all of the sudden but I have my personal reasons. Thank you for understanding, xx.

[thatsadorbsyo]

Lucas - Threads

((this post references the events of the fall, a mission in the heartless ffxiv roleplay campaign. quoted sections were written by @way-to-the-future. cw: character death. art credit: papa ibra tall, seamstress of the stars, wool tapestry, 1970s.))

“I admire how much warmth you give. Like a furnace. Like you've got a blaze rolling at your heart, and you let it all out through your skin. I see it in your eyes, the way they glow when the lamplight hits it just right.”

I’ve got nothing but white static in my head when I try to remember the Rovers’ faces, and if that isn’t creepy as fuck, I don’t know what is. I can’t recall a single thing about them. No noses, no mouths, not a sliver of kohl smudged under an eye or a lock of hair curling out from under a helmet. It’s easier to hate them when I can’t see any facets of their identity, but I don’t wanna fall prey to this lazy fallacy, either. There must have been real men under all that armor. One of many, sure, but individuals all -- just like I had been, once upon a time. So why don’t I remember?

My memory is unfortunately selfish and selective. It picks up the threads of the things closest to my heart and weaves the best story it can with the loose ends. So here’s the stupid little details that stuck with me, where more pertinent information might have been written instead:

I can still tell you with absolute clarity the exact gem tones of the light reflecting off of Cheche’s upturned face, when the Allagan facility erupted in spells and gunfire all around us. Sapphire blues, emerald greens, and amethyst purples against her shining black scales at every obsidian facet, like a raven feather catching the light.

I can map with exacting precision the arc of Castor’s white braid when he whipped his head around at the commotion, taking the tactical measure of our situation the way only a forged-in-the-blood knight like him can. Even after turning away from him, I could still feel the bulwark of Castor behind me, a solid presence that I didn’t need to see to be able to sense, like an extension of my arm, a phantom limb.

To turn around and suddenly find them both gone, ushered down a different corridor in all the clusterfuck of our allies splintering when the Rovers betrayed us?

It felt like amputation.

If I could, I would keep them both in my heart, keep them like puppets suspended by vermilion strings that extend from their every joint to the cavernous arches of my beating muscle. With threads that absorb the shock of my mortal body and every twin hammer of blood, so that all my loves can feel is the gentle warmth of my fire, the spark of creation that burns in me to keep them, cradle them, shelter them close and alive.

Keep them, and I guess, in so doing, preserve them exactly as I want them to be. Is that fair? It doesn’t seem so, does it? I may love them, but they aren’t mine. They aren’t toys or dolls; not mine to keep. See, Castor has taught me that to love someone is to swap my puppeteer’s strings for the Spinner’s threads, and let them weave their own way through my story. Cheche has shown me that the beauty in anything -- in anyone -- is that they might evaporate at any moment. But if I let them, they both might even decide, all on their own, to stay with me for as long as they can. A stronger path, freely chosen and written in royal blue and bright fern green, threading in a perfect braid around my brilliant gold.

No, I couldn’t keep them -- and in the moment of amputation, it didn’t fucking matter anyway, because they’d already gone beyond my reach. My heart was alone, but still it burned for them; burned fit to melt straight through the iced Malbolge of all the hells, a judgement which I still believed must have been waiting for me just beyond the next door of this Allagan tomb, to welcome me to the justice that I'm owed for my crimes. This door, or the next door. The next one.

Amputation wouldn’t stop me. Hell wouldn’t stop me. I would have burned through that whole building like a live coal, if that was what it had taken to find the exit and bring us all back home.

“It's hardly poetic, love. I'm just telling you exactly how you are. How anyone could see you. Even if they weren't a poet. Maybe even if they didn't care for you like I do. Just, if they - stopped to watch you.”

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, but I had a brother once, before I torched the evidence of the life I used to live. Augustin looked so much like me even when we were young, but moreso now than ever before. We have the same bronze eyes, the same nose; I’ve grown into the size of our chin with time. He’s a beefier motherfucker than I am, and he’d always preferred braids, but even still you’d be hard pressed to tell us apart if you stood us back to back. Where do you think is he now?

Does he wonder what’s become of my punk ass? Surely the reports tell the truth about how I left. They wouldn’t keep secrets, not from a... fuck, he’s probably a Centurio now, isn’t he?

Shit... I bet he is. He always wanted to follow Mom’s path, even though every day that passes causes me to doubt her just a little bit more. I’ve learned too much about family not to begin questioning her motives for doing what she did, but I guess that’s neither here nor there.

But it was Augustin who first taught me how to shoot, you know? He took me behind our home and put a gunblade in my hands, adjusting my twiggy little twelve-turn limbs into the approximate shape of proper posture even when the weight of it threatened to topple me over like a top-heavy weed. He drilled firearm etiquette into me until I could recite its tenets by memory. For such a little bitch, he molded me into a decent shot.

I haven’t felt that kind of brotherly guidance in a long time, but I think I felt Augustin’s ghost behind me when I stood shoulder to shoulder with Sister Lux in that facility, fighting our way out.

Do you remember that door, the one I had thought stood between me and the hells? It was really just another hungry bulkhead between us and freedom; a sun and moon puzzle that should have been, might have been harder to solve if I couldn’t feel the juxtaposition of her fire right next to me. Sun and moon. Astral and umbral. It was so simple; this was a test. I had let my aether lay fallow, and in order to progress I had to reach inside and drag all the burning potential straight out of my mouth. Furious, destructive, so obscenely fucking alive.

Hungry, that’s the key word. The door had to feed -- on us. I don’t know how, or why, but somehow she and I put our hands to the door at the same time and knew exactly what to do. It was time for me to shit or get off the proverbial pot, and all she had to do was correct my posture a little bit, just like old times in the backyard with my brother and a weapon I didn’t know how to hold.

I picked up my brass and ruby cudgel, and she told me how to feel the fire of my aether and let it simmer in controlled brilliance, and how to sit back and watch, patient and observant, as an umbral reckoning blazed all the way up into my nose, through my nostrils, eventually bubbling out in an oozing black ichor like tar. Until we were both painted with blood and the door finally gave way after growing fat on our offerings. Freedom, and not a moment too soon.

It’s funny. It’s funny in that way where I have to laugh to keep from considering all of the circumstantial leaps that had to happen to get me there, in that moment, with that exact mentor and the tools available to me. Did you know that I bought my thaumaturge focus the same day -- at the same damn merchant stall -- that I bought the bracelet that Lux still wears? The cudgel was a leap of faith (I thought maybe, someday, I would use it), and the bracelet was a tithe for her attention, but I gotta fucking wonder if that wasn’t the Spinner herself cinching an amethyst purple thread, until two distant ends of a rich black fabric pleated and bunched together, suddenly close, in a moment of coordinated function.

Like this had been the plan all along.

“They treat you differently because of it. Everyone on this ship - they know they can talk to you, Lucas. That you'll hear them.”

I started this mission as an empty vessel, asking everyone I came across to pour their faith into me so that I might taste it and gradually build a competence in teasing apart the flavors of the gods. The truth is that I was searching for the one most likely to offer me forgiveness, or at the very least the god who might hand me a penitence that I felt like I could swallow. I thought I deserved it, you see. That’s how all this started. On bad days, I still do.

Asking about faith isn’t just a window to the spiritual soul -- it’s also a mainline straight into the source of everyone’s irreconcilable fucking damage. Picking your god is a perilous choice, but mostly because it ultimately determines what kind of personality malfunction you’re going to have down the road. I already know why I’m awful: Delusions of grandeur and megalomania, with a curious tendency to self-flagellate. I’m the smartest, most impressive architect you’ll ever meet. I’m the greasiest, grimiest hunk of motor oil in the gutter.

The only way to reach the middle road between glorifying and hating myself, I’ve found, is to count the threads that wrap themselves around my ribs when I recount the conversations that I’ve had on the Salemtaza’s Voyage.

Here’s a taste: I’ve got Caelrin in deep ochre around my midriff where my abs are just starting to take shape. Ignera sits in flaming orange around the hollow of my throat, slapping my hand away every time I try to choke on my own self-loathing. Captain Kharn wraps in garnet around my face, shielding me from unwanted eyes when I don’t feel quite how I should in my skin. W'kana and W'buki in yellow and black, swaddling me so tight around the chest I fear for my next fucking breath. Reinette, a gentle evening blue curling in petals around my fingertips. Rizzo, a shining onyx black stitching up my lungs telling me to breathe, just breathe, don’t stop breathing until it gets easier.

More even than that. Staelufre in neon magenta, Fugetsu in an unknowable shade of grey, Killian in sunset orange, Strelec in obscuring maroon, Hikari in daisy yellow, Camille in cloudy crimson, Jancis in healing olive, Lune in jumpsuit orange, Jeanne in oil-slick purple, Hanako in fresh lavender, even Kat, yeah, even her, in that same royal blue as Castor.

Nathaniel threading in loops around every one of my fingers in a dazzling gold that fades into the electric yellow of potent aethersand.

I could go on. I could list twice as many names and colors as I already have, and I must ask myself: How do I carry them all? How could I possibly hold them all, without attaching them directly to my meat, my bones, this hideous and imprecise flesh that rightly should be cogs and metal? All that thread would just gum up the whole works, wouldn’t it? Maybe it’s better that I am man, then, and not machine.

For all my flaws, I can still stretch my arms and accommodate all these dangling ends.

“They see it in you, in the way you carry yourself. You're curious. Empathetic. You want to understand people, not just love them or hate them or think nothing of them at all.”

Sui tried to warn me about all this, back at the pumpkin patch at Cloudtop. It was raining, weighing down all my sashes on my brand new armor, and Sui had laughed when the skies parted to reveal the sun setting in a field of rose gold and the softest lavender. It seems like she and I can never properly talk if we aren’t both looking at the sky, like this is the only way we can perceive each other. Never head on -- only in the periphery. Or maybe it’s just easier to talk about certain things when you aren’t looking someone in the eye. Maybe it’s that.

She was so startled by the questions I needed to ask her, like she hadn’t thought it was possible that anyone had been watching her reaction to Nathaniel’s speech, like she didn’t think anyone would have noticed that she was upset. Is she so used to passing under the radar?

But I’ll give her credit. Sui tried to warn me that my friends would die. I watched the sunset fizzle out on the horizon from its soft pastels into a creeping ceruleum and a deeper indigo while she told me every horror that had befallen her family before, and what she knew would happen to us again. Sui could feel the same threads of fate starting to twine around our edges, and she wanted me to be prepared. I listened. I let those fibers stitch themselves into my lungs in the golden rose of a cloudless twilight sky.

I just never thought it would come down on us so quickly, and with such brutal force. I’ve never had to pray for another person before, and out of nowhere I found it necessary to summon the script to beg for twelve of my friends’ lives.

The truth is that I never learned how, and I’ve been too afraid to seek the answer. I know how to make wishes; I know how to toss gold coins into a running fountain and watch the sunlight flicker off the scattered mess of them along the bottom of the pool. But I don’t know how to pray.

I know who I would ask. It was Tieve who introduced me to Gridania, and if Sui and I speak most openly under a yawning sky, you might say that Tieve and I communicate best among the trees, under a cathedral of roots. The memory of the hearer’s chapel is stitched in bark brown and moss green bracelets around my wrists, reminding me that while I may have been invited to someone’s sacred space, I have to mind my boundaries, too. I am not the infallible creator of my own conceit, but nor am I outcast from Spoken kindness and community. To know temperance is to know yourself, to dig into the well of your Spoken dignity and grant the same to others.

I still have this embroidered Gridanian sachet of wood chips and herbs that she gave me, telling me it was for luck, and I didn’t know back then how much I would come to rely on Nymeia for hope. That I would need to believe that she’s writing me into a greater tapestry, that I need that grandeur to feel like my dumbass mistakes have meaning and purpose. And even with Tieve beyond my reach, it occurred to me that she might have already given me everything I needed to weave my own prayer. A level head. A god. A talisman.

I’m just fumbling through this. We all are, but I made my own prayer by pulling that sachet out of my pocket and spinning it over and over in my hands as I remembered the names of those our enemies had taken from us. Who better to beg than the god of fate? Keep their lines anchored to me. Keep them in the tapestry. Keep them safe.

“It's the most noble thing about you. It's - It's more than just what you do, it's who you are. It's what I love about you.”

I recite their names:

Aidan, the hound with apologetic eyes who slinks around the edges the crowd until someone notices him, at which point he deflects attention from himself with a self-deprecating joke straight out of my own fucking toolbox. He could be a brother to me, if he let himself be; if he told me the truth about who he is and where he’s been. I can smell it on him. The stench of ceruleum doesn’t fade as quickly as any of us would like, but I wait for him to tell me on his own terms. Aidan weaves around the periphery of my eyelids in a shadowy kohl black.

Izar, the mercurial seer who obscures themselves in riddles like a smug sphinx playing at being a whimsical faerie. They have never passed up the opportunity to toy with me like a blind white kitten with an oversized brown moth, but the teeth of their humor has never once felt like a cage to me. They are kind, and curious, and helpful even as they delight in your confusion. They dangle at my elbow in marble white, furiously tickling my arm like a loose hair caught in a sleeve.

Adhi, the wandering sage of Dalmasca who the gods had to gift with such big fuzzy ears so that she could better capture every single story that ever came her way. I don’t know how to even begin to thank her for what she’s done for me; she’s returned things to me that by all means should have been my birthright but were taken from me before I was even aware that they were being stolen. Her thread spirals in a shell around my ear in an entire spectrum of colors, one for every tale she carries with her.

Still, there’s more: Tieve, the witch of the wolves (mossy green); Percy, the son of a shadow (cobalt blue); Bride, the bashful goldsmith (periwinkle blue); Swozbhar, the towering cook (mint green); Valeriaux, the scarred philanthropist (leather brown); Silya and Livia, the sunniest Fists I’ve ever met (pale pink and soft teal); Farid, the most visibly haunted man I know (muted purple); and Iron Deer, the entrepreneurial engineer (metallic steel) -- all of them familiar faces, all of them colleagues, all of them threaded through the chambers of the same priceless Heart that gives our mission purpose.

The same Heart that we traded away just to get them back.

You know what? Fuck it. I’ll string them all to my own heart. I’ll suspend them all in cocoons deep in the burning hearth of me -- I will fight my way out of this facility that wants desperately to become our tomb -- until those that still live can crawl back out, fragile but alive and free to keep fighting for whatever comes next.

But one of them is gone, beyond the veil and permanently out of my reach. Just like Sui tried to warn me about, and all of Tieve’s lucky charms were not enough to protect me from this single ungentle truth. The Spinner does not stop the march of destruction -- she merely directs it. She cuts the threads of our fallen friends when they begin to fray and weaves new ones in their place; a different color, a fresh fate.

One of them is gone, their thread knotted off in a sudden stop on the tapestry of our story. But who?

Who did we lose?

“I've seen it. I've heard it. I've bloody felt it. Everyone I speak to says the same. Every one of them knows what a great heart you have.”

Percy and I first met at that bonfire by the chocobo stables. I was shivering, fresh off the fucking ship and completely unprepared for the weather, and he stood next to me and promised me everything I could ever possibly want, if only I made a promise in return to be a loyal friend to the Family. I was so desperate for a place to belong, I would have signed anything, done anything -- what had mattered was that he would have me. In this brave new world, I had people looking out for me. A place to call home. Structure. An institutionalized, freshly liberated fuckhead like me desperately needed structure.

So what if it came with a little price? The list of my sins is long, and breaking and entering is pretty far down at the bottom. Bar brawls are inconsequential, when you’ve already essentially aided and abetted war crimes. So, I’m wanted by both House Desrosiers and House Beaumarchais for stealing a thing or two from their daughters’ manse. So fucking what. Percy and I -- There are bonds that can only be forged at three in the morning, sitting on a crows’ perch halfway across the city under the moonlight, doing pre-job surveillance on some fart-sniffing nobles through their window. I’m not saying we kissed. I’m not saying we didn’t, either.

This is what I’m thinking about, when I look down at Percy’s lifeless face, drained of the rosy pink that always sat on his cheeks during those cold-ass stakeouts, huddled together at the shoulders for warmth. If I touched him now, he would be so cold, so unnaturally fucking cold, so I don’t. I can’t bring myself to touch him; to do anything but stare with my mouth half-open and a sob dying somewhere between my sternum and my throat, turning into just another burning pit to fizzle and die in my stomach.

Except it doesn’t have the good sense to die. It turns to steam, turns to pressure, backs up the entire clockwork machine that keeps me chugging along, and it must be vented or else I’m going to fucking explode, but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. It stutters inside me like a hitched gear. The whine seems to come from my chest, high-pitched, like a kettle about to scream. Is that me? Am I screaming? I don’t know myself. I am not me, in this moment. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who is on the cot below me, whose silver close-cropped hair sits on this head, whose too-round spectacles reflect the light in the room too thoroughly for me to be able to see if their dead fucking eyes are open or closed. I don’t know which is more terrifying.

I leave. I run. My boots scream against the floor of the ship, clap against the dirt outside, and I don’t stop running until I can drop to my knees and bellow to the impassive clouds. This is my fault. Judgement rings in my head in a cacophony of voices. My fault. My fault he’s dead.

What am I doing here? What have I done?

Percy’s line, cobalt blue, is so cleanly snipped from my fabric that all I can do is finger the empty spot where it might have kept going. Maybe one day we could have found compromise; a future where the three of us could get along without jealousy, without miscommunication or hurt feelings. I’ll never fucking know.

I have always thought of myself in big terms. I am man, I am machine, I am god. I’m the architect of my own form, and I have crafted myself in my own image. Nothing makes me feel more powerful than looking in the mirror and seeing my face look back at me; the face that I sculpted, the body that I shaped. The people that I’ve been in the past are not dead, but rather they have been stitched into my organs. The girl that I was lives in my marrow and feeds my blood, and I am never alone in the cathedral of my body. I am holy. I am enduring. I will move beyond the ghosts at my heels and continue forging a forward path, with those I love woven into the never-ending project that I call my self.

But even a god looks puny as shit, crying into the dirt over a fallen friend. I need to feel this. I need how small this makes me, how insignificant I am in this moment. I gotta remember how crippled it makes me feel. This humility -- it needs to be sown into me, too. So I don’t make the same mistake again. It’s the least I can do.

I can’t forget. I won’t forget his face.

“What a precious, precious thing we've gained.”

[ikesenhell]

Heatwave

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine on my page under the Masterlist. NOTES: Thank you so much to the wonderful folks who came out and hung out with me as I wrote my first Ikesen piece since ‘American Dream’ in ages. I’d been batting around this idea at the lovely @a-shout-to-the-void and finally buckled down and did it. TW: torture, abuse mentions and descriptions, blood, painful injuries. A lot of descriptions and references to Ieyasu’s childhood with the Imagawa Don’t worry, no one dies. It also somehow has a good ending? Idk man. Also, hello to my first piece with Yoshimoto in it whatupppppp

----

It was three months after the second disappearance of the Takeda, and the main hall was deathly quiet. All were assembled--Nobunaga lording on his dias, his allies gathered close--and no one spoke. 

Ieyasu wished someone would. 

“He wasn’t difficult to bring in at all,” Mitsuhide commented, as if it were the weather. Clouds from the shoreline--perhaps it will rain. 

(Funny, they could use some of that. The summer was stifling and showed no signs of abating, even as the seasons turned. The crops weren’t going as well as expected, and Azuchi was a cooker. They’d slitted the screens open, but even then, Ieyasu could see sweat beading on Hideyoshi’s forehead. Even Mitsuhide, usually pristine and inhuman, sported small pools of darkened silk in the underlayers that peeked through.)

Masamune almost smiled. “Do you really think he was stupid enough to come here on purpose? He’s got guts.”

Nobunaga’s perceptive red eyes flickered in Ieyasu’s direction. 

“Perhaps.” Mitsuhide allowed a smile. 

“Probably to try his hand at Nobunaga.” But even Hideyoshi seemed unconvinced. “Maybe the last ditch effort of the Takeda before we destroy them.” 

Ieyasu hated that he glanced at Mitsunari, looking for something in the way of understanding, anything he hadn’t guessed at already. Even if that stupid puzzled expression was there, it was something. No luck. Mitsunari had the hard, calculating stare of a man who already knew the score. 

Damn it all to hell. 

“He no doubt knows where Shingen and his ilk have scattered to. Until we have found them, they remain a threat.” With a subtle nod of an imperious head (the fine sheen of sweat glittered on his neck), he motioned to Mitsuhide. “Do what you must.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” the other man noted, “I believe there is someone else here who might be better suited to… gathering the information you require from our latest guest.”

His hands were cold. His hands were cold and they were all looking at him. Ieyasu balled his fingers into fists and willed them to stop trembling. 

(Was he angry? Furious. Incensed. They needed rain in Mikawa and the crops were a concern and in the vacuum that the Takeda left there were a thousand bureaucratic things to consider and he was never not angry, only three steps away from it where he could look at it from what he liked to think was a cool remove when it was really like a fiery tornado. They’d taken so much from him and here he was again, to take more with a smile, and he couldn’t do a damn thing without destroying it anyway.)

Nobunaga just stared at him. “Well?”

And he was the best man for the job. 

Ieyasu nodded, his face as porcelain-still as he could force. “Of course.”

---

The first time he met Imagawa Yoshimoto, he only said one word. 

Ieyasu was only a child, still in the hands of his enemies. He had bruised banding around his legs from switches and cut knees, hair that went every which way and eyes that still welled traitorously with tears when struck. Illusions of fair treatment were gone. All he had was will and a directive: this is what you can do for Mikawa. If being beaten saved Mikawa, that was his responsibility. 

Wasn’t it?

There was a banquet and the Imagawa wanted to show him off like a prize pet. Ieyasu was quiet, not stupid.He smiled politely and remembered all of the tiny details of court manners, the little things that would help him (Mikawa) survive. They’d put him into a finer haori than the one they usually allowed and seated him where all the other nobles could spy on the little waif from a nothing place. 

Yoshimoto, he later learned, was the beanpole teen sitting perfectly only a few spaces away from him. Dark hair, a charming smile, pretty eyes. Ieyasu hated them all on reflex. Whoever he was--that didn't matter. Ieyasu smiled with thanks to one of his benefactors and imagined stabbing him between the eyes. 

How would he do it first? Who would go? It made sense to start with the Imagawa head--of course, that was only the correct order of things--but he could also trap them all in the hall and set it ablaze, let them scrabble over each other like rats. He could pick off their families one by one. He could--

Someone set a sake cup heavily in front of him, only half-poured. Ieyasu blinked rapid-fire up at the teen smiling down at him. 

“Smile,” he instructed, fluttering a fan entirely-too-close to both of them. And then he rushed away.

Ieyasu glanced down at the cup on his table and realized two things: one, he’d allowed his polite facade to slip. He could feel the stormcloud in the grit of his teeth. Two, the Imagawa teenager had blocked him from view with the fan--and probably spared him a beating. 

Only later did he learn his name. 

---

The dungeon stairs were slick. Every once in a while, someone came and cleaned the mold and mildew from the flagstones, but that was a lost cause. It seemed like the only moisture in Azuchi had escaped to its basements. Wet-blanket heat settled foul in the belly of Mitsuhide’s workspace, the little light lancing from narrow windows illuminating hazy curls of breath-sucking humidity. Ieyasu disguised his disgust at the foul smells the way he knew best--frowning. 

Their prisoner was moved to the very last cell, the ‘interrogation room’. Mitsuhide’s gentle words didn't disguise its purpose. It was an execution chamber and torture cell. Ieyasu never went in to discover its secrets. What he did was in the open, precisely where everyone could see it. 

(Because if you were going to hurt someone, you did it openly, he’d decided. Cowards hid abuse. If you raised the sword, you showed the sunlight its deadly glint and let heaven know your intent. Violence couldn’t be wrapped in a silken kimono and paraded before leering eyes--)

The door was shut. Ieyasu didn't waste the time to reflect on it. No interior monologue did him good here. Shunting thoughts and the heavy latch to the side, he stepped in. 

Their prisoner was kneeling. Mitsuhide prepped well. His knees were tied to those uneven slats the other man so preferred, jagged, uneven boards guaranteed to end with shattered shin bones if left long enough. He’d been stripped of his fine armor and things, reduced to a (still beautiful, dark grey and blue silk) final layer of kimono. Unkempt, shiny dark hair spilled loose on his shoulders. As Ieyasu stepped inside, those gold eyes met his. 

Yoshimoto had the audacity to smile. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said, light as a feather, his voice already hoarse. Like commenting on the weather. Awfully hot, isn’t it? It should have rained by now. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

All the anger he kept so tightly coiled unfurled, the head of it raring like a threatened snake, and Ieyasu bared his fangs, too. “You should have. Why did you come?”

It was a stupid question. They both knew that. Yoshimoto just smiled that serene, sad, painter’s smile. Maybe, Ieyasu thought, if he had half of Yoshimoto’s artistic eye (the way he’d never had Mitsunari’s reflex genius or Masamune’s slick tongue or Nobunaga’s command or--), he could take the scene before him and transform it into a painting. The light cast over his prisoner’s back in sharp relief, all of the folds of silk and linen and hair akin to one of those Portuguese paintings they tried so hard to pawn off on them. 

“Are you going to answer?” Ieyasu demanded. Cold, cold, cold. His hands were cold. 

Yoshimoto dipped his head silently. “You know why I came, and you know why I won’t leave.”

Ieyasu sucked in his breath--like that would crush the flames of anger twisting, tornadoing in him. It burned in his throat. First, he’d get Yoshimoto off those planks. Those would come later. 

---

When he emerged several hours later--without anything to show for his efforts, just blazing fury and frustration renewed and a respect that clawed at his spine--Ieyasu blinked in surprise at the Chatelaine standing just outside the stairwell. He almost missed her. The sun was gone by now, the moon rising in its inconstant arc over Azuchi’s peaks, long lines of moonlight as gentle as the flickering torch light below was ominous. 

Of course she was there. Of course.

“How is he?” She asked, and Ieyasu wanted to scream.

“How do you think?” He snapped. “Go inside.” 

She didn't move. Instead, she produced a cold cup for him, shoving it into his hands. 

“What’s this for?”

“It was hot today. You must be thirsty.”

He stared at the cup in his hands, the silvery liquid inside glowing like moonbeams. “How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

What did that mean? How long had she waited here in the fading dusk, listening to the muffled sounds below, with a cup for him? Was it even for him? How could she give him this when only moments before, he’d washed away the blood of her--her--

Gods, he still couldn’t say it to himself. 

“Who told you?” He finally asked, his voice sharp. 

She folded her hands over her skirts instead of answering. “Is he alive?”

Of course this was about Yoshimoto. Of course this was. Even the cup was in the interest of getting information. Icy, crawling hatred slithered down the small of his back like sweat. Unceremoniously, Ieyasu dumped the contents of the cup on the ground. 

“Ieyasu--!”

He contemplated breaking it. But that wasn’t fair to her. None of this was. None of this was fair to her, just like none of it was fair to him. So instead he shoved the little mug back into her hands and stalked inside, as if moving fast enough would leave all of that behind. 

---

For the rest of his captivity, Yoshimoto was less a person and more a concept. Ieyasu saw him sometimes, fleeting glimpses of a young man blooming handsome. What kind of a life did he lead, Ieyasu wondered? It must be the opposite of his plight. No doubt he had enough to eat. No doubt he had clothes that fit, people that cared whether he lived or died, someone to spare a smile at him. No doubt he could sleep at night without a burning hate clawing up his throat and threatening to choke him. 

It was hot that summer--sweltering, relentless. Ieyasu’s room had no screens to the courtyard and so he tossed and turned fitfully at night, too uncomfortable to sleep. Sometimes he dreamed of Mikawa and home, home with the people who relied on him to be strong, people who allowed him to step down from his endless responsibility of strength for a day and be a young man again. 

They exchanged words only briefly once more, before Ieyasu went home and returned again and razed them, burned their houses the way he’d always dreamed, released all the untamed hatred raring in his heart and finally did for Mikawa what his endless abuse at the Imagawa had never done. They passed in the hallways and Yoshimoto stopped him, a small retinue at his side. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said lightly. Yoshimoto said his name like a name, not a curse, not a burden on a household already determined to hate him. “How are you today?”

What could he say? A thousand callous things spiraled through his mind, each one more vile than the other, until he couldn’t think of a single nice word. He simply shut his mouth and nodded slowly, safely, feeling thick and stupid. “It has been quite hot lately.”

Those gold eyes stared right through him. And at long last, Yoshimoto nodded. “It certainly has. I hope it rains soon. May you have an excellent day.”

When he returned to his room that night, there was a small, beautiful fan sitting in a neat package before his door. Ieyasu let the slow, languid sound of its fluttering lull him to sleep, its cool breeze the first reprieve in months. 

---

He didn't think about Imagawa Yoshimoto for a long while after, not even when he served as Imagawa's puppet ruler. That chapter of his life was behind him. Ieyasu had exacted his revenge on Imagawa. That was over. 

It was, at least, until the Chatelaine. 

---

“Why are you here?” He demanded. 

She was waiting for him again in front of the dungeon steps, a small package wrapped in her hands. Her kimono was a soft blue with little white details, modest and cute and practical and perfect. She worked so hard. Everyone knew that. He knew that. 

“You didn't have anything to eat this morning,” she answered. The sun wasn’t yet at its peak, but already he could see the waves of heat rolling across the fields behind her, the bronzed backs of villagers in its orange glow. “You almost never miss breakfast.”

“Almost,” he pushed, as if that word made all the difference. Damnit. Damn it all to hell. This was why he had to hate people like her and Mitsunari (and Yoshimoto). The second you saw anything different in them, they pried you open like oystermen searching for pearls and only recoiled in disappointment when they discovered nothing but sand and salt. “You know that this won’t bribe me, right?”

Her cheeks flared white-hot. Good. Hate me. Hate me like I have to hate everyone else who wronged me. 

“You do know I like you, right?” She snapped. “I’m your friend. I’m not doing anything to bribe you.”

“Yeah?” Ieyasu sneered, too angry and confused and bitter to stop himself, “Just like you like Imagawa Yoshimoto? Should I expect a love letter--”

She flung the package into his hands (he caught it, barely) and marched away, her shoulders knit tight together. 

It still smelled of bean paste when he arrived in the last room of the dungeon, Yoshimoto already prepared and silent for the day. He looked well, for a man who now sported a bruised eye, crusted lip, and a slightly jagged shoulder. 

“Good morning, Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he announced, hoarse but polite. 

Ieyasu unwrapped the breakfast and examined its contents. There was a little more than usual. 

“Your woman,” he announced, (and why was it so hard to sound angry and impassive, why did he want to sound sad?) “Apparently gave me extra food under the impression I might give you some.”

No doubt the prisoner was starving. He’d barely had enough to eat to sustain himself, let alone under the pressure of the torture. But Yoshimoto straightened.

“Is she well?”

No mention of the food. No weakness. Just that endless reservoir of hope that Ieyasu resented, resented because he couldn’t find it anywhere inside himself. Didn't he deserve that kind of serenity? 

Silence. Ieyasu considered his words. Yoshimoto, no doubt, was wondering what had become of her, if Nobunaga had exacted on her the same fate that awaited him. The uncertainty was doubtless crushing. A thousand lies presented themselves.  

“Yes,” he finally allowed. “She’s fine.”

Yoshimoto smiled. Even through the bloodstained teeth and greasy hair and bruising and marks running roughshod over his arms where everyone could see, he still glowed. “Good.”

---

Ieyasu still dreamed about being with the Imagawa. 

Usually it was just the shape of things. The oppressive hot of his bedroom, the rolling waves of contracting pain in his muscles, the crushing emptiness of a room with no sunlight. 

Sometimes Ieyasu considered them a mercy. It wasn’t the same as the real thing. He didn't have dreams about how the men decided to test how far his stone expression went, applying hotter and hotter blades to his skin to see if he’d cry. They finally applied a white-hot wakizashi to the tender flesh of his thigh and he screamed so loud he couldn’t talk clearly for a week. 

Where was Yoshimoto during all this, he wondered now? There was no way he couldn’t have known. He had a reputation as a lush, but Ieyasu also knew from first-hand battle experience that more lay beneath that pretty exterior. He was like his Takeda cousin: he knew how to play a good game. Had he known just the hint of Ieyasu’s abuse, or had he understood the full spectrum of it? Surely the men of court talked. No doubt they made it a game. 

Yoshimoto had to know. 

She was surprised when he confronted her in the courtyard. She was hanging up some silks she’d washed, their bright colors like cavalry banners. Her stone-face was good, too, but not as good as his. He could see the thin lines of worry and sleepless nights stretched in the fine skin under her eyes. 

“Why him?” Ieyasu demanded. 

The chatelaine blinked at him, registering his question. No immediate answer. That was wise. “Why do you want to know?”

“Do you know what the Imagawa are like?” He hissed. “Do you know what they did? Do you have any idea?”

(It was hot out, so hot that he could see the wet silks drying already. No breeze lifted them. They hung like corpses strung out as an example. The remains of the burns on his thighs and arms, even now, stung superheated. The prickle of sweat against them was agonizing and he’d learned to live with it.)

Slowly, she dipped a hand into the cold water of her wash bucket and took his fingers in hers. Sweet relief! Ieyasu tried not to unbend under her gentle touch, the kindness, tried to convince himself that this was for someone else’s benefit and not his. History said otherwise. Long before she’d met Yoshimoto, she’d been like this. 

“No,” she said at last. “I don’t know much about who they were to you, just the vague details you’ve shared.”

“Then why him?” Ieyasu groped for his real question. It was that simple, wasn’t it? Yoshimoto wasn’t just on the wrong side. He was on the worst side. Even Uesugi Kenshin was better than an Imagawa. 

“Well…” She dipped her hand back in the bucket, splashed more water on his arms. It clung to the silk of his sleeves and cooled the worst of his burns. “There’s a lot to like about him.”

Of course there was. Yoshimoto was intelligent and clever. He had excellent taste and was handsome and diplomatic, even if he had a reputation as a useless leader and a lush. He’d never been anything but kind, and Ieyasu hated that. 

---

Yoshimoto hit the floor with a thud and a yelp, but an unsatisfying one. Ieyasu prowled around him. 

“You know what Nobunaga wants.” The sun shot unrelenting into their chamber, superheating everything. Ieyasu was sweating like a madman and refused to cede even a single article of clothing. He would not reveal the testament of his failures hidden underneath. “Just give me where Shingen went.”

The other man laughed miserably and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Ieyasu kicked him back over. 

“He would have told you,” Ieyasu snarled. “That was your plan. Your plan was to come here, get her, go back into hiding with her and the rest of the Takeda. Wasn’t it?”

For once, Yoshimoto sighed and shut his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Giving us his whereabouts--”

“Ieyasu,” Yoshimoto interrupted wearily (and he still said his name like a name, goddamnit, not a curse or a burden or an evil thing, even after all of this), “She hates war. Why would I bring her straight into one?”

Outside, heat thunder rolled. No break in the heat yet. Its siren song drove the farmers and townspeople mad with hope. Hideyoshi had looked out sagely that morning and declared that it wouldn’t rain--not today--but it might later that week. They usually trusted him with that kind of thing. Right now, Ieyasu wished that it would come pouring down and drown them both. 

“That has no relevance to where Takeda Shingen is,” Ieyasu finally responded. 

“I don’t know where Shingen is.” Yoshimoto laid his head on the cool flagstones, eyes still shut, blood flecked over his hair and the filthy silk of the kimono he’d worn the first day. “He wouldn’t have told me.”

Cold, cold, cold hands. “So you’ve said. You’ve said that at least a dozen times.”

A pause. Yoshimoto’s chest heaved a slow, jagged tempo. “He wouldn’t tell me because of her. Because of us.”

Ieyasu wanted to scream again. He could feel it bubbling in his throat, like the ghost of that white-hot blade pressed to his skin. 

They were too nice too nice too nice, they both knew what he was doing to him and still she washed his hand and still he said his name like a friend and still there was no damn rain and still she didn't hate him he didn't hate him why couldn’t they just hate him

“Why?” He finally managed, his voice a twisted blade that tore at him the whole way out. “Don’t you hate me?”

Yoshimoto opened his eyes, still gold and pale against the gray walls, still handsome and bright and sharp. 

“You’re doing what you have to do,” he managed at last. “And I’m certain you hate me. I probably deserve it.”

Burning burning burning cold hands. The sweat seared him. “Did you know? Did you know the whole time I was there, and did you ignore it?”

At last, they were down to the crux of the whole thing. Yoshimoto wriggled like he meant to sit up (as if they were peers in this moment, just sitting and listening to a friend share their worries) and when his body failed him, he slumped over as best he could, eyes locked and gaze unwavering. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said, “You do know I was thirteen?”

That wasn’t an answer. 

“I knew there was something wrong,” he answered at last. All the words sounded labored. “The details, I never knew. Just the hot room and that you looked ready to kill half of us if given the chance from time to time. I never would’ve known anything specific unless it came from you.”

(He was angry. So, so, so angry. A free-wheeling, blistering summer, crop-killing, volcanic kind of anger that threatened to overflow and kill everything in its wake.)

Ieyasu curled his fingers so tight that his knuckles creaked. Yoshimoto slumped his head back to the floor, shut his eyes and took another labored breath. All of his bruises were out in the open, where everyone could see them. There were no hidden marks, nothing easily covered in the painted facade of a silk--like desecrating a pretty vase, Ieyasu thought. 

“Did you know that your uncle--I think it was your uncle--burned me?” He announced. “My arms, my legs. He held a knife over a fire and waited until it glowed, then tried to see if I would scream. He only stopped when I finally did. I’ve still got the scars.”

Yoshimoto’s eyes were open again. There was no stone face--just a well of confusion and relentless sorrow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Ieyasu instantly wanted him to take it back. “That should never have happened.”

Outside, the thunder rumbled again. They’d both been kids, once. Kids who barely knew each other, who lived in the same place and entirely different worlds and never once knew what lay beyond their circle. There was a faint scar just above Yoshimoto’s collarbone. Ieyasu wondered what it was from.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ieyasu said. “You couldn’t have stopped it anyway.”

---

No one was completely sure when she and Yoshimoto met, though Ieyasu suspected that the Takeda had spies in Azuchi for a long time before the battle. It was likely in their own marketplace. They had fine fabrics and he knew that Yoshimoto, otherwise an unremarkable daimyo, wouldn’t have stood out. He’d noticed her disappearing off to the stalls for supplies more frequently, but her business was also thriving. Everyone wanted her wares. 

Mitsuhide found the letters first. 

The only thing that saved her from Nobunaga was that she’d revealed nothing treasonous. It was love, plain and simple. His fine calligraphy lay neatly on thin mulberry paper (an artistic touch and beautiful in its own right), every character reserved entirely to her wellbeing and their budding affections. No mention of armies or war. No hatred, no grandstanding. Just love--love, plain and simple and innocent and complicated and all-encompassing and blinding. 

But all that meant was she was safe. 

And the match made sense, as much as Ieyasu couldn’t stand to admit it. They were both art lovers, convinced of its importance as much as warfare, certain that without it, what kind of a world existed to fight for at all? They used entire leaves of paper discussing dyeing techniques and exchanging book recommendations and talking about their homelands. 

(And honestly, Ieyasu hadn’t needed the letters to cement what he already knew. She’d spied Yoshimoto on the battlefield and he saw her whole body light up, eyes blazing with the kind of need he’d never seen in her before. He already knew then. He’d just hoped he was wrong.)

Nobunaga wouldn’t let some traitor daimyo run off with his lucky charm. Not in a thousand years. 

Ieyasu rapped on her door late that night, and she opened the screen, bleary eyed from fatigue. She’d barely slept in a week. The red rim of her eyes betrayed every tear she couldn’t shed in front of them. 

“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled. 

“Where are we going?”

“Shut up.”

The silly woman somehow still trusted him. Ieyasu dragged her quietly down the stairs, past the main hall, through the courtyard and out the front door. She wasn’t dressed to be in public and still didn't question him. Without ceremony, he reached the dungeon door and yanked it open, its hinges silvery in the moonlight and depths impenetrable. 

She stared at him. “What are we--”

“I said shut up.”

One step at a time, he lead her into the darkness. The stairs were almost dry, the unnatural heatwave baking it clean. Still he was cautious. They reached the bottom and he fetched a lit torch, motioning at the guard on duty to leave without a word, and fetched the key ring. “Lift your skirts and follow me.”

Yoshimoto was back in his holding cell. He was still holding his left shoulder slightly jagged, his breathing shallow but even, his split lip now clear and the grime of his face washed clean. Apparently he’d used his drinking water to do that. He peered intently around the corner at Ieyasu. “Tokugawa--”

Then he saw her, and he fell completely silent. 

“Here.” Ieyasu fumbled with the keys (he’d never had to unlock the cell doors) and finally found the right one. “You don’t have long.”

Yoshimoto struggled to rise and failed to get up. He didn't need to. The second Ieyasu cracked the door, she flung herself inside and her arms around him, their bodies bound so tight together that he wondered if they’d ever been separate at all. Her voice cracked, slurred something in her native tongue, the beginnings of a sob rolling through her back. 

“Shh.” He lifted his arms with effort, wound his fingers in her hair, kissed her forehead, her head, her eyes, clutched her to him. “Hush, darling. Hush. It’s okay.”

It isn’t, Ieyasu thought. It really isn’t. But they just sat there in silence together, her tears muffled into his chest and his body emanating love like sunlight. And he wondered (as he’d wondered a million things about Imagawa Yoshimoto lately) how a man who’d barely been able to get up this afternoon could summon the strength to smile and hold her so tight. 

---

“He doesn’t know anything.”

Nobunaga and Hideyoshi cocked the opposite brow at the same time, which might’ve been comical were it not so deadly serious. 

“Is that so?” Nobunaga remarked. It was the tone of voice that let him know this was not a question. 

“Shingen didn't divulge where he was going to Imagawa expressly because he knew about the attachment to the chatelaine.” Ieyasu inhaled. “So when he left, he was effectively spurring Imagawa to leave the fight too.”

Mitsunari frowned. “That is a valuable ally to excise for sentimental reasons.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “Practically cutthroat of you, Mitsunari. Color me surprised. As it so happens, I’ve obtained similar intelligence.”

Hideyoshi’s surprise translated loud and clear. “Really?”

“So it would seem. The thorn in our side still has a few petals remaining.”

Nobunaga’s gaze fell back down on Ieyasu, searching him. He’d grown used to most of those inscrutable expressions: contemplative, frustrated, puzzled. Now it was just the brotherly stare he got after some of his worst days on the battlefield. 

“How is our prisoner?” He asked. 

“Yes indeed,” Mitsuhide purred. “Is he still alive?”

“He’s alive.” Ieyasu paused. “He’s… relatively okay.”

The Devil King’s eyes never wavered. “And what would you recommend we do with him?”

---

Yoshimoto was allowed medical attention and to rest for one week, the meagre possessions he came with restored to him. Even with the fresh scar on his lip and a slight catch in his shoulder (Ieyasu was relatively certain it would smooth out over time), he was still regal and handsome. The cold grey of dawn greeted them with a blinding lightning bolt and a torrential downpour. It soaked through the cracked earth and ran muddy and wild over the fields. 

Ieyasu affixed the last of Yoshimoto’s things to the saddlebag himself. “That’s everything.”

Imagawa Yoshimoto smiled at him, despite everything. “I appreciate that.”

The chatelaine lingered in the stable. She’d snuck out to see him off, despite all of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi’s disapproval. Her eyes were puffy with new, unshed tears. “You’re just going to put him out in the rainstorm?”

He glanced out the stable door. It came down in thick, obscuring sheets. “Yep.”

“Come now.” Yoshimoto gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be just fine, love--”

Ieyasu snorted. “Of course you two will.”

The lovebirds started. He relished the look of surprise. 

“What does that mean?” She said. 

“You idiot, the rain will keep anyone from seeing that you’re gone for at least twenty minutes.” Ieyasu checked it again. “No one on lookout will be able to tell the difference between one rider and two. If you time it right, you can clear the Azuchi fields by the time it lifts. Yes, you’ll get soaked--”

“--It’s perfect cover.” Yoshimoto finished, breathless. 

“Ieyasu.” She dashed to his side, catching his hands in hers. They were so warm that it melted through her fingertips and into his--a comfortable, gentle heat. “Ieyasu.”

“Go.” He pointed at the saddlebags. “I smuggled in some of your things. Your weird bag, sewing stuff, some goods. Mitsunari helped me grab extras. No one questions if he takes things. Now get out of here before anyone realizes you’re gone.”

The chatelaine smiled at him--a blazing, beautiful smile--and leaned in and kissed his cheek hard. “Thank you.”

He was going to miss her.

“Go,” he repeated instead. “Go now.”

Yoshimoto and him helped her into the saddle first. Afterwards, Yoshimoto mounted up behind her, wrapping his cloak and body around her as best he could. “Thank you, Tokugawa.”

“If you don’t do right by her,” Ieyasu warned, “I’ll definitely kill you next time.”

“I take that under advisement. Thank you.”

A jerk of the reins and a kick, and they bolted out of the stables and into the pouring rain. Within seconds their figures swam into a vague blur, melding together in the shifting faraway. Only moments later--gone. 

Ieyasu stood there alone in the silence, his hands warm, his thoughts swirling like lazy koi in a fishbowl, aimless and unbothered. Without thinking, he stepped outside and stretched out his arms, letting the cold droplets run down his sleeves and cling to his skin. 

[ladyfl4me]

Hi please yell about boyd and stern in TCOS and TMWCIFTC :D!

Anon, THANK YOU for enabling me, you have my fucking life in your hands

I’ll preface all of this by saying that everything in this post is related to my long-form Amnesty works, The Moth who Came In from the Cold and The Children of Sylvain. If you haven’t read those, then you’ll be pretty damn confused, so I guess now is as good of a time to plug them - and the series - as any. A heads up: I started it back in 2018, and everything in TCOS is just… very VERY loosely associated with Amnesty canon at this point. Same root premise, same characters, but back in 2018 even I couldn’t predict where arcs 4 and 5 ended up going. TMWCIFTC was written as the logical progression, in my head, of an alternate arc 4, and everything that happened in TCOS is based off of that progression. It’s got almost no connection to the actual canon at this point. I’ll be recapping some of the more important plot points for context, though.

Here’s hoping the read-more works. This was 7 pages long in the google doc I prepared this in, so I apologize in advance to everyone on my dash if this got fucked up. Spoilers for TMWCIFTC ahead, as well as general vague spoilers for Amnesty.

So everything’s coming up roses. Fantastic. Let’s start with the biggest thing: how the characters of Agent Stern and Boyd Mosche have changed from canon to this AU.

Boyd’s Changes:

We’ll start with Boyd, because this motherfucker is UNRECOGNIZABLE from canon. On god, that is all Griffin’s fault. Pretty much all of Boyd’s character was concentrated in arc 4 of Amnesty, and honestly? He was a fantastic character there. Loved him as a counterpart to Ned. He gave off an air of “the ends justify the means” in almost everything he did - especially how he was willing to do anything, including blackmail Ned to hell and back, to get back to England - which I’ve grafted into my version of him. The angst-loving part of my brain seized on the tragic possibilities of his relationship with Ned and was bumping “No Children” by the Mountain Goats every time they interacted. Great stuff, interesting complexity, was genuinely surprised when he kicked it.

All that happened after I introduced him as a character in TMWCIFTC. My version of him retains the smooth-talking Britishness of him, with the aforementioned “ends justify the means” logic for everything; I’d probably sort him as a chaotic neutral, with basically all of his points in wisdom, charisma and strength with very few in intelligence. I tried to work with that for the start. We knew nothing about Boyd at the time I was writing TMWCIFTC, so my brain wanted to fill in that blank for jokes and giggles and haha funny’s and was like, “Yo what if Boyd was a Sylph this entire time? Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious?” 

And that’s what I did. What happened to make this version of Boyd was a bit of a random “perfect storm” of influences and choices, which really only got sharpened because of my one-shot The Devil Went Down To Georgia. That one’s the main source of all Boyd lore, even though I barely reference it these days because he’s gone so far off the rails it’s a miracle I can keep him straight. 

I’ve talked about The Devil Went Down To Georgia a lot in relation to Boyd on here. TL;DR, I decided to make him two things: a violinist and a Sylph/cryptid, specifically the Jersey Devil. Yes, he is still British. I chalk it up lore-wise to a few things: the original Jersey Devil is more of a distant relative, Boyd crossed over from Sylvain and ended up in Britain sometime after that, and just willingly chose to keep up the British persona Bastard. I don’t think about it too much. He’s been a criminal from the very beginning; he’d been in prison on Sylvain, went through some shit there that made him steal a crystal and book it, and he continued to do crime on Earth to survive.

The violin thing is mostly me desperately wanting a character to have that background, because I played for seven goddamn years and want to put that knowledge and catharsis somewhere. Boyd probably either picked up a Sylvan instrument that was similar, or learned it in the early 20th century when he came to Earth, and just held onto it. He held onto the skills and got good - good enough that he could have gone professional, and tried in 2007, but that didn’t go super well, as anyone who’s read TMWCIFTC can attest. 

In terms of the type of cryptid he is, I’ve made the Jersey Devils a subspecies on Sylvain that takes cervids (deer, moose, etc.) or bovines (goats, antelopes, cows, etc.), as well as canines/felines of any shape and size, puts them into a gashapon machine with pterodactyl-style wings, awful teeth, and a snake’s tail, and calls it a day. You can get a tiny Jersey Devil that’s a combo of a tiny cat and a dik-dik; you can get a jacked nine-foot-tall terrifying amalgam of a lion and a moose, with a fucked-up mouth of multiple rows of teeth and huge claws.

That last one is Boyd. Don’t call me a monsterfucker for this, I have no defense.

So where does that leave him in relation to the Lodge? Back in 2018, before I started developing the lore that factors into TCOS about Sylph communities outside the Lodge (namely the Manhattan Sylphs that Leo worked with when he was a Chosen One), I figured that it’d be funny if every single cryptid kinda just… knew each other, or hung out near the Lodge. As you know if you’ve read TMWCIFTC, he got into some trouble in 1967, which Barclay, Indrid and Mama “bailed him out of.”

Once they found out he was a fellow Sylvan, though, it became less about “report this guy to the authorities” and more about “we have to make sure we keep an eye on this guy so he doesn’t get himself, or other Sylphs, in trouble” thing. He basically became Mama’s mostly-socialized half-feral cat, slinking through the halls of Amnesty Lodge, eating random food, falling asleep wherever, sitting in rooms where people are doing interesting things and just watching them. And everyone... kind of likes him. Sure, he doesn’t have a sleep schedule, and they have to get soundproof panels installed in his room at the Lodge because he’ll stress-practice violin at 3 in the morning, and he keeps shoplifting stuff from local stores to give to people like a cat bringing back dead mice. But he’s a good man. And he’s getting better every day.

Then he got got by the Ashminder in ‘98. He bolted, completely forgot everything about the Lodge but had the address of a former Lodge resident on his body after his memory was wiped, found a still-alive but memory-wiped fellow Lodge dweller, and fled to that address. Boyd lived there for years, trying to clean up his act and try to anchor himself a bit. Then in 2007, something on his path went wrong, and the stress break he went through after that made him run from that place. That’s when he met Ned, and they had a few years together before Boyd ended up in jail.

Then, once they killed the Ashminder and the memories it had eaten came back, Voidfish-style, Boyd remembered everything: the people who’d taken care of him, the friends he’d made, the love he’d found, the time and effort he’d put into getting better, the rewards he’d reaped because of it. He remembered fighting monsters and defending them. He got hit with it all at once, and missed them. His parole date was coming up; he could bide his time until he was released, and run down there.

But then, at the start of TCOS, Something Happens that makes all Sylvan disguises and spells shit the fucking bed; his disguise spell, which has been hiding a nine foot-tall jacked demon out of hell, flickers, and the invisibility spell that had been put on his disguise item to hide it failed. Boyd knew he was fucked if the jail folks found out he was a Sylph, so he decided to fucking Kool-aid Man out of there, becoming a wanted man in the entire state of West Virginia and getting a bit roughed up in the process.

But hey. Whatever it takes to get home, right? 

Stern’s Changes:

Stern’s changed too, though, and here’s how. It was relatively simple to tweak him, because so much of him was a blank slate to begin with. First: that name. Garfield Kent Stern is his full name: Garfield for the cat/Deals Warlock, Kent after Kent Mansley, the irritating dipshit FBI agent antagonist from the classic animated movie The Iron Giant. Poor bastard. He started as a walking meme who I was going to kill off; I came up with that name long before we got his real name in canon, and didn’t want to retcon it out. 

I’m a sucker for secret connections and familial ties, too, and back in 2018 the headcanon gashapon gave me “what if Stern was a cousin of Duck’s, but there was family drama that made their parts of the family split when they were kids, so now 30 years later they don’t remember each other?” 

And that’s exactly what I did. Gary is Duck’s first cousin on Duck’s mom’s side; their mothers are sisters. Gary’s uncle Arnie was a Secret Service agent who tangled with an Indrid trying to stop the Kennedy Assassination once, and he keeps telling that story at Christmas, much to everyone’s chagrin. Gary remembered those stories, and even received Indrid’s old disguise glasses - knocked off his face during his uncle Arnie’s chase - and carried them with him for a long time.

He didn’t start off as a baby cop, though; he was more interested in hitting the books, finding out the logic and doing the research to figure things out. I have him become a history major, getting a PhD with a few bits and bobs here and there that I haven’t worked out yet. Whatever the case, he spent a LONG time in academia, from undergrad starting in 1996 to graduation in about 2005. 

Things weren’t as peachy as he thought they’d be, though. Gary wrote and published his thesis, like a good little PhD candidate, but someone was watching him. In his thesis, he’d been trying to cobble together various cryptid-related legends across the word and making connections between them, among other things. He’d managed to link up and explain something that Unexplained Phenomena had been trying to figure out themselves. They immediately intercepted his thesis, kept it from being disseminated anywhere else, erased all copies of it after graduation, and reached out to Gary independently to bring him on.

Make no mistake: he went willingly. Despite the whole thesis coverup, Agent Gary Stern wasn’t coerced into being a government stooge, and he wasn’t blackmailed - he was given an offer to work with the cryptid cops, and he enthusiastically took it. Government benefits were decent, he’d heard; post-grad options were looking slim, especially going into the recession. In his mind, there was a bit of allure to it all, too. A secret government organization looking into suspicious and possibly supernatural things all over the nation? Fantastic. More opportunities to do research. He was in. Gary accepted their offer and started basic FBI training in 2007 - the same year Boyd had that mental break and went AWOL, returning to his life of crime and meeting Ned.

Biggest mistake he’d ever made. But then again, if he didn’t take them up on that, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

So he joins UP, goes up the ranks. They had him researching and charting the Bigfoot case for a while, and he was the only one who was willing to work on it at all because… well, Bigfoot sightings weren’t as sophisticated as some of the other projects that were out there for UP. (See: Area 51. We don’t talk about Area 51. Nobody talks about Area 51. Definitely nothing shady and unethical going on in there, no experiments on anyone or anything, no sir.) 

Gary’s diligent, though, and doesn’t like to back down from a challenge. That’s all hunting Bigfoot was: a challenge. No personal stake, no empathy. It was a job to get done, even though an entire person’s life was at stake.

And he got so caught up in this challenge that, when he went to Kepler, he EASILY got attacked by the Ashminder and destroyed within an inch of his life. He got the very memory of his job and intent in Kepler torn out of his head; once the Ashminder died, and those memories came back, they didn’t feel like his anymore, or like they’d been part of his life plan to begin with. Overcome with confusion and guilt, he decided to clean up his act and try to work against the FBI, with Mama’s blessing. 

His goal? Quit the FBI, get them off the Lodge’s back, and then see what happens next. Maybe he’d go back to academia, or teach, or something - just get as far away from the FBI as possible, as far away as he can be from hurting people. But he’s got to bide his time, because if he bolts now, they’re going to get suspicious and put the Lodge in even more danger. And that’s where he is now.

So why have they changed?

Simple answer? I don’t want to rewrite them to fit with canon. I just don’t. I don’t want to make Boyd human; I don’t want to change Gary’s name to Joseph and make him a Bigfoot groupie. I don’t want to rewrite hundreds of thousands of words of work to fit last-minute decisions made in the end times of Amnesty’s canon. My fic has diverged so much from canon that the canon versions of the characters don’t belong here anymore. Besides, Stern was such a background character in arcs 3 and 4 that he barely mattered, making his reappearance in arc 5 a bit of a clumsy follow-through, and Boyd was a one-act wonder. A little expansion couldn’t hurt. Making Gary something other than a direct antagonist made the narrative load a little easier, too, at least on my end. I hate giving a cop screen time, but it’s easier to justify his existence by rewriting his backstory and making him slog through the hell of a redemption arc. He’s had that coming. 

This leads us to TCOS, though, where the arcs of our player characters turn a bit more towards the plot, as opposed to the emotional fulfillment they got in TMWCIFTC. Characters like Gary, Mama, Boyd, and Alexandra take center stage for emotional and backstory development, while the original player characters take a temporary backseat. Alexandra’s a key linchpin of the story as a whole, both emotionally and narratively; Mama gets lore expansions and has personal things to settle; and Gary and Boyd are… here. So:

How do these two work with each other in TCOS?

It’s great. It’s fantastic. These two are my favorite to write in TCOS because their conflict is just so fucking FUN. On the one hand, you have an almost-ex-FBI agent who’s been taken in by the Lodge, is related to a Pine Guard member, is trying to keep his coworkers off the Lodge’s back as sneakily as possible without drawing suspicion, and is desperate not to screw up this second chance he doesn’t think he deserves. On the other hand, you have an ex-con who got a second chance from the Lodge, sees them as his last best option to be safe as long as nobody reports them, and wants to keep them safe out of a sense of familial obligation he’s reluctant to admit to, even to himself.

That’s two people with questionable morals, with a semi-familial attachment to a place that gave them second chances, each seeing the actions of the other as a threat to their - and everyone else’s - safety. Claws come out almost immediately.

At the start, Boyd and Gary go together like apple juice and toothpaste. Boyd sees a narc who’s threatening the one safe place he has left; Gary sees an impulsive, selfish threat, a domino that - if it falls - threatens, you guessed it, the one safe place he (and other people, sure) has left. Boyd breaking out of jail means the entire state of West Virginia, and probably the whole East Coast, is on high alert looking for him, and if that attention comes anywhere near the Lodge? They’re fucked.

Neither of them believe that the other is capable of change or anything but selfish, malicious harm. Boyd has more of an argument than Gary because Gary is still actively reporting things to the FBI, but in Gary’s defense, the moment that he stops reporting anything to them, they’re going to suspect things and might end up sending more people to the Lodge. The Pine Guard can’t afford that, so Gary has to play by the rules until he’s in a position where he can quit. I’ll pull a specific argument they have from TCOS that I feel really exemplifies this:

"I don't want you to get caught."

Boyd scoffed. "Something tells me you're not worried about me."

"I'm not."

"Well, thanks."

"I'm worried," Gary went on, "about someone seeing you, and connecting you to the Lodge. You just used the hot springs as your personal landing strip, in broad daylight. We're on the upper half of the mountain. And I don't know how big your Sylvan form is, but -"

Boyd grinned. It looked more like a snarl. "Oh, plenty big enough," he said.

Gary ignored that. "Big enough for someone to see you from down the mountain?" he challenged. Boyd's lip curled, and he looked away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm just thinking ahead. What if someone came beating down our door looking for you? What if it was a cryptid hunter? What if it was the cops?”

"Yes, yes, fine, alright," Boyd snapped. He threw his hands up. His eyes were hard and cold. "It'd put us in danger. I get it. But you're still here. I think the damage is already done."

A knot of cold rage formed in Gary's stomach. "I'm trying to keep this place safe, Mr. Mosche," he spat. "I've got a responsibility to keep."

Boyd scoffed. "Oh, you have a responsibility? To Amnesty Lodge? That's fucking rich."

"You've got one, too! It’s about time you started keeping it!"

They’re both very, very set in their ways and their ideologies, and they take a long time to get to middle ground. 

One of my friends described it as middle child syndrome in overdrive. Gary thinks Boyd’s the Lodge golden child, come to replace him in the Lodge inner circle. Boyd thinks Gary’s the Lodge’s new redemption-arc fixer-upper, come to replace him. And both of them feel thrown off by that, because they both thought that the Lodge was accepting them completely into the inner circle. It’s unfamiliar, it’s confusing, and when the Lodge as a whole regards them both with suspicion/unease (Gary) and polite detachment due to the passage of time (Boyd), it makes them both feel on the outside.

And when you’re in the same shitty canoe, you’ve gotta row it or sink. So that’s exactly what they do. 

Ultimately, they get faced down with bigger and worse foes that snap them out of their spat, because their common interest is “keeping the Lodge safe” and uniting will help them get there. When they do start to have each other’s backs, though, that’s when they reluctantly start to get to know each other. Gary feels like something’s off about Boyd and eventually suspects - thanks to some comments from Haynes and some digging of his own - that Boyd had something to do with the fire that burned down Aubrey’s house, but it remains to be seen what he’ll do with that information. (The Gary of November 2018 would have turned Boyd in to the FBI. The Gary of almost six months later, though… a different story. It’ll be interesting.)

The kicker is, they’re both really similar, at the heart of it. Both of them were the Lodge’s fix-em-up pet projects, brought into the fold in an emergency and protected/cared for as long as they swore to clean up their act. They see each other and feel a bit out-of-place, though - something contributed to by the way the Lodge treats them.

Gary’s still held at a distance by many, despite being Duck’s cousin and a mostly-valuable member of the team, because the stench of the FBI is still on him - how he dresses, how he walks and talks, how he acts. And Boyd has just swanned back to the Lodge after 20 years gone, with all his memories of the Lodge from back in ‘98 driven back into his mind - and part of him is expecting the Lodge to be the exact same way it was when he left. But it’s not. You can’t go home again. The Lodge has moved on without him, which he never expected, and coming back to them is… awkward.

It’s simple. They don’t know what to do with a version of Boyd who’s missed the past 20 years of their lives; Boyd doesn’t know what to do with people who have changed from the folks he knew 20 years ago. He’s lost, floating, and alienated, like going to a high school reunion after not having spoken to a living soul since graduation. It sucks for him. And the only wholly unfamiliar face there, other than the main Pine Guard - who he’s mostly fine with, except for Ned - is Gary, and he can’t help but be irritated with him. That changes, though.

What I essentially want to do is set these versions of the characters up as foils. Similar characters, similar pasts, similar situations that got them to this point. All that’s different is how far in their respective arcs they are. So I’m going to have them be friends. Give each other a chance in the face of a bigger threat, open up a little more, have conversations, talk about things with each other because they’re the only ones around to listen. The Lodge gave them second chances when they needed them most. Maybe they can do that for each other.

This is also to say, I would be a massive fucking liar if I say I haven’t considered having that unfold into a rivals-to-lovers arc. Yeah, I said it. I’ve considered it, at length and in serious detail, since I started drafting the arcs for TCOS. In fact, that’s what I’m probably going to do. I’ve gotten too hooked by the possibility to give it up. I outlined hypothetical futures for the whole cast after the final battle in Sylvain and, given the things I want to happen in that battle and the messy post-war fallout, it makes sense that these two would gravitate towards each other.

It makes a lot more sense in context, believe me. They’ve got a long row to hoe before they trust each other enough to become friends, or even push the envelope towards a romantic relationship - they’d have months and even YEARS to wait to pull that off. Whatever I end up doing with them, they are easily my favorite part of TCOS to unravel, mostly because I  - and, honestly, everyone else - probably never saw it coming.

Thanks for the ask, anon. This made my week. So sorry for the long response, but I have so many thoughts on what I’m doing with these idiots, and putting them down on paper was really fun. Any other questions or comments about this? Fire away, I’d be more than willing to answer! 

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

Inferno: Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (sort of)

If anyone would like to be added to my Peter Parker, Marvel, or Forever Taglist, let me know. Also, if you’d like this to be made into a series, tell me. I quite like this idea.

Peter strolls into the compound quite happily, actually. Flash hadn’t bothered him at all that day and he and Ned have plans to see the new Star Wars movie over the weekend. He’s also, like, ninety percent sure that he completely aced his Spanish quiz. The drive over was nice—the sky is clear and it’s not too cold, and Happy actually seemed pretty happy to see Peter.

All in all, a pretty good day.

That is, until he hears the screaming.

His heart drops. Peter drops his backpack and sprints in the direction, already equipping his web shooters. “Mr. Stark! What is it?” He bursts into the room, which happens to be a private conference room of Tony’s, and, panting, demands, “Monsters? Aliens? People with guns?”

Pepper and Tony separate and stare at Peter, shocked. Apart from them, the room is empty save for a table, six chairs, and a TV screen. A TV screen that displays the picture of James Rhodes.

“There’s not a threat, is there?” the teen asks flatly, a little embarrassed with himself that he’d overreacted. He relaxes and takes off the webshooters, stuffing them into his back pocket. “Why were you guys screaming?”

“It’s just so wonderful,” Pepper gushes, her hand on her chest. “After so long, Y/N’s finally going to be released and pardoned.”

Peter gasps. “Inferno? She’s going to be released?”

Tony smiles. “I take it you know of my daughter.”

“Not a lot.” Peter rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. “She’s kind of a mystery, honestly. I felt really bad when she got arrested. It sucks that she hasn’t been allowed out or even on social media. I follow her! I have for a while.”

“Maybe I should tell you about her,” Tony says, rubbing his chin. “So you know what to expect.”

“Y/N’s kind of a shock to the system,” the picture of Rhodey chimes in, and Peter realizes that it is not a picture but a video call with the colonel. “Smart and abrupt.”

Trying not to look too eager, Peter nods. “She just sort of appeared in 2012. Did you know she’s a little more than a year older than me?”

“Yes, I did, Peter,” Tony replies, amused.

“I’ll get you guys some food.” Pepper drops a kiss onto Tony’s forehead and pats Peter’s shoulder as she passes. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Wait, are you going to pick her up now?”

“In an hour,” Tony repeats. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Is that even a question? Inferno’s only the coolest person ever. She inspired me to be Spider-man, you know. I had no idea what to do with my powers until I realized I could do what she did! She’s so cool.”

“Believe it or not, Y/N wasn’t born with her powers.”

“Really? I always thought that her mother must have been superpowered or—or maybe she was exposed to radiation when she was a baby!” Peter gushes excitedly. “Ned thinks she was thrown into a radioactive volcano. MJ thinks she’s an alien!”

Rhodey snorts and covers his mouth with his fist.

“Will you tell me?” Peter asks, a little shyly.

Tony smiles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tony was younger—almost twenty years younger, when he was still young and carefree—he met a woman at a party. They had a nice talk with each other and they parted ways.

Okay, so they did more than talk. Whatever. And sometime in the next year, 2000, the woman gave birth to a little girl named Y/N Hansen. Her mother, Maya Hansen, decided not to tell Tony that she gave birth because she wasn’t sure if the child actually was his.

There weren’t a lot of other men that could be the child’s father, but Maya hoped any one of the few were the one over the famous playboy billionaire philanthropist.

Fast forward twelve years and Maya Hansen is working with Aldrich Killian, who promises that they will be the heroes of this generation. He promises what they are doing will cure everything. He promises a lot of things.

And then he kills her. And he gives little motherless Y/N a twisted version of the Extremis, a kind that wraps itself into her DNA so tightly it could never be ripped out, a kind that is designed to hurt her and those around her until it fully attaches, if she doesn’t die in the process. Why, you ask? Because he knew fatherless Y/N wasn’t actually fatherless. He knew that Maya Hansen knew her father was Tony Stark. If Tony Stark isn’t going to help him, if Tony Stark isn’t going to cooperate, then he’ll hurt Tony Stark’s kid.

He wasn’t counting on two things: Tony Stark not knowing who Y/N Hansen is except that she must be Maya’s child, and Y/N’s body not rejecting the Extremis, though whether that is because she is so young or because of the twisted Extremis, nobody knows (and if Killian lived longer, he would have started injecting younger children to see if they are more flexible because he really wasn’t right in the head).

But Tony Stark takes the child and leaves her at Harley Keener’s house.

Killian finds the child. It’s not hard, with how loud she’s screaming (and the tracking device he’d injected under her skin). Tony Stark isn’t with her. He leaves the screaming child for dead and he kidnaps Pepper Potts and injects her with the regular version of the Extremis, hoping someone that Tony knows is connected to him will convince the genius to stabilize the serum.

Pepper kills him. Tony reverses the procedure. He removes the shrapnel from his heart and throws the arc reactor into the ocean. He even tracks down little Y/N when Harley calls him, saying that the girl he’d dropped off is still in pain, and he even is contacted by a lawyer that tells him everything.

So now he has a daughter. A superpowered daughter.

A superpowered daughter that the government wants their hands on, especially when she starts to run around as Inferno, a superhero name that Tony relentlessly teases her for. She doesn’t hide her identity, taking after her father, and she’s got quite a following on Instagram and Twitter. The government doesn’t like vigilantes. The government especially doesn’t like when vigilantes start injuring property and people, even criminals.

She’s not even in Germany when the fighting happens, but somehow they find a way to frame her (the fake witnesses end up dead in the hours between the faux-trial and her arrest). Y/N Hansen-Stark is arrested for something she was not involved in and thrown into an underwater ship along with a funny man that makes her laugh at first and Wilson, who tells her that her uncle was hurt.

Not even her father’s influence and the internet’s outrage that there is obvious proof she was not in Germany can protect her, but it upgrades her cage until it’s basically a home-away-from-home, except she’s being held captive and isn’t allowed to access her social media at all. She can merely browse, watching the outside world without being a part of it.

Tony can visit. He visits a lot. He talks a lot. He replaces her with a boy called Peter that he’s sure she’ll like, but Y/N’s sure she won’t.

The other prisoners escape. Y/N doesn’t. She could have already the moment she entered this cage, but unfortunately she’s a well-known public figure and going on the run would be quite inconvenient, especially once Tony’s smoothed everything over and she’s allowed out.

Y/N has to believe that she’ll be allowed out, that her father will save her, because even if he’s replaced her with Peter Parker, the public hasn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even though you’d spent the better part of a year underwater, it certainly hadn’t felt like it. Now, when you stand on the Raft’s surface and stare out at the endless sea, it hits you for the first time. Maybe if your mother hadn’t taught you to love the ocean, you would have been more scared, but you love to swim. You’d love to jump into the water right now and swim in any direction if you could, but there are guns still trained on you, despite the official pardoning. Being shot a few times would certainly put a damper on the day, even if it wouldn’t kill you.

Besides, your father is coming.

The air stirred up by his helicopter smells like sea, and you inhale the scent, eyes closing as you fill your lungs with air that hasn’t been processed for the first time in forever.

“That was quite an extended vacation,” is what you first say to your father as a free woman. “If the food hadn’t been so excellent, I might have been put out that my vaca was so... cramped.”

You accept Pepper’s hug graciously and peer behind her at the puppy-eyed, curly-haired boy standing at the back. He’s obviously a fan. He shifts his weight between his feet and waves at you shyly and you, despite yourself, wave back and smile. He’s quite cute.

Damn, not even fifteen minutes as a free woman and you’ve already found a crush.

“This one of your interns?”

The moment the words come out of your mouth your stomach drops because you know who this cute boy is. You know exactly who this boy is, because just your luck; the cutest boy you’ve seen in a year is also the boy you’ve sworn to yourself to dislike.

“He’s not just an intern,” your father says—proudly, like he’s never spoken of you.

The boy steps forward, thrusting his hand at you and beaming in the way only someone who’s never seen anything horrible could. He must spend his days rolling around on the ground with puppies and kittens.

The innocence might have been endearing two seconds ago. Now you resent it.

“I’m Peter Parker,” he squeaks. “It’s so cool to meet you. You’re, like, my—”

You eye the extended hand with disgust. “I know who you are, Peter Parker. You’re my replacement.”

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey

[popculturebuffet]

Top 10 Regular Show Episodes

Close Enough is Close! 2 more days and a show i’ve waited without hyperbole years for will finally land offically. While i’ve seen three episodes preelease, one because of a french film festival the other two because HBO made an oopsie, and it’s more than likely i’ll be seeing those episodes again thursday, it dosen’t make it any less special, as with an offical release comes the fandom finally becoming a thing and the ablility to watch the episodes over and over again.. on computer till HBO gets it’s shit together but still. IT’s a great time.  And my hype for the show made me revisit it’s big brother: Regular Show. Created by what would happen if you condesned california into a person, JG Quintel, Regular Show, as you all damn well know but I like doing anyway so as rigby would say, STOP TALKING, was about two slackers and best bros: Laidback hipster and hurricane when it came to talking to women, Mordecai and Rigby a high strung, idiotic, impulsive, and frequently angry racoon who worked, when they absolutley had to, at a park. Joining them at the park were their coworkers and later closest friends: Benson, their constnatly angry boss who constnatly belts out empty threats to fire them and has a rather sad personal life, Skips, a centuries old yeti whose literally seen it all and despenses advice for the duo and is voiced by everyone’s faviorite grandpa/jedi/murder clown Mark Hamill, Muscle Man, a grotesque blob of a man who likes  “My mom” jokes and breaking things, Hi Five Ghost, Muscle Man’s sidekick who got like.. one episode focusing on him alone over 8 seasons moving on, and Pops, an odd but unfailingly sweet and kind vicotrian era gentleman whose also basically immortal and is Bensons’ boss in name only.  The Park Crew spend their days working, or in our main duo’s case trying to get out of work to do anything else,  while dealing with every day issues that would quickly ballon into insanity. Getting pops a birthday present of Fuzzy Dice from a local pizza place ended up with the crew having to fight a bunch of anamatonic animals that were stashing diamonds in there. Trying to get concert tickets involved getting caffine from the nipples of a giant sentient coffee bean in order to stay awake long enough to do the extra work. And Mordecai trying to delete an embrarassing message off his crush Margret’s voice mail lead to him and rigby getting hauled in front of a bunch of a message guardians, one of which is a sentient smoke signal that wanted to burn them while the other replied with “we’ree not going to burn them when have we ever burned anybody”... I love and miss those guys. Oh and it’s resolved by having to playt he embarassing song he sang while said message beings groove to it then ask him to colaberate with them on their album. THis show was on all the drugs and I am all the hear for it. I could go all day obviously but this section is long enough as is, let’s move on. 

Regular Show came at JUST the right time for Cartoon Netowork: Similar to how the 80s doom patrol comic started off really bland and cookie cutter and not at all doom patrol and then grant morrison came in, had hte previous writer kill almost everything, then rebuilt it from scratch with crazy, CN had few shows left and was coming off a really terrible attempt at competeing with NIck and Disney Channel’s live action dommance with a bunch of dude broy reality shows and other ill conceved ideas. The network had a few shows, Total Drama, The Clone Wars which got better and I need to watch those better seasons at some point, but they weren’t enough to make the network thrive again.  SO enter adventure time and regular show: BOth were creative, funny , a bit rough around the ages, and kind of nuts, but both were massive hits: The shows hit almost every demographics sweet spots: Kids like the bright colors, fun designs, and insanity, teens loved the edgy bits of the humor and also the insanity and 20 somethings and older both found refrences they got and loved, and well.. insanity. I mean being fucking nuts but also wonderful is kind of the watchword for most animation nowadays. While in the past in my own head i’ve played down Regular Show’s part in things, after all it came second and had a rough patch I told myself.. but I was wrong. Both shows had a lot of the same elements; insane stuff, great voice acting and good humor especially as they evolved.. but both also evolved in largely the same way and that way helped change animation for the next decade: Both, despite being comeidies, regular show keeping to it a bit more than adventure time did as they evolved, had the characters grow, something a lot of animated comedies didn’t do as much ast the time, even the good ones. THey had season long arcs, things that are now standard features in most cartoons for good reason were MADE standard by these shows. It’s just regular show’s legacy got diluted by shows that TRIED to copy it but both failed to see that it grew past season one or that it’s being okay for kids but really based in adult life and problems meant copycats like fanboy and chum chum, sanjay and craig and breadwinners, all thankfully long dead, eventually sputtered out and died. That and Nick is REALLY shitty at maintaing shows or treating creators with anything resembling respect. Somehow Teen Titans Go is still alive despite having similar failings but you can’t win everything. It didn’t help gravity falls came along right after and proceded to be even more influentail than both of these shows. Hmmm I just realized I haven’t done any gravity falls reviews here.. I gotta get on that. But while the show got eclipsed in quality and popularity I do still think it holds up for the most part as funny, charming and with , for the most part, good character arcs, it’s just that a bit of incosntientcy, some abrubtly done actions and a REALLY fucking terrible arc in season 6 dull the show a bit in comparison to what came after, but I do realize now it’s still worht watching, remembering and laughing at. It may of not been the greatest, but damn it was good.  So with my nostaliga for the show popping up, my faith in it restored, and it’s sucessor showing up in a few days, I decided to do a little something for the ocassion. I WAS going to do a full on review, but had troulbe finding an episode as some of my faviorites are part of a larger arc that was hurt by a later arc, and the show ping ponged between slice of life and utter insanity enought hat it was hard to peg down to jus tone or two episodes. So while I WILL review the show eventually, it has both good and bad episodes needing it, I decided instead to dig out something I hadn’t done in far too long: a top whatver lists! Now while I do get these things are clickbaity, because they are, I.. honestly just love making them. Even if i’ts not for any specific purpose I just love ranking, the stress, even if I normally hate stress given my anxiety, of trying to narrow them down, and the satisfaction of taking a ton of episodes and melting htem down into the best of them. And with a show as long and varied as regular show, If igured this was the best way to show it off before I dived into it eventually. I’ll obviously be doing more top, and bottom lists in the future, but for now this seemd like a godo place to get back to it. As  Now a few more things before we finally get started. Yes I know i’ve gone on for a few years now but i’m almost done. This list is obviously, my opinon. If you disagree fine, and feel free to comment or shoot me an ask about it but I stand by my list and what I choose. I had to boil down over 60 episodes I picked to possibly  be on the list and even after it was down to 40 cuts were really difficult, .. Also just as a quick note there are no episodes from seasons 1, 6, 7 and 8, and that’s not on purpose, as the last two seasons are really good, it just fell out that way and i’m sorry about it. So with that out of the way grabs some sodas and wings, get out your maxi gloves, and bring out your best sentient earworms wearing sunglassses, after the cut I count down the top 10 Regular Show episodes. OOOOOOOOO!

10. I Like You, Hi (Season 5, Episode 26) As you’ll be able to tell by the rest of this list Season 5 is my faviorite, and it’s where I feel the series hit it’s peak before next season lead to it’s valley. It’s got a ton of great episodes, as this list will attest, some great character development, and was still really damn funny.  But what put it over the top for me was the Mordecai and CJ arc. At the end of the last season as you probably know the show wrote out Margret, having her finally get into college like she’d wanted since she got an actual character back in “Camping Be Cool” instead of just being “that hot girl mordecai really likes but is too scared to persue”, and another fantastic episode we’ll be getting to, Mordecai was in position to move on.  Re-Enter CJ. CJ was introduced earlier in the season 3 ep “Yes Dude Yes” which itself is really good, where Mordecai thought margret was engaged and with Rigby’s encouragment, ended up meeting CJ, stands for Cloudy Jay if your curious, a sentient cloud voiced by the wonderful LInda Cardenelli, aka wendy from gravity falls and currently co star of the equally wonderful show Dead to Me. Seriously go check it out on netflix, it’s really good. It naturally went pearshaped since Margret wasn’t engaged, he tried going out with both, she turned into a thunderstorm out of rage... as you do.. it’s like the season 6 plot but less infurating and more understandable.  But the two remeet, and had a kiss on new years while not knowing it’s the other person under am ask.. and then CJ ran and both thought the other was upset: MOrdecai for him being MOrdecai, and CJ for running out on him and agreed to be friends. That didn’t last, though it did give us another classic on this list, as while exes can be friends and all, the two still had something between them. Thus came this one. And it was a hard one as it barely inched out the finale of their relationship arc, Real Date, which had the ceo of a dating company try to break them up and be really damny funny but it’s ulitmatley this one being just as hilarious while being a great character piece that gets it the rub.  As the episode opens Mordecai and CJ have been spending a LOT of time together and i’ts clear there’s a spark there.. but Mordecai insists it’s platonic. And yes there is a bad habit of animation being unable to accept females and males who are into the oppistie sex can’t be friends without being attracted to each other. It’s being cleared up more lately, but as Star Vs showed it still happens sometimes. But it works here: The two STARTED with dating, made out on new years, and are attracted to each other it’s just clear both were in denial about it. It’s not saying “well they have chemstiry so fuck their partners’ like star vs or “if you loved someone once those feelings will return and destroy yoru current relationship” like next season.... season 6′s arc is a tirefire burn it.  But the issue is forced when, while texting about an extreme baking show together while CJ’s at her job at a sports bar, it autocrrects from Yuji, the show’s host, to you hi, sending the title message “I like you, hi”. Mordecai, being even less adept with his feelings and anxiety towards women than me and trust me that’s saying something, spirals and we do get the episodes best scene, narrowly beating out it’s climax, where Mordecai summons a war council.. aka the rest of the main cast minus benson but plus Thomas, the intern who I wish stuck around longer even after he turned out to be a russian spy because they ran out of ideas for him, voiced by Roger Craig Smith and distractingly using his future sonic voice. 

I just.. love everything about the scnee. From the term pulling a mordecai, to Rigby joining in, deservedly as he’s had front row seats for a lot of this bollocks, to everyone’s suggestions especially Muscle Man’s half assed one that somehow, but unsuprisngly, works for him and Starla.  Naturally Mordecai comes up with what Rigby HIMSELF admits is a Rigby level half assed scheme to get an actual photo with Yuji rather than just admit the truth. Yuji himself is an utter delight, having had his star not rise as fast as he’d like thanks to autocorrect and being entirely on board, and when it backfires as MOrdecai ends up autocorrected and sends the message thrice and gets sucked into the phone again, admits i’ts “pretty extreme’. I love the guy and i’m prety sure he showed up again, to my delight. 

In the phone Mordecai meets some old friends, the message guardians who I mentioned in the “insane shit this show has done” bit earlier: old forms of messaging who police texting, all voiced by Rich Fulcher of the Mighty Boosh and Snuffbox Fame. 

I love Rich and wish these guys could show up in close enough. Maybe they can, I don’t know how rights issues with turner properties work when it comes to two diffrent audiences entirely. Anyways what really makes the episode, besides the great callbacks in this scene, is when confronted with everything going on, Mordecai.. tries to run into the void, with Rigby, The Message Recorder and the Smoke Signal all encouraging him to come back. “There’s nothing out there for you, literally it’s just a blank void”. With the leading tape recorder pointing out from their text history not only how great CJ is but how much he seems to like her with Mordecai finally coming back and admitting the obvious: He does like her.. he’s just scared of beefing it again. Which he does but that’s not the point. Rigby, who as part of his character development helps Mordecai quite a bit with this stuff by being a neutral party, though he also likes CJ better than Margret which is a mood even though I don’t care which one you ship mordecai with frankly, you do you, I have my prefrences. And with that Mordecai finally texts her and asks her out, with her accepting via winky face.. with an added text to clarify it for his neuotic ass.. which is also a mood as my neuortic ass could use that a lot. Overall just a wonderful , hilarious and good bit of character growth.. that season 6 throws in the oven, but that’s a long rant for another day. On it’s own, “I LIke you, hi” is a good character piece for mordecai whlie still being really damn funny. 

9. Thanksgiving Special (Season 5, Episode 15)

Regular Show was really damn great at holliday specials. Their terror tales from the park every halloween were always a nice treat and a good replacement for Simpsons “Treehouse of Horror” which still exists, it’s just no one cares at this point, and their christmas and new years episodes are both really damn good, the first Christmas Episode being in contention for this list even. But to me the best of the best was easily Season 5′s  thanksgiving episode. 

The premise is simple: Mordecai and Rigby accidnetly destroy thanksgiving dinner, which the park crew is having for everyone and their famllies and, refusing to take Benson trying to dismiss their attempts to help fix their mistake, end up joining a songwriting contest to try and win a Turducken.. a natural one that’s born every 1000 Years because this is regular show. To do this they have to beat a parody of everyone’s least faviorite president Donald Trump, Rich Buckner.  The fact that trump was basically the main villian of a holliday special a year before he became president is not lost on me and  is one of the most accurate depections of the man i’ve ever seen. The fact Rich steals the prize despite our boys winning from his blimp with a grappling hook is peak trump. The fact Trump has’nt stolen more things with a grappling hook in real life is only because his hands are too small to use one. 

Getting past our president for my own sanity, the episode also has really great subplots: Muscle Man and Fives go to  a sports bar to get sides and end up pissing off a former football player and getting into a touchdown dance comppetition, sadly not set to the super bowl shuffle, while Benson, Pops and Skips go to get a turkey and end up fighting over it with men dressed up like a piligrim, a first thanksgiving era native american and a turkey, to which they don’t even really give an explination for.. granted most explinatoins on this show are insane but even by regular show standards, this gets none. And I love it for it.  While as you can tell the episode is really damn funny, what really sells it is the emotional core: For once while they do fear for their jobs a bit Mordecai and Rigby’s main motivation in this messup is genuine guilt and wanting to fix their mistake, and they work hard at it, even giving a genuine and awesome heartfelt song that notches itself up with other thanksgiving classics “That thankstiginv themed soul sketch on snl” and adam sandler’s turkey song also from snl. Not a high bar but it’s really good regardless

The episodes’ real strength though is it’s emotional core: For once instead of saving their own asses or understadnably wanting to get one over on the cranky and in the worse written episodes obnoxiously overbearing benson, they simply feel terrible about possibly runing the meal for their arriving parents and everyone elses parents and families and their friends and work to right the wrong. It’s not the first time they worked to do something genuinely good with no benefit to themselves, but it’s probably the best and Benson’s I forgive you, while hilarious is also really sweet. And speaking of sweet

It ends on a really sweet and touching note, as Mordecai and Rigby, after escaping a blimp via a wish on a golden wishbone because of course, make it home to find the various weirdos the park crew met have brought them thanksgiving, and their parents will be there and we get a nice touching ending as the main duo get a well earned toast from Benson. Just an out and out amazing thanksgiving special and a good reminder of what the holiday means.

8. Trucker Hall of Fame (Season 3, Episode 37)

Moving on from Season 5 for a second, Season 3 was where the show really started to hit it’s stride to me. While Season 2 was a nice increase in quality from the sometimes choppy and heavy on “everyone is an asshole” comedy season 1, Season 3 was where the increased focus on the rest of the cast outside of our main duo balloned and what seeds of character were planted in season 2 beautifully bloomed. And this episode is one of the best examples of that.  This one focuses on Muscle Man, who earlier on was basically the main duo’s rival alongside his buddy high five ghost, and kind of a dick. While “Kind of a dick” never left any discription of Mitch Sorenstein, this and previous episode muscle woman showed there was more to the goblin man than we thought. It’s also one of regular show’s few early mostly serious episodes and unlike the benson ones, again this list was tough don’t come at me with a machete, and realy showed why muscle man is the human tire fire he is. The episode introduces, and quickly kills off, muscle dad, mitch’s dad who gave him a love of pranks and was a truck driver who died as he live: mistaking a fake bear for a real one during a prank. Muscle Man being not the most stable person on a GOOD day, spirals, as seen above, and Benson tasks mordecai and rigby, since Fives isn’t good with death ironically and isn’t holding up much better, and as a much later episode shows the two became besties in high school so he probably knew muscle dad for a good ten years so he’s probably not in a great place either, nice stuff, to go with him to put his dad’s ashes in the trucker hall of fame.  What follows is a sweet and damn sad episode. While Mitch’s frequent breakkdowns can be hilarous their also really sad and having lost my grandpa since this episode aired, I can relate to being fine one minute and a total shrieking wreck the next over the smallest thing. But it also shows that Mitch genuinely thinks of our main duo as his friends, and that beneath his testorrone positned exterior he’s a decent guy, being genuinely greatful. Of course being regular show the 3 end up squaring off with some truckers, while Mitch also grappels with the revelation his dad wasn’t one but a forklift opperator who faked being a trucker for his son’s benifit and dleft a tender note in his picture, figuring correctly his son would break it open when he found out... oh and because this show is still nuts his ghost ends up saving them at the end which is really sweet , as mitch decides trucker or no his ashes deserve to be there. Also his ghost shows up again at thanksgiving so apparently he can just come back once in a while, which is nice but dosen’t demnish the bittersweet feeling of this ep. And as I said the show has a good grasp on continuity as this ep marked a turning point for our main duo and muscle man: while the’yve bonded before after this, aside from mitch’s habit of christmas pranks and his faking his death, they really don’t nearly get as annoyed by him ever again. i’ts a sweet touching ride tha’ts uncharacristic of the show’s usual chaos but really works. 

7. A Bunch of Full Grown Geese (Season 4, Episode 19) After a few episodes that were more sentimental on this list, it’s good to get back to some good old regular show madness for this one, which was also the series 100th in production order and is a worthy milestone episode. Season 4 was really good building on the good will from Season 3 and FINALLY having payoff to the margret and mordecai thing, more on that in a bit. Not as much to say as seasons 3 or 5, but it was still spectacular.  The sequel to another ep, fittingly given it’s #100, full grown geese has our duo tasked with removing a bunch of obnoxious geese, with Benson in dick mode refusing to give the two more help, though it does lead to one of the show’s best scenes when he gives his usual your fried threat.. and fitting a milestone episode, Rigby calls him on never going through with it and the threat being as empty as my dreams. Benson responds by going nuts and angrishing them out of his office.. really funny. But yeah with the geese attacking them and , in their first attacking, poor pops, and no way to combat them, the two turn to the baby ducks, a bunch of baby ducks from the episode titled that who show up to help.. and this being the 100th episode of an already grant morrison level nuts show, it turns out the geese seek to conquer earth, voiced by david warner of course and have laser eyes.. and can combine. And the ducks do so again, mecha style, and add in our heroes and a bunch of call backs in one of the series best and most batshit sequences> The ending is also throughly satisfying as while our heroes win, Benson chews them out for tearing up the park in the process.. only for the ducks mom to call him out for not only yelling at the ducks, who are just kids, but at mordecai and rigby after they just saved the park from being a smoldering crater and not just trashed and he backs off. Just a fun episode where the crew just went nuts and the results speak for themselves. 

6. This is My Jam (Season 2, Episode 13)

Now this one I couldn’t NOT include. This is one of the series best even after it’s immense growth, and a beloved classic for a reason. And like the above it’s a good classic case of regular show hyjinks while also being relatable this time: Rigby gets a brainless but catchy pop song from the 90′s stuck in his head and despite growing to hate it, and Mordecai hating it because this episode establishes him as a hipster, and seemingly exercises it.. only for it to manifest as a GIANT CASETTE WEARING SUNGLASSES THAT PLAYS THE SONG JUST BY EXISTING AND DANCES CONSTANTLY. it’s utterly glorious and used to great effect, also annoying benson because he’s constnatly annoyed. To beat it the main duo get the rest of the park’s help at Skips suggestion to form a band and craft an even BIGGER earworm to cast it out. Oh and there’s a great scene where Pops is forced to awkwardly dance with the incarnation of the 90′s “But I won’t use my best moves”.  The climax also has one of Benson’s best moments as, after he’s irritated all episode, he comes in hot, with both the cast and audience expecting him to chew out mordecai and rigby.. only he’s mad because they forgot drums are key to an earworm and saves the day with his drumwork. It’s a great subversion and one of the first times Benson was more than just the angry but understandable, at times, dickhead boss. Just an utter standout and one of the show’s most memorable episodes for a reason. Also the line “you can’t touch music but music can touch you’ is great. 

5. Meteor Moves ( Season 4, Episode 28)

This one was a long time coming and to me is a great example of writers taking their own shortcomings and making something awesome out of them. I prefer that: instead of just retconning away bad writing use it as a tool.. I try to do that myself when possible. See early in the show as you all probably know, Mordecai’s crush on Margret was just a plot device: he had a crush on the cute waitress at the coffee shop so they used it to get him to do things. A gratioutis shot of her in bike shorts got him to bet all computer rights for life that sort of thing. The show.. wasn’t great with female characters till season 3 and even as it grew, as season 6 and just.. forgetting to give CJ a proper ending as a character shows, still grappled with it. It took writer Kat Morris saying “no no stop go to jail” to them wanting ot make CJ a difficult woman type, whatever horrifying thing that is. I don’t want to know, let’s move on. The point is it wasn’t till season 3 that Margret and her best friends, and Rigby’s future wife, Eileen got fleshed out a bit: Eileen got smarter and turned out to be good at wilderness stuff while Margret was chill, nice, if annoyed by the chaos around mordecai, and funloving, while also having a clear goal in stark contrast to her future boyfriend: going to college. Even after coming back it was botha fter finsihing college and to start a career. It wasn’t incredibly deep, but it made me not be ehhh to her mere existance like before. The show also started developing her and Mordecai’s relationship seriously with the two bonding and the previously shown Butt Dial showing for the first time, after previously having a terrible taste in men and then just not noticing his crush, that she was receptive to how mordecai felt. And the two had several moments and two dates even, it just.. never went anywhere for some reason.

And this was INFURATING to me: See back then shows had a tendency to just pop in love intrests SOLEY for plot fuel like margret with no intention of following through with things either through rejection or a relationsihp upgrade and by then I was sick of it. The whole spike and rarity thing in MLP (which to be clear I wanted her to just reject him but nope, even after I stopped watching she never did. ), Isabella and Phineas. I was fed up so I went from being “eh” about it to annoyed supremely.. but the thing is the writers realized this.. and course corrected. The first step was picking up Margret, where Mordecai agrees to pick her up to get her to the airport for a college interview and we get a nice deconstruction of things as Margret is anticpatiing things going wrong, and wrongly blames Mordecai for it.. I mean it is his fault sometimes but half the time weird shit just follows him. However she’s won over by him working past it, getting her there in time and kisses him.  That blew me away and made me think well it’s finally here.. and it was.. ALMOST. However the creators wisely, if frustratingly to past me, took one more episode to iron it out: Metor Moves has the two growing closer, and semi-going out, but Rigby pops mordecai’s bubble pointing out he never actually made a boyfriend girlfriend move and her move could’ve gone either way. So Mordecai , after seasons of being wishy washy and awkward, finally decides to go for it as he, rigby, eileen and margret go to a metor shower.  Being Regular Show it dosen’t go as planned as his attempted kiss is blocked by the guardians of the friend zone.. which is a real, phantom zone esque place here and that’s just fantastic. And it’s also clearly mocking the hell out of the concept, which is dumb. if you want to ask someone out just do it, I learned that the hard way. And if you really are friends, if she says no then you’ll accept it and keep a friend anyway as I have. But it’s clearly parodying it and Mordecai get sreplayed all the times he ALMOST made a move but didn’t but refuses to accept this clusterfuck, realizes he was a screwup when it came to this.. and kisses her.. and this time the two enter a relationship> Granted it barely lasted but still, it was nice while it did and this ep is just great for it. While not the funniest, it’s up this high because it took somethign the show did wrong.. and turned it on it’s head and into a character flaw and had mordecai grow past it, with a genuinely romantic moment on top as well as an utterly funny and batshit concept. It also had some Rigleen, as by this point rigby stopped being a hateful wastebasket to her and warmed up to her, and I regret there’s no reigleen episodes on this list. Their the shows best couple and utterly adorable. Just wanted to mention that at least once this list. 

4. Laundry Woes (Season 5, Episode 1) From the begining to the end. While sadly Morderet didn’t last too long in canon, which blows, it did give us some great episodes while it lasted, as with the above entry and their breakup in Steak Me Amedeus. As mentioned before Margret left for college, which while abrupt feeling did pave the way for great stories: The Mordejay arc mentioned above and that will pop up again very soon, This was one of them: the ep while lacking on laughs is a good emotional rollercoaster and starts with an amazing montage that catches us up from the end of season 4: Mordecai is miserable, as you’d expect and wallowing in it with Benson, of all people, letting him. And given Benson seems to have a heart attack any time Mordecai and Rigby aren’t working, that’s huge. But eventually his friends refuse to let it go on and in a really touching montage help him through it, taking him out places, giving him good times and eventually.. the fog starts to lift and he starts to enjoy himself and by the end.. he’s himself again. It’s one of the series best sequences, told with no dialouge and showing just how far the rest of the cast had come: Benson actually wants to comfort mordecai but is encouraged not to at first, underfstandably as it probably woudlnt’ help, and a crew that were once, aside from Pops who much like Krillin is everyone’s friend, just coworkers who barely tolerated each other, and are now close as family and help their own in need.  But Grief isn’t a straight line and just as Mordecai’s recovering he’s sent spiraling when he finds Margret’s sweater and uses ita s a flimsy excuse to go return it. It’s here I also get to talk about Rigby, who grew from an impatient idiot who hated Mordecai’s romantic endevors and actively sabtoaged them at times, to an understandting wing man who, while understandably frustrated with his best friend’s own idiocy with women, turned out to know more and be the wise council he needed, triggering both is relationships and only bailing out during the season 6 clusterfuck and even then was there to comfort him after it was all over and go to his aid to pull him out of another misery hole. And here he gives Mordecai the hard truth: He shoudln’t do this, it’s just going to tear both him and margret up again and he just put himself back together. He’s not going to let his best friend do this to himself. And while there is a supernatural elment, the sweater comes to life and tries to get Mordecai to force margret back with him and give up college, likely voicing his darkest wants that he hates himself for wanting, but it feels more like a manfiestation of Mordecai’s own issues than the usual madness. Like “Trucker hall of Fame”, a rare senntence, it’s a less funny packed more grounded episode. And in the end it’s mordecai himself, after rejecting the ghost sweater and seeing his ex truly happy , that gets him to NOT talk to her and just.. let it go. IT’s a good emotional episode and SHOULD HAVE BEEN the end of their relationship... but i’ve ranted about the cheating storyarc enough here, moving right along. 

3. Portable Toilet (Season 5, Episode 16) Back to the Mordejay arc. And yes this arc is my faviorite and while I didn’t make it clear at the time I really shipped the two, even before it became canon. I had nothing against morderet, these two simply had more chemistry and these episodes built CJ up as more of a character than Margret was at the time. It’s why that later arc sucks so much to me: it destroys a perfectly good relationship and story arc for dumb reasons and never really did enough with it to justify doing so. I’ll get to it some day, or if someone comissions it soone rthan some day, but as you can tell i’m still sore over it and great eps like this are part of the reason why. It’s the same reason i’m sore on how Tom was handled on star vs. But as you can also tell as bitter and lemon scented as I am.. these eps are still objectivley great and thus took up a third of the list basically.  Case in point Portable Toilet, which zooms back a bit to when neither would admit they were into each other but were now friends at least. Also Eileen was CJ”s friend now because plot convience. I mean they worked, and it bothers me a lot that the creators claim cj washed her hands of her even though she’s not the one who made out with margret... which come to think of it adding her to rigleen.. not a bad idea. I mean Rigby didn’t really like margret true, but they did almost go out before mordecai killed him and then reset time because Mordecai’s always kinda sucked. I’ll file that away for later. But my new OTP aside, I did like the two bonding and what not.  Anyways with their outside park friend/RIgby’s future girlfriend now friends with Mordeai’s future girlfriend the four have apparently been hanging out which, while i’ve bemoaned off screen stuff at times, works here and regular show uses it better than most shows. While Rigby can clearly see Mordecai and CJ are into each other Mordecai is as we covered in denial and while that dosen’t really progress here, it does lead to one of teh shows finest hours. When talking would you rathers, CJ semi-flirtly dares Mordecai to eat his lunch sandwitch in a portable toilet, which he agrees to and drags a reluctant rigby along for. This being regular show, it goes south fast as the two get stuck, with Rigby’s clautrophiba kicking in leading to an amazing exchange Mordecai; Dude that makes no sense! Rigby: You’s makes no sense! While our dynamic duo try to get mordecai and rigby out the two are carted away and repalced with a new portable toilet, a deluxe one. Also we get another great bit when our dynamic duo find Muscle man, in a robe with choclate’s claming “Eileen, other girl, this isn’t weird” before screaming “This isn’t weird”. Turns out old portable toilets are taken to be blown up by the miltary and we get one of the shows best one off characters in the general, who not only explains it as “toilets being about the same size as the enmy” but when told he should call the president says “the preseident is not my father i’ll blow up as many toilets as I want.”. Spectacular. So now it’s a scramble for one twosome to rescue the other, Rigby lets out a cathartic “THANK YOUUU MORDECAI” over the flirty toilet dare, and the day is saved> This one is another pure comedy one, even if it ties into a plot I really like, and i’ts gold for obvious reasons and manages to take blowing up porta poties, a premise that dosen’t seem that funny, and make it utter comedic gold. Speaking of pure comic episodes that are utterly insane...

2. Cool Bikes (Season 3, Episode 7)

This one feels like regular show boiled down to it’s core: semi-relabtale hyjinks dovetalling into pure madness. And the premise sounds like a shit post i’d make: Mordecai and Rigby want benson to admit their cool and get into progressively weird outfits and tricks to their bycycles to do so, eventually becoming so cool their put on trial by the council of cool , ending up having to make a runner when Benson finally breaks down and admits it.  The premise is utterly stupid in the best way possible, with the conflict being the kind of petty bullshit we all get into from time to time with our aquantinces: not wanting to admit something and loose the argument withthings escalating. And in regular show terms it escalate sperfectly into the entire unvierse being threatned adn our heros being on trial for their lives. There’s not much to say here, it’s just pure comedic gold with a premise that just works. It also has good moments for Benson with his finally admitting they are cool and saving the duo’s lives whne he realized he just gave them a death sentence. Utter fun. And now we come to the finale, my faviorite episode...

1. Dodge This (Season 5, Episode 15) 

Yup this arc again. But this one has more than my ship going for it, and it’s why it soared to the top: It takes the excellent character work of other episodes and weaves it with excellent comedy to create an utter delight and the episode I remember most fondly and most often. It’s just great. The second part of the Mordeijay arc, not counting yes dude yes, the episode is half that and half sports movie: The Park Guys have been taking part in dodgeball as a team bulding thing and it shows how far Benson’s come as he not only praises mordecai, and launches the mordecai and benson ship in the process, but gives his team full wings and his full support, a far cry from his usual self. It’s also the first big instance of him getting hammered on wings and it’s glorious to see drunk flirty benson.  Benson is also genuinely congratulatory to the team’s ace mordecai, and most of them realy for b eing valuable and hopes to win this year.  IN their way are two things: The magical elements, aka the floating baby heads that gave skips his immortality, his friend with sparkly eyes who works for them and death himself whose a recurring character and fucking great and who were their bowling rivals too. The other is CJ is back, and Benson in another good moment actually talks mordecai through it and his nerves over it assuring him. So we get a great sports piece as our heroes work through various callbacks and even beat the magical elements iwth Rigby’s hilarious and rediculous rignado manuver, which is as dumb as it sounds and winged a guy hilaroiusly before with Benson scolding him like a toddler.  Of course it ends up with Mordecai and CJ against each other, both incredibly awkard over things as mentioned before, and both ending up in a stalmate that magical dodgeball guardians have to resolve because, let’s do this one last time. IT’S REGULAR SHOW. We do get a good moment though as the two work through their awkwardness: both thinking the other is rightfully mad: Mordecai for his two timer date with her and Margret and CJ for running out without talking to mordecai after they had a moment on new years. The both work past it, the park strikers loose,benson likely gets hammered again off screen.. it’s a good one and I have no shame in putting it at number one. It’s got heart, really great jokes, and some good charcter stuff, not to the level of other episodes on this list, but it wasn’t a full episode of that like those were and still works to move the plot forward and is still a classic. Just a fun, breezy, well done epsidoe fully rooted in the cast’s characters and getting laughs out of that.. mostly benson.  And with that this giangantic list comes to a close> I hope you enjoyed it, if you liked it follow me for more. I’ll be doing close enough coverage every week, as well as amphibia and owl house among other reviews. Until we meet again, later days. 

[emeraldspiral]

Endgame thoughts

My initial reaction was that it’s surprisingly really slow paced and has very few action scenes. I was going to say it was all ultimately worth it for the big climactic battle at the end. But then it really lost me on almost all the endings for our heroes.

Pretty much everything I dreaded came to pass. Tony had five years with his wife and kid, but he had to live those years in a super-depressed world where he felt like a failure, then when he had the chance to fix everything and settle down and finally enjoy life, they ripped it away from him. Also, kinda selfish of him to insist that they don’t erase the last five years on the off chance that it causes Tony to not get married and have a kid with Pepper. Like, fuck all the people who didn’t get dusted but died as a result of pilots and drivers and doctors suddenly disappearing or who became depressed and were driven to suicide and fuck Loki, Heimdall, Vision, Gamora, and half of Asgard I guess?

Similar to how they ended Tony’s story about PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and the overbearing burden of feeling like he has to be responsible for everything in the worst way possible, I feel like Steve’s ending was also antithetical to his entire arc. He spent the whole series trying to acclimate to life in the future and he was doing a pretty good job of it. He got caught up on tech, pop culture, and even found a new love, bland and underdeveloped as she was. Then he just goes back in time to live in the past? Also, the whole point of sending Steve back to return all the stones was to ensure the timeline didn’t get fucked and things would play out as they had originally, so Tony’s daughter wouldn’t be unborn. But then Steve goes and hooks up with Peggy, who got married to someone else in the original timeline. Also, no one noticed Captain America returning after being presumed dead in a time where memories of him and what he looked like would still be fresh? Also, also Peggy founded SHIELD. Did she have to hide Steve’s existence from everyone who knew him every day that she worked with them? Did Steve not warn her about HYDRA infiltrating her organization? What about in the future when those HYDRA agents were tricked into thinking Steve was one of them? Any consequences to that?

I think the biggest tragedy of Steve’s ending is that it could’ve been the most beautiful, perfect, satisfying, sentimental ending to another story. Like, if they’d done this at the end of Avengers 1, or even Winter Soldier, I could get on board with the idea that Peggy was Steve’s one true love that he could never move on from. But after so many movies showing Steve acclimating to living in the future, making new friends and getting an old one back, (He seriously didn’t get to spend any time with Bucky outside the battlefield after they finally fixed his brainwashing. How bullshit is that?) establishing himself as the leader and moral center of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and making out with Peggy’s grandniece it feels like character regression to have him throw all that away to literally live in the past.

Also, he passes on the mantle of Captain America to Falcon, who already has a perfectly good superhero identity, instead of Bucky, who could actually use a new identity to start over with.

I felt cheated by the fact that they emphasized Loki being important to Thor in the marketing, but then Thor just walks right past him in his cell. Present Thor never interacts with or even mentions Loki and all of his emotional moments are with his mom, who I never cared about, in a callback to one of the worst movies in the franchise. Which isn’t to say those scenes weren’t well-done. Well, I mean, except for the fact that Thor’s fake hair and beard and beer-belly were terrible and distracting and took me out of the moment, though props to the actress playing Frigga for managing to be so sincere acting opposite Chris Hemsworth in that getup. I really don’t know what they were thinking with that. Like, they could’ve written the movie’s timeline so that they went to see Thor when he’s sad and fat to get their cheap laughs and then have them take another year or so to put together their time-travel setup so Thor could get back into shape. But no, they really decided to commit to that bit and have him spend the entire movie, his character’s swan song, as a damn clown. Like, they couldn’t have at least switched out the cheap ugly unkempt hair and beard for a better set that looks more realistic so he could look just a smidge more dignified in the finale battle?

And that’s not even getting into Thor’s ending. I was already peeved by Infinity War giving Thor his eye back immediately after he lost it but I think the ending they gave him somehow managed to be even more insulting than Tony’s. Like, his dad dies and he finally ascends the throne and takes on the responsibility of being a king and then he just gets fat and drunk and then abdicates and puts Valkyrie in charge so he can run off aimlessly looking for a new purpose with the GotG? Like, what sense does that make? Also, he justifies putting Valkyrie in charge by saying she’s got leadership qualities, but when did she ever demonstrate any? Ragnarok was all about Thor demonstrating HIS leadership abilities by recruiting Valkyrie, Hulk, Loki, and the Sakaar rebels to fight for his cause. Valkyrie didn’t do any leading in that film, she just learned to start giving a shit and be a team player again. In Endgame, all she does is point Rocket and Hulk in Thor’s direction and then show up on the battlefield. They don’t even imply that Valkyrie was taking charge while Thor was wasting away.

She looked fucking great on her horse though. But where did she get it? I don’t remember seeing her herding one onto the refugee ship at the end of Ragnarok. I’d say I’m surprised that Thor and Valkyrie didn’t become an official couple offscreen like Peter and Gamora did, but after they threw away Jane, Sharon, and Betty and aborted Nat and Bruce’s romance, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Thorkyrie went nowhere. If they hadn’t gone with making Thor a joke for the whole movie though, it could’ve worked really well since in their last film together, Thor was the one who pulled Valkyrie out of a funk where she was drinking and wasting her life on Sakaar to cope with her trauma and she had the opportunity to do the same here. Oh well. Maybe with Thor out of the picture and Loki possibly alive the ship I really wanted to see take off might actually stand a chance.

The big girl ensemble scene kinda made me laugh because they really wanted all the girls (sans Nat) together and it was already kinda forced and corny when they did it in Infinity War when there were only three, but when you’ve got a huge battlefield full of mostly male heroes and random male soldiers and grunts it stops being a believable coincidence that all the women and only the women would end up in the same spot and just becomes transparently “we deliberately flocked together just for the sake of forming a girl group with no regard for strategy”. But that’s not even what made it funny. What made it funny was that they stuck Mantis in there and then as soon as everyone charged she disappears because Mantis isn’t a fighter, so there was no reason for her to join that group, which makes the whole thing even more transparently like, not a thing that would happen organically in real life.

I totally didn’t even notice that Lady Sif didn’t appear because the actress had left the franchise long ago, so I just never expected her to show up, anymore than I expected Jane to. In fact, I was so sure that Natalie Portman was only going to appear in archive footage or in faraway shots with a body double that it shocked me when they had like, a whole five seconds of her waking up and then Rocket walking into the room and it didn’t look like it could’ve been from the original movie because they never would’ve shot the scene to linger after Natalie walked off with the camera angled to frame a two-foot tall character. So I guess they got Natalie back just for that.

I’ve expressed before that I’m not a fan of dealing with story and character problems by throwing them away instead of fixing them, and Jane’s a pretty good example of why. The first two Thor movies feel like a complete waste now since they spent so much time developing her and Thor’s relationship and Thor having to choose between his obligations to Asgard and his love for her. Her dumping him in Ragnarok doesn’t inform his character at all, unlike Tony and Pepper’s break-up in Civil War. It’s just an excuse to make him single so they can set up Valkyrie as his new love interest. But then Thor and Valkyrie don’t get together, nor does he reconcile with Jane. The movie indicated he was still heartbroken over Jane, and they had the perfect setup for a reconciliation. Thor lost his both his parents, his siblings, his best friend, his eye, his hammer, his home planet, and half his people, but Jane was snapped by Thanos, which means she came back to life at the end. It was such a blatant missed opportunity to not have him either get pulled out of his funk by Valkyrie or reconcile with Jane in the end it almost feels like maybe they were going to in an earlier draft but then decided it was too similar to Steve's happy ending so they just decided fuck anything respectful or satisfying for Thor and just dumped him on the GotG for no other reason than to make his different.

When Valkyrie said she liked either Bruce or Hulk apart better than both of them together I was like “hard same”. Like, the CGI on Hulk was never that convincing, but it gets really deep into the uncanny valley in this film. It just feels wrong to see the big green guy emoting and gesturing like Bruce and hearing Bruce’s normal soft-spoken voice coming out of Hulk’s mouth. Nothing about it is okay. I would’ve liked it better if they hadn’t skipped over the character arc too. Like, instead of just “Oh, we reconciled our differences and merged into one during the timeskip” Bruce was still unable to Hulk out for five years and didn’t know why and then finally figured it out for the final battle in a big triumphant moment.

I was hoping there’d be some kind of a twist to the soul stone get scene. Like, because Nat sacrificed herself instead of being pushed in, she’d get the stone instead of Clint and then they’d both live, or they’d both fall and be resurrected. Kinda like in Yu Yu Hakusho when Yusuke and Kurama both tried to sacrifice themselves to the magic mirror to save Kurama’s mom so it let them both live.

They should’ve just cut Clint’s storyline and swapped it for Hulk’s story. Cause like, the whole Ronin thing doesn’t really impact the plot in any way. The only purpose it serves is to give him a reason to fight with Nat over who should sacrifice themselves despite Nat being the obvious choice since Clint has a wife and kids he’s trying to get back. The scene at the beginning where he loses them is all we really need to be emotionally invested in him. Scott only had the one scene with his daughter and that was enough for him.

If they’d had Hulk’s reconciliation happen over the course of the movie instead of during the timeskip then they could’ve sent Clint to New York and Bruce to Vormir, since an active battlefield wouldn’t have been a good place for Bruce to be while unable to Hulk out. It could’ve been Bruce and Nat fighting over who should sacrifice themselves as a resolution to the feelings of guilt and self-loathing they discussed in Age of Ultron. Nat could’ve sacrificed herself, not out of shame for her past or the future she doesn’t think she can have, but out of love for Bruce. Her sacrifice could’ve been the key to unlocking Bruce’s ability to reconcile the two halves of himself, which would've been a nice payoff to her being able to snap Bruce out of Hulk mode in AoU and Ragnarok instead of just a thing that happens to make you sad for no reason.

I thought Captain Marvel in her solo movie was just okay. Not unlikable by any stretch, but not particularly funny or charming or otherwise possessing any kind of engaging character traits strongly enough to give me something to latch onto. But I found her quite unlikable in this film. She’s barely in it and every time she is, she’s copping a real attitude. Like, everyone else is grieving and wracked with guilt because they’re actual empathetic characters who’s natural reaction is to feel bad about the situation even though they tried their hardest, and many of them couldn’t have done much anyway. But Carol just seems really defensive. Like, if this were any other hero, she’d be sorry she wasn’t around to stop Thanos. She’d be haunted by all the people who suddenly, inexplicably turned to dust, knowing she was the one hero powerful enough to stop him, but she wasn’t where she needed to be. Instead, she comes across as being more bothered by the idea that other people might blame her for not stopping Thanos than by what Thanos did.

I kept thinking that maybe since Loki got the the space stone the timeline was messed up and he was going to pop up in the final battle and I actually played myself into thinking it was him moving Mjolnir for a sec before it turned out to be Steve and then I was disappointed he didn’t show up later when everyone else did.

Nebula at the start of GotG 1 was already hoping that Ronan would help her kill Thanos, so it’s OoC for past Nebula to be his loyal servant in this movie.

How did Clint and Natasha go to Vormir not knowing about the sacrifice? Nebula was able to figure out what happened to Gamora in Infinity War, so why didn’t she warn them?

Loki disappeared with the space stone in Avengers 1 but he was still in his cell during the events of TDW, but then they went further back in time to get the space stone in the 70s. But when did Steve return the space stone? If he sent it back to the 70s, does Loki still get it in 2012, or did Steve stop him from getting it?

Also, why did they even need to go to the 70s to get more Pym particles? Bruce already had the time stone. They could’ve just used it to fix their flub with Loki.

I can’t believe they finally put explicit gay rep in the movies but like, in the weirdest way. Like, it wasn’t like they hyped it up and then only vaguely implied it with stereotyping, like some other movies. They did have like, an outright unmistakable declaration of a character’s sexuality, and it wasn’t even saved for the very end. It’s in like, the first half-hour. But, they did it with a random no-name extra. So it’s like, they now acknowledge that gay people exist in these movies, but there’s still no explicit unambiguous LGBT representation among the heroes, or even the supporting cast.

I remember in Tony’s funeral scene, seeing a teenage boy and thinking “Who the hell is that? That’s not Peter, and that’s not one of Clint’s kids”. Like, I’m not great with faces, especially when they’ve drastically changed due to puberty, so of course I wasn’t going to recognize the kid from Iron Man 3. Now that I know that that’s who that is, I think it’s a pretty nice touch, even though it’s still bullshit that Tony died.

Kinda confused about Gamora. We’re never shown that she goes back to her time, but I guess we have to infer that she did because she’s not with the other Guardians at the end and Peter has an image of her on a screen implying that he plans to somehow find her and bring her back to life in his time. Also, how is Nebula alive if her past self died?

Everyone who got snapped was brought back to life, but the five years they were gone wasn’t erased. So Peter is still 15, even though he’d be 20 if he hadn’t died, unlike Cassie who is now a 13 instead of 8 (I think that’s her age, don’t quote me on that). But we see Peter hug Ned, who looks the same age, and Flash and MJ also appear to be the same age in the Far From Home trailer. So, I guess it’s a coincidence that everyone in Peter’s circle just happened to also get snapped so there’s no awkwardness with Peter being in high school while all of his friends are college-aged now.

[naysaltysalmon]

I’m back!

Upon my return from China, I noticed there were a lot of things weighing me down... that I can just throw the fuck out.

I could expound upon all of these in great detail, but it really would be pointless. And I wouldn’t be able to cover it all anyway. So instead I’ve decided to make a post of every icon I’ve used for my online persona over the years.

The reason for this is... at the end of the program I attended, we had an entire week of silent meditation. We weren’t allowed to talk or communicate with anyone in any way, including gestures, eye contact, or physical touch. So, during this time I had the realization that the stories I’ve been interested in have been my main source of comfort over the years. No person, place, or thing has felt more permanent to me than this.

However, permanence is an illusion, as the Buddhists say (I stayed in a Buddhist monastery in China, in case you’re wondering). My interests have changed over the years -- from the first fandoms I got obsessed with, to my interests now. I may still adore the series that I enjoyed as a child, but definitely not in the same way.

Coming home, I realized... I no longer want to attach my identity to one character or series. That’s why I’ve decided to make this post. I want to reflect on all the egos of my past, on what they have meant to me, so that I can let them go. I’ve been clinging to a folder of them for too long.

To anyone who’s been here since the very start of my blog, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is an acknowledgement of my transformation from then until now.

And so:

Breadward Elric. My first Internet icon, which I had for 2 and a half years from May 2011 -- 2013. My blog was originally entirely FMAB content, created in January of 2012, and while this format didn’t last the entire time that I had this icon, Breadward saw me through the majority of my early anime and video game obsessions. He jump-started my personality on the Internet as a fanfic author, a blogger, and an artist. I will never forget him... ;~;

Comrade Führer Tamama. I had this icon for 8 months in early 2013 -- early 2014. What can I say? Tamama’s passionate personality resonated with me, especially when he was finally able to be in control (in the episode this particular screenshot is from). Gotta get those cola oceans pronto!

Yokoso waga tainai e [Welcome to my Womb ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]. I had a phase during the summer of 2014, okay. But I still love this maniacal snake’s crusty ass, fite me. I admire KagePro immensely for the popularity and development it gave characters in song format. Of course, favorite of those characters was Kuroha, a snake whose only desire was to keep granting wishes so that he could survive. Add a touch of murderous intent and you have the complete package -- I won’t deny he appealed(appeals) to my wild side -- okay moving on.

KeroTama hugge 👀. I had this icon for about 4-6 months in 2014 before the Hunter x Hunter phase hit. God, I shipped them so hard *facepalms* It was funny though, it’s like KagePro hit me like a hurricane during this summer and then I went right back to being KeroTama trash. Amazing.

Softly Smiling Pika. I kept this icon for at least 9-10 months at the end of 2014 -- early 2015, until I found Owari no Seraph. Kurapika was definitely my bae at the start of my HxH phase -- and in many ways he still is. The current arc gives me this sense of nostalgia of being a 15-year-old again, deeply in love but too in denial to see it. Watching him as a young adult, I see how far I’ve come, how I could have ended up... since I believed myself to be most closely alike with Kurapika at the time. And now I know that’s not the case... I remember debating between many other Kurapika icons and finally choosing this one because I dearly wanted to believe I too could find my happiness in the friends around me, even if it seemed all was hopeless behind the scenes.

Yuu babe. I had this icon for 4 months in the middle of 2015, I remember. Yuichiro Hyakuya was an underappreciated dorky genius at the time, much like how Gon is in HxH now, except... Now in the series... *deep sighs* *clenches fist* I still love his piercing citrine eyes and the dynamism of this icon/pose though.

Cuties T^T (MikaYuu edition). Mmm I kept this icon for a while, something like most of 2016, at least 6-8 months, probably more like 9 or 10. Looking back, I still wonder how/why the author was a fucking coward and didn’t make MikaYuu happen. We coulda had it aaallllll...... Anyway, this is when I was writing Ebony & Ivory, my most popular fic to date, so I was reveling in the reputation I gained from that. This icon was me accepting that while I was no longer friends with my best friend from middle school to 11th grade, I would still pursue my own happiness in the perfect relationship that I saw in MikaYuu. *nods* It’s fitting.

Caught Child². I shared this and the next couple of icons with a friend that I met online, who used the Gon equivalent. I think we shared this one for about 3 months of 2016. This is when I became re-obsessed with Hunter x Hunter and realized how much I had changed between 2014 and 2016. It’s an obsession that’s more or less carried onto now, and redefined my adulthood, as I see my progression as I refer back to HxH for guidance to this day.

Content Chompy Boye. I love this icon. I kept this icon for a long time, something like 5-6 months in December 2016 -- mid-2017. The colors of the background contrast with Killua’s white hair, pale skin, and dark muscle shirt... I still used this icon on other websites until just a few days ago (when I most recently changed my icon) because I thought it looked the best backdropped against the format of other websites. I love this scene in the series, though; while (human) Palm is chattering on about her worry that Gon and Killua will be able to defeat Knuckle and Shoot in time, Killua continues to eat without a care in the world. It’s a mood I feel at least once a day, whether while eating or getting a back massage -- as if that ever happens -- 11/10.

Pizza Devil Brat. I like this icon a lot and kept it on a few websites for longer too, but with the way I edited it, the green background becomes a little too headache-inducing if you stare at it too long, so 8/10 -- okay no more out of 10 ratings, this isn’t that kind of post. I believe I kept this icon for about 3-4 months in 2017 and possibly early 2018 as well. From the same scene the previous Kurapika icon came from, this remains one of my favorite scenes in the entire series for its serious undertones over the light happiness that underlies Gon’s, Killua’s, and Kurapika’s (and Leorio’s -- but he’s not in this scene) interactions with each other throughout the series.

Grumpy Gem Gremlin. I was sharing the last three icons with that friend, including this one, with the Phos equivalent (more or less). I think we only kept it for about a month or month and a half in 2017 or beginning of 2018 before switching to the next one. Cinnabar’s desire for a purpose and closeness to others despite her poisonous nature... is definitely something I can understand and relate to.

Sad Gem Child. Damn, I think we’re all still waiting for the day Gormie realizes Aechmea’s a creepy sugar daddy and dropkicks his ass into the ocean where the Admirabilis can decompose his cloudy body like he doesn’t deserve. When will Land of the Lustrous return from the war? I’m still waiting, Ichikawa. Anyway I think we kept this icon for about a month or maybe two in 2018, not long at all.

Gay Childe™. Look, this is one of the gayest scenes in the entire series and it’s right after my favorite episode(s)/scene(s) in the entire series (so far) and it’s not even acknowledged by anyone. Just. Holy Fuck. Anyway I think I kept this icon for about 6-8 months to cap off 2018. And this is where the Big Breakup happened, where my friend decided to choose an icon that deviated from mine, but I kept this icon for a lot longer due to what this scene means to me, placed after/during my favorite episode. ;v;

And finally, BoMH (Blood on My Hands) Pika. I used this icon for 8 months from the start of 2019 until just a few days ago (approx. 8 months). This icon was originally the cover for a Kurapika fic that I started back in 2015 and ended up discontinuing because it was pretty slow-paced, and thus unpopular, which made it become difficult for me to write. But I got all the way up to 97k words before I quit, simply because of the freedom and joy I felt in creating all the OCs that I fit into Kurapika’s journey as he searched for the Kurta eyes after the Yorknew City Arc. Looking back, I’m proud of the planning and commitment that I succeeded in undertaking with this fic -- it was about halfway done by the time I stopped writing it -- and I feel I want to return to this concept one day. Even if the arcs were pretty formulaic at times and, well, boring, I wanted this icon at the start of 2019 to be a new person separate from my recent past matching icons; a representation of my ability to reconnect with my past, but to no longer be afraid of it; to be proud of it, but still recognizing the not-so-good parts, laying it to rest by no longer avoiding it.

My icon now, as I’m sure you can see... is nothing like those I’ve used thus far. I definitely have no intention of moving away from anime or my past. I simply wish to redefine who I am in relation to them, rather than being defined by them.

...I’ve discovered a lot about myself over the past 2 years since college started, more than I ever thought possible. I discovered a lot while in China, too. And I need my online persona to reflect that in every form, as I’ve done every time there was a change.

Thank you all for being with me on this journey: for following me, for reading my posts, for liking my art, for talking with me and blowing up my notifications on every platform...

I’ll be pursuing the next chapter(s) of Human, TIDU, and other works soon. ^.^

[savinscripts]

❝ Paradise was always over there, a day’s sail away. But it’s a funny thing, escapism. You can go far and wide and you can keep moving on and on through places and years, but you never escape your own life. ❞

And just as he’d told her he would, Fane had sorted everything from transport and their final destination (carefully selected to meet their criteria). They’d flown out of London Gatwick, having called in a favour with a friend of a friend meant wait-times in the lobby were cut and it was just a matter of handing the car over to the valet and then walking to the private check in which led straight to the plane outside. Fane had already donned a set of shades and wore a pleasantly satisfied grin on his lips having kept rather tight-lipped about where it was they were set to go. Walking towards the small private jet that waited on the runway Fane gestured for Faye to go ahead the attendants busy loading their bags in the meantime. Faye didn’t know where they were headed, and he was absolutely ecstatic to whisk her away for the trip of a lifetime.

The flight was generally uneventful, Fane alternating between watching TV, fiddling with his phone or lightly needling Faye about where she thought they might be going. Several hours later, landing and getting a lift to the harbour they ultimately ended up on a speed-boat that motored across the ocean’s surface cresting waves with the occasional bob. At the announcement of their driver Fane lifted his eyes from where he’d been otherwise lounging enjoying the sea air on his face to the large isolated island that their boat was fast approaching, moving over to stop behind Faye he rubbed her shoulders ducking down to kiss the side of her head “well-- here we are love. A month entirely to ourselves… You excited?”

The next morning, Faye and Fane had taken the evidence (after making several copies of the documents for safekeeping, just in case) back to the Ministry and handed it over to the appropriate people. After an hour or two of paperwork, writing up what had happened - including a slight fudging of the details in regards to one large, cock-less Russian, who was apparently nowhere to be found - and one more hour being debriefed, Faye turned in her immediate request for time off. She had months and months of unused vacation time, having rarely taken off in the last decade. That, plus the evidence that could be a vital break in this ongoing - and financially draining - case that had been leading nowhere for months, gave Faye’s boss every reason to sign off on her request almost immediately.

“It’ll take at least two weeks to get these wands properly processed,” he had told them after handing Faye her signed leave papers. “Then after that, we’ll have to follow-up. Will we be able to contact you?”

“Emergencies only,” Faye said. “Otherwise I won’t answer. I’m tired, sir. We’re tired.” Faye glanced at Fane.

Her boss could only nod. “Emergencies only. Have a good rest, Faye. Mr. Savin. And good work. When you get back, we just might be ready to make a move.” He’d shook both their hands, and that was that.

Faye, for her part, kept her word. She let Fane plan everything, other than securing Maya’s help to feed Scratch and check in on him. Cato could take care of himself, as long as there was an open window for him to fly through. Faye had even let Fane take her shopping for appropriate attire, since most of her clothes were made for work or cooler weather. Certainly not anywhere tropical. The plane ride had been a new experience for Faye, but an exciting one since she loved to fly. She spent a good bit of the trip watching the clouds pass by out the window, or dozing while watching tv with Fane. It took awhile for her to truly start to relax, to unwind and realize that they had a good long while before they had to be responsible for anything again.

By the time they were on the boat, Faye felt the realization starting to sink in. That they wouldn’t be going home in a few days. Or even a week. This beautiful place, warm sun and cool ocean spray, would be their home for a full month. Fane came up behind her, and she leaned back into him, turning her head so he kiss her better. “I can’t believe you booked this place for a month,” she grinned, shaking her head a bit. “But yeah… yeah, I am.” She turned her head and kissed him proper as they slowed a bit as they neared the docks.

Once tied off, their bags were handed over and loaded aboard a trolley that floated just above the pier. They climbed off the boat, Faye letting Fane help her step up, and were immediately directed towards a gentleman and a lady standing at the head of the pier. “Who’re they?” Faye whispered to Fane as they approached.

His hands rubbed her arms affectionately, his eyes hidden beneath the shades but the grin plastered across his mouth saying so much more than anything else ever could. With one kiss pressed to her head and the next to her lips as she turned to face him more directly he broke away his thumbs rubbing soft arcs into her skin. “I called in some favours, and you said anything goes love… and that’s precisely the motto of this place.” He was glad to hear she was excited though, it seemed everything was off to a good start and he intended to make sure it continued that way.

Once their bags were unloaded, and Fane helped Faye onto the dock his arm naturally slipping around the curve of her waist and keeping her wound close to his side. “Nikolai and Amanda Coster,” he answered into her ear voice low enough that just Faye could hear what he had to say “owners of the island and resort make a habit of greeting all the new guests. Just to make sure we know if anything happens we can contact them if needs be, formalities hm?” As they approached the other young couple who smiled in greeting Fane let his hand drop to Faye’s hip the other shaking Nikolai’s warmly.

“Welcome back Stefan, we weren’t sure we’d see you back here” Nikolai said in a heavily accented tone, something more Eastern European.

“But we’re glad you decided to change your mind,” Amanda chimed in and Fane grinned at them both “and I see you brought company, care to introduce?”

“Well maybe if you charged less I’d be more inclined to come back more often,” they all laughed at that “and I thought I’d treat my partner to a well deserved break in a place supposedly known for offering the best time ever… Amanda, Nikolai this is Faye” he gave her a little squeeze his eyes softening happily as he looked aside at her. “And she’s to be treated as nothing less than royalty hm? Only the best.”

Faye watched the exchange between Fane and the other man with quiet interest. She noted that they were on a first name basis, and that it seemed Fane was no stranger to this one of a kind resort. She made a mental note to ask him about the last time he’d been here once they were alone again.

Fane introduced her, and Faye shook both their hands, noting with an Auror’s trained eye - that she truly couldn’t help - that they seemed utterly genuine. Smiling faces, warm handshakes… the works. Though for the amount of money she imagined Fane had paid out for a holiday like this, they damn well better be smiling. “Nice to meet you both,” Faye said, glancing back at Fane with what might have been perceived by others as the long-suffering but loving look of a woman used to being treated ‘like royalty’ and having grown used to it. While that wasn’t the case at all.

Faye was simply a bit overwhelmed by it all, and was shooting him a look for the hell of it. But it wasn’t a bad thing. She’d agreed no fussing, no saying ‘no’ unless she was just absolutely uncomfortable with something. Though Fane had kept pretty mum on what ‘anything goes’ meant. Though for once, Faye couldn’t wait to find out.

Formalities over with, Amanda and Nikolai introduced them to their small entourage of personal assistants for the duration of their stay. Two men and two women, all of which were introduced by their first names. All dressed in simple, chic, weather appropriate clothes. Faye looked at Fane and raised her eyebrows. ‘Personal assistants?’ the look said. But they were whisked on their way to where they would be staying before she could ask out loud.

“This is… how does this place even exist?” Faye asked a bit later, once everyone was gone and they were mostly settled in. She was looking out at the slowly setting sun from their private veranda. “Is this real? Or am I in a coma dream?” Turning to look at him, she smiled. He looked so relaxed. So at ease. So at home here. Like a different person almost. One free of stress and the rigors of everyday living. That in itself was worth it to Faye. To see him like this.

“So… tell me… everything goes? I’ve got a pretty good imagination you know. What’s that mean exactly?”

“Lovely to meet you,” Amanda beamed seeming genuinely happy to have them here, which she was because the better time they had here the more likely it was they might return in the future. Business Woman's prerogative and all that but it didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy her job whilst she was at it. “You know, I knew the first time we met you must’ve had someone” and for once a touch of red stained his neck and brought about a rosy flush to the tips of his ears feeling inclined to hide his face in Faye’s neck but he merely chose to stay close. To hold her just a fraction tighter and smile with pure affection before pressing a kiss to her head because there were no prying eyes here, he didn’t have to worry about the thought of who might see them and he wanted to revel in it. They weren’t at work with Faye’s imposed rules and regulations here they could just be-- they could just be together, as a couple, as partners.

Once things were finalised and they were introduced to the people that would be taking care of the formalities and helping them out Fane merely returned her questioning look with a mild-mannered shrug.

Ultimately, they ended up being taken to a chalet located out on a stretch of sandy beach and crystal clear waters remote enough that it could be considered entirely private but also within walking distance to the main resort slightly further inland. They had a kitchen if they so wished, but Fane had no intention on cooking anything really unless it was maybe the odd breakfast or snack here and there but this was a trip about indulgence. In showering her with everything and anything he or she could ever want. So once they were finally alone, Fane picked up the expensive bottle of champagne that had been left on ice with a couple of glasses stepping outside with her.

“The Coster’s bought up this land generations ago, they always were the indulging sort-- made their finance off of retail and they saw a market they enjoyed working in. It developed from there really.” While he spoke he worked off the paper covering the cork “I caught wind they were having an event and it was just a matter of asking whether we could come along.” Gripping the bottle and aiming it up slightly he loosened off the cork until it shot off into the air and the champagne began to bubble and spill over his hands that he licked off “I mean, it is really what you make of it” he tipped the bottle up filling the glasses with the bubbling drink before setting the bottle down. “An island free from limitations, where anything you want to do or experience goes within reason of course. Nothing happens here without anyone’s initial and absolute consent, the only rule is everyone has fun and no one gets hurt.” Again, preferences dictating explaining why he and Faye were allowed to come along. “I’m also going to say now that yes, you’re probably going to see and maybe experience a few illegal contraband… But you’re not an auror, you’re here to have fun” he picked up the glass offering it to her with a grin “but they take every precaution here hm? So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Faye didn’t miss the way Fane flushed at Amanda’s words. Not usually one to get flustered, when it happened, it certainly drew Faye’s attention.She would definitely have to ask him about the last time he was here. He squeezed her a bit more tightly, and Faye could only smile. Her own small blush rose to her cheeks. Because it hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d been much more publicly affectionate since they left London. But then again, so had she. And even though she knew Fane didn’t like it, and pushed the limits of her work rules as much as he could - her desk could attest to that - Faye had her reasons. And Fane knew it.

Her job was dangerous, especially right now. The case they were pursuing - once they got back after this well-deserved vacation - was even more dangerous. As well as very public. Faye and Fane were both survivors of the war, of the Battle of Hogwarts that saw the end of Voldemort. It was a very close and very personal case, this possible rise of a would be Dark Lord. And Faye would be damned if she let that happen again. They’d lost entirely too much the first time through. She wasn’t going to lose anything else.

Which was why Faye had insisted - for the time being - that they keep a low profile as to the true nature of their personal relationship as far as work was concerned.

But here, they could forget about all that. Here they could be their true selves. Be as they were in private, but outside in the sunshine and the warmth. In the beauty of the water and the sand, surrounded by others but bothered by none unless they wished. Or so Fane said.

Faye watched him as he opened the bottle of champagne, grinning as the cork shot off into the distance and the fizzy alcohol poured out over his hand. The sun was warm on her back as she reached out and took the offered glass. “An event is it? What sort of event? And... “ She took a long sip of her drink, the bubbles tickling her nose. “I figured as much,” Faye said of the contraband, though it made her feel much better to know that there were safety measures in place. It also made her feel more comfortable in her decision to try things she never had before. Because Faye had promised to trust Fane no matter what. And this trip didn’t change that. They would likely not get this sort of chance again for a long while once they got back, so Faye was going to make the literal best of it. No limits. No rules. No expectations. No inhibitions.

She was willing to try anything, as long as Fane was there beside her.

“Well, good thing I’m no Auror right now. I’m just Faye. Your willing and ever malleable lover.” She tipped her glass against his with a small clink. “So, what’s first?” she grinned, downing the rest of her glass and holding it out for another.

Fane knew well enough the danger of her work, but just as she had told her boss he was tired. They were tired. Of this case invading every corner of their lives and this trip was an attempt to try and take back some corner of their lives for themselves or so it was what Fane hoped would come of this. He was already sinking into the enjoyment of just being able to touch her and kiss her without worrying about who might be watching because no one here cared. No one here had any real ulterior motivations beyond having a god damn good time and that, was something Fane was entirely here for.

Licking his hand clean he grinned at her happily, his eyes hidden behind the reflection of his shades not that she needed to see his eyes to be able to see how happy he was already. “The fun kind, a month of celebration of magic and music which means… every night and every day I can take you dancing, keep you wrapped up in my arms, spin you, kiss you dizzy hm?” setting the bottle down he shifted closer his arm naturally moving to wind around her waist once she took her drink. “Then we can find our way back here, or maybe we won’t-- maybe we’ll just fall asleep under the stars tangled together with just each other for warmth” he pressed a kiss to her temple then, eyes closing as he breathed her in and rested against her before drawing back. The fact she didn’t make a big deal about the things that would be around did bring about a quirk to his lips.

Because he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere.

“It’s true you are very malleable and not to mention flexible” he agreed grinning playfully at her as their glasses knocked lightly and he took a sip of the light beverage. “Well, what do you want to do? Get food? Explore? Go for a swim? All of the above? Or just relax here tonight?” they had time after all. A whole month of it.

“That sounds divine,” Faye smiled. “You might not get me to go home…” It wasn’t something she wanted to say too seriously to Fane, both because she didn’t really, truly 100% mean it (though she did seriously debate it at times), and because if she ever did mean it, he would whisk her away in a heartbeat and they would never look back. Or he wouldn’t. Because there were few things that could make Faye leave her job permanently. And until she decided to do so on her own - just like this holiday - Faye would never be able to settle. But once her mind was made up, like now, she was all in. “I try. Though you’re rather bendy yourself.” Faye hummed around her own drink. “I think after being on the plane and then the boat, I’d like to look around? Maybe go for a swim even. It’s been ages since I’ve been in water that didn’t smell like dead fish. Then maybe dinner here?” She gestured at the private veranda. “I’ll let you order for us, hm?”

They spent a bit more time chatting about what they were going to do, exchanging a few kisses and touches, and finishing off the bottle of champagne while they took a better look around their home for the next month. By the time they made it to the beach, the sun was touching the water. There were others out and about, but not many. The atmosphere was one of people either packing up from a day on the sand, or just coming out for the evening, much like Faye and Fane. They walked close together, the warm surf rushing gently up over Faye’s feet. Her sandals were in one hand, her other clasped loosely in Fane’s.

“So…” Faye asked, looking out over the water. “When was the last time you were here?”

Walking around the island brought a mixture of feelings to him and while the pleasant warmth of alcohol and encouraging touch of Faye’s fingers twined around his own certainly served to loosen his tongue and permitted a flow of conversation all while they wandered around a place he hadn’t been in such a long time. When he’d been a rather vastly different person the last time he was here. More inclined to darker delights and in search of absolute escapism. Whether that was drink, drugs, sex or a widely varied combination of them all he’d found them all here and for a time perhaps the only time he’d thought himself possibly capable of staying.

Unfortunately, the mind was a strange thing and as with most things he’d ultimately come to convince himself that he was undeserving of these things. That losing himself to the depths of pleasure would never wash away the sins and atrocities he had committed. The warmth that came earlier in the day had faded, leaving them alone with the shores and ocean that had come to be a welcome escape so often across the years. Not that he minded the assumption that came in some of the places he had visited that he preferred to be alone. Assumed to be a loner rather than asked. Not that he minded, the quiet lonely nights giving him time to reflect on why this was the consequence and aftermath of his life. Why he spent nights away from the one place, one person he might only have ever truly called home.

But now she was here with him, sharing in this secret place and Fane was glad to share it with her. He’d not bothered with shoes when they had left, walking barefoot and the tide sloshed around his ankles as they waded through the gentle swell of the surf. They had lapsed into a comfortable silence a while ago, only the rush of ocean and rustle of foliage sounding around them and Fane had lost himself to his thoughts. Though as Faye spoke he glanced aside at her. “Oh--” a slow rush of air left him and his shoulders lifted falling a moment later his eyes drifting down to the water frothing around his feet as he dragged them through the swell “a while ago now. I was gods, don’t know-- maybe twenty four?”

Faye hadn’t honestly thought it would be all that long ago. Of course, Fane didn’t speak all that much about his life before he’d come back to London. So there were still many things Faye didn’t know, even now. Though she was fairly certain if she asked he would tell her. Same with her. The big things he knew: her joining the Aurors, Roger, her accident and what followed, her Gram’s death, smaller things here and there. They were fairly well-rounded in what they knew of each other’s lives, though there was always something new to learn. And Faye would be content to spend her life doing just that: finding out everything there was to know about him.

“Twenty-four,” she repeated. “How long did you stay?” She was already an Auror at twenty-four. A new one, but fully-fledged nonetheless. Bells, whistles, badge. All of it. She idly wondered if he’d been alone on that last trip, though thinking back to what their host’s had said, it seemed as if he had been. Faye didn’t watch him as he thought over her question, knowing sometimes it was easier for him to answer if she wasn’t staring at him expectantly. Which she wasn’t. Expectant, that is. Anything he didn’t feel comfortable answering she would hardly ever push him to, unless it was needed. This wasn’t. This was curiosity on Faye’s part.

If Faye asked he would answer, it was more a matter that more often than not she didn’t and therefore most of the things Fane did or had gotten up to over the years had been left to dwell in the shadows. There also wasn’t much he’d done that he was all too proud of. More than once he’d ended up holed up high and entirely dosed up on some magical concoction or another until he’d finally come out of the state and been forced to come crashing back down to reality. A reality he had created and morphed for himself, one of carefully designed and implemented isolation that regardless of how many people graced his bed or were allowed the opportunity to use his body he still remained fundamentally disassociated and unattached. Because ultimately for all the distraction and attempts to convince himself that he was fine alone, or the times he finally succumbed to those dark impulses it was never enough to fill that chasm that had slowly been starting to fill in over the last couple of years.

“A few weeks maybe,” maybe more maybe less, if Fane was honest it was just another thing he didn’t entirely remember. “I can’t remember really” he didn’t remember much of any of those years most of them lost to drug induced hazes. But Faye had asked, and he would tell her what he could. Raising a hand to tug lightly at his ear never entirely comfortable with having to admit things about the state he’d really been in whether that be emotionally or mentally over the years “I never really stayed anywhere for long,” which was something she probably knew from the times she’d been trying to chase him around the globe. The trail of this so called dark wizard that had evaded and befuddled the Ministry at every turn which lent itself prove to his inability to stay anywhere for long both due to his flighty nature and the fact being caught meant facing the possible persecution that came with being put on trial for things he was only partly guilty of. Things he’d spent all that time punishing himself for, he didn’t need other people to do that for him “but-- it was fine” he didn’t say this for any other reason than being honest. He’d managed by himself, he was still here even if there were times of what felt like almost insurmountable sadness wasn’t he? So of course it was fine in his opinion, it always would be and now? This was so much more than he ever thought to expect or thought he would ever possibly be deserving of.

Faye knew there were dark things in Fane’s past, things she couldn’t even fathom. She’d seen him at his lowest, the night he’d confessed about the circumstances surrounding his brother’s death, and Faye - angry and shocked and confused - had left. She’d come back a few hours later to find Fane barely breathing, lying in a pool of his own blood. That had been their worst, and it had scared Faye to death. Yet she knew there were even worse things floating in the ether of the last fifteen odd years. That didn’t mean she would shy away from them when their ghosts seeped through the cracks into the here and now. They would work though it together, like they always did.

Faye’s own attempts at escapism hadn’t been as in-depth and varied. She still had her job to think about, her way of supporting herself. So she chose to seek out catharsis through physical means. By letting men hurt her. Muggle men. She’d seek them out in pubs and shady dives, nightclubs and the occasional street party, leaving no doubt what she wanted. And more often than not she’d end up in a dirty bathroom, or an alleyway, or even bent over the boot of a car while some roughneck took his frustrations out on her. She’d often end up bruised and sore, sometimes bloody, but the men never remembered a thing. And they never hurt her more than she allowed.

And then there had been Roger. Another failed attempt to make herself forget. To move on. That had ended badly.

But they were here now, and while none of those things would ever go away, it was a bit easier to handle when they weren’t alone. Faye hummed at his answer, thinking that it wasn’t fine, but it was so long ago was it really worth arguing over? Probably not. “I thought about leaving a few times. Going somewhere else. Starting over in America. Or Europe. Never could though. Guess it’s a good thing. You might not have found me otherwise, hm?”

His fingers toyed idly with her own as they walked along the beach, a gently twining or squeeze here and there indicating that he was feeling a little fidgety. Something that wasn’t all that uncommon when speaking about those years between his departure and subsequent return. It wasn’t quite fear anymore, though there were things he had yet to admit openly, but it was a certain shyness regarding what she might think. She’d stayed through most of the horrors and it eased him a little when others rose their heads, his trust in her absolute even if he still sometimes felt a little flighty. Not to mention the lingering shame and guilt over some of the habits and tendencies he’d developed to cope which in his mind weren’t so bad. Not really. Not when he had them under control but by an outside perspective might’ve been considered questionable and even life-threatening.

His thumb rubbed her hand with his thumb as their hands swung between them both, the walk slow and leisurely as his eyes trailed the cresting waves on the shore thinking of what it would be for Faye to go elsewhere. Of Faye to leave and them never to see each other save for that last fateful glimpse across a battlefield, before his mother had tried to kill her and driven him to lock into a gruelling and furious duel. “Where did you think about going?” he asked instead, though there was no helping the way his heart beat just a fraction faster at the thought of her leaving for any reason. In the last couple of years he’d grown to be… rather possessive of her, even if he couldn’t openly display that but it came from the dependency he had on her to help him through the rough patches when they hit because he wasn’t sure whether he was capable of dealing with them alone anymore.

Not after knowing what it was to have help, to have someone he trusted so absolutely to be there when he needed them. But as they walked a little longer a thought came to him, and he couldn’t help but ask it both for his own curiosity and peace of mind. “Would you ever leave it? The Division?” There were a thousand questions behind that. What would it truly take for her to leave the job she’d had and worked so hard for? Would she do it for him? Would she ever consider a life of just living in peace; the simple normalcy that came with a simple existence beyond the horror and grotesque things the criminals they hunted left in their wake? Had she ever considered it? Would she consider it? Perhaps it was another reason for this trip, to see what life might be like without the lingering worry or threat of harm befalling them. Would a month translate to what a lifetime might be like? He wasn’t sure, but a part of him was truly curious to find out the answer.

Faye shrugged. “New York maybe. Los Angeles. Seattle. Miami. Someplace big and distracting.” Because London was busy enough, and it wasn’t like she was ever just sitting at her desk twiddling her thumbs. But everything reminded her of a life she’d lost. A life she would never have. Because the only person she wanted it with was dead. Or so she’d thought. After her accident, she’d almost transferred out. She couldn’t stand the looks she got when she’d finally come back from leave. The whispers of what had happened. Or hadn’t. Depending on which rumor mill you followed.

Faye just wanted to do her job and be left alone.

Though you fire enough hexes and razor-edged words at people and they eventually learn to shut up. When you’re around at least. But that was then. Now, Faye was neck-deep in this investigation. Probably further than she needed to be. Further than was healthy. This vacation was a much needed break. Even she couldn’t deny that. Because all thoughts of leaving had gone out the window once Fane had come home. She wasn’t going anywhere, not now. The very thought of leaving Fane behind made her uneasy. And not just because she loved him, and never wanted to be without him. But also because of the thought of what might happen to him if she did. Of what might happen to her. None of it was good. And she had already settled it in her mind that nothing could ever drag her away from him. Not again.

So when he asked his question, about her leaving the division, Faye frowned slightly. After a moment, she nodded slightly. “I mean… sure. Maybe. If I had to, or if… if there was something that was more important. Something that… that without it, what’s the point of the job? Or anything really.” She shrugged one shoulder. “So sure. I’d never say never. I also wouldn’t say right now, but… I can’t do this forever, right?”

Truth was, Faye would go. If Fane came to her, and with all sincerity and seriousness asked her to leave, to come away with him and start a new life… Faye wasn’t sure she could say no. She wasn’t sure she could look at him, at the one person she loved more than anything else in this life, and tell him she couldn’t come with him. Because a job that would replace her the day after she resigned.

He was her one true weakness, after all.

“I thought you didn’t like the big cities?” he pointed out curious what would drive her from her countryside retreat to somewhere far bigger and noisier by comparison. “What’d you do there? Set up shop and open a bar?” but Fane could understand the appeal of larger bigger than life places. Places where you could lose yourself in the crowds and just become another anonymous passing face. A place to vanish. Where you wouldn’t be recognised when walking down the street for one thing or another. He’d experienced it more often than not over the years and couldn’t say it was a bad feeling, to just feel normal for once in his life because by now Fane was tired of feeling anything but normal. If working at the Ministry had shown one thing it was that people would never forget who he was, what he was and the rumour mill would always continue to churn about just what he really intended to do at the Ministry.

He hadn’t meant to open a deep feelings discussion, but he would’ve been lying to say it wasn’t a can of worms he wasn’t curious to know about. To know whether, for the right reason or right person she might be persuaded to leave those fair isles and seek out something new. Something that would ultimately be safer and better for them both, because despite the happiness being with Faye and working with her brought about it didn’t stop him wondering about asking her to leave. To just pick up everything and move their lives somewhere better and start anew. Together.

Was it really such a terrible idea?

But in this Fane was stuck with one rather pressing matter, Faye’s wish to see justice done. To catch this killer and see them brought to accountability for the things they had done and while he understood the desire, it didn’t ultimately change the risk that also came with it. That being said there really was no one better suited for this life than Faye, but it didn’t mean he would ever stop being concerned about the danger she constantly put herself in. He had lost her once, and if something happened to her and he couldn’t stop it… Fane already knew that it would destroy him. “I don’t mean having to, I mean-- would you ever choose to? Y’know willingly without any outside influence, no pressure just… Decide to leave it all and start again, somewhere new. No pretenses, no being called out to categorise a crime scene or hunt a murderer just-- Just live a life. An entirely normal life?”

“I don’t. But I knew it would distract me enough to keep my mind off things I wasn’t ready to think about.” It was true. Faye preferred the quiet countryside. Not so far away that she couldn’t easily apparate of even drive to town, but away from the bustle. She needed peace. She needed nights where you could see the stars. Hear the leaves rustle. Feel the breeze on your face and not smell ozone or garbage.

“I really didn’t think that far,” she said as he asked what she would’ve done in another place. “I guess deep down I know I’d never leave. It almost felt like… giving up. On myself. On you. On everything I’d worked so hard for. Though I don’t know. I think I would’ve liked to be a singer.” She grinned at him, remembering fondly all those nights they’d spent at bars around London. Him playing piano and her singing until last call. They made a good duo, knowing each other so well. Fane always chose songs that were good for Faye’s voice, and Faye always sang along with nearly everything, unless he tried to make her think fast and play something off the wall.

Faye didn’t mind the questions. They talked often, sometimes for hours about anything and nothing. So she relished - even though it frightened her a bit - the chance to talk about something on a slightly deeper level. This trip was about reconnecting, wasn’t it? What better way than to be open and honest in everything?

So when he reformed the question, Faye took her time to seriously think about it. Even if she was doing her best to keep work out of their lives right now.

“At the moment? With this thing unclosed? No. I wouldn’t choose to. Not on my own,” she amended. There were things - circumstances and events, and Fane himself - that could make her choose to leave it all behind. “I’ve got to finish this, Fane. After that…” Faye looked at him, really looked at him, for a long moment. The way the setting sun made him look. His dark features highlighted against the warm light. “I could see myself choosing to leave. For the right reasons.” The way her eyes moved over his face would speak plenty. ‘Reasons’ being him. He was the only reason she’d ever choose to go. And she wanted him to know that.

Faye squeezed his hand, pulling him closer and wrapping her arm through his. He could ask more questions if he liked, but at the moment, after such an admission, Faye needed a moment.

“So… what’s after dinner tonight?” she asked. “If you’re up for showing me, I think I’d like to do something I’ve never done…” Faye tipped an eyebrow at him. “Something that… feels good? Whatever you like…”

Things she wasn’t ready to think about, the passing remark struck a chord and his eyes drifted back to the water that lay ahead on their slow meander back to the beachfront villa. “Well, I guess if there’s anything that’s true you’re not one to give up without a fight” he tried to inject a certain amount of humour into the remark but even for him it felt a little flat. The overbearing thought of what could have been weighing down the lightheartedness. Which certainly hadn’t been the point of this trip, so as she brought up something less dour he latched on eagerly “ooh, you know they have pianos here… We should do that one night, you and me… Just get hammered ‘n’ just have some good old fashioned fun…” because there was no one he wanted to spend time with more than he did with her. “Do you still sing?” he asked looking aside at her then it was a passing remark, Fane couldn’t actually remember hearing her sing. At least not recently, and it caused him to wonder if she had stopped entirely.

Honesty was one thing, and Fane did appreciate it but for the most part he wasn’t sure how to take her answer. The immediate no, at least with this ongoing case caused him to drag his foot a little in the sand not wanting to be petulant but also not quite feeling capable of truly being--- well, happy with the answer. But just as he knew it ultimately all boiled down to seeing justice served and it wasn’t as if she said never. Just a moment more of, not right now. So even as she looked at him, practically and Fane knew she was doing it deliberately, imploring him to take notice which he did and he didn’t need to look at her to know the truth. But it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to go back, that he wanted to whisk her away to some life where they could start again together without ever having to deal with the darkness of their hometown again. So, he nodded, a slow and deliberate motion “yeah…” he didn’t want to admit to feeling a little hurt that not even he was enough to convince her to leave right now so instead he mustered a smile easily enough after a lifetime of learning how to pull a convincing look out of thin air “‘course that makes sense.”

Even if a part of him wondered, how much longer will this cast last?

So he let her jostle him, slipping her arm through his and Fane held her close, secure into his side as they approached the villa and by now the sun was vanishing behind the ocean casting the sky into a soft haze of orange, pinks and purples. But his melancholy was set aside as she asked what they could do after dinner, and a spark lit in his eyes not to mention the playful smile on his lips “well, that depends on what you want-- something relaxing? Or something more… provoking hm?”

“Not usually, no,” she grinned. “Not in my nature to give up. Not in yours either.” They walked along for a few more paces, but Faye frowned a bit as he commented on her singing. “Yeah… ‘course I do. Remember? You played for me just the other night before we left?” She was a bit fuzzy from jetlag, so she brushed the lapse of memory off as simply that. Or else he was messing with her. Fane knew she sang. They’d done it dozens of times. So Faye didn’t think anything else of it after she said that yes, she’d like that very much.

For her part, the fact that Faye had said she wouldn’t choose to leave on her own while the case wasn’t finished was true. Especially considering her rather prominent role in it. She wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean that if Fane put up enough of a fight, and had a good enough reason, that she wouldn’t consider it. Even do it. Just… well, not on her own. Though she could tell he wasn’t all the pleased with the answer. Honestly she hadn’t expected him to be. But she wouldn’t lie. He had asked her a direct question, so she had answered. Even if her answer could have been slightly misconstrued. Which she wasn’t entirely certain if it was, or if it was simply the fact that her answer hadn’t been yes.

But she didn’t want that to cloud over anything. They’d been having an amazing time so far, and Faye couldn’t be happier than she was right now. This trip was good. For them both. For Fane because he deserved it a thousand times over for putting up with her and helping her and being amazingly patient. All while trying to have a life around it. A life with her. And for Faye, that’s what this trip was about. Seeing how it could be. Seeing how a normal life (though this place was hardly normal by her standards, though that wasn’t the point) with the man she loved could be. Seeing how much she loved just… being a couple. Being in love. Being young. It could go a long way to convincing her to find a new career path. But she also didn’t want to think of this as some sort of… exercise. Something that either would or wouldn’t make her choose a new path.

It wasn’t that at all. It was simply a deserved break. Another part of life. Their life. Together. And Faye planned to take full advantage of it. She wouldn’t speak a word about work again. Kissing his arm after he murmured that it made sense, Faye hummed thoughtfully. “Provoking sounds like a good time, hm?”

They made their way back to the villa, Faye leaving Fane to order their dinner while she went to freshen up. She changed her dress, slipping into a different one that wasn’t mussed from the plane and boat ride, and combed her hair out with her fingers. She didn’t bother with shoes, since even if they left the house it was mostly sand, soft grass, or walkways charmed for walking comfort. She picked two bottles of wine and brought them to chill in the ice bucket already waiting on the veranda dining area, and moved to sit on the luxurious patio furniture that was nicer than what was in her house. She lit a cigarette, offering him one if he wanted. “So… what’s for dinner? Or after?”

With dinner for tonight left entirely up to him Fane had considered the extensive menu left in the apartment, naturally going with the one thing he always fancied eating. That being prawns in a garlic butter for a starter along with pao de quejo; fluffy cheesy balls of bread typically sourced in Brazil, followed up by a large platter of seafood including lobster, crab, fish and scallops served up with pasta and salad. Thanks to the use of magic, and a well-equipped staff it wasn’t long before Fane was assured their food would arrive. Alongside this, came the request for some--- certain other things to also be delivered later on. Thanking the staff for their aid and discretion Fane set the phone done, and just as Faye had opted headed to grab a quick shower.

Changing into a set of slightly nicer clothes and choosing to leave his hair wet Fane finally headed out onto the veranda where Faye was waiting. Considering the night had yet to cool and the ocean breeze blowing in off the open ocean his hair was stirred into slight wavy curls as he stopped by her seat, his fingers brushed her shoulder more as a way to let her know he was here considering he hadn’t said anything. Though as she offered him the cigarette he plucked it neatly from her fingers raising it to his mouth for a slow drag, the filter glowing as he inhaled the smoke filling his lungs and then exhaling it slowly. “They have freshly sourced seafood here, some of the best-- though they’ll cook anything you fancy so long as you ask but I thought shellfish would be nice hm? As for after dinner, well, why ruin the surprise?”

Letting her take the cigarette back after another puff he sought out the wine bottle, cracking it open and pouring them both a large glass. Picking his own he swirled it idly, moving to put some background music on the stereo system coming to sit down in the chair opposite her stretching his legs out languidly thinking on how much nicer this would’ve been ten or twelve years ago. They weren’t old, he knew, barely touching thirty-four but he couldn’t help but feel like there was so much of life that had been wasted. It was his fault, but Fane knew dwelling on such thoughts was perilous so after a sip of his drink he looked over at her, illuminated in the soft light from a magical fire-pit that had stirred to life as the night began to creep in. “So, what do you think of it so far?” he asked a small smile gracing his lips as he settled back into the chair comfortably.

Perhaps tomorrow night Faye would look over what was available for dinner and try her hand at ordering. She’d learned a fair bit about the art of food in her time with Fane, and thought herself a decent hand at ordering items that went well together. But she still wasn’t as well-versed as Fane. So tonight she left it entirely up to him, both food and other things, more content than she’d been in a long time to do so. And truth be told, there was a strange sort of appeal whenever she watched Fane doing something he was good at. Perhaps it was pride. Or affection. Or arousal. Or all of the above. Either way, Faye always felt a familiar tightness in her chest. And it felt good.

She looked up at the sound of his footsteps. The brush of his hands along her shoulders had her letting out a low sigh of contentment. Her eyes ran over him as she passed the cigarette, admiring and commenting on his attire. He looked… well, Faye thought he looked good enough to eat. And she wasn’t shy about letting him know it. Though for now, she was content to leave him in his clothes. Because this was nice. “Shellfish is perfect. Does the wine suit?” she asked as she took up her own. Another thing he knew more about was wine. But she was learning. It tasted amazing, though she had no doubt everything here was top shelf. “I love a good surprise,” she grinned around the glass.

Faye felt the same way from time to time. That so much of their life had been wasted. Wasted in not being together. In reality, being magical, they had another century of life. And Faye planned to make the most of it. What that meant, she wasn’t quite sure yet. Other than it meant spending her life with the man across from her. She looked around at the beautiful villa, the firelight, the water, and then back at him. “I love it,” she said quietly, reaching out to rub his calf with her foot. “How about you? Are you happy?”

“It’ll match, and if not we’ll just have to drink this and open another one hm?” it wasn’t hard for them both to get entirely lost in a bottle of wine (or several) before a night was through. Though usually wine between the two of them indicated a more amorous mood between the pair of them. If the liquor was harder, something more like whiskey or bourbon it indicated that the night was likely going to take a darker and more twisted turn. Not that either of them truly minded such things, more often than not needing those moments to reconnect and re-establish the balance between them both. Wine would suit for now, there was no doubt that throughout the other evenings they were out on the island there would be other drinks available and Fane would be loathe to miss the opportunity for a body shot or two. So after the smoke, he gazed at her contently “you know,” he commented thoughtfully around the rim of his glass “I’m going to take you dancing tomorrow and we’re going to get hammered and just-- have the most amazing time… Maybe we’ll play a game while we’re at it.”

His canines flashed at her, a smirk gracing his features and amusement glimmering in his eyes. Who could resist? Especially when it stood to reason he could also flaunt his gorgeous girlfriend off at the same time and maybe even provoke a few interested parties in a bit more--- well, fun.

The pressure of her foot grazing his calf might’ve caused him to shift, if he hadn’t know or at least got an idea of the game she was playing. Instead, Fane let his legs indolently spread into a comfortably open position. “How could I be anything but happy when I’m here with you?” And it wasn’t long after that the table transformed, magic stirring the atmosphere around them as their dinner arrived served up on tantalising silver platters and more than enough to satisfy an appetite and Fane more than happily tucked in. Eating his fill of the sumptuous starter before moving on to the main course. If there was one thing that was true it was he loved food, and could more than happily pack away a large amount in next to no time. And by the time he was done, Fane sat back licking off his fingers, “God I love food.”

“Sounds good to me,” Faye nodded, lifting her glass in agreement. This was only their first night of many, as Fane thought. Faye was content to let tonight play out as it would, with wine and food and whatever else Fane had ordered for later. Part of her was a bit nervous, never having ventured too far down the rabbit hole. But the other part was excited to try something new. Especially because she trusted Fane implicitly. He would make sure it was safe, though she also remembered the island had failsafes built in as well. Though just because it was highly unlikely something would kill you, that didn’t mean you’d like how it made you feel or what it did. But Faye was open to anything, just like she’d said.

And there was plenty of bourbon and whiskey back at the villa’s bar for another night. She swirled what remained of her wind in her glass, a smile on her face as he mentioned dancing. “I’d like that. What kind of dancing though? I haven’t waltzed since Hogwart’s, just so you know.” Faye grinned. It was highly doubtful that Fane meant any sort of classical dancing. But whatever he had in mind, she would adapt to. She always did. “What sort of game? Like a wager?” Faye sat forward. “You know I like a good bet now and then.”

Faye had already notice a few wandering eyes moving over them. She didn’t mind. It was a heady sensation, walking around a place like this, with all it’s beauty and glamour in both the island itself and the people staying here, and knowing you were drawing someone’s attention. It was something Faye and Fane hardly ever got the opportunity to enjoy. What with life back in London being what it was. But here… here, no one knew them, and they could be themselves. As hedonistic and playful and outrageously decadent as they wanted.

Her eyes wandered over him as he relaxed under her touch. Finally settling on his face, her gaze softened. “Me too.” She really was happier than she’d ever been. And she hoped it showed.

Dinner arrived then, and Faye was a bit taken with how much food there was, but funnily enough, she was able to eat more than she thought. It was all amazing, and by the time they were done the table and it’s contents were well and truly done for. Faye honestly didn’t know where Fane put it all. With his tall lean frame. Faye had to keep herself fit or everything would go straight to her hips and her boobs.

She laughed low in her throat as she sucked a bit of butter of her thumb. “I’d hardly noticed. That was… amazing. If all the food is this good... “ Faye shook her head. “I’m going to have to run three miles every day not to gain twenty pounds while we’re here.”

“I mean, we could waltz but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind considering it’s more of a party--- well,” his grin was lopsided “let’s just say it’ll leave plenty of time for me to get you all hot and bothered.” But talk turned to other things and his grin grew a bit more devious, “well, how’d you feel about the idea of some other people joining us for a night? Whoever brings back the prettiest person-- well, how about they get control and whatever it is they want for the night?” Fane knew well enough there were more than enough people on the island that they would likely fit the criteria so he wasn’t too worried about that but he also was curious to see whether it was something she might enjoy.

With dinner done, more wine vanishing in the process between the two of them Fane grinned and sat back stretching himself out for a moment. His bare feet crossed and he rolled his head to one side as he looked at her as she commented about gaining weight whilst they were here. “Seafood isn’t all that bad, and if you want to eat healthier some nights we can do that” they also had plenty of fruits on the island which meant breakfast and lunch didn’t have to be cop-outs either. There were ways of staying healthy on holiday, but it didn’t hurt to indulge sometimes “does that mean I’m going to have to start running?” he pulled a face, not quite petulant but it was all in jest if it meant time with her he wouldn’t complain (too much).

Licking his lips he sighed contently, though there was a playful gleam in his eyes “but you know, there are plenty of other fun activities that burn calories y’know…. Get all wet, have fun whilst you’re doing it...” he trailed off before tacking on “obviously I’m talking about going for a swim.”

“Waltzing is a bit… stuffy for a place like this,” she agreed. Though the conversation quickly moved on to far more interesting topics. Though what Fane suggested wasn’t anything near what Faye thought it might be. Strangely though, she found herself entertaining the idea. Refilling her wine glass, she sat back, her foot still toying about his calves as she thought over the suggestion. “Could be fun,” she said finally, a small smirk growing on her face. “We’ve never tried that before.” It wasn’t something Faye had ever ruled out trying, but back home their options had been slightly limited due to several factors. But here… here the options were only limited by the number of people on the island.

“Oh, well… then you’ll definitely win. My flirting style is… non-existent. Other than you, of course. I don’t know if I could entice anyone back to our bed.” It was just a bit of a self-esteem issue on Faye’s part. She wasn’t blind. She’d seen the people that watched them as they’d been around the island today. Just as she and Fane found those that were attractive to them. “But… deal. One person each. Prettiest wins.” She downed what remained of her glass of wine, and poured another. “Though if I’m honest… I’m in a mood to not make any decisions tonight, if you catch my drift.” She grinned at him around her glass. “But fair’s fair, right?”

“I’d never dream of making you run with me. We’ll just go with it, hm? I’m sure we’ll get up to enough to keep us both trim and fit over the next couple of weeks, hm?” As the remains of dinner vanished back to where it came from, Faye stood. “We can swim if you like… maybe do some prospecting? See who’s interested?” She moved past him, dragging her hand along his shoulders. “My money’s on the boys…” Faye had caught several men paying attention to Fane as they’d walked along the beach earlier. A couple of them were a few years younger, and didn’t seem to have much experience in keeping their gaze low-key. Though that wasn’t a bad thing. Faye could enjoy enthusiasm. As could Fane. It might even be fun, finding someone so eager and making them wait. In a place like this, she doubted there was a lack of them.

They would just have to see what happened.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Downton Court Hotel pt. 7

How to tell that I’m stuck on my longer NANO pieces and want to get on to the scene in this thing that I’ve had in my head for months!

I spam Tumblr with first drafts! MWAHAHAH!

The second half of the reception and a little wrap up with the Bateses ‘cause it’s really not fair to just show Thomas’s PoV where they’re concerned. It’s a bit....biased.

That said, this is still dedicated to everyone who would have more fun in their lives if people would spend a bit less time trying to force them to have fun.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Phyllis Baxter, Joseph Molesley, Tom Branson, Sybbie Branson, Sybil Branson, Thomas Barrow, Anna Bates, John Bates, Gwen Dawson

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings

Warnings: No one at the reception has read through their entire copy of ‘Care and feeding of Thomas Barrow’. Some of them haven’t even read the first page.

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/184461799894/downton-court-hotel-pt-6

"Alright, everyone! Mrs. Molesley is going to throw the bouquet now! Single women, please gather in the center of the room!"

Thomas quietly gave thanks that he wasn't a single woman and helped himself to a third slice of cake. Then he thought about it, picked up a second slice, and headed for where the Bransons were seated, only to find the women of the family notably absent. "Where's Sybbie?" he asked, setting one of the plates down on the table.

"She wanted to do the bouquet toss," her father informed him, eyeing the frosted confection at the seat next to him. "And she doesn't need a second piece of cake."

"Of course she does," Thomas informed him primly. "Without that, she might get to sleep on time tonight. Can't have that."

"Given that it's a school day tomorrow, yes, we can." Glaring at him, Mr. Branson took the cake and started eating it himself.

Thomas watched him for a second, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I'm telling her you ate her piece."  He turned back to his own seat and managed to get himself settled in just as Phyllis stood up, hand on her husband's shoulder, on one of the rickety folding chairs that his mother had always said you shouldn't stand on. "Shouldn't they do that from the stairs? Or a table at least?"

"The stairs aren't in a good position to see," Anna informed him, watching the proceedings as if the fate of the world were hanging in the balance. "And the tables are too tall. This will be fine as long as Mr. Molesley is there for her to steady herself on."

Still unconvinced, but deciding that it was the newlyweds' honeymoon on the line, not his, he turned most of his attention to his cake. It really was amazingly good cake. He'd have to find out where Phyllis had ordered it and get himself one for his next birthday or something, even if it did mean eating it all himself.

"Alright everyone," Phyllis called, standing as straight as she could without toppling. "One, two, three!"

The little bundle of lilies and baby's breath went sailing over her shoulder, into the small knot of waiting hands. Thomas had to admit he felt a pang of sympathy as it went straight past Sybbie's outstretched fingers, even with her mother holding her up so she'd stand a chance. Not that any of the grown women, who he had no doubt were superstitious enough to believe such things, wanted to wait for her to grow up to get married, he was sure, but her pout of disappointment was adorable. In the end it was Gwen who managed to snatch it up, just as it started its downward arc to the floor.

He winced as Anna cried happily in his ear and the room erupted in applause. Great. He was probably going to hear about that for the rest of the year, or at least every time there was some good looking guest at the hotel who smiled in the red-head's general direction. If nothing else, so many flashes went off, you'd have thought the happy couple had kissed again.

"And now the men!" Mr. Molelsey announced, helping his wife down from her precarious perch.

Thomas responded by shoving another forkful of cake in his mouth, perfectly content to stay right where he was. He had better things to do with his time than make a fool of himself grabbing for a woman's underthings, even if a garter wasn't terribly intimate. He almost jabbed himself in the cheek when Anna shoved him in the shoulder.

"Go on, then, Thomas. Your turn!"

He stared at the maid as if she'd gone mad. "Me? I'm not getting up there, don't be ridiculous. It's just a stuffy old joke anyway."

"Oh come on, you're a single man. You have to."

Gwen came gliding happily over and sat back down next to Anna, then looked at him. "Thomas, why are you still sitting? Get up there."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," he glared at them. "I'm going to sit right here and eat my cake."

"You're forgetting, ladies," Mr. Bates calmly reminded the women from Thomas's other side. He'd been able to ignore the other man while the Molesleys were seated between them, but their chairs were vacant now. "The only thing Mr. Barrow hates worse than having fun is doing things that would make other people happy."

Thomas brindled. It was starting to look almost worth joining the knot of desperate singles in the middle of the room just to get away from his coworkers. "I have no problem making other people happy, if they're people who matter. You three don't matter."

"And neither does Mrs. Molesley, apparently," Anna glared right back at him.

"She doesn't need me to make an idiot of myself to be happy."

As Phyllis put her foot up on the chair and started to pull her skirt up, to whistles and cat calls that Thomas found frankly embarrassing, Gwen stood up and called, "Wait a moment, you're missing one!"

"Oi, leave off, will you?" It hadn't been funny to start with. Now it really wasn't funny. Suddenly calls of 'come on' and 'what are you waiting for' were coming at him from perfect strangers. Forget his cake, he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Oh, that's right. Come on then, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Molesley called him, his tone cheerful and unconcerned, as if he didn't realize that Thomas was very unintentionally not coming. Then again, the unobservant idiot probably didn't. "The cake will be there when this is over."

"Come on, Thomas," Phyllis finally called in that damn, sympathetic tone of hers that said she knew he didn't like it, but she wanted him to do it anyway. It was the tone that always left him feeling guilty if he said no. "You don't have to try to catch it, I promise."

Betrayal, that's what it was. A sensation he was overly familiar with and didn't need to be feeling now. It wasn't helped when Sybbie's voice rang out "Come on, Mr. Barrow!" over the crowd. His face murderous, he stood and stalked out from behind the table, joining the other bachelors, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't have to try catching it? Fine. He'd just stand here and everyone could be happy with that.

A couple of the other men edged away from him.

Mr. Molesley seemed confused for a moment, whether by the fact he'd actually done as told or his obvious dislike of the proceedings was hard to tell, then said brightly. "Right then, here we go!" He slowly pulled the garter off, to more cat calls and whistles and how Phyllis could put up with it he didn't know, and turned his back to the waiting men. Thomas looked away, only to find himself looking at Bates rolling his eyes, so he dropped his eyes to the shoes of the man in front of him. "One, two, three!"

He didn't bother watching. He was dimly aware of the men around him shuffling, jostling one another, and then something hit his chest and landed firmly on the shelf created by his crossed arms.

The camera flashes had all gone off before he uncrossed his arms and jumped backward, letting the garter fall to the ground. The room erupted in applause, but not enough to drown out the laughter and whistling. Thomas froze. He could feel the Bates's smirking at him, and probably Tom Branson too. He raised his eyes from the floor and found Molesley looking at him with that dopey smile and Phyllis, lower lip caught between her teeth, looking apologetic.

Well she should, shouldn't she? He'd never have gotten up there if it weren't for her.

Fighting for air he stalked from the floor, grabbed his coat off it's hook, and headed out the door. Forget the cake, he didn't need this. He was going home. So what if they all spent the rest of the party talking about him? They'd be doing that anyway. He'd be hearing about it for a month at work, at least, both to his face and behind his back when they all thought he couldn't hear them. All he'd wanted was food, cake, and a couple of dances. Had that been too much to ask?

It wasn't until the cool night air hit him in the face that he remembered that he'd promised Phyllis a dance. Bad as things were, they'd be even worse if he skipped out on that. If nothing else, Daisy would tell Mrs. Patmore, and then he'd never live it down. It would be 'you ruined the whole thing' until something came along to distract them, and then they'd attack him with it at random whenever they thought of it.

It wasn't fair. How was he the one with the reputation for being nasty and holding things over people's heads when Bates got to walk on water, no matter what he did wrong, and everyone had an elephant's memory for his own mistakes? And this wasn't even a mistake, really, it was just him not wanting to stand up in front of God and everyone and make a fool of himself. So what if the rest were doing it?

Deciding that at the very least he could have a good, long smoke, he fishes his lighter from his pocket, lit a fag, and took as deep a breath as he could manage. As the nicotine hit his system, he sat down and rested his head in the palm of one hand.

He hated them all so much. The Bates's and Gwen and the Molesleys....right then he thought he might even hate Sybbie, even though he knew she was just following along with the adults. She didn't understand.  

The click of dress shoes behind him made him groan. He hadn't even managed three drags yet. "Lord, can I at least have a smoke without you all coming out after me? I'll be right back in, I swear."

He was rather surprised when it was Sybil's voice that answered. "Take your time," she replied, coming to sit next to him on the step. He was surprised to realize that she had his plate in her hand. "Only Tom was threatening to eat your cake. I thought you might want that."

"Thanks." He tried smiling, but it didn't go very well. "Sorry for snapping."

"It's alright, I understand." She looked out into the darkness, folding her hands in her lap. "Mrs. Molesley's worried about you."

"Of course she is," Thomas sighed. "That's what I do, isn't it? Come to parties and ruin them for the good people of the world."

"Thomas..."

"If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be upset."

Sybil laid her hand on his arm. "If it weren't for everyone else, you won't be upset, and if you weren't upset, she wouldn't be. So there, it's not your fault."

"Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," she smiled and squeezed his arm. "Are you going to be alright?"

He chuckled, although it was admittedly forced. "'Course I will. I've survived worse than this, after all. Just let me get through a couple of fags and I'll go back in. After all, I owe the bride a dance."

"Could I have one too? You've always been a good dancer."

"If you like," he shrugged. "And your husband will give you up for a song."

"I'm sure he will, as long as he gets the first," she laughed. "You know he's not one for all of this formality."

Thomas snorted smoke out his nose. "Yeah, and I'm sure no one will get the entire room chanting for him to dance every set either." Silence hung between them for a moment as he took another breath of smoke and she watched him with worried eyes. He knew she wanted him to talk, but he also knew she wouldn't press it. "Why can't I just have a good time?" he finally demanded, looking out at the moon rising over the horizon. "Why do I always have to do what someone else wants me to, so that they can have a good time? I swear, even when I was a kid and we'd go to the fair, I always had to go on the rides the little kids wanted to go on, because they weren't old enough to go alone and Mum and Dad didn't want to. And if I kicked up a fuss, I was being selfish and ruining it for them, and never mind that Margaret was older, or how bloody embarrassing it was to go on the little kids rides when I was ten and the Mickey was five."

Sybil winced. "As the youngest, I can't say I ever had that problem. I remember Mary having it though, when we were younger. She didn't mind keeping an eye on me so much, I don't think, but Edith was only a year younger than she was, so she always kicked up a fuss." She shook her head. "Tonight, though, I think it's just that it's a wedding and that everyone wants weddings to be fun, but they also want them to be just so. There are expectations and everyone else is going to go along with them, and they don't see why anyone wouldn't." She reached up and smoothed a bit of his hair back in place where the wind had managed to work it loose. "And it's supposed to be the bride's day, so they're all on her side...or they try to be. I'm sure Mrs. Molesley wouldn't have cared if you hadn't done it. She was just trying compromise."

"I'm sure she was. She's like that, wants everyone to be happy even when it's not going to happen." Thomas sighed. It was ridiculous, feeling like Phyllis had betrayed him. It was Phyllis, after all. Still, he'd really like it if for once she'd just straight up stand up for him when it really mattered, rather than trying not to ruffle feathers. The closest she ever came was telling people to leave him alone when she thought they were getting too snarky.

"At least she cares."

"True." Looking down at his cake, Thomas picked up his fork and worked a mouthful lose. It was harder on the steps than it had been at the table. "And the cake is amazing, so there's that."

Sybil laughed a little. "It is, isn't it? And I'm sure Mrs. Molesley would let you have left overs. We certainly aren't going to eat it all, even if you are trying to get Sybbie to stay up until midnight." She gave him a knowing look.

"Of course I am," he replied, all innocence. "Really, what reason is there to bring children to wedding receptions if not to get them hyped up on sugar and then send them home with their parents?"

"Oh, just you wait until you have children," she threatened. "I'll remember this."

"Science has a long way to go before that happens."

"You can adopt."

"I'm single, Sybil," he rolled his eyes. "What are the odds of a single guy getting to adopt a kid? Social services want you to be married, I'm sure."

"And any man you marry is going to want children," she countered. "And don't tell me you're going to die single. I know that's not what you want."

He poked at his cake some more. "Yeah, well, I have a stellar track record of not getting what I want, so don't hold your breath."

She smiled at him and bumped him with her shoulder. "You'll find someone, eventually. And not because you caught the garter either. You'll find someone because under all of that armor, you're a wonderful, sweet, caring person. No one's life can go wrong all of the time, even if it feels like yours is trying."

"But see? I can't even mope when I want to!" he laughed, then gave her a smile. The temperature was dropping. "You should go in, it's getting cold out here. Let me finish my cake and a smoke or two and I'll be in for that dance. Promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Well, that was a long day," Anna sighed, turning the key in the ignition and sliding the car into reverse. "Fun, but long. I can cheerfully wait at least a year for my next wedding."

"You'll have to bring that up with Gwen," her husband smirked from the passenger's seat. He hadn't said anything, but Anna could tell his knee was bothering him. Now he sat with the seat pushed all the way back, looking out the window as if he weren't paying any attention to her, but she knew better. If nothing else, he was watching her reflection in the glass.

"That won't be necessary. She's not seeing anyone at the moment." She felt a little bit selfish being relieved, and she supposed at assuming she'd be part of the bridal party (although given that Gwen was practically an adopted sister she'd be a bit insulted not to at least be invited), but she really was beat. "And while I know she'd like a boyfriend, preferably sooner rather than later, she's not going to rush things, though. She's not the sort."

"Then you should get a bit of time to recover." There was a pause, then John asked, "Unless you'd like one for yourself."

Anna glanced at him confused. "Unless I'd like one what? A wedding?"

"A proper one, yes."

"John," she laughed, shaking her head. "I've already told you, I'm happy with what I've had. I'm happy with you. I don't need to put out a lot of money for a fancy dress and ceremony." She took one hand off the wheel long enough to reach out and touch his. "I'd rather save the money for when we have a family. The rest of it is nice, but it isn't worth the headache."

"Fair enough. Although I'm sure there would have been less headache if you'd been the Matron of Honour."

Anna grimaced. It wasn't that she'd had her heart set on the position or was jealous in any way. She didn't begrudge Mrs. Molesley her choice in any way. She just wished there had been someone better suited than Thomas. "I can't believe him. Of all the days to be a disruptive nuisance. And nearly missing the processional? Pitching that fit about catching the garter? It's just a silly little tradition."

"But this is Thomas. He always has to be the special one, so put upon by everyone else." John shook his head. "Really, it would probably kill him to try and think of someone else for once. It's no wonder his relationships never work out. I can't imagine anyone putting up with that, man or woman."

"I wish someone would take him, though," Anna sighed. "Might do him good. Get him to loosen up a bit. At least give the rest of us a break."

"I wouldn't count on it."

"But he's better when he's in a relationship," she insisted. "Remember how it was before he kissed Jimmy at that party? Back when he thought he might have a chance? Alright, he still wasn't Prince Charming, but he was easier to deal with."

"Almost a pity he didn't get sacked over that whole thing." John shook his head. "Would have saved us all a lot of headache. Looking back on it, I still can't believe I stood up for him."

"Neither can I," Anna agreed, pointedly. "But on the other hand, the Molesleys might not even have met. After all, Thomas is the one who got Phyllis the job. Would you really trade Joseph's happiness just to be rid of Thomas?"

"No. I would trade a lot of things, but not that."

There was a decided pause and Anna glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye. He was smiling at her. "What?"

"I wouldn't give up having my wife be the most beautiful woman at the wedding either."

"Second most beautiful!" Anna laughed. "I can't have been prettier than the bride, it's not allowed."

"Most beautiful," he insisted. "The rules give way for you."

"Stop it, you."

[castielsgal]

Supernatural S13 E5  Advanced Thanatology / The night Castiel returns 

Credit to Writer: @angelofthequeers  / Credit to Artist: myself / Castielsgal<3

The drive back to the bunker was…surreal. Dean’s eyes kept flicking to the rear-view mirror, watching Cas slump in his seat, eyes watching his dark surroundings fly past outside the window in a blur. It almost felt like he was making sure that Cas couldn’t just disappear again.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. Cas was here. He was safe and sound. Here in Baby, with Dean. But that didn’t mean that Cas couldn’t still vanish again. Rule of thumb with Dean’s life: anything normally impossible was certain to happen to him.

Man, he should’ve let Sam drive back. Right now, all he wanted to do was imprison Cas in his arms and kiss the breath out of him and make sure that he couldn’t go anywhere ever again.

And okay, the meeting between Cas and Jack was actually kinda sweet. Dean would deny it until his (permanent) dying day but seeing Jack hug Cas and finally knowing for sure that Jack saw Cas as his dad and not Lucifer…it warmed Dean’s cold, dead heart, especially when Jack admitted that he’d begged for Cas to return and had possibly been the reason for Cas’ resurrection. And the kid was so eager to please, even having found them a case out in Dodge that they were going to head out for in the morning.

Which was how Dean found himself in his bed, wide awake at ass o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep despite being physically and emotionally drained after that ghost house case, his confrontation with Billie, and Cas coming back from the dead. It was the Cas part that was especially getting to him. Cas was right here, in the bunker, and all Dean had to do was go and see for himself that Cas was really alive…but he just couldn’t. There was still a part of him that was terrified that this was all a dream and he’d wake up with the taste of regret on his tongue and a pit of despair in his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had this dream, though it’d never felt so goddamn realistic.

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered. If it was a dream, it was a freaking dream. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stumbled over to his door, and opened it…only to end up face-to-face with Cas, who had a fist raised to knock.

“Dean.” Cas lowered his fist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me so soon after –”

“Get the hell in here.” Dean reached out to grab Cas by the tie, then yanked the angel into the room and closed the door by shoving Cas into it, sealing their mouths together like he was dying of thirst and Cas was his oasis. Which, okay, was the sappiest fucking thing he’d ever thought, but it wasn’t actually that far from the truth regarding how he was feeling.

“I’m happy to see you too, Dean,” Cas said breathlessly when Dean retreated for air. Dean let out a funny laugh-cry and rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the sobs he was trying to contain because goddammit, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry. Even if his boyfriend slash love of his life had just come back from the dead.

“You died.” Dean slid his hands under Cas’ trench coat – Trench Coat 3.0, wasn’t it? Whichever cosmic being had sent Cas back had given him a trench coat eerily reminiscent of the first – and pushed it off his shoulders. “You fuckin’ died.” Off came the suit jacket. “Again.” Then the tie. “And I – I freaking prayed to Chuck. But he ignored me.”

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester was the praying type,” Cas said. But the joke died as soon as it crossed his lips.

“Shuddup.” Dean fumbled to undo Cas’ shirt buttons, resisting the urge to just rip Cas’ shirt open and tear it off him. “I never pray. But you – you’re different. I hate it. I hate what you do to me.” His breath hitched. “I fucking hate you, Cas.”

Cas reached out to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the skin. Dean fought back the choked sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you too, Dean.” There was so much damn tenderness and understanding and affection in Cas’ voice and shit, shit, Dean couldn’t take it, he needed to touch Cas right now, ground himself, reassure himself that Cas was here and alive, because if this was a dream or if someone was fucking with him, he wouldn’t be able to take it –

“Dean?” A hand grabbed his and squeezed, anchoring him against the flood of thoughts and fears and just everything that was threatening to overwhelm Dean and sweep him away. When Dean’s vision refocused, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes crinkled with concern and fixed right on him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck it. Dean ripped Cas’ shirt apart the rest of the way, causing buttons to scatter across his bedroom floor and Cas’ shirt to slither off, and then grabbed Cas by the hands and tugged him backwards towards the bed. Dean fell back on the mattress and pulled Cas on top of him.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice cracked. “I love you so goddamn much. And it terrifies me. You fucking terrify me, Cas. This – this power you got over me –”

“Is the exact same power you hold over me,” Cas said, brushing strands of sandy hair out of Dean’s eyes. How was the son of a bitch so damn calm about all this? “I’m just as scared as you. But I’m back, and I won’t let Lucifer take me from you again.”

“You left!” Dean let out a small sob and wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck to bury his face in the angel’s shoulder. “You left me, Cas!”

“But I came back,” Cas countered. “I always come back to you. I always come when you call, Dean.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through Dean’s body. “I know what will help.”

Dean untangled himself from Cas so he could ask what exactly was happening. But as soon as he caught sight of the look of concentration on Cas’ face, he knew. “Cas, no, you don’t gotta bring your wings out, I know you hate how they look –”

“Hush.” There was a flash of lightning and the shadow of Cas’ wings appeared on the wall behind him. But – holy shit. They weren’t torn and bedraggled and broken like before. They were…

“Your wings – they’re – but how?” Dean spluttered as the shadows solidified. Holy shit. No longer were Cas’ feathers limp and a dull, lifeless black. No, they were healthy and shiny and glossy, silky smooth when they brushed against Dean’s arms and sent an electric shock arcing across his skin. “Oh my god –”

“God had nothing to do with this,” Cas said, watching Dean’s reaction with a small smile. “It was Jack. Back when we were confronting Dagon and he used me as a conduit to channel his power and destroy her. He…well, he restored my wings. I was just as surprised as you are.”

“Why didn’t you just flap around, then?” Dean said in a hushed voice, running his fingers along the feathers and causing Cas to shiver violently, feathers fluffing up. “You coulda come back here when you got back.”

“I still can’t fly. Not until Metatron’s spell is reversed, which won’t ever happen unless God decides to intervene. My wings may not have been burnt off, but I still don’t have my full grace back. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back from the spell he used to close the Gates of Heaven. But…it’s nice to have my wings restored, even if they’re mostly for display.”

Mouth still hanging open, Dean continued to stroke and pet Cas’ wings, nearly unable to comprehend the enormous difference between Cas’ old, broken wings and…these. He really did have Cas back. The reminder that Cas had died was a bucket of icy water over his head, and he made a small sound and sat up to frantically shrug his plaid shirt off. He needed to be naked, preferably yesterday. Even if they didn’t do anything, he had to feel Cas’ bare skin against his own, even if just to ground him in the fact that Cas was here and alive.

Five minutes later, Dean’s clothes had been deposited on the floor in a heap, Cas’ shoes and socks joining them, and they were making out frantically. Cas hadn’t even bothered to remove his slacks, so the material rubbed against Dean’s hardening dick every time Cas shifted, and the sensation plus the knowledge that Cas was back, he was here, not going anywhere were so utterly maddening that Dean was already struggling not to blow his load. The way Dean was slumped against the headboard, legs loosely framing Cas’ hips as they kissed and groaned and whimpered, was just further proof of how damn out of his mind Dean was now that he had Cas back.

Cas was back. Cas was back. Back, back, back, back.

His brain replayed that on a constant loop as he tightened the arm around Cas’ neck and gripped a fistful of Cas’ dark hair with his other hand, using the slick slide of skin and fluffy, ticklish locks to ground himself in the moment so he wouldn’t have to remember how it had felt when Cas had been stabbed, and he’d been dead, a corpse on the ground, and Dean had had to burn him –

“Dean,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips when Dean made a small, strangled sound. “I’m here, Dean. Focus on now.” As though proving this point, he brushed his wings down Dean’s legs, the feathers zinging whatever inch of skin they touched, and Dean let out a tiny little sob.

“You were dead,” he said thickly against Cas’ mouth. “I lost you again.”

“And I’m here now,” Cas said. The sight of him on his knees between Dean’s legs, hands braced against the wall behind them, biceps bulging, made Dean tighten his grip on Cas’ hair and drag him back in for another sloppy, furious kiss.

ce cracked. “Want you, Cas. Need you.”

“You have me.” Cas kissed Dean on the lips, long and sweet. “You always have me.”

They rearranged themselves, Cas reclining against the pillows and Dean straddling his lap. Cas’ slacks had disappeared at some point during this process – probably zapped away by angel mojo, though Dean didn’t really care to spend a brain cell wondering about that. Not when Cas was wrapping him in arms and wings and kissing the oxygen out of his lungs, circling his hole with one finger and loosening it with warm bursts of grace. Dean shuddered violently at the sensation. There was something…both so pure and so dirty about Cas using his heavenly power to quicker prepare Dean for this kind of physical, earthly, completely unheavenly thing. Well. Not that it didn’t feel heavenly.

Dean didn’t last long once Cas was inside him. At any other time, he might have been embarrassed; maybe even cracked a self-deprecating joke about stamina and being a teenager again, while Cas just regarded him with amusement and no judgement whatsoever. But this wasn’t one of those times. Dean was already on a razor thin edge when Cas entered him, and Cas wasn’t in the mood for fast and dirty; instead, he thrust up slow and deep, hands gripping Dean’s hips, wings cocooning Dean in a silky black embrace.

“Cas –” Dean cupped Cas’ face, drawing him in for a frantic kiss, thighs trembling with how close he was as he met Cas halfway in thrusts. Cas found his prostate on the next thrust, sending heat jolting from Dean’s gut, and it took one – two – three more hits before the warmth in Dean’s belly overflowed and coursed through his body, while he buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and spasmed and grabbed handfuls of the angel’s hair.

He was oversensitive as he floated back down from his high, come smeared between his and Cas’ bellies, but he just couldn’t ask Cas to pull out. He had Cas back. Cas was inside him, and if Cas was inside him then he couldn’t be gone. Simple logic.

With a grunt and a gasped, “Dean!” Cas came, filling Dean with wet warmth as he gripped Dean’s hips so tight that he was certain to leave bruises. But that was good. Bruises were physical. Physical was grounding. And grounding meant that Dean could actually be happy. When Cas died, he’d taken Dean’s soul right with him, and he’d just given it back and fuck, Dean was definitely going to cry any second now, why was he so goddamn sappy?

Dean grimaced when Cas pulled out, both mournful of the loss and a little squicked out at the sticky stuff leaking down his thighs. But Cas easily cleaned them up, then flopped back on the bed and tucked Dean into his side, wings forming a protective blanket around him. Dean shivered and nuzzled into Cas’ neck as the feathers idly grazed across his skin, leaving tiny sparks of grace as they went. The grace in Cas’ wings reacting with the tiny bit of grace in Dean’s body from when Cas had raised him from perdition and rebuilt him. At least, that was according to Cas, and Dean didn’t even care if Cas was lying because that was sweetest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

“‘M glad you’re back,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ sweaty skin. Yeah right, didn’t sweat under any circumstances, his ass. More like didn’t sweat for anyone except Dean.

“I’m glad to be back,” Cas said, carding a hand through Dean’s hair. “Contrary to popular belief, being dead is really boring.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He snorted, then snickered, then chuckled, then burst into full-blown hysterics, burying his face in Cas’ shoulder to muffle his laughter. Cas’ chest rumbled underneath him as the angel laughed too, but Dean was so far gone it wasn’t funny. Blame the orgasm endorphins. Dean was always an emotional son of a bitch after sex.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again,” Dean said when his laughter had died down to the occasional hiccup. “Christ, Cas, I can’t live without you. I don’t mean that in some ‘I’m gonna bump myself off way’ – I literally feel dead when you’re gone. I wanted to die, but Billie wouldn’t let me.”

“Billie?”

“Oh yeah, she’s the new Death. I’ll tell ya later. You’re – shit, man, you’re so goddamn important to me and I – I freakin’ love you.”

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean, hidden in the curtain of feathers shielding them from the world. “I love you too.”

“You leave me again and I’m gonna handcuff you to me. You capiche? You’re sendin’ me into an early grave.”

“I capiche. And my apologies. I didn’t think you needed any help with dying early.”

Dean snorted loudly. “Smartass. Now shut the fuck up and lemme sleep. We still got that case tomorrow. And don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Of course not,” Cas said, now running feathers and fingers down Dean’s back. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

Sure enough, when Dean groaned himself awake the next morning, Cas was right there, singing an Enochian song under his breath in his gravelly voice while running fingers along Dean’s scalp and twirling strands of hair around his fingers. Holy shit. Dean didn’t think he could love the guy any more than he did, but that moment absolutely smashed that assumption to pieces.

When Cas noticed that Dean was awake, a wide, soft smile spread across his face. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean just grinned foolishly back and pressed a deep kiss to Cas’ lips, losing himself in Cas’ fingers and lips and wings and warm body and just Cas. This was heaven right here, and if Dean didn’t have other responsibilities and a brother he also loved and wanted to see, he’d stay right here and never get up. “Mornin’, Cas.”

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 3X11 - Coming Home

Will Pan take over Storybrooke and turn it into PAN-archy?!

...I’m gonna miss this arc for more than PUN reason!

Anyways, let’s close out the fun and talk about feels and semi-smart things under the cut!

Press Release

In the Winter Finale episode, the race is on to stop Pan from enacting another curse on the residents of Storybrooke, which could kill every living soul in town.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past

So this segment is made of mini segments, so I’m gonna give mini reviews for all of them!

Snow and Charming: Blue, for all of her asshole-y beauraucracy, can be so vague and platitude-y when she wants to be. It’s not too bad here. BUT just like David’s speech in that same scene, it’s kind of the point that it’s vague, but comforting all the same. David’s was definitely the better of the two speeches.

Killian, Smee, and Tink: Okay, so now we’re given a LOT more info on Killian’s stay in Neverland. It looks like he wanted to leave Neverland as soon his interactions with Bae were done. I wonder when he decided to incorporate the Dreamshade though. BUT, in terms of the snippet itself, it’s pretty serviceable as a “look how far we’ve come” counterpart for both Killian and Tink. They’re both mean enough and hopeless enough.

Henry and Mary Margaret: ...First off, I love how Henry gets out of explaining anything about his homework! XD Second and more seriously, I think that this was the most necessary of the segments. It comes back and shows a starting point for Henry, the catalyst for so many characters on the show. I ADORE Emma and love her as the Savior, but I do think that at times, Henry was more of this turning point for characters and seeing where he took off was so important.

Rumple and Belle: “My ending shall not be a happy one.” I didn’t like this line. Literally, the entire reason Rumple cast this curse was to find Bae and make his ending a happy one. And it’s not like Rumple ever lost faith in that happening, so what the hell? Like, this line was just a weird character contradiction (Different than a plot hole) and it makes the scene threaten to fall apart.

Emma’s Pregnancy: I loved the revisiting of this scene and its post-memory change revision. It’s so heartbreaking to see Emma believe that she can’t take care of Henry, but also beautiful that she wants to give him his best chance, no matter what.

Present

Tink’s take down of Pan’s shadow is so satisfying! The music that accompanies it and everyone believing in her is just beautiful! It’s also the only time where flying is truly framed as whimsical without something darker being below the surface and that’s something desperately needed in this pretty freakin’ dark episode.

Pan is fucking brutal. From his speech about how much of a leech he saw Rumple as to the cuff to “down boy,” he proves himself more here than anywhere else to not only be a psychological monster, but a full-on monster. His strip down of Rumple in their scene at the shop is horrifying, especially given that this is RUMPLE! Rumple, the biggest threat in the series until Pan, was left sniveling in a corner at the end of the scene.

Rumple’s the big dog in this episode. It’s his moment that’s given the most gravitas and serves as what amounts to the climax of the story (And at little over the halfway mark at that) and for good reason. His arrival at the conclusion of what has to happen in order to save everyone was ingeniously reached. I have a lot more to say about that, so we’ll get to it when we talk about arcs.

So, here’s something I want to point out about Rumple’s big scene -- something that harkens back to why I often make a point of saying “fuck plot holes:” From a plot and story perspective, it makes no fucking sense. Why could only the dagger kill Pan? Why did Rumple have to die for Pan to have to die? This shit is never explained. But here’s the thing and why it and the larger aspect of plot holes matter so little to me: IT DOESN’T MATTER. The important thing about this scene is the climax of Rumple’s emotional journey -- Rumple “definitively” choosing love over power. It’s a point of emotional culmination and as it stands, it’s one of the most powerful scenes in the entire show! Rumple stops being cryptic and communicates to those he loves about what has to happen. It’s a big display and it hits its mark perfectly!

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-Okay, so weird contradiction in the press release. Pan says he’s not gonna kill everyone, but the press release says he will.

-“The Black Fairy’s wand.” I wonder, did Tinkerbell know they were related? Like, as soon as Rumple talks, Tink knows exactly what he needs.

-”I should pay my respect to Blue, after all.” Tink, honey. You are too pure.

-Dude...those freakin’ unicorns! They’re so cute, but also...OW because of all of the shit that went down with Maleficent!

-”It’s not a weapon...in the traditional sense.” Damn. That line hits hard given Killian’s alcoholism.

-”Is that the best you’ve got?” Killian, you cannot say that with such an adorable smile and not make me love you even harder!

-David! Saving his bro!!! Yasss!

-I love the adorable way Tink just plops the Shadow into the fire! It almost looks like an accident and it’s so cute! XD

-”It was for Emma.” So I’m not sure if I like this line because Killian’s crush on Emma is so freakin’ obvious OR if I’m critical because Tink hasn’t really seen Killian and Emma crushing on each other all that much.

-”I might have been overly strict.” UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE MILLENIUM!

-Okay, Blue is such a bitch, but I like how she entrusts Fiona’s wand to the one person who will be super discerning over Rumple’s actions.

-”I haven’t forgotten about all that, by the way.” Dude, if Pan’s curse was never cast, then these guys should’ve gotten group therapy. Archie would’ve been rich af!

-”Unfinished family business.” *Underworld flashbacks ensue*

-*Henry puts away a family tree worksheet* ...You’re gonna need a bigger worksheet, Henry. XD

-I have a LOT of Regal Believer headcanons concerning how Henry became so unhappy prior to Season 1.

-”And what exactly do you think fairytales are?” THIS and the words that follow serve as what Jefferson’s speech to Emma in “Hat Trick should’ve been. A bit desperate, but actually communicating humanity rather than being an asshole-y smart aleck that has more in common with Sherlock than a father.

-”I’ve got his scent.” Good move using Granny for tracking!

-”That’s why is so easy for you to strut around and pose now, isn’t it?” Bitch, please. Rumple was strutting around and posing long before you had that cuff on! It’s his thing!

-”Pulling away my name.” BITCH! You gave him that shitty ass name!

-Rumple! Cut off your hand! Then you and Killian can be besties!

-What the fuck was up with that weird coma Regina had?

-Aww. Killian’s standing by himself. :(

-”The only way for you to die is if we BOTH die!” Why?

-”Do we need to start preparing our souls, ‘cause mine’s gonna take some time?” I’m stuck between raising an eyebrow at Killian’s quip when Rumple just fucking died and laughing out loud because it’s a really funny quip. XD

-I love that Neal/Henry hug!

-The memories line didn’t make any sense. Everyone remembered what happened to Pan on the Enchanted Forest side and Emma and Henry had their memories altered. So what was the point of this section?

-And the last goodbye is from Snow! Awww!!!

-Tbh, that opening shot of New York City is the least appealing shot of the city that I’ve ever seen.

-Damn, Emma. You get to wake up at 8:15 for work. I envy that.

-And the modern music has returned! And it cuts out right as Killian appears!

-Emma’s got such cute PJ’s!

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

The Mission to Save Henry - Our story concludes today! The pacing for this arc was just marvelous. I hate when people disparage the arc as being boring because holy hell, it isn’t! Every bit of this arc grew on itself in some way. Even episodes like “Good Form” and “Ariel,” which weren’t heavy in terms of plot progression were in terms of character growth. This arc was so nicely balanced and well handled, carefully put together like the lace of a wedding veil.

Emma Accepting Her Parents - “I like the unicorns.” Emma just says that line with not a hint of sarcasm, bitterness, or insincerity and it’s just beautiful! The scene that comes from this line is utterly beautiful and shows just how close Emma and Snow have gotten. They think about the same things in regards to their children. They’re able to bond without walls in the way. And then...of course, there’s the goodbye. It’s so heartbreaking that Emma fully accepts her parents, but is forced apart from them. Watching Emma try to cling to that hope of keeping them close is so brutal and sad.

Rumple’s Redemption - There is so much to say and so much to discuss -- a lot of it i already have -- but as of right now, I think that this was the strongest writing put forth for Rumple’s redemption arc. The buildup of not only seasons 1 and 2, but also an arc that was so largely Rumple-centric and heavy had this fantastic build of momentum that made the payoff of his sacrifice the powerful moment that it was. And look, I like the Rumple stuff that comes after...to varying degrees, but I wanted this rewatch to allow for more emotional honesty from myself and yeah...this was the pinnacle. Should he have remained dead? I’d probably say yes for the character and no for the series. Rumple was brought back for a reason and that’s because his character is ingrained on the series. He (Among others) make Once Upon a Time what it is and I don’t fault anyone for bringing him back and even writing his decline. I wish they were just a little more careful with it because of the strength of this moment.

Killian’s Redemption - “There’s only two things I’d risk my life for: love and revenge.” Killian’s redemption didn’t get a ton of focus here, but I do appreciate what it got. While I found it a little weird that Tink connected Killian’s brave act solely to Emma when she hasn’t seen them flirt all that much, I was willing to forgive it because the action was really cool.

Henry Wanting to Be a Hero - ”Your happy ending may not be what you expect.” This line is so important as it pertains to Henry. Knowing where his story ends and what he hoped to make of it, I feel like it was so nicely put as to give this storyline a bit of prominence, especially since his happy ending at the end of this episode arguably changes the most out of anyone else’s due to the memory change.

Regina’s Redemption - “Will you be okay?” “You will be.” Literally everything Regina does is so redemptive here! Her apology to Henry is the first big thing. She stops his doubts about whether or not he really did the right thing by telling him straight up that this was her fault and that is so important to her redemption. “You’re not a villain. You’re my mom.” This line also freakin’ gutted me. Regina’s progress this season from a thin-iced redeeming villain to someone with a role to play on the team and someone who can strongly bond with everyone was fantastic.

Favorite Dynamic

Rumple and Pan. Pan is a reflection of Rumple and one line tipped me off to this. ”Pwotect your wuved ones.” In season 1, very similar lines came out of Rumple’s mouth. Pan is a Rumple without love and this episode really highlights why. Look at Pan’s verbal takedown of him at the shop. Rumple is a harsh character. He’s beaten people up, extorted, murdered, and kidnapped. But no moment from him has been shot so brutally as Pan’s takedown of him. He cuts Rumple down to the bone with his words -- words so harsh and that fly into the face of the “best chance” sentiment even before Cora did! Like, that scene would be enough to justify these two as having the best dynamic, but then we get to the town line scene where the idea that Pan is a Rumple without love is further shown. Pan, like Cora, didn’t expect for Rumple to pose a challenge to him while backed by love, but he does. He stands up and moves past his desires for his life and loopholes in order to save Neal and Belle. And Pan, even to his death, doesn’t get it.

Writer

A&E close out our half season and fuck me, it’s perfect. The name of the game in this episode is payoff. It’s character payoff. It’s story payoff. It’s emotional payoff. And it’s all handled flawlessly. For a while, I wasn’t sure whether or not I liked the past segments, but as “look how far we’ve come glimpses” and by extension, part of the payoff, they work fantastically.

Culture

There’s a lot to reflect on when it comes to the cultural impact of this episode. Two big points come to mind for me: How this episode could conceivably be a series finale in a lot of way and Pan. I have a great deal to say on why I think Pan was such an amazing villain, so I’m actually going to make that its own post, so I’ll touch on my former point here.

This episode is considered by many to have been able to stand as a series finale, and to tell you the truth, I can see it. Everyone’s arcs are completed in completely satisfying ways. The destruction of Storybrooke is brutal but in the most jaw-dropping and beautiful way. Save for the literal last minute of the episode, one could have seen this as an ending to the show proper.

Now, what does that mean for me? Well, the last time around, I wasn’t paying as close attention to that aspect of my feelings, but this time, I felt it more. In fact, I felt it a LOT. And for as much as I love Seasons 3B-7, I feel weird jumping off of this episode onto the next. Maybe it’s the knowledge that there is admittedly a bit more of a decline in quality going forward (Albeit to varying degrees) or maybe I just like how a lot of the characters’ stories ended here, but I feel so weird knowing that there’s more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to hit up the Zelena arc, the Frozen Arc, and more, but this episode was so good and so...final. Like Pan, I don’t want to grow up.

Rating

Golden Apple. That wasn’t an episode. That was a masterpiece. This is honestly probably OUAT’s best work. I felt my soul go on a journey while watching it and it now ranks as one of my all-time favorites. Moments like “Coming Home” are what rewatches are for. I’ve never fallen out of love with the series, but seeing it is like renewing my vows. It’s emotional in all the best ways, it’s sincere in all the best ways, the character work is fulfilling, and the story leaves most with something to do. I’m so glad I watched it again.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Snowing - No one rocks platitudes like David does! His speech to Snow about unexpected turns is just beautiful, romantic, and just lovely!

Tink/Killian - There is some crazy sexual tension between these two! The way they whisper their words and practically dance around the jungle with Tink’s knife at Killian’s throat and then sip the rum together.

Swan Queen - Emma/Regina/Henry hugs never cease to make me smile! They’re so cute! Also, literally the first thing Regina says after waking from her weird coma was “Emma.” And dudes, Regina’s decision to give them new memories...that’s...that’s fucking beautiful. HOW WAS THERE NOT A HUG FOLLOWING THAT, AT THE VERY LEAST?

Rumbelle - Am I allowed to just put the entire middle of the episode here? Belle made him stronger and Rumple’s goodbye and gratitude for that is one of his most earnest and kindest moments in the entire series. It’s so genuine and beautiful. And Belle’s reaction as Rumple dies is heartbreaking. I know its a point of contention that no one goes to comfort her, but I think that it works just as a display of isolation and how gutted she feels from Rumple’s loss. Rumple was her future (Or at least a part of it) and now that future is no more. That hopelessness was more effective by being untouched. Anyway, Emiliee pulls off that crying scene flawlessly!

Captain Swan - “Good.” In that one little word, there’s that longing for a possible future that, as far as they know, they’ll never be able to explore. Also, I love in this sea of tears and sadness, Killian’s able to lighten her spirits, this time in a more tactful way than the “prepare our souls” moment from earlier.

Swan Fire - Neal’s goodbye to Emma and faith that they’ll meet again was just so nice and beautiful!

-----

Sorry. I tried to get in four reviews this week, but “Coming Home” had so much meat to it that I just couldn’t. Hell, I still don’t think I covered everything that I wanted to, but at least I still have the Pan post which should come out tomorrow. Going forward, I will try for the four reviews at some point, but in all likelihood, what’s going to happen is that I’ll just post three reviews on the week of the finale or the week before.

In any event, thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales. Love you all!!!

Season 3 Total (106/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (29/60) Kalinda Vazquez (17/40) Andrew Chambliss (27/50) Jane Espenson (10/30) David Goodman (20/40) Robert Hull (20/40) Christine Boylan (20/20)* Daniel Thomsen (20/30)

* Indicates that their work for the season is complete

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