#people have been left to “fall to the wayside” for years now and its just that now you see it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

walker-extended-universe · 2 years

Text

Season 2 Episode 20 Review

Well “Something’s Missing” at the end of that episode.

What a whirlwind! Even after the promo, the pictures, and all the bts shots and news blurbs, I was a left a little surprised by some of the events of this episode.

I’m gonna cover each plotline as we go, starting with the lighter stuff and and finishing off with the big stuff. I’ll also have my thoughts and predictions at the end.

Let’s start with Cassie:

She and James sit in the ranger HQ going over the hired guns that attacked the safehouse. So far, there’s nothing connecting them aside from their work the other night. Cassie knows this is connected to what Miles was investigating and references his paranoia on the night of his disappearance.

This paranoia is reflected in her actions during this episode. She didn’t tell Trey she moved into the same building he did until they ran into each other during move in day. She didn’t put her job in her Tinder profile or mention it to her date for fear that it might bring danger to the people she cares about. And, after figuring out that her date was more of a recon than a fun night out, her first thought was that Cordell might be in danger. As she said to James, after everything that happened with Miles and Fenton, there was a dark cloud looming over all of them. Something tells me this “cabal of cabals” is going to have a lot of impact on her arc next season.

Next, let’s talk about Trey.

He enters Ranger HQ with the intention of doing some consulting work and helping with a psychological profile of the shooters at the safehouse. He already deduced that they were military men and he wants to help his friends. James is happy to hear this and takes this as a sign that his instincts were right. He tells Trey that he’s made a few phone calls and, if he wants it, he can be a ranger rather than just a counselor.

Trey, naturally, needs some time to think about this. He’s intrigued by the offer, of course, and it does feel like something he should do. But he knows there’s a lot of risk in the job, just like when he was in the military. His mother is unhappy that he’s even considering it; she did her time as a military mother and she’s not ready to do that again. Even putting that aside, Trey wants to settle down and have a family of his own one day and he’s concerned about how being a ranger would affect that. He knows first-hand how demanding the job is and how easy it can be to let personal issues fall to the wayside in the line of duty. As interesting as the concept is, he doesn’t want to regret it down the line. Personally, I was looking forward to seeing Trey as a ranger counselor but it looks like the writers have other ideas in mind.

Liam is also facing the winds of change. He hasn’t had a job as a lawyer since he was fired from the DA’s office earlier this season and it’s hard to say he’s even been looking. In this episode, he admits he’s not sure that he wants to pursue law as a career anymore. He feels lost and he admires his father’s drive and sense of purpose in his life.

Later in the episode, after the Walker ranch is returned to its rightful owners, Liam tells Bonham that he wants to pursue working the ranch in the future. He did want something different for himself many years ago when he went off to school in New York but he’s ready to try something a little more familiar. I must admit, I was a little surprised by this turn of events, but I’m happy to see Liam moving on.

On a lighter note: Stella is graduating! She’s headed off to Sauburn in the fall with Todd. She also intends to keep her relationship with Colton, despite the distance and everything between their families. She’s mostly just happy to be moving on to a new chapter in her life and exploring all her options. She feels like she has a direction now.

Right behind her, August has concerns about the future. He has some time before he goes off to college but he has a lot of questions that still need to be answered. He’s hoping he’ll have Trey around for support, just like Stella did.

Cordell is also dealing with his own emotions surrounding his little girl growing up and going out on her own. It still feels like just yesterday he brought Stella home for the first time and now she’s leaving it. He’s unspeakably proud of how mature she’s become and how she’s made the hole her mother left behind feel less empty. While I do feel he gave her a little too much credit for “holding the family together”, I do have to agree that she’s grown a lot since the pilot and I’m curious to see where she goes next.

And now, on to the big show!

After Stella’s celebratory breakfast, Liam and Cordell discuss options on getting the Davidsons to talk on who cut the saddle. Liam is concerned that they’ve exhausted all their options but Cordell thinks they might have one last Trojan horse in the form of Geri, who’s started to lose her faith in Gale and her family.

Cordell meets with Geri and talks her into getting Gale or Denise to confess to cutting the saddle or even about anything that might have happened at the barn that fateful night 25 years ago. Geri seems a bit reluctant but she agrees and goes along with his plan to stage an argument between them to get Gale talking.

Geri plays a lot of emotional manipulation cards to get Gale to talk. She calls her “Mom”, she insults the Walkers, and she plays up how much she wants to be a part of the family. She asks soft questions about Marv and the circumstances around her disappearance. Gale tells her that Marv just told her that Geri died shortly after the birth and she never even got to see her. When Geri presses for more answers, Gale starts to get defenseless and storms out of the room.

Geri calls Cordell for advice, concerned she’s losing her chance. He advises her to take Gale out to the old barn and ask her more questions there. He mentions taking Stan out to where he killed Emily and how that forced him over the edge into confessing. Maybe the same thing will work on Gale. Geri takes this advice and tells Gale that she wants to see where her father died.

It’s dark when they get to the barn and Geri gets Gale talking by bringing up Hoyt and how much losing him had hurt. She had to leave town to deal with her emotions but she came back because running away wasn’t the solution; she had to deal with her problems head on.

Gale slowly opens up and Geri gets her to admit that she knew for a long time. Marv told her the night of the fire because Abby pushed him to. Gale goes on to say that he brought her out to the barn first because he was worried about Denise and the news about Geri just slipped out as an afterthought. All of her emotions hit her in a rush and something in her snapped. So, she grabbed the lantern that Cordell had left behind and hit Marv over the head with it, knocking him out and starting the fire. She left him behind and ran to cover her tracks. She blamed Cordell for it because he brought the lantern but it had been her that made the first step.

Geri is shocked to hear this news, horrified even. When Gale sees this and tries to comfort her, she backs away and hits a workbench nearby, knocking over a lantern onto the ground and starting another fire.

Not too far away, Cordell is headed for the barn to confront Gale as well. He sees the fire and rushes in to save Geri. Thankfully, she was near the door and got out safely but Gale was still inside behind the flames. Without a second thought, Cordell rushes in to save her. He carefully steps around the flames and picks up her unconscious body. He carries her out of the flames and out into the fresh air, where she regains consciousness and emergency services are called.

The next day, both families are near the barn. Gale’s prepared to confess and everyone had been made aware of what she’s done.

August is initially furious that she managed to get away with murder for so long, but he’s calmed down by Cordell, who just wants to move on. He’s in a bit of shock himself; he spent so long blaming himself for what happened that night and hearing that it wasn’t his fault in the slightest is strange. But he’s not holding a grudge over it. When Gale says that he didn’t have to pull her out of the flames, he says that he did. Saving her was a part of healing himself. He tells the officers not to cuff her and steps away to talk to Denise, who’s extremely apologetic. She spent all those years blaming him and holding her mother on a pedestal. He doesn’t hold it against her and chalks it up to childhood trauma.

Behind them, Abby steps up to confront Gale. She calls her old friend out for not apologizing for how she treated Cordell and their family. She tells Gale that whatever had happened between them, she was furious on her behalf for what Marv did to her. Gale admits that she’s right and apologizes. She also says that coming back to Austin was initially about regaining what had been lost but her guilt drove her to want more. She then says she’s ready to go and heads for the police cruiser.

Off to the side, Stella and Colton observe the wreckage. Colton is worried that this might be the final nail in the coffin for them but Stella refuses to let him think that. They are not their parents and they don’t have to be defined by their families. She then tells Colton to go to his parents.

Denise is still in shock from hearing that her mother was the one to kill her father all those years ago. Her world was rocked that night and her whole life was built from that moment forward, even down to her marriage. She apologizes to Dan for how she’s treated him and to Colton. She also admits to cutting the saddle before the race. She says that she just wanted the Walkers to feel the same loss that she felt that night, the same loss she thought they caused.

Back at the barn, Geri approaches Cordell and they hug. She them tells him that they can’t be together anymore. It was too soon after Emily and Hoyt. They both still need time and space to find out who they are to each other outside of grieving buddies. Cordell is surprised by this but accepts her decision. Geri then reminds him that Stella is graduating and that they have a lot to be happy about.

And so the episode ends. Stella is prepping for graduation and the Walkers have their ranch back. All is well that ends well and there’s even time for a friendly race between Cordell and Trey and Liam before the end. From one end of the property back to the house. Cordell is so far ahead, Trey and Liam lose track of him and it becomes a two-man race to catch up.

Except...he isn’t at the finish line like they thought. Stella is the one that grabs the hat and there’s no way he was behind them.

The episode ends with a shot of a gray, nondescript van. Inside is an unconscious, bound Cordell, off to an unknown destination.

What an episode!

I think season 3 is going to hold a lot of surprises. The “cabal of cabals” will undoubtedly be the main antagonists and I’m sure they’re behind Cordell’s kidnapping. I wouldn’t be surprised if Trey gets some time as a Ranger while they look for Cordell. I can also see Cassie going off the deep end trying to find her partner. I can only imagine what this will do to the family, especially with Stella’s already planned departure.

#walker #walker spoilers #walker review #s02e20 #something's missing

13 notes · View notes

aparticularbandit · 2 years

Text

Finding Family: Part Four: Chapter Twelve

Summary:��When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that’s too much scope for her. She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

AO3

Scarlet sits on her couch covered in a fine dusting of flour.

It has been months since America disappeared, and she’s not better, but she’s trying to be. Ash has stayed on the Barton farm for now, but they aren’t sure how long that will last. Clint’s house is fairly big, but it’s holding two families – three adults, five children, and Kate, who isn’t quite either – and even for a house that size, and a lot that size, things are beginning to feel cramped. Laura has been homeschooling her children and has been teaching Ash how to do the same with Billy and Tommy, and there has always been an open invitation for Scarlet to join them whenever she wishes – for dinner, for board games, for movies, for life. She hasn’t always done it, but every now and again, something in her aches to be somewhere else and with more than just herself, and so she goes. Of course, something else in her aches when she’s there, too, surrounded by a family that is not hers and that only reminds her of what she has lost, so she’s rarely there very long.

Ash and her boys, however, maintain Shabbat.

Scarlet didn’t really keep track of days after Westview, and even if she had, the Darkhold had so rooted itself in her mind that she hadn’t much cared. Rituals and celebrations she might have kept in previous years fell to the wayside in her pursuit first of a way back to her boys and then of America Chavez as that way to her boys, and afterwards, she hadn’t kept them up.

Time passed and time passes and she’s been aware of time passing but she hasn’t had the heart to take part in its passage.

The first time Ash and her boys keep Shabbat on Earth-616, Ash invites her over so that she does not have to be alone, and when Scarlet comes not that first time but another time later, she welcomes her with a smile so compassionate and comforting that it breaks Scarlet’s heart – what little left that hasn’t already been broken in ways that feel beyond repair. When Ash lights the candles, there are two extra beyond the extra Scarlet would have imagined, and when Ash notes her concern, she says, “We always lit a candle for you.” Then she gestures to the other. “This one is for America. We’re family, after all.”

Scarlet hasn’t known what to say to any of that, but she is starting to feel like so much of her heart has been hurt that there cannot be much of it left, even if these hurts are warm and familiar and right. They should be healing her. But everything just hurts.

It has taken even longer since then for Scarlet to extend the invitation herself, to allow Ash and her boys into her own home for Shabbat. She has needed to clean, and it has taken so much more energy than she’d thought that it would. She has needed to cook, and she has needed to have ingredients to cook, and she has needed to get back into the habit of cooking. She is only covered in flour now because the challah bread is in the oven, slowly cooking, and she’d sat down to rest for a few minutes before cleaning up.

Time may have passed, but Scarlet is still so tired.

And when Scarlet sits on the couch for a few moments’ rest, she dozes off and gets flour all over her couch.

Scarlet dreams of falling.

This isn’t an uncommon dream to have. Most people dream of falling at some point in time or another, and Scarlet has certainly dreamt of falling before, even though it hasn’t happened in a very long time. Her dreams now are always about or with her boys. This time, though, they are nowhere to be seen.

Scarlet dreams of falling, and as she falls, she tries to use her magic to steady herself and levitate, but nothing happens. This, too, is odd. In her dreams, she has usually had the powers that she has in the real world; even if they aren’t the full power of the Scarlet Witch, they’re something. Here, there is nothing. She feels, instead, like a battery that has been drained.

And she is so, so tired.

Around her, Scarlet sees the world changing, flickering from one universe to another. She spots unicorns in one place, dinosaurs in another, and in a third, she thinks she becomes a being of paint. This doesn’t make any sense.

Someone is holding her tightly against them.

Scarlet turns just enough to see America Chavez’s face before she catches the edge of a star-shaped portal. The flickering universes around them stop, and now, when they fall, they fall directly towards a cabin in the middle of what looks to be an idyllic apple orchard with sheep roaming about to one side.

They fall closer, and that picture is swept away to reveal burned trees, ashen grounds, and a scarlet sky with a sun just on the horizon.

Scarlet dreams of falling, and she dreams of America Chavez holding her tightly against her, and she dreams of falling towards her own cabin, and she dreams of America yelling for her while the her that is in America’s arms struggles against her—

Scarlet snaps awake, and she covers her domain with another illusion to bring the idyllic landscape back (really, she needed to do that before Ash and the boys arrived anyway; she doesn’t want Billy and Tommy to have another reason to be terrified of her when they’ve been slowly but surely getting accustomed to her presence), and she phases through the wall of her cabin, shifts into the costume of the Scarlet Witch, and meets America Chavez and the version of her that America carries with her in the air.

It is easy to slow their descent, and it is even easier to hold them, gently, in place.

Scarlet takes a deep breath and stares at America. “You came back.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Then something else comes shooting out of the atmosphere, and Scarlet, without even thinking, freezes it in place. She gives America a look. “Someone is chasing you.”

“No one should be chasing us—”

Scarlet barely glimpses the other version of herself. She’s so young. Her eyes are red. Something is wrong. (Of course, something is wrong. She’s here and not in whatever universe she’s supposed to be in. That means something happened. Of course, something happened. Why isn’t she surprised?)

She’ll think about this later.

Scarlet moves to whatever it was that had followed them through the multiverse and stops when she sees that it is nothing more than a severed hand. She blinks twice. Not what she expected, but then, could she really have expected any of this?

Something glimmering bright, bright green dangles from a black cord held tight in the severed hand.

She moves closer, and her eyes widen.

Scarlet knows an Infinity Stone when she sees one. She knows, and she knows, and she’s not sure if she wants it all to herself or if she wants to destroy it immediately. She could do that even before she came into her full power; she could do it so easily now.

No.

Without the barest thought towards the grotesqueness of it, Scarlet takes the severed hand and returns to the two children – one America and one another version of herself – still hovering in the air. She doesn’t want to ignore the other her, but she doesn’t know what to say to her. Instead, her eyes focus immediately on America.

“I think you have some explaining to do.”

It is only then, as Scarlet slowly lowers the two kids with her back to her house, that she hears the timer that has been going off this entire time, that has likely been what actually woke her up in the first place. Her eyes widen. “Oh no.” She phases back through the wall, forgetting about both America and her younger self for the moment (and leaving them stuck, hovering out there), and the strong scent of burning bread overwhelms her. “Oh no oh no oh no.” She opens the oven and pulls the bread out without oven mitts.

Black. Burned. Ruined.

Scarlet resists the urge to make her domain look like that again. It wouldn’t do her younger self any favors, and considering the way she looked—

Oh. Right. Them.

Scarlet phases back through the wall where the two girls are hovering just above the porch’s floorboards. “Sorry.” She waggles her fingers, and they both drop. Even without the sitcoms trying to turn her everyday life into a fun little comedy, there’s always something. She stares at them both for a moment and then holds out her hand. “Sling ring.”

America stares right back at her, confused. “What?”

“I have to go tell Ash—”

“Who?”

“The other Wanda.” Scarlet’s eyes flick to the other her that America has brought with her. “The other other Wanda.”

The younger her crosses her arms, but it’s less annoyance and more like she’s holding her together and trying to feign annoyance, or it’s all of the above. Scarlet has had this exact same posture before, right down to the way she runs her fingers along the edge of her frayed shawl. She knows, even if she can’t put it into words. “My name’s Wendy.”

“Good. We all have different names now. No one has to be confused.” Scarlet turns back to America. “We were going to have Shabbat. I burned the Challah bread. I need to go tell them that no, they can’t come over right now because you’re here and you brought another one of us with you.” She gestures to Wendy. “And I need you to stay here so we can talk about all of this when I get back.” Then she holds her hand out again, palm open. “So. Sling ring. No teleporting off to Kamar-Taj.”

America scowls and hands the sling ring over. “I could just go to another universe, you know.”

“I know. You’re very good at running.” Scarlet has no pockets, so she doesn’t tuck the sling ring away anywhere. She slides it on her fingers instead. It’s warm and uncomfortable. Teleporting is so much easier. Her eyes glance up and over to Wendy. “But I don’t think you’re going to leave her here without you, and I don’t think it would be good for her to be shoved into another new universe when she’s just getting used to this one.”

Wendy pulls her shawl tighter about herself, but doesn’t say anything. She’s taking everything in, though. Her eyes keep wandering around and then returning to Scarlet. The question is on the tip of her tongue, but it doesn’t come. Or, at least, not the question Scarlet expects. “Can we go inside? You mentioned burning something.”

Scarlet hesitates. She has never let America in her house before. To be honest, she isn’t quite sure she wants to do that now. But it would be better than the shed full of medical supplies, so she nods, hesitantly, once. “Don’t go upstairs,” she says, then, realizing this will likely just lead to them immediately going upstairs, she waves her hand and the upstairs disappears entirely.

There’s a top to the porch. They won’t notice until they’re inside, and she can always put it back later.

It feels foolish to lock the door behind them, but Scarlet does so anyway.

Just in case.

There is something odd about going inside the Scarlet Witch’s house for the first time, and it is even odder because Wanda isn’t there with her. She’s never even let America so much as glimpse inside. Every time she’s given her tea or hot chocolate, they’d had it out on the porch, and although America could have gone in and made her own drink, Wanda had never allowed for it. Almost like Wanda had always intentionally been in the costume of the Scarlet Witch every time she’d visited, up until that weird meeting at Denny’s.

Intentional distancing. Very intentional distancing.

Of course, America is not so overwhelmed by actually being inside the Scarlet Witch’s house that she doesn’t hear the door locking behind them. Like that would actually do anything. They could just go over and unlock it themselves—

She reaches for the door only to find that there is no lock on the inside. Okay, but they can still break through the windows—

…there are no windows.

And Wanda had told them not to go upstairs, but there are no stairs.

Fine. Fine.

America glances around and finds that, actually, she’s very underwhelmed. She doesn’t know what she’d expected the inside of Wanda’s house to look like, but she certainly hadn’t expected what is basically a house copy and pasted straight out of the suburbs. But given that the Scarlet Witch had been so obsessed with finding her sons and being a mom, maybe this is what she should have expected. Wanda wanted to be a suburban house wife with two kids, and she’d ended up being a mass murderer chasing a child through the multiverse to—

No.

America can feel her heart racing thinking about that. She has to remember that, despite all of that, Wanda has been trying to get better. That they’d actually had conversations. That Wanda had tried to fix the mistakes she’d caused on Earth-616. That should count for something. She has to remember that she doesn’t actually hate Wanda, no matter how much she still wants to be mad at her.

Somehow, it’s harder than America wants it to be. The things she’s shoved deep within herself are still finding ways to bubble up towards the surface, to itch just beneath her skin. She doesn’t want to be the person who punches Wanda bloody again, but somehow it feels like just talking about things isn’t going to fix it at all.

But she can think about all of that later. Right now, she needs to focus on Wendy.

America scuffs her sneaker on the hardwood floor before turning and facing the other girl. “Are you okay?” she asks, even though there is no possible way that Wendy could actually be okay. Still, she scans her. There will be bruises where the Ultron puppet grabbed her ankle, but there’s no way to see those beneath her thin black pants. She doesn’t know if the rips in Wendy’s clothes were there before the fight; oddly, she hadn’t really been taking notice of them. Not the way she is now. And it’s hard to look for any potential blood on black or scarlet clothes.

Reminded of it now, America’s arm aches where the Ultron puppet ripped through her skin. She needs to clean it. Can cuts from a robot get infected? Probably, if she’d gotten grease in it.

Wendy doesn’t answer her question. “You have to take me back.” She steps forward, gripping tightly to the frayed edges of her shawl, so tight that her knuckles gleam a stark white against the darker fabric. “We have to go back and save Pan. Pixie…I don’t care about Pixie, but we have to save Pan.” Her words come so fast that it’s hard to disentangle them, and her eyes flick about the room like a cornered animal. “I don’t know where we are, but we have to go back.”

“We can’t go back.” America’s brows furrow. “If we go back, we’ll die. You’ll die. It’s senseless—”

“It’s senseless for my brother to die when we could go back and bring him here.” Wendy’s eyes narrow as she glares at America. “You were able to take me—”

“Pixie will freeze me the moment I get back! She knows I have power now, so she’ll probably just try to absorb it—” America cuts herself off, holds a hand up. “Pixie was hurting you. You yelled.” She steps forward, not hesitant in the slightest. “I’ve had that happen to me before. Are you—” She reaches out one hand to touch Wendy’s arm.

Wendy pulls away. “No, Starlight, I’m not okay! My brother is alone out there dying when we could save him, and you’re just standing here doing nothing!” She shoves America back. “We need to—”

“He’s probably already dead!” America says it before she can even think about what she’s saying, and she sees Wendy’s already red eyes grow wide. She wants to reach out again but hesitates, fingers curling. “Your brother stopped Pixie so that we – so that you – could run. We ran. This is what he wanted.”

“He wouldn’t have wanted to die! He wouldn’t have wanted me to abandon him! He wouldn’t have—” Wendy turns away, and she raises her shawl just enough to cover her mouth, cutting herself off.

America steps closer, one hand outstretched, and tentatively, tentatively, places it on Wendy’s shoulder. When Wendy doesn’t flinch away, she relaxes. “No wants to die, Wendy.”

“I do.” Wendy’s voice darkens, and she doesn’t turn back. “I was prepared to die with my family in Neverland – for Neverland – and now I’m…now I’m here. Alone.” She steps forward, out of America’s touch.

America moves closer to her again and places a hand on her arm, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone. You have me.”

Now Wendy turns, tear tracks under her eyes, and she examines America. “I’m not so sure about that,” she mutters. “You saved my life, but you don’t….” Her eyes narrow, and her head shakes, eyes glancing down and away and unfocused on anything. “I don’t understand you, Starlight. You tell me I’m magic and you save my life and you dare things for me and protect me and you seem to care about me, but the moment I kiss you, you act as though that is somehow the worst possible thing in the world.” She glances up and meets America’s eyes. “You make no sense to me. And I would rather die with my brother and my family and my Lost Ones than be here with someone who only pretends to care about me when it makes her feel good.”

“What?” America flinches back at her words. “That’s not—”

“Then what is it, Starlight? Because I can’t—” Wendy glances away and looks around the house, and not just at the house, but at everything, and then turns back to America. “I can’t understand. I don’t know where we are. I don’t know where you’ve taken me. I just know that no matter how much you tell me I’m not alone, that is the only way I feel.” She licks her lips and glances at her hands. “Make me understand, Starlight, because right now I don’t.”

“Wendy, I—”

America is getting very good at noticing moments when they exist. Moments like this one. She sees them and acknowledges them and mostly does nothing because even though she knows what Wendy wants, she is hesitant. It’s complicated. It’s too complicated. And maybe now that they’re here, with both of the other Wandas, some of that complication can be explained, and maybe Wendy will understand it. Maybe.

But that’s a moment in the future. That’s not this moment. And the problem with being in a moment is that sometimes when it passes, there’s no way to regain it. Or maybe it’s that the understanding Wendy might get from meeting the other Wandas is not the one America wants her to have.

It’s so complicated.

So complicated.

…but maybe she’s making it a little more complicated than, strictly speaking, it needs to be.

America Chavez has been in moments like these with other girls before. Not very many. Maybe two or three, at most, across the multiverse, in the multiple universes she’s been in, and even in those moments, even recognizing and acknowledging them, she’s very rarely taken advantage of them. She’s a wanderer. She can’t promise anything.

Wendy doesn’t want a promise. Wendy wants an understanding.

And when Wendy looks at her with emerald eyes stained red from her own tears, America Chavez makes a decision she hopes she won’t regret, brushes tears from Wendy’s cheeks, and leans up to kiss her.

Now.

America Chavez has not entirely forgotten where she is, but let’s just say it is not entirely the focus in that moment.

It is in the next one, when she steps back from Wendy and finds, within that same second, that she no longer has a mouth to kiss her with.

Wendy’s eyes widen in a sense of panic, and she reaches up to her own mouth, touches it, finds that it is still there, and then looks past America to the person that America knows, just from the state of her own being, must be standing in the doorway.

America turns to see Wanda, in full Scarlet Witch dress, eyes blazing scarlet, fingers stained black and held aloft, and mouth pursued before saying one single syllable.

“No.”

Wanda moves her fingers, scarlet magic tinged with ash twirling around them. America feels herself slipping away to somewhere else – somewhere she doesn’t know – and she turns to Wendy to tell her that it’s okay, you will be fine, only she doesn’t have a mouth to say anything. She reaches out just to touch the tips of Wendy’s fingers before she disappears entirely—

And finds herself stuck in the middle of the Bartons’ living room, surrounded by people chattering about, well, her and whatever it was Wanda has just told them; people whose eyes, on seeing her, slowly widen.

Kate Bishop is the one who says it first, head tilting far more to the side than one should think it could. “What happened to your mouth?”

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #america chavez #kate bishop #mcu #queue

2 notes · View notes

froggie-recs-fics · 3 years

Text

Fic Roundup (up to 9/26/21)

I'm gonna start collecting fics I've read recently to recommend them, because making trope lists takes too long and many fics fall by the wayside. Let me know if you like this new format!

The fandoms in this list are as follows: Marvel (SamBucky, HTP, SpideyPool, WinterHawk, WinterIron, Stony, Stucky, SpiderShield), DCU (Bane/Blake), Inception (Arthur/Eames), Teen Wolf (Sterek).

A * signifies a particular favorite (though I love all these fics)

Marvel

Sam/Bucky

double back by flowermasters (E, 12K, Post-Endgame, Time Loop, Time Travel)

Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

Things could be worse, but they could certainly be better.

Companion piece here: quick time

I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot (Post-Endgame, E, 50K, Sam can talk to birds)

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Rumlow/Bucky

**blueprints for a better world series by itallstartedwithdefenestration @astralhux (CATWS, Post-CATWS, Noncon, E, 115K, Dark Main Character)

When Pierce discovers the asset is no longer capable of getting himself hard during recreational use, he tells Rumlow to figure out what the problem is, and to fix it. The solution turns out to be more complicated than anyone expected.

I can't recommend this series enough

Peter/Wade

*Dead Men Walking series by doctorestranged @lazystrawberrymilkshakes (E, 235K, Identity Porn, Slow Burn)

When a series of murders take place, Peter Parker goes undercover in Sister Margaret’s to get intel on Tony Stark’s prime suspect: Deadpool. Peter goes in hoping to get enough information so that Spider-Man can save the day, but like everything in Peter’s life, it becomes a bit more complicated than that and it soon becomes apparent that he might not be the best fit for the job.

All About Chemistry by TwiceBakedPotato @sedatedkoala (No Powers AU, M, CNTW, 74K, Teacher-Student Relationship, Slow Build)

After serving his 20 years in the Marine Corps, Wade Wilson is cashing in his GI Bill and going back to college. He feels like the old man on campus, but that doesn't matter. He likes his classes. He likes learning. And he especially likes his Chemistry professor with the messy brown hair.

Clint/Bucky

Making Me A Habit by Kangofu_CB @kangofu-cb (No Powers AU, T, 20K, Pet Store, Slow Burn, Pining, Misunderstandings)

Bucky is a disabled vet struggling with reintegrating into civilian life. He has a routine and a rhythm, and he doesn't like to let anything - big or small - disrupt it. That all changes the day Bucky finds himself inside CATastrophe, the local pet rescue, recovering from a panic attack in the back room of the shop.

He’s used to walking by the place, not visiting, but the next thing Bucky knows, he’s hanging signs and being used as a climbing tree for a bunch of freshly-acquired kittens. And he just...keeps going back. First for the kittens, then for the disaster shop owner who rescues actual kittens from actual trees and teaches archery as a side-gig, and eventually because he’s hopelessly in love.

(Clint was in love before Bucky ever walked in the door.)

*Nameless by AvaKelly (Post-CATWS, M, 101K, Time Travel, Time Loop, Slow Burn)

A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there."

Glitter, G-Strings and Other Mission Hazards by flawedamythyst @flawedamythyst (T, 16K, Undercover, Stripper Clint)

“Which is why you need me to shake my booty for cash,” said Clint.

“Precisely,” said Coulson. “You’re the only agent we have who wouldn’t need additional training in the skills of an exotic dancer to take on the mission, and we want to get someone in there as soon as possible.”

Clint nodded, shutting the file. “Okay, awesome. I’ll dig out my sequined g-string.”

“You’ll have full access to requisition any costumes you might need,” said Coulson.

A mission requires Bucky to be Clint's back-up as he goes undercover as a stripper, which gets more difficult with every new costume he comes out in.

Paternal Error by EVVS @skylarkevanson (Post-CATWS, T, 33K, Kid Fic, Established Relationship)

Bucky has never once thought of being a parent. Not since the Winter Solider happened.

Until he falls in love with Clint Barton. And that idiot just keeps collecting children for his flock.

Now Bucky has to pretend like he's good at parenting.

Bucky/Tony

Forms of Love by bear_bell (Post-CACW, E, 33K, Split Personalities)

Months after the Avengers' dispute in Germany, the team returns to the US and moves back into the tower. As always, everyone pretends that nothing happened. Tony is just fine with this. He's used to pretending, and he'll be damned if he lets any of them see him flinch.

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Steve/Tony

While You Were Sleeping by betheflame @betheflame (No Powers AU, M, 65K, While You Were Sleeping AU)

It's been years since Steve Grant Rogers Drysdale has spoken to his twin, Ransom. So it was quite a shock when he was summoned to a hospital and found out that Ransom was in a coma.

Even more shocking? That Ransom is engaged. To Tony Stark.

Steve/Bucky

The Road Goes Ever On And On by PipGraham (Omegaverse AU, M, Noncon, Graphic Violence, 20K, Road Trip, Pre-Serum Steve, Past Domestic Violence)

When Brock's continued domestic abuse puts not only Steve's life in danger, but also that of his unborn pup, he flees into the night with just a small backpack of clothes and almost no money to his name.

Steve quickly runs into trouble as he tries to embark on a 3-day cross-country bus journey back home to New York City.

He meets a kind veteran when he most needs a helping hand.

Just Words by LadyRazzle (crimegimp) @ladyrazzle (Pre-CATFA, Soulmate AU, T, 2K, Fluff)

Inspired by that now legendary post: "soulmate AU where you wake up on your 18th birthday with the first words your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your body so you’ll know them when you meet them." Well what if they appear the moment you turn 18, rather than just the day? And what if by the time you turn 18, you'd already fallen in love?

Bucky wasn’t eager to discover what the words said. He already knew what he wanted them to say. He always had.

Peter/Steve

Forgetting It's There by spinstitcher (stygian) (NR, 8K, Crack, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn)

“You’re Captain America,” he blurts out.

“What?” says Captain America, looking a little wide-eyed. He casts a nervous glance at the girl at the counter – he has nothing to worry about there, she’s rocking out to her iPod and could care less what they’re talking about – and says, “No, uh, Steve, it’s just, I’m Steve.”

“Right,” says Peter, and then because his brain-to-mouth filter had apparently been completely destroyed in the fight on Oscorp Tower: “Hey, your butt really is as tight as it looks on TV.”

DCU

Bane/Blake

7 Deadly Ass(as)sins by teacuphuman @teacuphuman09 (AU, E, 23K, BDSM)

Bane and Barsad own a sex shop and John needs a job.

Straws by Menirva (Bane/Blake/Barsad, AU, E, 38K, BDSM)

John works in a smoothie shop.

He has a knack, a second sense if you will, for being able to look at a person and know what they're going to order. It's not the most spectacular gift in the world but he likes being able to figure people out and he's never wrong.

Except for this scruffy asshole who is clearly just ordering the wrong thing to fuck with him.

How is he even finishing an extra-large?

Inception

Aurthur/Eames

Rough Trade by Whisky (whiskyrunner) @whiskyrunner (AU, E, 23K, Internalized Homophobia)

Arthur is an investment banker. He is professional and efficient. He's a halfway decent cook. He's totally independent and has been since the age of eighteen. Maybe he's tired all the time because he works about ninety hours a week which is twice what normal people do, but he's rich and he's competent at his job. He's almost thirty, and already a success.

And there are some things Arthur is not. For instance: Arthur is not gay.

Lucky by earlgreytea68 @earlgreytea68 (M, 37K, Kid fic)

Arthur finds a baby.

Teen Wolf

Stiles/Derek

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress (Omegaverse AU, E, 112K, Secret Relationship, Enemies to Lovers kinda)

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Cornerstone by Vendelin (Human AU, E, 83K, Marine Derek, Blind Stiles, Friends to Lovers)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach (AU, Graphic Violence, E, 76K, Captivity, Feral Derek)

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

The Payoff Pitch by Leslie_Knope (Sports AU, E, 83K, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers)

Derek is on the cusp of his second season with the LA Dodgers, and as the reigning runner-up Rookie of the Year, the pressure’s on him to become the team’s star pitcher and lead them to the playoffs for the first time in five years. He’s trying to deal with the burden of expectations and really has zero desire to spend any extra time or energy on anything that isn’t baseball.

But then he meets Stiles.

81 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Hi! For the prompts could I please request Maxwell Lord + "it's you. it's always been you" from fluff & romance in the second prompt list? 🥰

Just some Maxwell softness. Enjoy!

Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, love?” you gently put your hand on the side of Maxwell’s face, drawing his attention back to you and away from whatever seemed to be troubling him. He offered you a small smile before shaking his head, causing a dark lock of hair to fall into his eyes, “what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he whispered softly as you reached over and brushed the stray lock out of his eyes, “just tired.”

“You’ve had a busy week,” you agreed quietly, “and your class schedule is jam packed right now. You should rest and make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“It’s the last semester,” he reminded you as you nodded; the fact that your college days were soon coming to an end was enough to terrify you and excite you all at once. But soon you would be free from the confines of the institution and onto a whole new adventure, “I wanted to make the most of it.”

“But don’t let it push you over the edge either,” you grabbed his plate and kissed the top of his head, “you’re no good if you’re running yourself ragged and worn down. I love you, Maxwell.”

“I love you too, Hermosa,” he was already reaching for one of his books to carry on studying as you set everything in the sink, “soon we’ll be out of here and into the real world and I will have everything, and I will be able to give you everything you deserve.”

“You will build an empire Maxwell Lorenzano,” you grinned at him as you flounced over back to him, putting your hand under his chin to turn your face up to meet yours, “but I already have everything I want - you. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you deserve so much more,” he whispered as you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft lips, “I will give you everything.”

“As long as you’re there,” you whispered softly “I have everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up with a sharp inhale as you stared at your ceiling, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It was that same damned dream again - so sweet and happy, but just as horrid in reality. It served as a reminder that things had turned out very differently from the life you had once envisioned.

It was all supposed to be so easy, so effortless - just you and Maxwell and whatever the world threw at the two of you. But oh - how wrong you had been. How very, very wrong.

After graduation, it was like Maxwell had turned into a completely different person. Gone was the sweet, gentle, caring man you loved so deeply and wholly, and he was replaced with a man who barely knew - a workaholic only concerned with success, success, success. Money and making a name for himself came before everything else, and you were left to the wayside.

It was never supposed to be that way. But life rarely worked as you’d envisioned, and while the reality was harsh and biting, it was something you came to terms with.

You were gone one day, almost as if you were a phantom, making it appear as though you’d never existed. Every piece of you was gone from the apartment you shared, as were you. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but at the same time, you’d tried to talk to Max about everything so many times, and he’d either ignored you, downplayed your concerns, or was so unpresent in the conversation that it was like talking to drywall.

When you couldn’t handle it anymore you’d just left. Packed up your bags and left everything behind without so much as a single word - no note, no explanation, nothing. Rash? Yes. Wrong? Maybe. Needed? Yes.

You’d never wanted things to end like this - to end up so distant and separated from the man you had once loved so desperately. And fuck - you’d still loved him, you knew you always would. But somewhere along the line things had changed and your Maxwell was no longer yours.

But it didn’t matter - he never once looked for you or tried to come and find you, to ask why, why, why. He never came for you and you never looked back.

Just like that, everything changed. Most importantly, or perhaps worst of all, it was like neither of you had existed to the other. It hurt, but over time it got easier and easier and almost like he never existed.

But of course he had. Of course you'd loved him. Of course you still did. You always would, even if he didn't know it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Alistair?" you asked as he sat at the table, coloring away with a little frown etched onto his, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Daddy was supposed to be here half an hour ago," he was dismissive as he started down at his paper, "he said he'd pick me up since he has time with his new job."

"He's probably just running late bub," you promised him, ruffling his dark hair, "it happens! Do you want to play a game or go outside? Its just the two of us left and we can do whatever we want!"

"Can we play on the jungle gym?" his eyes lit up as you nodded, watching in amusement as he packed up his bag. You'd always liked him, feeling more drawn to him than a lot of the other kids in your after school daycare. You'd never met his father; it had always been a nanny up until now, sent when he was with his mother or father. Looks like things were changing...maybe he wouldn't need daycare much longer. The thought made you sad for a moment...you really like the young boy and enjoyed his company. But that could all be figured out later; or now you were just going to enjoy his company.

"Come on," he called for you, holding out his hand for you. Nodding, you eagerly went over to him, taking his smaller hand in yours and letting him lead you outside. It was beautiful outside, and you took a large breath to take in some of the fresh air.

Alistair eagerly hopped on one of the swings, and it felt so natural for you to go and help him swing. He was such a fun, energetic child and his enthusiasm was infectious.

Even though he was a young boy still, he was wise beyond his years and spoke of anything and everything that crossed his mind. There wasn't a single dull moment behind the two of you, and before you knew it, the sun had started to go down and was painting the sky in brilliant crimsons and oranges.

"Alistair!" a warm voice called out to the boy and his face instantly pulled into a large grin. You slowed the swinging and let him jump off as he ran at the approaching figure. Remaining behind, you let the two of them have their moment. He held his son tightly, pressing kisses to the side of his you heard him say, "hi baby - I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Its okay, Daddy," he said as the man set down again, but not before taking his father's hand and leading him over to you, "I was worried at first, but we've been playing and having fun!"

"Good, I'm glad," he beamed at this son. As the man came closer, you couldn't help but think that he sounded familiar. But then, as he stopped in front of you with Alistair at his side, your jaw dropped as you were sure your heart stopped. At the same time, the man mirrored your actions before his dark eyes widened, "Hermosa?"

"Maxwell?" this couldn't be happening. No, no, no - out of all the people in the world...surely Maxwell couldn’t really be standing in front of you. Except...this Maxwell was not quite the man you once knew. Gone were the well loved and worn clothes, replaced by much finer garments. Out where the dark locks you use to love to run your fingers through; instead they were golden strands. Missing was the silly little imperfect smile you adored, replaced by only the best money could buy.

But underneath the shiny exterior, you knew those eyes, along with that singular dimple that appeared when he smiled. He shook his head in amusement, amazed by this stroke of fortune as he held his hand out to you, "hi - wow that feels so wrong to say. Not quite good enough for the moment...but hi."

"Hi," you breathed back as you took his hand and shook it. The simple contact was enough to send shivers up and down your spine; even after all these years, his touch was ever the same, "I..umm...I had no idea you were his father. His last name…"

"Its the same as mine," he said as you gave him a surprised look but didn't question him. Somewhere along the line, Maxwell Lorenzano became Maxwell Lord. You wondered what else had changed...judging by looks alone, apparently many things were different now.

"Ahh," you said softly, the realization that he must have changed his name at some point hitting you. It was a momentary sadness as you realize what it meant; but it was no matter. What mattered was he here in the flesh and had been back in your life and you hadn't even known it, "I...umm...I guess I should let you both go. Don't want to get home too late."

"Of course," he said with a soft smile as he picked up his son again, "thanks for keeping him later - it won't happen again. New job and it ran late."

"Not a problem," you reassured him, "Alistair is a wonderful kid and we had a lot of fun. I guess I'll see you around, Maxwell. And you too, kiddo. See you tomorrow!"

"Good night," they chimed in unison as they started to walk away, stopping for a moment to grab his things before heading off.

You were positive you heard the big sleepily mumble onto his father's shoulder, "do know her?"

You had to turn around and hide your own grin, not wanting to get caught up in your excitement. It meant nothing, you kept trying to tell yourself, none of it meant anything. Sheer, simple continence was all it was. But still...you had a lot of questions - when did he get married and have a son? What happened to his appearance? Who was he now?

Either way, it was all said and done and you were relative strangers. Your paths had diverged many years ago and yet...somehow life has brought you back tomorrow. Maybe it meant something after all…

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks were spent with many visits from Maxwell, none of which you minded of course. He was often on time to pick Alistair up, but would linger and talk to you. In some ways it was like no time at all had passed, and the conversation was easy and flowing, and despite the golden outer layer, you still saw the boy you'd fallen in love with.

It was easy like this, getting to know him again, and in some ways you felt like no time had passed. You learned about the ups and downs of his own life, more about his marriage and divorce, about his struggle to become everything he had dreamed - all while reassuring him that he was okay, and he would always be okay. But, he was eager to remind you, the best part of his life, the shining beacon, would always be his son. And it was easy to see how much he adored the boy.

In turn, you’d told him all about your own life that you had created. That it was modest and lacked what most people would consider grandeur, but you still loved it. He listened to you, hanging onto every word as he felt like that same dopey college kid that had fallen head over heels for you. Gods, he had missed you, even when he hadn’t realized it. If only things would have been slightly different and...but it was no matter. You were here now and so was he, and really that was the only thing that mattered to the two of you.

“Hermosa?” he had been halfway through walking out the door with Alistair hanging onto his hand. You turned and raised an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to go on, “would you...do you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Yes,” you answered softly, unable to fight the giant grin on your face, “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Great,” he seemed relieved as the nervous look left his face, quickly replaced by one of joy, “it’s a date...I’ll call you later.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?” you asked as you found Maxwell watching you closely, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as he reached over and put his hand on your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered closed, “Maxwell…”

“Hermosa,” his voice was gentle and still thick with sleep as he leaned over and nuzzled his nose against yours, “go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“That’s what I was doing,” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as your tangled your legs with his, “but I’ve got someone staring at me and it’s kind of hard to stay asleep under such a watchful gaze.”

“Can one not admire such great beauty?” he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing his own eyes once again, “everything I love is right here in my arms...and down the hall. Forgive me for being happy.”

“I’m happy too, Maxwell,” you promised, feeling like your heart might burst with joy, “I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “it’s always been you. Even if it took some time to realize that. Now, rest and get some sleep. You were up last night…”

“I wonder why!” you laughed as he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, “no complaints though - never.”

“Good,” he grinned against your lips, “now sleep, Hermosa. The world can wait.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @queenbbarnes @persephonesnebula @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander @rae-gar-targaryen @hiscyarika @readsalot73 @huliabitch @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd @beepbeepsephy @scarlettwitcher @nerdyknightwritersblog @choicesarcade @arrowswithwifi @everythingaboutnothingstuff @suckerfor-fanfics @bestintheparsec @javihoney @aeryntheofficial @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial @asgardianvamp21 @keithseabrook27 @karmezii @dearspacepirates @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas @nikkixostan @haley-the-comet @chibi-yuki

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x fem!reader #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ww84 #forever-rogue's follower celebration

315 notes · View notes

hecckyeah · 3 years

Text

In which Luke Skywalker discovers a true relic of the Old Republic . . .

( @3friesshortofahappymeal made me do it 😁) If I should continue this, tell me!! I have ideas, but I know next to nothing about Rebels. BUT I’ll do my research and by golly, I need some happy Rex, Ahsoka, Luke, and Leia interactions. And if I have to write them myself then I gosh darn it, I will. Anyway, here. Have some fluff. <3

Part 2

Luke Skywalker had never been one to take his men for granted, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He knew he, himself, didn’t deserve a medal, but the valiant Rebels on Endor did. Every single man that had signed up for Han Solo’s uncharacteristically crazy jaunt deep into enemy territory deserved ten medals and a year of paid leave. And if Leia wouldn’t grant these awards, then Luke might have had to consider pulling rank and doing it himself.

But that wouldn’t prove necessary. There was a ceremony, and five ceremonies after that. There were nights out at cantinas and long hugs. There were fireworks and back-slaps and joyrides on Imperial shuttles.

No Rebel went without recognition. No funeral was left unplanned.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Luke was happy.

He settled himself next to Han in the darkest corner of the cantina that he could find and leaned back with a sigh to observe the rest of the party.

A few members of Rogue squadron leaned precariously against the edge of the bar, flirting vigorously with two Twi-lek ladies. Chewbacca sat sprawled out in the middle of the room, his feet kicked up on a chair, seven empty glasses in front of him. He roared, and Artoo chirped back sporadically, doing laps around the table like a crazed toddler. A very tipsy Lando had his arm slung around Leia’s shoulders, who looked about ready to court martial the newly-appointed general.

“Should we go rescue her?” Luke wondered idly.

Han waved a hand dismissively. “She can handle herself.”

“General Solo!” a voice came out of nowhere, and a man appeared, letting a heavy hand fall onto Han’s shoulder. Luke glanced up and instantly recognized the face: the full, white beard and kind, piercing eyes. The man had a distinctive air of professionalism that had fallen by the wayside during the stealth mission that was the Battle of Endor, but now he noticed how he held himself, tall and unapologetic even in the presence of his general.

Han grasped the man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Captain,” he greeted in kind. “Or should I say Commander, now?”

The man’s eyes sparkled, and he gave one short nod of his head. His gaze flicked to Luke’s dark figure in the corner of the booth, and he extended his hand, which Luke shook gladly. “Commander Skywalker,” he said, and his deep, accented voice took on a different tone—more somber, if Luke had to describe it. “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Commander . . .” Luke fumbled for his name.

“Rex, sir,” he provided, sliding into the booth across from Han and Luke. “Just Rex.”

Luke smiled.

“I wanted to thank you for your service, General,” Rex continued, addressing Han. “Not many people would have taken on a mission like that and made it out the other side. It was an honor to fight beside you.”

“Thank you,” Han said, and Luke could hear the sincere gratitude and rare humility in his voice.

The pair exchanged anecdotes and bits of memories about the recent battle, and Luke’s attention slowly drifted from the words being spoken, to the gentle tugging at his consciousness that was becoming more familiar with each passing day. Without closing his eyes or feigning disinterest in the conversation, he focused his attention inward, where he could feel the Force swirling around him and through him, speaking to him in its own way.

After a moment, Han had to excuse himself from the table to attend to a slight wookiee-related mishap, and Luke pulled himself out of his introspection to meet the calculating gaze that stared him down from across the booth.

“When did you join the Rebellion, Commander?” Luke asked. It was always a good conversation-starter among the Rebels, and after all: he found himself sincerely wanting to hear this strange man’s story.

“Oh,” Rex sighed, glancing up at the ceiling, as if to jog his memory. “I guess you could say on the very first day.” He glanced back down at Luke’s confused face and gave a slight smirk. “But if we’re being specific, I joined Phoenix Squadron about eight standard years ago.”

“Under General Syndulla, then?” Luke tilted his head, his interest thoroughly piqued by now.

Rex nodded. “You knew her, sir?”

“I knew of her,” he amended. “I never met anyone from Phoenix, but Leia’s always kept tabs on them.”

“They’re good people. And great warriors.”

“When you said you’ve been fighting from the beginning . . .” Luke said after a beat, and Rex’s eyebrows instantly drew together, furrowed in wary concentration.

“I fought in the Clone Wars,” the Commander explained, confirming Luke’s suspicions. “I was Captain of the five-hundred and first clone battalion under General Skywalker and Commander Tano.” At that, he gave Luke a quizzical side-eye, but just for a split second, and it faded. “I’ve always been loyal to the Republic, and so—when it fell . . .” He trailed off.

Luke nodded his understanding.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He leaned forward, hands moving to grip the edge of the table. “Did you say . . . Who’s General Skywalker?”

Rex paused. “How much do you know about the Clone Wars?”

Luke’s eyes fell. “Not much. I grew up in the Outer Rim. Schools out there aren’t exactly—” he waved a hand in a vague gesture, “—comprehensive. And the Empire hid a lot of history from the public.”

“Well, it might be time for you to catch up.” Rex caught himself. “That is, with all due respect—sir.”

With a smile, Luke shook his head. “We’re both Commanders, Rex. And to be honest with you, I’ve never understood ranks. In my opinion, experience outranks anything.”

“Well—” Rex seemed to choke up just a bit, but maybe Luke was imagining things, “—I’ve always said the exact same thing. But it’s — habit, I guess. I have a lot of respect for the Jedi. I’m honored to be serving under one again.”

Luke inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, and let the statement hang over the table for just a moment, ringing through his mind, chock full of questions.

“This . . . Skywalker,” he ventured again. “He was a Jedi too?”

“He was.” Rex’s eyes became distant and glazed over with memory. “Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. I knew him as one of the greatest generals in the entire Grand Army of the Republic. He almost never lost a battle . . . And I would have followed him into the jaws of death if he asked me to.”

A bolt of lightning struck Luke dead center in his chest. “He . . .”

Rex tilted his head, waiting.

Luke swallowed. “He was my father.”

His jaw dropped, and Luke knew he suddenly had Rex’s full attention. “General Skywalker was your father?” He fumbled for words. “H-how? That is—I mean . . . How?”

“I don’t—” Luke started, but was thoroughly interrupted by the most explosive bout of laughter he’d heard in a while.

Rex’s eyes lit up, and his grin stretched from ear to ear as he chortled, his mirth overflowing all the way into the Force, which swirled and laughed along with him. “That old son of a bantha hunter,” he cackled. “I knew he and the senator were hiding something else.”

Luke’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and he couldn’t help but smile too.

“Of course—I should have guessed you have that same Skywalker blood,” Rex continued, this time directed toward Luke himself, instead of in the general direction of the universe. “From what I can tell, sir, you’re just like him. But a lot less crazy.”

#fanfic #my writing #just a ficlet #because the words were there and i had to get them out lol #captain rex #luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw #clone wars #anakin skywalker #post-endor #post-rotj

157 notes · View notes

felassan · 4 years

Text

Mass Effect development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

This is the Mass Effect version of this post.

[In case you can’t read it the subtitle in the bottom left logo above is “Guardians of the Citadel”]

Note: Drug use is mentioned.

Cut for length.

Mass Effect 1

ME began its life in a vision document in fall 2003

Codenamed “SFX”

Conceived of by Casey Hudson and a core team from KotOR. Its genesis was the intention to create an epic sci-fi RPG in an original setting that BioWare owned (so they could have full creative control), and in a setting that was conceived of first and foremost as a video game

Initially players could control any squadmate, but they wanted it to be about Shep and for players to be focused on Shep being a battlefield commander, rather than on switching bodies

By the start of 2004 its story was shaping up. Initially humans landed on Mars in 2250 and discovered evidence of an ancient alien race and a powerful substance, Black Sand, which rapidly advanced tech to the point that FTL travel was possible. (My note: obviously now the Prothean artifacts on Mars & associated mass effect force tech enabled this in the final canon, but I wonder if aspects of the ‘Black Sand’ naming-type & powerful substance stuff was rolled into red sand from final canon) Humans were suddenly capable of travel to multiple star systems and made contact with a multitude of other species. At the start of the first game, these species together with humans had a fragile peace, with focus placed on the political center of the galaxy, a hub known as Star City, later renamed the Citadel

Multiplayer was a vision for the series as far back as 2003. The plan was for ME1, an Xbox exclusive at launch, to take advantage of the platform’s online components. Early designs saw players meeting in one of the central hubs to interact and trade items in their otherwise SP adventures

By 2006 it had the name ME and the story was more specific, with the theme of conflict between organic and synthetic lifeforms. The story’s scope now stretched across 3 games and included scope for full co-op MP

They tried to do MP in every game, discussing it from the get-go, but it always just fell by the wayside. “When you’re trying to build something that is a new IP, on a new platform, with a new engine, you’ve got to really focus on the core elements of the game.”

The conversation system prototype was made in Jade Empire, and some of ME’s earliest writing was done in an old JE build. At first there was no conversation wheel. Paragon was “Friendly” and Renegade “Hostile”. In the prototype Shep was a silent unnamed Spectre. Many conversations in the prototype about the player’s choice in smuggling a weapon through Noveria made it into the game

In said prototype a merchant referred to themselves as “this one”, though the word hanar never appeared. The PC in it also had the option to end a conversation with “I should go”. In the prototype also, Harkin was voiced by Mark Meer

An early version of the Mako got used as the krogan truck in ME2

Early concepts of the Citadel were drawn in pencil by CH. A piece of concept art of its final design was painted based on a photo of a sculpture near Aswan, Egypt

As with any new IP naming it was a struggle. They put out a call to all staff for ideas, did polls, made a name generator that combined words that they liked in random ways and made pretend logos of ones they liked in Photoshop to see if they could make themselves love the name or find visual potential in it. (Some of these names are in the pic at the top of this post.) CH liked “Unearthed” as it was a reference to Prothean ruins dug up on Mars and humanity’s ascendance going away from Earth. They knew the game would have a central space station featuring prominently so some of the ideas were based on that - “The Citadel”, “The Optigon”, “The Oculon”. “Element” was another one they had in mind due to the rare substance in the game

CH: “I was a big fan of John Harris’ book Mass, which had epic-scaled sci-fi ideas, so that was a word that came up often. Many of the names came from the idea that the IP featured a fifth fundamental physical force (in addition to the known four of gravitational, electromagnetic, strong nuclear and weak nuclear) so the word ‘effect’ came up pretty often.” Ultimately none of the ideas really felt right. One Monday morning they were going over the names and Greg Zeschuk said he had an idea on the weekend: “Mass Effect!” CH: “I said, ‘I don’t hate it’, which in the naming process is a high compliment. And it stuck!”

CH on Shep’s Prothean vision from the beacon: “It was hard to imagine how we would do this. CG was - and is - really expensive. Instead I wanted to try doing it through photography and video editing. So I went to a local grocery store and bought a few packages of the weirdest looking meat that I could find. Then I set up a little photoshoot in my basement, complete with some electronics parts and some red wine for juicyness.” He used these props to create a video sequence where the photos were rapidly cycled and blurred, along with production paintings, to create the scary vision an organic/machine experiment on the Protheans. These mashups were also used as inspiration for concept artists and level designers who were working on these themes

Tali used to be called Talsi

On the licensing side they often joke that they’re licensing N7 not “Mass Effect” due to N7′s popularity

There was a confidential internal guide to the IP in 2007 to help devs along and summarize/synthesize the vision etc. Some excerpts from it are shown in the book and this is the first time the public have ever seen them

Early versions of Asari had hair

Asari were designed as a nod to classic TV sci-fi (with human actors wearing obvious makeup and prosthetics to play aliens)

The turian design guideline was “we want them to be birds of prey”. They also wanted a range of alien types, some close to human like Asari, while others were to be a lot further away, like turians

BioWare patented the conversation wheel, which was a first for them. CH had been frustrated with reviews of Jade Empire that said that the actioncentric game was too wordy [with its list dialogue]. “I’m like, story is words. [...] What is it about our games that is making people feel like they’re wordy?” Then he thought “In a game you kind of need to feel like you’re continuing to play it. Maybe you should continue feeling like you’re playing it actively into the dialogue.” “[The wheel] kind of gave a new experience with dialogue when you did start to react based on emotion, and that’s ultimately what we’re trying to bring out in our games”

The original krogan concept was based on a bat “with a really wide squidgy face. We just used its face on top of this weird body and it kinda worked”

Geth musculature was based on fiber-optic cables, with flexible plates of armor attached

The vision for the IP was 80s sci-fi inspired space opera

The concept art of Saren lifting Shep by the throat inspired a similar scene in-game. The staging wasn’t planned til designers saw that art

A squadmate with Shepard on the way to meet Ash in an old storyboard was called Carter. Early name of Kaidan or Jenkins?

Bono from U2 was kinda instrumental in bringing us ME lol

Finding the right cover art for ME1 was notably tricky

Matt Rhodes got his start drawing helmets for ME1, including one which would become Shep’s “second face”. He estimates he drew between 250-270 different ones

Some of the sounds in-game were people smashing watermelons with sledgehammers and sticking fists into various goos

The audio team had fun trying to slip the iconic main theme into unexpected places throughout the MET. “We were very aware of how powerful that track was for the fans and it was tempting to overuse it for any moment we wanted to make really emotional”.

The theme was creatively repurposed in ME3: slowed down and reworked as the ambient sound for the SR-2. “If you listen to it for a really long time, just stand in the Normandy and listen, you’ll actually hear the notes change slowly. It doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like a background ambiance, but it’s there.” (My note: Well no wonder the Normandy feels so much like home?? 😭 sneaky..)

Bug report: “Mako Tornado”. There wasn’t enough friction between the tires and the ground, causing testers to lose control of the vehicle and send it spinning into the air like a tornado. “As it turns, the front end comes up, and then it starts spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning faster and faster and faster until it just flies up in the sky” (My note: Sounds like a regular day in the Mako to me)

Cerberus originally had a bigger role in this game. It was cut but they had a whole explorable outpost. “I called it Misery,” says Mac Walters, “It was this planet with a little outpost that said ‘Welcome to Misery’”. Everything on the outpost was shit - dirty worn stuff, no windows, no kitchen, the vehicle bay was open to the elements etc

The Reaper sound is literal garbage. Some audio designers went on a recording trip to a national park. One of them got fixated on a garbage can, “a metal bear-proof receptacle with a heavy lid that creaked horribly when opened”. “It was like, ominous, spooky, tonal and almost musical. I decided to throw a mic into the garbage and record it moving. I didn’t know what it was going to be until later”

They were making lots of noises to record like throwing logs and rocks around. An old couple peered at them through the window of their camper van in the woods and must have called the cops because then the cops showed up, pulled them over and told them to stop. The cops towed their car (the driver’s plates were Cali plates and expired), drove them to Edmonton outskirts and then the audio producer Shauna got a call and had to go pick them up “like three little boys”. “We got a stern talking to”. Once back they were playing around with the garbage sound, editing it etc. Casey heard it and proclaimed “That’s the sound of the Reapers”

Preston Watamaniuk: “There are things I could have done to Mass 1 to make it an infinitely better game with better UIs” and some simple cuts and changes. “But when you’re living with it, it’s very hard to see those things”

BioWare Labs

As social media and smartphone games exploded, BioWare dedicated a small team dedicated to exploring opportunities here - BioWare Labs

Mass Effect: Galaxy used a unique graphic art style and static visual presentation common in visual novels. It has the distinction of being the only iOS game BW have made during their first 25 years

Scrapped ideas were a 3rd person space shooter called Mass Effect: Corsair and 2 DA titles - a strategy game and a top-down dungeon crawler starring young Wynne. (My note: Maybe the corsairs stuff was rolled into Jacob’s backstory in 2, the Alliance Corsairs)

Corsair was a very short-lived project that never got its feet under it. It was a spin-off on Nintendo DS featuring a behind-the-ship perspective and branching dialogue. At one point it had MP. The idea behind it was basically “ME: Freelancer” - fly your ship around, do missions, get credits. It had a limited branching story but was a gameplay-centered experience intended to fill the gap between ME1 and 2. That gap ended up being filled by Galaxy

Galaxy and Corsair’s smaller screen allowed concept artists to use bold colors and a simplistic character design style to help those games stand out from Shep’s story

Nick Thornborrow did some art for Corsair but was worried his art style didn’t fit ME. He moved to DA where he feels his art style fits better

Lots of BioWare VAs and even a lead writer and the VO director are drawn from Edmonton’s local community theater scene, which is vibrant. Think this is how Mark Meer got involved

Mass Effect 2

Player choices carrying over was a first for BW

Dirty Dozen-inspired plot

Its plot is a web of conditionals (see Suicide Mission)

Was more of a shooter than anything BW had made since Shattered Steel

There was 2 camps on the team, those who wanted to push combat and systems forward and redefine the ME experience and those who wanted to make a true sequel, with the same gameplay and systems but a new story. Karin Weekes: “I think it ended up being a good push-pull. It felt like a pretty healthy creative conflict”

“ME2 was a game you could hold up to someone who argues that games aren’t a serious medium and go ‘Oh yeah, then why is Martin Sheen in this?’” Sheen was their first pick for TIM

The idea for TIM came from a mash-up of concepts CH had collected over the years. The name “Illusive” originally came from his pitch for naming DAO’s Eclipse engine, a word inspired by Obi-Wan’s line “It’s not about the mission, Master. It’s something... elsewhere. Elusive”. “I thought, what if we called our next engine 'Elusive', but used an ‘I’, and then it’s like ‘Illusion’. [...] I still really like the word with an ‘I’ and what it conjures”

When ME1 DLC was in production, CH had been watching a lot of CNN, specifically Anderson Cooper. “How is one guy travelling to all these places and never looking tired and always being able to speak with clarity?” CH says it seemed almost superhuman. “What if there was someone who is the absolute maximum of the things you would aspire to be, but also the worst of humanity?” Cooper, though not evil, became an inspiration for TIM down to the gray hair and piercing blue eyes

Inspiration for TIM’s behind-the-scenes role pulling political strings came from Jack Bauer’s brother Graem in 24. Graem “can call up the president and tell him what to do and hang up, because he’s so connected and so influential”. Sheen had played a president and his performance brought gravitas and wisdom to the role. He had quit smoking, but the character smokes. He didn’t want to fake it, but he also didn’t want to smoke, “so he actually asked for a cigarette” to hold so he could stop his words to take drags with natural cadence

Writing was still pushing to write and revise lines hours before VO started. A series of problems like injury and some writers leaving for other opportunities left it so that Karin, Lukas Kristjanson and editor Cookie Everman hand to land the story safely, with PW helping where they could. Lukas: “We took over the writing bug and task list, and I can’t stress enough how much [Karin and Cookie] did to get ME2 out the door. There’s no part of that thing we didn’t touch”. Karin: “That was the most dramatic 2 weeks of my life”

Initial fan reaction when they started promo-ing ME2 was very negative because people didn’t want to know about new chars like Jack and Mordin. “[fans were like] ‘Get them out of here. We want our characters from the first game’. But then when they played them, those became some of the most popular chars [of the series]”

Concept art of Thane has an idea annotation saying “Face can shapeshift?”

At one point when designing Thane concept artists sent multiple variations of him to the team asking them to vote on which was the most attractive

Most of the Normandy crew was written by lead level designer Dusty Everman. Lukas gave him advice in the evenings between bugs

BioWare Montreal made ME2 and 3 cinematics

CC for Shep was based on tools used by char designers to create in-game chars. Under the hood similar tools existed to create aliens

Aliens were much easier to animate than humans. When something is human it’s very difficult to make it look realistic and you can see all the mistakes and everything

Over the holiday period in 2007 CH worked out a diagram on a single piece of paper that would define the entire scope and structure of the game. The diagram is included in the book

Bug report: “I shot a krogan so hard that his textures fell off”. At one point shotgun blast damage was applied to each of the pellets fired, and shot enemies ended up with just the default checkerboard Unreal texture on them after their textures got blown off

Blasto was meant to be 1 step above an Easter egg but his fan popularity prompted them to bring him back in ME3

They rewrote chunks of Jack 2 days before she went to VO. She was the only one they could change because all the other NPCs were recorded. They redesigned her mission by juggling locked NPC lines and changing Shep’s reactions by rewriting text paraphrases to change the context of the already-recorded VO

Lukas snuck obscure nods ito ME2′s distress calls. In the general distress call for the Hugo Gernsback, there’s BW’s initial’s and Edmonton’s phone number backwards. In a fault in a beacon protocol there’s the initials and backward phone number from Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny”. In 2 other general distress calls there’s initials and numbers from Glenn Miller Orchestra’s “Pennsylvania 6-5000″ and initials and numbers from Geddy Lee and Rush’s “2112″ respectively

Mass Effect 3

“The end of an era marks the beginning of another”

ME3 “marked the end of Shep’s story”

Saying bye to Shep was as difficult for devs as it was for players

JHale’s final VO session included Anderson’s death and romanced Garrus’ goodbye. “We were in the session and we both just started crying”, Caroline says. “I couldn’t come on the line to give her notes because I was crying, and she was crying. And so there was just this minute-long pause of like, nothing, nothing, nothing - just silence through the airwaves. And then I came on and just told her that I was crying and she said ‘I’m crying!’” They talked about these anecdotes also here on the N7 Day reunion panel

The Microsoft Kinect voice support required devs to teach Kinect hundreds of commands in a variety of accents across multiple languages. The result was useful but made for some awkward moments. Numerous players accidentally said “geth” or “quarian” while making a particular decision and accidentally killed Tali

MP chars were voiced by cops and military people

The helmet on one of the MP chars was originally designed for cancelled project Revolver

The payload device at the end needed to attach to the Citadel while essentially serving as a giant trigger. “It ended up becoming quite the engineering feet just to visualize how this thing would move and connect to the Citadel”

Concept artists explored creating an anti-team, where Kai Leng was almost an anti-Shepard essentially, with an elite squad to counteract your team. This idea never went beyond concept phase

ME3 Special Edition was released on Nintendo Wii U exclusively. This exclusive version of the game includes Genesis 2 (a sequel to the original Genesis comic) and unique gameplay features that took advantage of the touchscreen GamePad. For years Sonic Chronicles: Dark Brotherhood had had the honor of being BW’s only game made for a Nintendo console

FemShep regrettably didn’t feature in major ME marketing til ME3. Later releases like DAI, MEA and Anthem have taken increasing care not to gender their protagonists in cover art

To capture combat sounds they took a trip to CFB Wainwright, a military base southeast of Edmonton. They got a big tour of it and were allowed to record anything they could find. The tour ended with them getting to drive and shoot tanks (real shells). The force of doing that sent waves through Joel Green, he felt his whole chest compress when it went off; the perfect sound for the Black Widow! After the trip the soldiers let him keep the shell he fired and it’s been passed on like a torch to various devs since

Kakliosaurs began life as a joke in the writers’ room after John Dombrow placed a Grunt figure on a t-rex toy he had on his desk. Lore was brainstormed to justify the mash-up before someone asked, “Why don’t we put this in the game?” They loved it so much Karin had custom coffee mugs made

Bug report: For a while Tali’s final romance scene would fire when she was supposed to be dead

“Balancing combat: how designers in ME3 entered an ‘arms race’” - the solution to players feeling OP vs players feeling frustrated by really strong enemies is to find a good middle ground, but for designers Corey Gaspur and Brenon Holmes, it was war. Brenon designed enemies, Corey designed guns. Corey “was obsessed with bigger, heavier guns. We had this sort of informal competition where he’d make this crazy overturned gun that would just murder all the enemies, and then I tuned some stuff up to compensate”

Brenon had to invent new ways to “stop Corey” and this led to the Phantoms. Corey had in turn designed consumable rockets that could wipe out entire waves of enemies. He must’ve figured this would make short work of Brenon’s space ninjas, but Brenon had other plans: “I had just added the ability for her to cut rockets [when Corey was playing MP and he was watching]. She cut the rocket in half... Corey just turns and looks at me and is like: ‘Really dude? I just shot a rocket at this Phantom and she’s fine? Not even damaged? Zero damage?’”

This friendly rivalry helped elevate ME3′s gameplay. Corey had a knack for making a gun feel so good to fire it had his fellow designers scrambling to keep up. It was his version of balancing. Before Corey sadly passed away he mentored Boldwin Li in all things weapon design and the arms race continued

Corey designed the Arc Pistol. It was causing problems for enemies because it was too powerful. It seemed hell bent on staying that way, Boldwin would tune down all its stats and it was still doing 3x the damage it should have been doing. “I was like ‘What the hell?’, and then I looked closer. It secretly fired 3 bullets for every pull of the trigger! Corey, you sneaky jerk”

The day it launched there were midnight launch parties across North America including one near the BW building. Numerous devs sat at long tables greeting fans and signing autographs as the fans picked up preorders. When midnight struck the line was long enough that it took several hours for some fans to get their game. One particular fan is remembered: “It was 3am. Some guy drove up from Calgary with his friends. He was like one of the last people in line. I think he was sort of tired-drunk. He threw himself across the tables, pulled up his shirt and shouted ‘Guys, sign my abs!’ And like I did, because he waited so long. It felt impolite not to. So I hope he enjoyed his copy of ME3″

For designing Protheans concept artists had free reign to design something that read as ancient

Before the concept art team had the story of the game to work toward, they explored wild ideas of their own including an image of the crew stealing back the Normandy to go after the Reapers

Jen Cheverie was testing scenes and was initially excited to be testing Mordin scenes, til she saw she was testing the Renegade version of his death. “This is even before like all of the audio and everything was in, so you didn’t even have the sad music. I remember sitting at my desk and my hands just went to my face when I saw that the gun Shep pulls on Mordin is the gun he gives Shep in ME2. I burst into tears and was crying for the rest of the day. People are waving to me as they walk by and I’m like, ‘It’s ok, I’m just killing my best friend’”

There’s a segment called “Shepard’s story ends”. Casey on the ending: “There’s a whole bunch of things that come together to make it incredibly tense and emotional for players. I think the biggest one was the sense of finality, that whatever it was that happened in that very last moment... was it.”

Wrapping up the story was a massive feat. In a way all of ME3 is an ending. Its final moments were the players’ last with a char they’d been with all the way from Eden Prime

“And while the critical reception of the game was extremely positive, many fans were unsatisfied with the ending, which became one of the most controversial in the history of games.” CH: “We were, on one hand, at the end of a marathon trying to finish the game and the series. But as devs we also knew that there would be more. We knew that we would continue to tell the story. In retrospect, we didn’t fully appreciate the tremendous sense of finality that it would have for people”. He envisioned an ending that posed new questions, something in the tradition of high sci-fi that left players dreaming about what that particular galaxy’s future could hold. “Frankly, there’s a lot more that we could have and should have done to honor the work players put in, to give them a stronger sense of reward and closure”

AAA games are massive undertakings with a million moving parts. Somehow they come together but even the best-planned projects don’t turn out quite like devs hope. From start to end video game production is a series of compromises. It’s rare if not impossible for devs to ship a game they’re entirely happy with. “I think that people imagine that when you finish a game, it’s exactly the way you wanted it to be. But whether people end up loving or hating the final result, we work hard to finish it the best we can, knowing that there’s a lot we would have wanted to do better. I think that’s true of any creative work”

As the dust settled after the initial reaction to the ending and later its epilogue, meant to show the wide-reaching ripple effects of Shep’s final choice, “players emerged mostly asking for one thing”. CH: “Now, most of what we hear, after both ME3 and MEA, is ‘Hey, just go make more Mass Effect’. And that to me is the most important thing. Knowing that players want to return to the ME universe is what inspires us to press on and imagine what comes next”

Mass Effect: Andromeda

By creating a new ME in a new galaxy the team was challenged to put their own visual stamp on the game while keeping it true to the franchise

Being the first ME game on a new gen of consoles meant for more detail

“Massive transport ships called arks populated with salarians, turians, humans, asari and quarians” made the risky jump to the Cluster

MEA was the first time BW had truly codeveloped across 3 studios: Edmonton, Montreal and Austin. The bulk of the work especially early on was done in Montreal, which was composed of a handful of Edmonton expats and heaps of experienced devs who joined from elsewhere specifically to bring a new ME experience to life. Series vets in Edmonton then came on to contribute writing, cinematics, design and QA, along with leadership from creative director Mac Walters and the core Production team. Austin writers and level designers also joined the fray

“It took a new team to take ME beyond the Milky Way”

Mac: “A lot of people in Montreal joined BW as fans of the franchise, so they just had this passion, and it felt like it was more like the days of Jade Empire, where a smaller younger team gets to do something for the first time. Even though it wasn’t necessarily a new IP for me, it felt fresh and new because of that. The team was just super excited to be working on it”

Early plans had the player exploring hundreds of worlds, procedurally generated, allowing for a nearly infinite variety of experiences. But as development wore on, it became clear that the game narrative required more specific, hand-touched level design on each world to keep the story focused and the experience engaging. “The plan was to give players numerous uncharted worlds to explore. Designers worked hard to come up with procedural elements that would make such planets special. Eventually the team made the difficult decision to abandon procedural planets in favor of more memorable hand-touched alien worlds, each with a specific story to tell”

One challenge was defining what ME meant without Shep. Care was given to include many of the MET’s key species. “Ryder recruited turian, asari, krogan and salarian followers”. Like Shep Ryder represents humanity’s hope for a peaceful coexistence among aliens who had long operated without human contact

Beginning with MEA the team decided that with few exceptions vehicles in ME have 6 wheels. Early Nomad concepts were bulkier. Later ones focused on its ability to move over its ability to protect itself from hostile fire, underlining the themes of exploration

German concept designer and auto-motive futurist Daniel Simon was contracted to create the Nomad and Tempest. The Tempest’s final design took inspo from the Concorde

Concepts for angaran fighter ships have the following notes: “Two doors swing open, wings rotate down to function as landing struts, the landing struts split open. It has a spinning turbine engine

Despite being set a galaxy away and some 600 years after Mordin’s death, there was a time when he had a cameo. It wasn’t cut due to running out of time however, it was cut due to drug references. John Dombrow explains: “One day I had to write a small quest for Kadara. I thought it’d be amusing if these 2 guys living way out on the fringes in a shack were growing plants for uh, medicinal purposes, and needed Ryder’s help with it. It occurred to me, wouldn’t it be amusing if Ryder had the option of actually trying ‘the medicine’ to see what would happen? And I thought, what if it turned into some hallucination that somehow involved SAM - like maybe SAM would sing? But why? How could I motivate that? Then it hit me. Who else in the ME game sings unexpectedly? MORDIN. As a nod to him I wrote SAM singing Modern Major-General. It got even better when our cine designer John Ebenger wanted to take it even further. Bless him, he came in on a Saturday to do a special hallucination showing Mordin himself. It was great. Til the fateful day we were told MEA had already been submitted to the ratings board. That’s when you declare things like drug references in your game. Mordin fell under that category which meant it was a no-go. We were too late”

Ryder’s white AI armor contrasts Shep’s iconic dark armor (intentional design)

Concept art for Ryder involved experiments with cloth (cloaks, ponchos, capes - “Pull here to release cloak”) and asymmetrical design elements

For alien design, there’s a few exceptions but humanoid figures are the ME standard and this persisted into MEA

Kett and angara concepts explored striking lines and textures

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

415 notes · View notes

vex-bittys · 3 years

Text

In Your Dreams: A Horrortale Story

Raffle prize for @purplesangel. When your life is a living nightmare, is it any surprise that your dreams are just as bad? Thankfully a dream-walking human has arrived to help, but will she still want to help Axe when she finds out what he’s done to stay alive?

WARNING: character death mention, language, blood mention, some disturbing imagery including cannibalism (no details)

READ ON AO3

----------

Life in the Underground was an endless nightmare for Axe. During his waking hours, he checked his traps and hunted in the forest, often returning home empty-handed only to see the disappointment and desperation in his brother’s sockets. Supply trains became frantic riots as too many monsters competed for their share of too little food, and the sharp pain of hunger lingered even after the skeleton brothers’ meager meals.

Madness seeped in through the hole in his skull, distorting reality. He clawed at his skull, trying to release the pressure of the frenetic energy that consumed him. He could feel the darkness lurking, waiting for him to make a misstep, some seemingly trivial mistake; that’s when it would strike, shredding his thoughts and shattering his focus. There was no escaping it, and Axe knew that one day it would swallow him up.

Sleep provided no reprieve. In his dreams, Axe continued to suffer. He watched his brother fade away to nothing from starvation. He felt the gnawing emptiness of his own unsatisfied hunger. Feasts appeared before his single working eyelight only to transform into grains of sand that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. He ran through the shadowed forest outside of Snowdin, fleeing an unknown terror in the night while thorny tendrils of a deeper darkness caught him, slowing his progress, dragging him down, and allowing his madness to suffocate him.

Days dragged on into months, and months melted together into years. Waking life remained bleak with monsters still struggling (and at times failing) to survive. Food sources dwindled, and the gathering of other resources fell by the wayside as every creature in the Underground focused on filling their stomachs as best they could. Everything stagnated in its state of destitution and decay… everything except Axe’s dreams.

Axe’s nightmares repeated themselves night after night until slowly, they began to change. It started with the appearance of a new character- a human that Axe didn’t recognize, though he thought it might be a female. At first the human only observed the horrors that lurked in the sleeping world of Axe’s mind. Gradually, though, she began to interact.

It all started during one of Axe’s nightmares about his brother. Crooks would turn a pleading gaze to his brother, mouthing a soundless plea for food. Axe would fall to his knees, sobbing and pounding his fists into the ground. Crooks slowly collapsed, and the gradual dissolution of his body sent his dust drifting towards his brother, filling Axe’s mouth and nasal cavity until he choked himself awake… usually. This time things turned out differently.

“I’M SO HUNGRY, BROTHER,” Crooks’ voice came from the air around them and not his mouth, the teeth there long since broken or knocked askew from gnawing away at non-edible items simply to assuage the need to chew.

The human appeared, but instead of observing the unfolding scene, this time she glanced around until her eyes fell upon Axe.

Since the very first time you’d stumbled across this heart-breaking nightmare scenario, you’d worked hard to return to it. Dream-walking involved focus, practice, and a bit of luck, and in this venture, the fates were on your side. You’d walked this collection of now-familiar nightmare images many times, slowly working out which participant it belonged to and why the skeleton with the broken skull kept replaying these torturous situations in his sleep.

Now, you were ready to interact and hopefully restore some peace to the sleeping world of the monster in front of you. You extended a tentative hand towards him, unsure if he would welcome your touch as a form of physical comfort. He just stared at your outstretched hand as if it would bring some new and unfathomable horror to his disturbingly familiar nightmare. You let your hand drop. Words would have to suffice then.

“It’s not real,” you told the stocky skeleton firmly.

His sockets narrowed suspiciously. “what do ya mean, ‘not real’?”

“This-” you gestured to the vague, nondescript surroundings and very crisp, well-defined figure of the tall, starving skeleton behind you, never breaking eye contact “- is not real.”

The skeleton with the broken skull laughed, a harsh and humorless sound that grated against your ear drums. You sighed, frustrated but determined. It rarely improved a situation to reveal yourself while dream-walking; most dreamers forgot their nightly travels when they returned to the waking world anyway. Those who didn’t merely discarded your presence, along with any advice you might give, as part of a nonexistent scenario that could not influence their waking lives and should thus be ignored.

Normally, you resigned yourself to this and walked through dreams as a silent observer, but this skeleton’s torment tore at your heart and brought forth a tenacity within you to help him in the only way you could: by walking through his nightmares and defeating them, one by one, until nothing remained but peaceful slumber.

The skeleton with the broken skull scoffed. “you don’t know nothin’,” he growled obstinately.

“I know that your most frequent nightmares involve food, madness, and losing this other skeleton-”

“my bro,” the skeptical skeleton clarified.

“Losing your brother,” you amended with an edge to your voice, “to starvation.”

“it’s not like you’re some expert investigator piecin’ together the clues, pal. we’re all starvin’ and dustin’ down here,” he said, dismissing your observations. You frowned. Was there some truth to these nightmares? Often dreams represented thoughts and fears in a metaphoric manner, but maybe this skeleton didn’t have room in his troubled mind for subtlety.

Regardless, you would do what you could for him in the only place that you could reach him.

“I don’t know what your life is like in the waking world,” you conceded softly, “but this? Everything around us now? It isn’t real.” You continued in a rush before the skeleton could interrupt you again. “You’re asleep, and your mind is processing your fears… and your reality… into nightmares.”

The skeleton inhaled, obviously ready to argue again, but you stopped him by making a sweeping gesture towards his brother. Had this nightmare been reality, the taller skeleton would be dust by now. Instead, the image was frozen in place thanks to the stocky skeleton’s change of focus. “Look,” you ordered boldly.

Axe begrudgingly allowed his single eyelight to stray from you to his brother. While it was true that nothing had changed in the scene since he had turned his attention to his unexpected visitor, the moment he looked back, the scenario resumed. Flakes of dust drifted loose from his brother’s body, floating away on an unfelt breeze to disappear as they dispersed until nothing remained except the unbearable weight of guilt and his brother’s ghost of a voice whispering “Why?” over and over again in his head.

Why didn’t you save me?

“It’s not real,” you whispered solemnly behind him, but honestly, that didn’t matter. Watching his brother die of starvation that he should have prevented sent jagged pains through his SOUL whether it existed solely inside of his mind or not. Your next words, however, carried a much greater impact: “I can teach you how to change it.”

The most frustrating part of dream-walking was the inability to change the contents of people’s dreams or nightmares yourself. While you could view the unfolding events, you possessed no real power over them. Only the dreamer could affect their dreams. Thankfully, unlike dream-walking, lucid dreaming is a skill that can be taught.

As with every teaching experience, some students learn more quickly than others. Axe, as he eventually introduced himself to you, was not one of those students. The most difficult aspect of lucid dreaming for him happened to be the very first step to lucid dreaming at all: accepting that what he experienced while he slept was a dream instead of a warped reality that lived inside of his cracked skull and broken mind.

“These images all come from your thoughts,” you explained again. “You can control them, but first you have to accept that you can control them.”

You knew that the dreams involving his brother were far too emotionally charged to make good fodder for lucid dreaming practice, and you preferred to steer clear of the choking darkness since you had no idea what effects such a powerful and overwhelming negative force could potentially have on you, even as an observer within someone else’s troubled subconscious. This only left the dreams of an untouchable feast to practice on… and practice was not going well.

As with your many previous attempts to gently guide the stocky skeleton towards seizing control of his nightmares, the lesson had quickly devolved into a squabble. You insisted that Axe could learn to control his subconscious surroundings; Axe stubbornly insisted that he could not. You would point out that this was his dream, and his mind; he would attempt to discredit your existence as just another piece of the complicated web of nightmares that plagued him: a human offering him false hope in a bleak and hopeless world.

It did bother you a little bit that Axe considered you- a (mostly) patient and helpful human- to be nightmare fuel. Only monsters lived in the Underground since the long-forgotten war, so why would Axe’s guilt-riddled dreamscapes include humans?

You decided to save the questions for another time.

“Try again,” you told Axe, who only answered with a weary, frustrated sigh.

Irritation swirled through Axe’s excessive magic, though it was aimed more at himself than at you. Every night you tried to help him take control of his dreaming mind, and every night, despite your calm instructions, he failed. You made it sound so easy, so why couldn’t he just grab a stupid spider donut off of the stupid table and shove the stupid thing into his big, stupid mouth?

“Try again,” you told him patiently as he brushed the gritty sand from his finger joints. He uttered a weary, frustrated sigh.

“i am trying,” he grumbled, biting back a deluge of unhelpful comments and curses. He touched another piece of food, a french fry, still steaming though it had been sitting on a pile of its doppelgangers since the nightmare began. The entire fry stack crumbled to sand before he’d even lifted one free; Axe’s patience dissolved along with it.

“if this was as easy as you claim,” he shouted, letting his anger overflow into sharp words, “then i’d be able to pick up these plates and smash them on the floor like i want to!” Without any conscious thought, Axe lifted one of the plates in question and hurled it at the ground. It shattered, leaving silence in its wake as Axe and the dream-walking human stared down at the shards on the ground in awe.

Axe gave an entire stack of plates an experimental shove, sending them cascading over the edge of the table and onto the ground where they created an inharmonious symphony of destruction. You applauded the spontaneous mess and squealed with glee, and Axe swept you up into a quick celebratory hug, spinning you around once before setting you back on your feet. As soon as he set you down, he grabbed a donut and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing, his sockets narrowed in utter bliss, he picked up a second donut and offered it to you.

Nothing tasted as sweet as victory… except for maybe a spider donut.

You didn’t want to dampen the skeleton’s joy by telling him that you wouldn’t be able to taste a donut in his dreams, so you took a bite, your head still spinning from his sudden show of physical affection. With a promise to see him the following night, you stepped out of his nightmares. You felt content that you’d taken the first big step on a journey to giving Axe the power to sleep peacefully without constant, horrific nightmares plaguing him.

The next lesson would be more difficult; you intended to guide Axe through banishing nightmares of his brother’s death. Out of consideration for Axe’s privacy, you had never asked him why he had such specific nightmares about his brother, but nightmares involving a sibling death as vivid as Axe’s hinted at some very dark and complex situations existing in the skeletons’ waking world. Those hints aside, Axe had outright stated that things were terrible in the Underground where he lived. Maybe working through his dream would give him some insight into fixing his real-life situation, at least the one he faced with his brother.

You hoped so. During the nights you’d spent helping Axe learn how to lucid dream, you had come to consider him a friend. You hated the thought of him suffering. You especially hated that you could only reach him during his nightmares. You wished you could do more, but how? Those were thoughts for your own waking world.

Tonight you wanted to focus on Axe’s progress, and once he’d gotten some practice at lucid dreaming, you’d work on changing the heart-breaking nightmare of his brother.

Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull as he waited for you to appear. He could feel himself slipping towards darker dreamscapes, and he fought to stay in the safe in-between place like you’d shown him. He told himself that the tremors in his bones were caused by his unstable magic and not by fear. What if his previous successes were a fluke? What if he failed when it mattered the most?

Thoughts of failure sent him spiraling into the guilty nightmare of his starving brother. After all, his failures in reality led to this, and the dire consequences that he saw unfolding in his subconscious lurked only a step behind him in the waking world. Soon his real life would become this very same nightmare, and he would be left as powerless to stop it there as he felt to stop it here.

Thankfully, you appeared within seconds to chase away the grim meanderings of his mind and help him focus on the task at hand- Crooks.

Axe’s brother loomed in front of him, eyes pleading, begging for something that Axe could not give him. He watched the image of his brother twist and reshape itself, growing alarmingly large, the bones stretching from an influx of magic that still somehow managed to provide almost no nutrition. He whispered his brother’s name, frozen in place and unable to remember what he was supposed to do to stop the scene unfolding in front of him.

A small hand slipped into his; he had forgotten about you as his familiar fears swamped him. You looked up at him with a calm expression and nodded, encouraging him.

“You can do this.” Your words bolstered his courage. He dragged his panic back under control and turned to face Papyrus… or what had become of Papyrus under his inadequate care: the monster now known as Crooks.

“You know what you need to do,” you whispered.

Axe stepped towards his brother, focusing on Crooks as he had seen him last: tucked into his bed, the blanket no longer quite long enough to cover his lanky frame, wishing Axe a good night and sweet dreams and promising to see him in the morning. Keeping that image locked in his mind, Axe let his lone eyelight travel over his brother’s altered frame. Sure enough, not a single mote of dust rose from the other skeleton. Crooks simply stood there, watching him through sunken sockets.

Though he’d brought his brother’s recurring death to a halt, the words that swirled and echoed around him continued, too faint at first to make out individual words or phrases. His brother’s voice whispered accusations like poisoned arrows that pierced his SOUL. A chorus of questions, all beginning with “Why…?” slowed, sharpened, and gained clarity. Crooks spoke, though his mouth never moved and the words seemed to thrum within his very bones, tangible beyond mere sound.

Normally Crooks’ omnipresent voice asked him why he would allow his brother to starve, but this time the question differed, though it still sent chills to the very marrow of Axe’s bones.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME EAT-”

Axe quickly hushed his brother, stealing a glance at you to gauge your reaction. You simply made an encouraging gesture as if to say “Go on, you’re doing great.” He wondered if you’d feel the same way if you knew what Crooks’ next words would have been.

“i couldn’t let ya starve,” Axe spoke softly, tilting his head to maintain eye contact with his much taller brother. “i’d do anything to keep you alive.”

“EVEN-”

Axe nodded, nearly choking on guilt. “yeah. even that.”

“BUT I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T EVER WANT-”

Remorse softened Axe’s expression, and his gravelly voice hitched. “i couldn’t let ya dust. i had no choice. i’m so sorry.”

Without warning, Crooks slumped, but he wasn’t collapsing into dust. Instead, he crushed his brother against his ribcage in a tight hug. You sensed a loosening of the guilt and remorse that gripped this particular nightmare so tightly. Things weren’t resolved yet. Nightmares could rarely be banished in a single lucid dreaming session, but you’d given Axe the tools he needed to seize control of his sleeping world.

Only one challenge awaited you now: fighting the suffocating darkness of the final nightmare. You made plans to tackle that monumental task once Axe felt satisfied that he could manage this current nightmare on his own. Working through the tangle of emotions that his brother’s death awakened would take quite a bit longer than satisfying himself that he could eat his fill of dream donuts, but you were willing to go the distance to help Axe.

You actually wanted to do this, no matter how much the slithering darkness terrified you. Axe just meant that much to you.

“I think we’re ready for the final nightmare,” you declared after a dream session in which Axe showed off by summoning various items for his brother to eat.

In the lucid dreams about Crooks, his dream-brother mostly stood or sat nearby providing companionship and support as Axe practiced controlling his consciousness. Axe enjoyed the time with his brother, despite the knowledge that this version of Crooks existed only inside of his mind. It gave him a tentative sensation of hope that perhaps someday he could experience this type of peace with his brother in the waking world, free of the constant mad scramble for survival.

Your words shattered fragile, fleeting calm. Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull. The final nightmare contained his deep, dark fears, his madness, his guilt. Tendrils that reeked of his unspeakable crimes dragged him down into the cesspool that used to be his SOUL. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He didn’t want you to know what he was truly capable of.

You’d never come back, and he’d be left alone with the echoing, blossoming psychosis that suffocated him. It would be worse now though. You’d shined a light into his life, and now he risked that glimmer of goodness being torn away… torn away because of what he’d done.

The punishment would fit the crime of his continuing survival.

You stepped into Axe’s dream world, excited and nervous at the prospect of facing the unknown horrors of this last nightmare that plagued him. The endless grey limbo that surrounded you came as quite a surprise when you expected inky vines of darkness encased in the thorns of Axe’s painful emotions and memories. Axe refused to meet your eyes when you approached him. Something was off about the whole situation.

“Is everything ok?” Maybe Axe wasn’t ready to face the darkness of the upcoming nightmare. You didn’t mind; you weren’t going to push him towards something that he didn’t want to do. You weren’t exactly eager to face it either, and besides, you thought you might enjoy just spending some time with Axe.

When he raised his head to meet your eyes, you couldn’t suppress a gasp of fright. Goosebumps erupted along your arms, and you shivered.

Axe’s single red eyelight… it glowed with an eerie flickering light, seeming to swell until the socket could barely contain the vortex of its power. Axe tilted his head at an unnatural angle and laughed at your reaction. You forced yourself to stand your ground despite your fear. This was not the monster you knew. Axe now embodied the darkness of his own inner turmoil, and it froze the blood in your veins.

“nothing is ok!” Axe’s snarl dissolved into sinister chuckles that made his broad shoulders shake. He lifted a hand, phalanges curved like claws to scrape at the hole in his skull. You lunged forward to pull his hand away before he caused more damage to himself, and he shoved you roughly away.

The hurt and confusion in your eyes filled Axe with dark satisfaction. You needed to know just what kind of monster he was. You needed to fear him, to run away and never come back. Instead, you offered him your compassion yet again.

“Let me help you.” Tears filled your eyes. His madness must be breaking your sweet, loving heart, but he drove home his depravity because if he let himself care, you’d find out the truth eventually anyway. Losing you would hurt more if he actually had you first.

This time when you reached out for him, he dodged, letting your momentum carry you to your hands and knees on the floor. He loomed over you, oozing menace like a thick fog.

“help me?” Axe’s scornful laughter echoed around the empty landscape. “and why,” he asked cruelly, “would you help a murderer?”

“Murderer?” You repeated the word as a question, as if you weren’t completely sure you knew what it meant. Your eyes widened in shock as tendrils of darkness climbed Axe’s arm, sliding over his bones like living tattoos until they pooled in his hand, taking on the shape of a huge meat cleaver.

“how do you think i’ve survived so long, little human? i hunt, and i kill.” He grinned, his mouth stretching into a disturbing parody of joy. “humans mostly. honestly, did you think the blood on my hoodie was mine?”

You admittedly hadn’t thought much about the blood stains on the hoodie. Maybe they were his. Maybe they were ketchup. Maybe in his dreams he wore the stains of his brother’s imagined death. Dreams and nightmares created their own reality with its own details pulled more from a dreamer’s mindset than accurate memories. It shocked you to think that Axe truly wore a hoodie that had once been soaked with fresh blood.

Human blood.

You trembled. Axe began to circle you like a hungry wolf, casually swinging his gigantic cleaver.

“Do you regret it?” you finally asked in a tiny voice.

Those four words penetrated the armor of madness that Axe was using to push you away, and they struck him like a well-timed attack. He reeled, reaching for some lie to keep you from seeing the truth and pitying him.

He found nothing.

The meat cleaver fell from his shaking hand. Axe sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from you and your perceptiveness. He wanted to scare you away before you could judge him and abandon him, but you shot your question straight to his SOUL, refusing to believe the worst of him.

“every fucking minute of my life.”

This time, when you tentatively reached for him, undaunted by his previous rejection, he leaned into your touch. He hated himself for his weakness, but every second that you stayed, even if you left eventually, was a second he would cherish until time wore away even the memory of his dust.

With his first admission, however poorly he’d delivered it, out of the way, Axe couldn’t stop himself from confessing even more of his transgressions and regrets. “i lied and told my brother it was meat from an animal in the forest. he didn’t want to eat humans, but i tricked him. i couldn’t let him starve” The words poured out of him; he feared that as soon as things went quiet, you would realize what an irredeemable abomination he was and flee. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i didn’t know what else to do. we were so hungry… and it messed up our magic. there’s no way to hide what we did. no way to undo it.”

Axe’s words stumbled to a halt, and you sat for a moment in the heavy silence of the grey dreamscape, contemplating them. You hated what he had done, but you also understood that his only other option would be watching his brother starve to death. The circumstances didn’t allow for any winners, and Axe suffered with the knowledge of the things he’d done.

“You were trying to survive.” Your voice nearly cracked on the final word. You could not fathom the desperation that drove Axe to his decision.

You remembered all of the heart-breaking stories that Axe told you about the Underground: the human who’d stolen the SOULs that the monsters had gathered and fled, taking the monsters’ hope with them, the death of their monarchs at the human’s hands, the Royal Guard Captain’s ascension to a throne that she didn’t possess the skills to manage, and the unbearable suffering of monsters starving to death or falling down because of an unshakable despair.

You raised your eyes to meet Axe’s eyelight, expecting to see softness there once more, but instead his horrified expression stared back at you. You didn’t need to puzzle out the cause because a moment later, barbed shadow vines lashed you, wrapping around your legs and dragging you towards a puddle of oozing darkness near your feet. You struggled against the thorny tendrils, and they tightened, driving each wickedly sharp thorn-tip into your flesh.

Pain seared your legs, real physical pain… in someone else’s dream. Panic washed over you, and you fought harder to escape, causing the barbs to rip deeper into you.

You screamed.

Shaking off his shock at the sound of your scream, Axe lunged forward. He wrapped both of his arms tightly around you and wrenched you away from the grasping vines. A writhing mass of them rose up behind him, swarming over him like living things. Staggering a few steps forward, Axe set you on an empty bit of space, but the vines quickly pulled him off of his feet and into a kneeling position. More tendrils rose to wrap around him, and the inky darkness of the puddle rose up to meet them, slithering up his body and swallowing him up in the darkness.

“i can’t protect you here… i can’t keep you safe from me, from my mind.” Axe choked out the words through the darkness consuming him. He couldn’t let you come back. He wouldn’t allow you to be in danger because of him.

This had to be good-bye.

He focused his mind.

“don’t come back.”

You jolted awake, that one last glimpse of Axe’s red eyelight, brimming with pain and regret burning in your mind. He had kicked you out of his dreams and told you not to come back. You couldn’t dream-walk in a mind that wasn’t open to your presence. Your throat constricted, and you felt tears sting your eyes. What if you never saw Axe again?

When you tossed back your blankets, you half expected to see scratches on your legs where Axe’s negative thoughts and emotions had touched you, but your skin was unbroken. You’d never experienced a nightmare so vivid and intense, but you breathed a sigh of relief that it couldn’t reach you in the waking world. If only Axe would let you come back, you could tell him that despite your panicked reactions, his dreams had no power to harm you.

Instead, he would continue to face the torment of his past mistakes all alone… for now.

Because while you had been helping Axe deal with his nightmares, you hadn’t neglected the appalling circumstances of his reality. If you could make your waking project work, you would be able to truly save the skeleton that you cared for so deeply.

I won’t let you push me away, you vowed.

Axe settled himself on the bench of his sentry station, taking a break from prowling the forest for potential meals. The barren snowscape left him all alone with his thoughts, and he hated it. In one bout of unhinged boredom, he’d created a sign for the outpost: “Head dogs, 5G.” It made as much sense as anything else in the Underground. Besides, there was no such thing as a hot dog in this frigid wasteland.

The narrow lines of dead tree trunks shifted if he stared at them too long, and the wind that howled through them carried voices whose words he could not quite arrange into coherency. The windblown whispers rose in volume until the roaring of innumerable voices filled his skull. The blazing white of the snow surrounding him only added to the sensory overload. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see.

“shut up, shut up!” Axe chanted, clawing at the hole in his skull. Reality warped, the passage of time quickened and slowed, and nothing made sense anymore…

… and you were standing in front of him.

Axe recoiled in disbelief. How could this be happening? He hadn’t fallen asleep… or had he? Maybe you were a cruel hallucination conjured by his loneliness. He refused to accept the vision of you even when you reached out in that oh-so-familiar way to calm the scrabbling of his phalanges against the jagged edges of the hole in his skull.

Axe’s hand shot out as quickly as a striking snake and grabbed your wrist. He yanked you forward until you were partially bent over the sill of the sentry station. He raised his massive knife high above his head; his eyes held no recognition, no clarity, no sanity.

You held completely still, unflinching. The meat cleaver hovered threateningly above you, but it did not fall. You and Axe were frozen in the moment, but despite the madness that absolutely radiated from him, you trusted him not to hurt you.

“you’re not real,” Axe accused you in a gravelly whisper. You weren’t even sure if he meant to speak aloud at all.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice didn’t waver, and you kept your eyes locked with his single eyelight, calm yet firm.

Axe lowered the knife. Real or imagined, starving or not, he would never hurt you. You knew him too well. He released your wrist, hoping he hadn’t hurt you by grabbing you like that. He wanted to ask how you’d gotten here, but other matters demanded a higher priority.

“you aren’t safe here,” the skeleton scolded gruffly. “didn’t you listen? monsters here kill and eat humans!”

“Good thing I found you first then.” You tried to diffuse the tension with bravado, but you had to admit that your choice to come to the Underground was a risky one. Axe’s eyelight travelled over your body, searching for injuries while surreptitiously taking in the sight of you. His obvious concern for your safety filled you with warmth and determination.

“there’s nothing good about this,” Axe growled though he had to admit that seeing you again definitely felt like a good thing to him. That little bit of goodness could be snuffed out in a hurry though if another monster saw you and attacked. “i’ve got to get you out of here.”

Axe lumbered out of his sentry station, glancing furtively around the barren landscape, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he expected to spot an enemy or an escape route. The skeleton stopped right next to you, attempting to block you from prying eyes. You found his protective stance rather charming, but you weren’t here to be charmed. You were on a mission.

You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, swinging it around into Axe’s line of sight and opening it. Seven clear canisters sat inside, each with a brightly-colored heart shape inside of it. Axe’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“are those…?” Axe sounded almost reverent, and with good reason.

“Human SOULs? Yes. I gathered these from willing donors who wanted to help set the monsters free.” It had taken dedication and time, but you’d meticulously interviewed potential donors until you tracked down all seven SOUL types that you needed. Now, only the path to the Barrier stood in your way.

Without warning, Axe swept you into a crushing hug, then proceeded to spin you around. Your feet actually left the ground, and you laughed softly at the thrill of it.

“you’ve got to meet my brother, then we’ll smuggle you into the Capitol.” For once you heard excitement and hope in Axe’s voice. His eyelight gleamed with resolution as he reached for your hand. You placed your hand in his without hesitation. Axe’s declaration that he knew a shortcut still rang in your ears as the world spun beneath you and everything went dark.

Disoriented, you tried to take in the scene around you. You’d been outside, standing in a forest choked with dead trees and carpeted in snow, but suddenly you found yourself in a house. The loud colors of the bowling alley style carpeting had long since faded, and the couch had obviously seen better days. Everything in the house was touched with the same look of elegant decay: faded colors, worn fabrics, the yellowing of book pages, and the subtle musk of disuse.

A fine film of the dust of time spoke volumes about the life of two monsters who devoted so much of their lives to simply surviving that they were forced to neglect the basic upkeep of their home. The house looked so long abandoned that the presence of life within it seemed almost surreal. You couldn’t find words to break the silence that permeated the house, soundless echoes of what it had once been.

Movement caught your eye; a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped in the dust-mote-filled light. Your eyes travelled up and up, an impossible height despite the figure’s hunched posture, until you found facial features that you recognized from Axe’s dream. The vivid colors of Axe’s subconscious bore the same washed-out appearance here that characterized their home, but you knew this must be Papyrus, now known as Crooks due to the effects of his recent tragic diet.

Crooks wrung his hands shyly, awaiting your reaction to his somewhat terrifying appearance. His teeth were crooked and broken, caked with something red that you tried not to think about too much. His nervous actions tugged at your heart, and you offered him a gentle smile which he responded to with a smile of his own.

“I’D OFFER YOU SOME OF MY SIGNATURE SPAGHETTI AND EYEBALLS, BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF PASTA.” His apologetic tone did little to distract you from the fact that the skeleton brothers were short of pasta but not eyeballs.

“That’s alright. Really.” You didn’t hold out much hope that Crooks had misspoken considering Axe’s earlier admission. The sooner you got these monsters out of their Underground prison, the sooner they could return to normal healthy eating habits.

“my friend here wants to help us get to the Surface. they’ve got plenty of pasta up there. we just need to talk to ol’ Queen Undyne first,” Axe interjected, using a light tone to dispel the awkwardness of his brother’s offer.

Crooks perked up at the mention of Undyne. “UNDYNE WILL BE SO RELIEVED. I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES BEING QUEEN VERY MUCH…” You clutched your backpack and its precious cargo of SOULs, unzipping it slightly to show the mingled glow of seven vibrant colors. Crooks peered at them with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

Axe shifted uncomfortably. “yeah, relieved,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. You didn’t have much time to wonder about the skeletons’ very different reactions to Undyne because Axe extended a hand to you and Crooks. As soon as your fingertips brushed his smooth, warm bones, everything went dark again.

In the few seconds it took your eyes to communicate the view of a once-opulent throne room to your poor confused brain, a glowing blue spear appeared and slammed into the ground so close to you that you felt the force of the impact thrumming up the shaft of the weapon. If Axe hadn’t yanked you backwards, you would’ve been impaled. Where had it even come from?

“UNDYNE WAIT! THIS HUMAN IS A FRIEND!” You followed the direction of Crooks’ voice to see an armor-clad monster with a wild mane of crimson hair. She held another glowing blue spear, and her single yellow eye focused on you with murderous malice. You staggered backwards from the force of her glare.

“No human is a friend to monsters,” Queen Undyne roared, launching a volley of her spears at you. You resigned yourself to your doom, regretting that your rescue attempt had been such a short-lived failure.

A wall of bones erupted from the tiles of the floor, blocking the attack. Crooks and Axe both stood next to you, arms outstretched to summon the defensive maneuver. More spears struck the bones, causing them to shudder, but they remained standing. You turned wide, panicked eyes to Axe, searching for some explanation or reassurance.

“can you hold her off?” Axe asked Crooks, who nodded somberly. The stocky skeleton grabbed your arm and dragged you down a hallway of soaring pillars coated thickly in cobwebs and floor to ceiling windows of cloudy, cracked glass. Away from the immediate danger, you began to tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Axe pulled you close, wrapping you in the safety of his arms and gently rubbing your back. He made soft shushing sounds, and you realized that your tears had turned into terrified sobs. Your body shook, and you hiccuped, trying to catch your breath. Axe held you until the overwhelming wave of emotion subsided.

“i’m so sorry. i thought maybe we could talk some sense into Undyne. she and my brother used to be really close, but the last human who came through here… well, that human killed a lot of monsters and stole the SOULs that we had collected towards breaking the barrier. they left us with nothing but despair and dust, and Undyne blamed herself for not stopping them. it… affected her.” Once again, Axe looked guilty.

“How can we convince her that I’m trying to help?” You gripped your backpack with determined hands. You didn’t gather these SOULs for nothing, and you didn’t plan to leave the starving monsters in the Underground without at least making an effort to save them.

“you aren’t going to convince her of anything.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Axe laid a phalange against your lips to silence you. “i want you to get out of here. it’s not safe, and i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“What about breaking the Barrier?”

Loud crashes sounded from the Throne Room. Axe shot a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing you further down the hallway. “i need to go help my brother. if we can convince Undyne to trust you, i’ll meet you at the Barrier to break it and free the monsters.”

“What if you can’t?” More sounds of destruction threatened to drown out your whispered words, but Axe was close enough to hear you over the cacophony. Sorrow filled his single eyelight.

“i won’t put you in danger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Actually, it did answer your question, and the implications left you frantic with worry for him. You wanted to explain how you felt about him, why his plan tore your heart to pieces, that you couldn’t just leave him behind, but the sounds of battle were approaching quickly.

Crooks slid backwards into the pillar-lined hallway, kicking up dirt. He held bone attacks in his gloved hands, and he used them to deflect wave after wave of spear attacks. The barrage of attacks drove him backwards again, closer to you and his brother. Axe stepped between you and the sound of Undyne’s war cries.

Turning, he cupped your cheek in one large, bony hand. His eyelight drank you in as if to memorize every feature of your tear-streaked face. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “go,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

Then he was gone, teleporting to the entrance of the hallway to join Crooks with bone attacks flying.

If you stayed, it would only distract him. He wanted you to go, to be safe. It took every bit of willpower in your body to walk away, to step through the Barrier without him, knowing that he never would’ve fought Undyne if it wasn’t for your meddling.

You waited.

And waited.

The seconds stretched out, each one lasting a thousand excruciating years.

You waited.

Axe curled up on the couch, full to bursting from a delicious dinner prepared by his brother. Yawning, he rested his skull in your lap, and you gently stroked his scapulae, smiling as he began to doze. He no longer feared nightmares. In fact, he rarely dreamed at all anymore. After all, what would be the point in dreaming?

Life on the Surface far surpassed anything that his subconscious could fabricate, and he already lived that dream every single day, with you.

INDEX

#vexy writes #horrortale #horrortale sans #ht!sans #horrortale papyrus #ht!papyrus #horrortale undyne #ht!undyne #horror!sans x reader #fem!reader

89 notes · View notes

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 years

Text

Did you hear about the Fraktz haunting in New South Wales (1995ish)?

It has gotten a little folklore-y and probably sensationalised over the years, but the basic premise is that Dina and Hans Fraktz were one of those overly helpful religious types, and were raising their three kids (Curtis - 11, Angie -8/9?, Louisa-May - 3) just about the same.

They lived in Albury, NSW which is in Australia in a dept of housing place, not much room but they made do and were always grateful to god about it. Enough that, as the story goes, it catches the attention of some demonic entities.

Belphorn bets that Lucifer can't corrupt the whole family in under a year, and of course the overachiever that he is, the head of hell says 'Hold my beer mate' and goes to work.

It starts as every horror movie starts, weird noises, bad dreams, smell of decay, something in the corner of their eye, etc. Louisa-May is the most sensitive, and of course, gets taken first after promising something to her 'imaginary friend'.

The paediatrician isn't sure what to do when her frantic parents present at the clinic with a toddler that keeps cackling maniacally and contorting in ways bodies shouldn't. They rationalise it's probably ehhlers-danlos sydrome or a varient, and this needs further observation. A referral for a specialist is provided, and that's that apparently.

Of course with a 'sick' child, the stress and tension in the house is high. Dina and Hanz are having whispered not-arguments so the kids won't hear, and Hanz pretends to ignore that Dina's gone back to smoking ten a day to keep herself calm. In the same way she turns a blind eye to his fermented grape juice dinners... and breakfasts.

Curtis shows the stress by acting out at school, getting detentions frequently and just skirting away from suspension by technicality alone. His friends distance themselves, he has no energy for footy anymore, and he can barely concentrate because something is always just behind him. He screams himself awake, begging it to just leave him alone, he'd do anything to just be left alone.

"Anything?" the shadow asks one night in late June, detaching from the wall. There's a few variations of the pact that the demon makes, but they all boil down to 'you can't be scared of us, if you're one of us' and Curtis is so tired he accepts.

The next morning Curtis is muttering in ancient sumerian under his breath, with bloodshot eyes and a strange echo to his voice.

Hanz speaks with their local minister about an exorcism, or some sort of spiritual guidance. A bake-sale to assist in medical care is organised, and a prayer night held for the two Fraktz children.

Nothing seems to change. Dina can only turn the crucifixes in the house rightside up so many time a day, and starts to just walk past them now. Who cares anymore?

Morning and Evening prayers go by the wayside, and even saying Grace falls out of fashion because its horrifying to hear it babbled back in dead languages, or one of your children shrieking at the holy words burning her ears...

By September, Dina's exhausted. Something's scurrying in the walls at night and she knows its not rats, it can't be. She checks on Curtis and Louisa-May to make sure it's not either of them climbing the walls again.

Hanz won't get up anymore, so she tends to wander the house with a flashlight trying to find the noise, and ignoring the lingering sensation of something breathing on her neck. She ignores it, because their minister said acknowledgement gives it power.

Something has written an ominous message across her kitchen wall in what is either blood or thick jelly, and that's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Dina bursts into tears and starts yelling for whatever was doing this to get the FUCK out of HER HOUsE because she JUST WASHED THAT WALL and WHO DID IT THINK IT WAS to go doing something like that?

Something knocks a few jars over, and four slash marks appear on the bench. Dina's scared but still angry, she screams at the air, turning in every direction. "What do you want? Tell me, and I'll do it, just leave us alone!"

By the time Hanz stumbled into the kitchen, swaying and dizzy from his skinfull, Dina wasn't there anymore. Well, at least, her body was.

Hanz would tell his neighbour, the minister and his church group about finding Dina walking on the ceiling and singing an old lullaby to the sleeping Louisa-May in her arms. She reportedly screams at him when he asks what in god's name is she doing?

Terrified, Angie asks her father if she can go stay with her aunty (Meryl) in Woodonga, just a town over. Hanz readily agrees, and drives her there himself, before again seeking assistance from the church.

The minister, clearly not ever having been prepared for such things when he'd accepted the small town position, was at a loss and offered platitudes. Using comparisons to Job to try and help Hanz feel that his faith was merely being tested, and not that God had abandoned him...

For the first time in his life, Hanz began to doubt in the power of the Lord. He left a few journal entries around October 1995, many of which contained the phrases "I feel like I'm going mad" and "I know I'm not crazy, but it feels like I am", as things spiralled out of control.

The main barrier to accessing help, is that Dina, Curtis and Louisa-May were perfectly capacble of acting like themselves when people came around. So Hanz came off as having some sort of mental health episode, and the minute they left, things deteriorated again.

At his wit's end, Hanz locked himself in his bedroom and begged the lord for help. Sobbing and pleading, clenching his hands so tightly in place that his nails pierced the soft flesh between his fingers and the crucifix imprinted on his palms.

It was not entirely clear what happened after this point, as the tales all like to make interesting claims but the key point is there were no actual witnesses, except Hanz and the already 'taken'. But by the next morning Hanz had been subsumbed by the entity as well.

Despite being with her aunty, Angie continued to have nightmares that she would shriek herself awake from, well into late November. Her aunt and two adult cousins would take turns reading to her, distracting her, and reminding Angie about Christmas coming up soon so she had something to look forwards to.

They also took turns sleeping on the floor by her little bed in the guest room, so that there was always someone to point out there was 'nothing there and nothing can hurt you' when Angie woke up distressed. [Her older cousin Deliah has a book about the ordeal, and I think it might be in e-reader, but you can google it if you want.]

So Christmas rolls around, and excitement for Santa overlays even the deepest fear of shadows, which seems to breathe some life back into little Angie. Her aunt is relieved, but is still fighting to get some in-home supports for her brother, his wife and their other two children; she knows something's wrong, but suspects it might be something in the old council pipes...

Angie struggles to keep her eyes open as the countdown begins, and just managed a solitary enthused 'tooooooooot' from her party blower before falling asleep on the couch against her other cousin, Javin. The adults laugh uproariously and take photos, for when she's old enough to be embarrassed by such things.

Oddly enough, the new year seems to have snapped the rest of the family out of their funk, as if 1996 has a power all of its own. Things seem to slip back into place as if people had not been puppeted by a demonic entity for nearly 12 months...

Down in hell Lucifer was fuming and Belphorn was far too smug.

But what could be said about the bet? Lucifer was bound to lose, because he didn't possess all the Fraktz.

#i made this #its bad but i am proud #sorry #Joke

29 notes · View notes

neeterloveschenford · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on RNM 3x11

Hello my RNM fam! So we finally had an episode that didn’t bring me massive amounts of joy. There were definitely things that I liked. And I think it would have been a fairly decent episode if it were in season 2. But all in all it just didn’t make me giddy like most episodes this season did. I think this one would have worked with a longer season. You need filler episodes when you have 22 episodes a season. But, alas, we got this last night. Like I said, there were things that I liked. So it wasn’t all bad. But I think it was a shining example of the things that they still need to fix. So let’s dive in and discuss the good and the bad.

First off, I still love Jones! He is such a good villain and Nathan has been so amazing this year. Max still drives me crazy, but I think that has more to do with the writing than the acting. I am really going to miss Jones when they take him down. But he’s the kind of villain that you just can’t let walk around. I love that he was seemingly trying to seduce Liz into his way of thinking. Knowing how much she loves Max, he was trying to use his charm and her obvious appreciation of Max’s body to his advantage. And I think he’s attracted to her spunk. I imagine she might just remind him of Nora. I’d really like to know how he actually felt about her. I get the feeling that he loved her as much as someone like him could love someone. I think he felt betrayed when she stole his DNA and killed all of his clones.

It was fascinating to hear him talk about how he killed so many of his people to save the planet. I wonder if they will get into maybe eugenics or something as his reasoning. Now that would be the way to tell a racist storyline. That’s the beauty of sci-fi. You can tell a story that is heavy and hard to do, but set it somewhere that is removed from our everyday life. I mean, we can just turn on the news to see horrible white supremescist terrorizing innocent people anytime anywhere. But through sci-fi we can see issues like this without the heavy-handedness that we’ve seen so far this season. This should have come up a lot sooner and then they could have explored a racism storyline that might have actually worked. I also like how Jones turned the savior trope on its head.

I really love that Dallas isn’t so thrown by being an alien that he walks away from his faith. I think it’s a lot more realistic than always assuming that religion would fall by the wayside if we were to find out we weren’t alone in the universe. I always think about an episode of Babylon 5 I saw years ago when I think about aliens and religion. In it, all of the alien races were having ceremonies that show the religious practices of their planet and the human leader spent the episode trying to decide how to showcase Earth’s spirituality. He ended up bringing everyone to a very long hallway where there was a huge line of people from all different religions lined up to be introduced to the aliens. It was a way to show how diverse the beliefs of human beings are. I thought it was brilliant. People would not just throw away their beliefs simply because we found out we weren’t alone. So it was nice to see how a man of faith could still rely on his faith in God to help him through this. (So now can we tell Arturo that Rosa was resurrected by an alien and not just by a “miracle.”)

Also, I really love Dallas. He can stay. And welcome to the land of bossy Isobel dude. She is ALWAYS this direct!

I know some people wanted Isobel to have the ability to control people, but I’m glad it’s Michael that has that power. I think he can bear the burden of it better than Isobel. Remember how we all thought it was great last episode that she had that moment where she said that’s what I get for invading people’s minds? I think she would not use it the way Michael will. He showed how careful he wants to be with this power when he asked the sheriff for permission to enter her mind and kick Jones out. He will be so careful to use his powers wisely and sparingly. I’m not saying Isobel would go all dictator on folks, but she can be very impulsive.

The Sanders/Michael scene was everything good and right in the world. I love how much Sanders loves Michael. And he is the best one-eyed Miagi that ever Miagied. I am so glad that Michael has him in his life. He is one of the only people (the other being Alex of course) that can get through to Michael. He knows that boy so well and always seems to know just what to say to get Michael to see the truth of who he is.

I am loving Rosa and Isobel’s friendship this season. It was pretty rough last season. But they are so supportive of each other. I love that we get to see women supporting women this season. I hope we have many more moments with them.

So now I’m going to get into the things I truly did not like. First of all, I still think Heath is a major bore. A pretty, pretty, pretty bore. I think he needs to go back to California. I don’t want him to die. That would hurt Dallas and I adore him. But Heath needs to go. Go back to Genoryx. I’m sure they’d take him back.

Wyatt. For the love of all things holy and righteous, can we be done with him now? Sad thing is, he and Rosa actually have chemistry. If this was the plan all along, then why make him so incredibly irredeemable in the first place? What a waste of time and story line.

I do not understand why they cannot plan out how to use the 10 episode characters. This would have been the perfect episode to have Alex and even Greg. An Air Force and a Navy veteran might have been a little useful in infiltrating the secret lair of a diabolical dictator. We now know that Alex saw combat in his three tours. And I can’t remember if Greg is a Navy SEAL in canon or fanon, but I’m pretty sure if it isn’t canon, he didn’t just swab the decks while he was in the Navy. He is a Manes after all. So why would we have an episode like this where they aren’t even utilized? I know Tanner’s schedule is tricky with Bold and the Beautiful, but they filmed so many other things out of order, why couldn’t they swing this one? Really poor planning.

And you’re going to tell me that Alex, Kyle, and Maria aren’t going to be in the mix to save Liz? I would totally understand Kyle and Maria being sidelined with Rosa when it comes to rescuing Liz, but this is just another example of how the writers seem to forget that these people are very important to each other. It’s absolute nonsense. I get that you wouldn’t see each other every day, but Rosa would be a little upset that her brother is in a coma. Alex would be a little ticked off that someone has, once again, kidnapped one of his best friends. It’s really annoying how they expect us to fill in the blanks.

Who likes Harry Potter so much and how can we make them stop with the references?

Why did we just drop the whole funeral vision story line? I mean, no one talks about it anymore. At all. What was the point?

I keep telling myself that some of the things that are wrong with the show are left over from Carina. I know that she at least had an outline for this season in play. We know she wrote the first episode. I know she made a big deal about all the changes that were made after she got booted, but how much could they change without causing problems. I am probably just projecting my hatred of her leadership on this season, but I am hopeful that this is the case and we can be even more streamlined next season. A girl can dream.

Lastly, where the hell was my morning after. I mean seriously people!

Ok, that’s all I’ve got this week. Here’s hoping we can have two hours of wonderfulness next week and end with an amazing experience. Also, can we finally get some Malex appreciation from the rest of the characters? I know I’m not asking for too much. Till next time my lovelies! Hope everyone has a great week!!

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico s3 #3x11 #it's only my opinion

8 notes · View notes

the-breath-in-air · 3 years

Text

Fixing "Boy Erased" (2018)

I recently decided to watch Boy Erased (2018) again, now that we're a couple years out from its initial release (and hype). And I came away with some thoughts.

First, something I think worked. You know that scene near the end, when Jared (Lucas Hedges) is trying to leave the conversion camp and he's racing through corridors and whatnot. That whole sequence works, but there's one moment that really stands out.

Jared attempts to get his phone and Michael (one of the 'camp counselors') tries to physically wrestle it away from him. There's a bit of a fight but eventually Jared makes his way to the bathroom and he calls his mom to come take him away. He then emerges from the bathroom and says to Victor Sykes (who runs the camp), "If you, or anyone else puts their hands on me, I have witnesses." Victor puts up his hands and says, "Nobody's gonna put their hands on you. Why would anybody do that? Come and sit. We're gonna wait for your mom, okay?" Then there's a hard cut to this:

Victor Sykes and Brandon literally laying their hands on Jared and praying. And I love that juxtaposition because it brings to light the violence inherent in this situation. They're restraining him through enforced religious acts. There's violence in this prayer.

And on top of that, it serves as a pretty good metaphor for the whole film. Jared's parents (especially his mother) believe they're helping but really they're hurting. They can't see the violence of their actions in sending him to the camp.

If only the rest of the film was working on this level.

Problem the first: Audience as observer. The film is really about observing its subject, Jared, as he experiences these events. But it isn't about giving us any insight into his perspective or interiority as he does so. The camera is looking at Jared more often that it is revealing to us what he's seeing. Perhaps the most obvious example of this issue is with the perfume ad scene. Jared is on a run and he comes across a perfume ad on the side of a bus stop with a bare chested buff guy. The camera shows us the ad, and then the rest of the scene has the camera (and thus, the audience) placed some distance away as we see Jared first touch the ad, then throw a rock at the ad, and then scream "fuck you" at it repeatedly. The ad itself isn't salacious enough to illicit that kind of response in the average audience-goer, and the camera is so disconnected from Jared's experience that we aren't really gaining insight into why this ad is affecting him in such a strong way. It ends up making it so that scene really does not work.

This isn't to critique Lucas Hedges's performance in that scene. It's more to say that all the other elements of that scene make it feel ridiculous - because the audience has not been guided toward viewing that ad in the same way that Jared does in that moment.

The second problem: Casting. To be absolutely clear, this is not a knock against any of the actors performances. On the contrary, I think everyone was pretty dang exceptional. Rather, it's more a conversation about casting choices. Two of those choices really stand out as somewhat misguided: Xavier Dolan as Jon and Emily Hinkler as Lee.

Turns out Emily Hinkler is a nonbinary actress. Lee (the character) is a cis guy who is conspicuously unmasculine. (If you've seen the movie - he's the one who gets hit in the head with a baseball). Casting a nonbinary actress as a cis boy at a conversion camp feels a bit off on it's own in that a conversion camp would be forcing people to adhere to assigned genders at birth. But I could get behind it as a sort of statement, like, a casting decision as direct opposition to the enforced gender binary of a conversion camp. i.e. Why should the movie adhere to the oppressive gender binary that the camp would? However, by casting a nonbinary actress as the least conventionally masculine character - it actually feels like it ends up reinforcing the binary. Lee's defining trait is that he's small and unmanly and, afaik, he's the only one of the male characters who is not portrayed by a cis man.

My issue with Xavier Dolan's casting is much simpler: Jon feels like he was written as a teenager and Xavier Dolan was approaching 30 when this was filmed. Maybe it wouldn't have bugged me so much if I didn't already know who Xavier Dolan was when watching the movie? Like, maybe if you watch it without knowing the actor's age, it works better? But also, the character feels like a teen but isn't explicitly stated to be a teen. So whenever he was on screen I kept wondering if actually part of Jon's situation is meant to be that he is 30 but stuck in a sort-of adolescence due to his relationship with his abusive father. Or did they just cast Xavier Dolan to portray a teenager?

This brings me to the third problem: Not enough of the ensemble. Jared, and thus the audience, spends proportionally, little screen time with the other people at the camp. They are rarely shown talking to each other - especially outside the restrictive observation of the camp's 'counselors.' This could be part of the point - i.e. that the camp is so isolating - but that isolation wasn't really highlighted by the camera/scenes/dialogue...so it really feels more like it's just an oversight. The movie focuses on Jared and his individual story and so the rest just fell by the wayside.

This is really unfortunate because there are some (potentially) great characters in there, especially Jon and Gary. Jon went through the program once before and is now back for a second time. We don't know what happened to make him come back. He appears to be 30-ish but he's staying at a hotel with his abusive father. He is completely invested in the program and treats his sexuality like an addiction. He has even taken it upon himself to forego all physical contact with other men (not even a handshake). His self-loathing is at once horrifying and heartbreaking.

In contrast, Gary (Troye Sivan) knows the entire program is bullshit, but he's playing along for his own survival. He's over 18; he lived with his boyfriend for a year prior to coming to the camp. So that begs the question of how his family convinced him to enter to the program. Also, Gary's so invested in his own survival, that he stays silent and is complacent in the abuse and violence he witnesses against others in the camp. He is both a victim and a bystander (at times).

I think this film would've really benefited from spending more time with these characters (as well as Sarah, portrayed by Jesse LaTourette, and Cameron, portrayed by Britton Sear) in the camp and seeing how they all interacted with each other. Give us a sense of their different contexts and perspectives - and give us a better sense of the ways that conversion camps disempower the people sent there (even people like Gary, who knows it's bullshit). It's the thing that makes all the other movies about conversion camps work so well.

Which brings us to the fourth problem: the ending. If we spend more time with the ensemble, we'd either end up with a really long movie or we'd have to cut out something else. Well, folks, we can cut about 10 minutes off the end. Everything after the dinner Jared has with his mother post-escape can go. The climax of the film is when Jared finally decides to leave the camp. The resolution comes when his mother places herself in opposition to Jared's father (which she had never done before) and decides that she's going to take Jared home. And the emotional resolution comes when she admits to Jared that they made a mistake and that they harmed him by sending him to the camp.

Everything after that is extraneous. We don't really need to see Jared living in a city with a boyfriend, or see him begin to reconcile with his father. His relationship with his father was never the emotional core for the film. Boy Erased is, in some ways, a movie about self-actualization and that's the sort of movie that's best to end with something a bit open-ended. Y'know...a sort of end-that's-just-the-beginning kind of thing. Because the story of Jared falling in love and dating and moving out and gaining the self-confidence to confront his father - well that's a whole other movie. And here it gets shoved into the epilogue, which does the whole thing a real disservice.

Then there are the informational cards at the end. Two stick out as being particularly frustrating. One, "The real Victor Sykes left L.I.A. in 2008. He now lives in Texas, with his husband," feels irrelevant and unnecessary. The audience cares about what happened to Gerrard Conley (who wrote the story and whom Jared is based off of). But why do we care about what happened to the real guy who ran the camp? We don't...except for the jab about him now being married to a man - which feels like it's a more significant point for the cis straight people in the audience than for anyone queer. Turns-out-ex-gay-pastor-was-actually-just-gay-the-whole-time is not revelatory, I gotta say.

Then there's also this:

The emphasis about conversion therapy "practiced on minors," feels a bit disconnected from the film we just watched - which emphasized how abusive and traumatizing it is, even for adults. And in the U.S., all states currently legally allow conversion therapy for anyone 18+. Only Washington D.C. has banned it. And that, to me, is equally egregious, yet it isn't mentioned. The film itself challenges the notion that it's somehow okay for this to be practiced on adults because it's ostensibly their "choice," and then the info cards at the end shy away from that stance by focusing on kids.

I think the thing I find most frustrating about this movie, is the wasted potential. As I said at the beginning of this, there are some moments that really stand out in how they use the medium to convey meaning. There are some choices in how the film uses light and brightness (or lack thereof), that are pretty dang good, too. But ultimately, it's a film I feel so detached from and I think some of what I explained above is part of why.

#boy erased #lucas hedges #xavier dolan #emily hinkler #troye sivan #joel edgerton #nicole kidman #jesse latourette #britton sear

13 notes · View notes

rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

Music and Magic among Knights and Thieves

Chapter 2: Trained to Turn Against

Tw: passive suicide mention

Gavin had always wanted to be a knight, though not for the same reason as the other recruits. He had not interest in being in the back pocket of some dusty old family. He wanted to fight. Growing up he had always been told that the best way to prove your strength was to become a knight. Behind the scenes as he grew up the Knights of Nordia had gone from being a testament of strength and prowess to a collection of Noble lap dogs. By the end of their initial round of training it had been made abundantly clear that the only way to make rank was to gain Noble approval. Strength and valor no longer mattered. They were corruption dressed in plated silver armor, and Gavin wanted none of it. His second year of training he collected his things; the few personal items he had and his set of hand axes; and left. There was nothing for him here. He wasn’t going to play by the strings of corrupt Nobles. Of course after such an act of treason he couldn’t stay in Nordia without being hunted. There was a traveler’s town on the coast called Greenwick, if he made that his last known location the assumption would be that he left the continent. Nordia would be content with that and the search would be called off. He was only one knight after all, a full scale search would hardly be worth the effort.

It was in Greenwick that he heard rumors of the disappearance of the first heir to House Arkait. There one day, gone the next. The Arkait family was one of the oldest families in the Kingdom, not one of the original founders, but close. So the news sent the continent into a bit of a shock. Some of the rumors were that he had been killed, others claimed it was a suicide cover up, and there were a few that ventured it was a kidnapping. Gavin hadn’t had the displeasure of working with that particular house of Nobility but he knew they were one of powerful magic. His personal theory was that the little noble-ling had either runaway or gotten himself snatched. Either way, it wasn’t his problem. In his opinion, the fewer stuck up Nobles running around the better. He spent the winter in Greenwick, then come spring he and a guy named Connor caused a shitstorm then went their separate ways. The shapeshifter was headed for The Hero’s Valley, and Gavin followed the road that lead south to see where he wound up. The last he saw of his companion was paw prints in the snow. Gavin didn’t plan to stay in any one place for too long; his trade had become protecting those that could afford his company, and theft. If he became a familiar face in a town the more lucrative half of his trade would be in jeopardy, and he couldn’t have that.

It was four years on, he was in Raven’s Hollow, when he heard the first rumors that the second one had vanished. The official statement by the House was that he had died in the fire that had broken out in the owlery. Which would have been all well and good; but Gavin had a nice burn scar from sparring with him. Silas was a pyromancer, he might have started the fire in the owlery, but Gavin had his doubts about his dying in it. Something that was solidified when he met up with Daniel who was now travelling with a pyromancer after his time in Nordia. Daniel had asked him not to say anything about it, though he never actually introduced his companion. Gavin gave his word because there was honor among thieves after all. They parted ways a few weeks later. There were faint whispers of revolution coming from Nordia. House Arkait only had one heir left, and he was the most dangerous. Rune Magic they said; scrip and ancient magics were at his disposal. They could rise back up as the house of war they had once been. There was an unspoken tension in the air as the continent held its breath. They were on the knife’s edge of history being made and no one knew which way fate would fall.

Then, much like his brothers before him, the last heir disappeared. This time, Gavin was more inclined to believe the rumors of a kidnapping. This noble-ling was a valuable one. The last remaining chess piece of House Arkait was off the board. Fate had fallen in their favor. He was back in Greenwick, enough time had passed that had certainly been forgotten. Gavin had settled at the bar and was reveling in his victory. He had bested a city Knight in Pharaoh as well as a fight he had gained the man’s coin as well as his armor. A disguise of sorts. Drinks had been in order, and he might have had a few too many. His tongue got rather loose when he was drunk. “You see, I think the little Noble was kidnapped.” He remarked and his words caught on his teeth on their way out. “Coming from a family like that would fetch someone a pretty bit of gold. Not to mention, imagine even just being a part of the group that brought about the fall of House Arkait.” He wasn’t normally one to buy into rumors, but valuable spell books had gone missing along with the heir. Old magic. They could be ransomed for as much or even more than the noble-ling himself. Gavin found that a little suspicious. Noble houses normally kept things like that under lock and key.

Gavin liked this particular bar because the drinks were cheap and the performers in the area were usually trying to collect a bit more coin before they set off so they tended to perform very well. Tonight’s singer wasn’t a tavern performer, he was dressed too nicely. He also used magic, something done usually for playing in open courts or gardens. Assurance they would be heard without fade, echo, or distortion. This one put the sigil on his lute and his throat. It was something Gavin had never seen before. That wasn’t what pulled him in though. What grabbed him was the gentle croon of the voice and the haunted innocence of his songs. They were of adventure and travel, as many tended to be. The difference was the adventure came after breaking free of a golden prison. Learning the world in ways that most other people never had to. In a way that Gavin had never seen before, this bard held the attention of the tavern as a whole. Enough so that he was applauded into another set. Gavin had never been one to be particularly moved by music, but there was something about these songs that wouldn’t let him go. He wanted to know why. He knew it wasn’t magic, so there had to be something else to it.

When the bard had settled at the bar again Gavin flagged the bartender for two drinks and made his way over. He placed the drink on the bar beside him and it earned him a confused look. “Thank you?” It came across as more of a question than a statement, “Might I ask what this is for?” “Your performance mostly.” Gavin replied as he took the open seat beside him, “We don’t normally get musicians like you around these parts.” There was a split second when the bard almost looked afraid. He had a secret then, interesting. “Care to explain what you mean?” He asked once he had his composure about him again. “Magic users.” He said, “You lot normally tend to stick to the Nobles pretty closely, they pay better than taverns do. So I suppose I’m just curious as to what would bring you to a place like this.” He watched with interest as the bard relaxed. “I wanted to see more of the world.” There was a bit of wonder to his voice as he said that, but it turned more serious as he continued, “Playing for the same crowd every few weeks paid well, but by doing this I get to write my own songs.”

He was chasing the same thing as Gavin then. The freedom to just be. Unlike Gavin though, he also seemed to be running away from something. “There’s no one you have to worry about pissing off.” He remarked, “That has to be nice.” “It is.” Gavin agreed. He watched the bard pull some kind of magic before he tried the drink, “Could I ask your name?” “Most people just call me Reed.” He said, “Got something I can call you?” “Nines.” Was the quick response before he turned his head away to cough, “Forgive me. I sang more than normal this evening and my throat isn’t too happy with me about it.” Gavin couldn’t exactly relate to that, but he enjoyed talking with Nines. So he told a few stories, with the better details exaggerated of course. When Nines asked to use some of them for songs - until he’d had an adventure of his own - Gavin was over the moon and agreed. Only the greatest adventurers got their stories immortalized in such a way and Gavin was proud to make one of their rank. Even if his tales would be heard in small wayside taverns and on street corners.

It wasn’t until Nines excused himself citing the early hour, that Gavin realized just how much time had passed. He was exactly the most socially adept person; especially when compared to someone who had run in Noble circles, but talking with Nines came easy. He listened to Gavin with an intensity and awe to his eyes that just kept Gavin going. He was almost disappointed to be traveling in the morning when it seemed like Nines would be staying here a while longer, but he had lingered long enough. If Nines meant to travel they might cross paths again. In a way, he did come across Nines again. In the form of a ransom poster that he found on the outskirts of the capitol city. His mysterious bard had been none other than the last heir to House Arkait. One Richard Arkait, the last one of a lineage of lies. A runaway like his brothers before him. Gavin couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that he had run into two of them probably meant something. What he was sure of though, was that change was coming, and it was going to shake the Continent to its core. He didn’t know when; and just hoped to be far away when it did.

#Music and Magic among Knights and Thieves #MMTKAU #fantasy au #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh #passive suicide mention tw

10 notes · View notes

miss-noo-na · 4 years

Text

Strange Love (Part 1)

Title: Strange Love

Featuring: Johnny (NCT) x Reader

Rating: Mature. Future updates to include BDSM themes

Summary: Your job is finally recognizing all the hard work you’ve been putting in, and assigns you to a special project that includes travel. The only downside is that you have to team up with your cocky co-worker. In the process you learn about his predilections and what he does to relieve stress in his downtime, and how they might come to benefit you, too.

The copier spluttered and buzzed as it spit out page after page of the same report. Sometimes it jammed and you had to tap it just right for it to start up again, you knew it like clockwork now, not even having to shift your stance or your gaze to do it. You had made friends with the piece of equipment ages ago, this thing was older than some of the new hires in the office.

You had been there for 3 years now, but it felt much longer. You found the job out of college because of its promised upward mobility and company culture, and after a while neither one of those things mattered anymore. You had only had one partial raise and “company culture” really just meant there was cake in the break room once a month.

You didn’t know why you stayed. Actually, you did, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself. You were afraid.

You had always been timid, knowing what you wanted but too anxious to go after it. You could be stubborn and even stand up for yourself, but often you fell by the wayside, worried about making too much of a fuss. You developed a fine-tuned talent for painting on a smile, seeming agreeable, then grumbling under your breath and to your friends over drinks. You would convince yourself things would change, but they never did.

When the copier stopped with its signature grinding halt you snapped out of your reverie, piling the papers in arm to hand them out around the office. Busy-work, per usual.

When you stepped out of the room you immediately looked across the hall to the windowed room of your manager, able to hear his muffled laughter, head tossed back as he slapped his hand on another mans back. Your eyes set into a narrow glare at the other person.

John Suh had only shown up 9 months ago and he was already 2 positions ahead of you, with his fancy degree and family connections. They liked to pretend they didn’t play favorites but it was obvious from the moment he stepped in the door that he had something the rest of you didn’t, connections and his daddy’s money.

Plus, there was just this air of overconfidence he carried that enraged you. Not only did he have an advantage, he liked to act like it was his savvy business sense and charm that got him there.

The most annoying part of all is that no one else felt the way you did.

He was clearly attractive, the only person in the office who didn’t get shit from the boss for growing his hair out or not buttoning up his jacket. Every girl in the office from the 19 year old receptionist to the 67 year old accountant practically swooned when he talked to them. This, of course, made you look like the asshole to your colleagues. They called you distrustful and told you to be a little more open-minded, but you didn’t have patience for nepotism and unearned praise.

If you thought about it too long, the frustration built up and where did that leave you? You went about your business for the afternoon, intent on ignoring his presence like you usually did.

As you neared the manager’s door, he suddenly poked his head out and smiled at you.

“Hey there, can I grab you for a second?”

And then he disappeared inside, through the glass you could see him speak to your nemesis once more. Your stomach dropped, what could he possibly need? You set the stack down on your desk and returned to the office, clearing your throat as you entered since they were chatting and laughing like you didn’t exist.

“There you are, have a seat.” He said as he went to his desk, gesturing to the chairs in front of it. You were surprised when John took the seat next to yours, but chose to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I’ve had this project brewing for a few months now, and whilst going over potential candidates your name came up.”

Project? Your name?

“You’ve been loyal to the company for years, your workflow looks great, and I’ve never heard a fuss out of you. You’re honestly a prime worker for this position.”

“What position would that be, sir?” You asked gently, knowing he had a habit of going on tangents if you let him. Plus, all of this was lip service you’d heard since you started. They were always quick to praise, but never do anything that actually showed that it mattered in a way that helped you. Empty compliments.

“This is our main office, and the system we have here is the best in the business, but unfortunately that’s not the case in some of our smaller offices. They’re falling behind and their technology and practices aren’t getting updated in a timely fashion. Basically, they need help, and that’s where you two come in.”

Two? You peered over at the man next to you from the corner of your eye, and quickly back again.

“I’m not sure I follow. Aren’t these offices spread out all over the country?” You asked.

“Precisely. We’ve opened up a position for trainers, someone who is free to travel and can help these places get set up. You would spend about a week or less in each place, we would make sure you have proper accommodations and a stipend, of course.”

It dawned on you what he meant and you felt a mix of emotions. It was about time someone realized your potential and the hard work you had been putting in, even if you were still confused on how your name got brought up. You didn’t have any problem traveling, there was no relationship or particular thing that kept you tied down in one spot.

“Oh, and the 30% raise.”

You perked up at that, then quickly tried to make yourself appear neutral again.

“That does sound enticing.”

“What do you say? I think you both would be great at it.”

You fully looked over now, and made brief eye contact with the man who offered you an encouraging smile.

“We would be working...together?”

“It’s a two-man, excuse me, two-person job. I can tell you now I think you would make an excellent team.”

You didn’t even know him like that, and everything you did know you weren’t particularly fond of. You had maybe spoken a handful of words to each other, in passing. Things like “excuse me” and “here’s that report you needed.” The idea of having to spend so much time around him didn’t sit well with you, but how could you pass up such an opportunity? it was strictly business, it’s not like you had to be best friends.

“Okay, then.” You nodded and forced an uneasy smile.

“Fantastic! I’ll draw up the paperwork tonight and get you on your schedule within the week. In the meantime, I encourage you two to get to know each other.”

You left the office, intent on going straight back to your desk, but your new partner stopped you.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced, I’m John, but everyone just calls me Johnny.”

He stuck his hand out and you had to fight the urge to cringe, there was no way in hell you were going to call him that.

You were cordial, shook his hand and told him your name, avoided eye contact. Being this close to him you didn’t realize until now how tall he was.

“You want to grab some lunch with me? My treat, we can hammer out some details.”

“I’m a little busy this aftern-”

“It’ll be fine, the boss insists we form a game plan and I know a spot around the corner.” He cut you off and started to walk away as if you already agreed. You wanted to fight him on it, but that wasn’t the best way to start out a brand new position. You sighed and followed.

The “spot” was basically a sports bar, that was practically dead, save for a few people at the bar watching a baseball game. You sat at a table near the back and wished you could get a beer, but you still had a whole work day ahead of you.

“So it’s like, part trainer, part teacher, part IT. Do you have any experience in IT? I actually started out in computer science before I switched to business, my dad thought it was the best for my career path. I mean, I guess he was right because here I am.”

He was….different, than you thought he would be. You only saw him in the office, turning on his charm and worming his way into things. Here, he was talkative and friendly, and it was throwing you off-guard. The casual humble-brag about his background wasn’t making him anymore likable, though.

“No, I majored in English.”

I swear to God if he says-

“English? Aren’t you already fluent?”

You closed your eyes for a second while his stupid laugh rang in your ears.

“Anyway, I think this is going to be an awesome opportunity for us. I mean, how lucky are we to get picked for this?”

“I wouldn’t call it luck.” You grumbled before taking a drink, not really intending him to hear it.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not luck.” You said as you met his eyes fully for the first time. “Not for me. I’ve worked my ass off for this company for years, it’s only luck for people who got a head start.”

You sank your teeth into your tongue just as the words left you, and you could see the smile fade from his face. You suddenly felt flush and thought about apologizing, but he spoke up.

“Ah, so you think I had a leg up?”

“I didn’t mean-”

He waved a hand and laughed. “It’s fine, I know everyone thinks that, you’re just the first person to say it to my face.”

You couldn’t tell if he was offended and playing it off, or if he was really this nonchalant about it.

“Look, no offense, but I don’t think we need to be buddies for this to work. I would rather just get in the field and work things out from there.” You explained as directly as you could.

“That’s fair.” He nodded, to your surprise.

The small-talk ended and when he tried to pay for lunch, you insisted on giving your share. The rest of the day was uneventful, except for the twinge of guilt you had when you thought back on how you spoke to him.

When you got home, you collapsed on the couch next to your roommate, a graphic designer who worked from home and was always in her PJs. You envied her.

“Another rough day at the office, sweetie?” She asked, patting you on the head, condescending but still sincere.

“Remember that douchebag at work I told you about?”

“Oh, the cute one?” She asked with a smile, having seen him when coming to drop off some lunch for you once.

“Whatever, anyway.” You sat up to face her. “The good news is that I got a promotion to a position that lets me travel.”

“Hey, that’s great!” She beamed.

“The bad news is that we have to do it together.”

She looked to consider it for a moment before her lips curled into a devious smile. “On the road for work? Hotel stays? Working in close proximity? Ohh, this is like a spicy romance novel!”

“Ew, stop.” You scowled.

“Only if you stop pretending he’s not hot.”

“Someone can be objectively hot and I can still not like them or be attracted to them. He’s arrogant and he seems to think we’re on the same page somehow. He’s oblivious to his own privilege.”

“Okay, I get that, sorry for teasing you. But hey, this is the break you were looking for, right? Focus on the positive.”

“Thank you.”

She opened up her arms and you hugged for a long moment.

“Maybe while you’re traveling you’ll finally get laid.” She said suddenly into your ear, and you pulled back and glared at her.

“Sorry, sorry! I just know that lately you haven’t really been-”

You stood up from the couch as she spoke. “I’m going to my room now.”

“Let me know if you need help packing!”

You closed your bedroom door and sighed. She meant well, but she had a way of saying things so bluntly that it didn’t quite help. She was right about that, though. Your career wasn’t the only stagnant thing in your life.

You hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in 2 years, and in that time had only experienced a sprinkling of dates that never went anywhere and the 2-3 times you randomly hooked up with someone to great disappointment. Frustrated was an understatement, and you knew part of it was bleeding over into your professional life.

You didn’t expect to have any sort of passionate tryst while out for work, but maybe simply getting into a new scenery would make you feel better?

To Be Continued

#johnny suh #nct #nct scenarios #johnny scenarios #nct johnny #nct 127

44 notes · View notes