#(ignoring 1 how incorrect that is - did you even watch the movie?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

willowworkswithwords · 3 years ago

Note

Hiii Willow! I saw the new prompt list, and was wondering if I could suggest “Shut up and get over here, we’re doing physical affection.” With crosshair, and the rest of the batch? Have a lovely day :)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Crosshair & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) & CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Crosshair & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mental Health Issues, aka Crosshair is not in a good place, Crosshair Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Summary:

Fuck, why’d this have to happen now? He should leave. Hunter had practically hinted at the start that he wasn’t expected to stay. Crosshair had thought he had been trying to be diplomatic, but with every one of Hunter’s aborted jerks towards Crosshair he was further convinced he hadn’t been wanted at all.

What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?

---

In which I ignore the finale and make up my own reality. Crosshair goes with them and here he figures some stuff out.

also available to read under the cut

Crosshair didn’t know if he hated planets like this one or loved them. They were relatively safe with so few people around, but that was part of the issue. They had let their guard down before, had gotten complacent because they were so damned tired and just wanted somewhere they could breathe.

Crosshair couldn’t breathe anymore.

He’d removed his chip on his own, after he’d gotten burned. Cooped up in the medical bay with memories leaking through and wrapping around his heart, he’d slipped out while the AZ droid was occupied and snuck into a small surgical bay.

He hadn’t felt it, before, but he could feel it now.

It’s grip on him lingered.

So, he participated in training but left when they had a holonight. Omega had been trailing him around any chance she got but he was rude and dismissive because she was just a child. His vode had made attempt after attempt, in their own ways, to reconnect, but Crosshair knew the truth.

He’d never be the brother he’d been before.

They’d been on this backwater for a month now, had established a routine and were settling into a new rhythm. Crosshair couldn’t avoid them much, what with their living space being the size it was, but they swapped watch every three hours at night and it was easy to let his watch slip into Tech’s, into Wrecker’s, right into the sunrise without reprieve.

They all knew that he did it, but none of them seemed able to bare to breach the subject, and that suited Crosshair just fine.

Last night he’d lasted until the rain stopped. The sun wasn’t up when he’d stood by Hunter’s pillow, the only thing he needed to do to wake him, but he’d stayed outside the marauder’s ramp, slowly sinking into the mud, for most of the night.

It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that standing in the rain would get him sick (but maybe it had). Even if he was sick, he doubted they’d care anymore (he knew they would). He could care less what they thought, he’d stay quiet and die before he humiliated himself any further (he was desperate, so desperate, for their care).

Hunter scared the living hell out of him when his hand landed square on Crosshair’s shoulder.

“Woah, woah there Cross, sorry.” Hunter voice was soft, but Crosshair suspected it was because Omega was peeking around his shoulder to stare at Crosshair. Both their brows were furrowed in the same way. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What do you want, Hunter?”

Hunter fixed him with a long, hard stare. Crosshair used to be able to meet Hunter’s eyes no problem. Now he lasted fourteen seconds before he had to fix it on the wall to the right.

“Watch a holo with us? Wrecker’s got first watch.”

“You should, Crosshair, you can’t be standing outside with a cold anyways,” Omega said, reaching her hand out as if she were going to hold Crosshair’s. He twitched back and stared at her.

Hunter put his arm around her and pulled her in close to his side. Crosshair got the message. No matter how much his brothers talked about believing he was safe now, that they wanted him back, he’d never be able to see passed their love for Omega. Omega, who’d sprung up in his place and who’d never be capable of the evils he’d done.

Unblemished. A sacred, innocent child.

Crosshair knew his place.

“Cross,” Hunter’s voice, still quiet and gentle (why the fuck was he still being gentle?) snapped his attention back. “Just c’mon. We won’t make you stay the whole time if you really can’t stand it, but we picked a good one.”

Tech had rigged a holo setup for them all years ago in the bunkroom. The best view had been from Crosshair’s bed, which had been Echo’s since he’d left, and was now full of blankets and pillows and scattered bowls of popcorn.

Echo was on the right end, propped up against the wall and only half awake. They had started to become more like brothers before Crosshair had left, but now with all the space Crosshair had thrown in between them and their shared history of being unwilling tools, Crosshair doubted Echo would want to be closer to him than was absolutely necessary, save himself from reliving his past, so he settled on the opposite of the bed. Omega flew in and practically dove headfirst into Echo’s side, giggling and wrapping herself up in one of his blankets.

Crosshair looked away, the pang in his chest resounding through every inch of his body. Maybe he was sicker than he thought.

“Alright, here we go,” Hunter said, sitting directly in the middle of the space between them all.

It was a fine movie. It held Crosshair’s attention well enough, but halfway through he started drifting, the sound of the movie mingling with the rain on the metal plating of the Marauder and lulling him just enough that he found himself listing sideways. He didn’t even realize he was going towards Hunter until his temple hit soft civvies and he jerked eyes he didn’t remember closing wide open and lurched back towards the bubble of his personal space.

The pang returned, aching, raw, and Crosshair started to think he had a fever.

It happened again and again, and each time Crosshair’s heart crept further and further up his throat until his shoulders were up near his ears and he knew even Omega could read the tension in his back and face clear as day.

What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?

“Crosshair!”

Chip or no chip, Crosshair was programmed to obey that tone of voice quicker than breathing.

Fortunately it was Hunter calling him and not a Kaminoan, because the less than regulation ‘hhhuh?’ he let slip would have gotten him at the least an extra stint in the labs.

“That’s enough. Get over here, we’re doing physical affection,” Hunter said, that same Sith damned gentleness only barely masked by his command and an underlying ripple Crosshair was loathe to admit was concern.

Crosshair hadn’t thought it’d be possible to be less comfortable sitting on a bed but the new tension seizing each and every inch of him proved him woefully incorrect.

“Shut up, Cross—”

“I didn’t even—”

“I said shut up and get over here,” Hunter said, leaning towards him and this time passing the invisible line that he’d been approaching all night.

His hand gripped Crosshair’s farthest shoulder and pulled him into his side, face squished into the civvies that still somehow smelt like plastoid and held him there. A blanket was being draped over him but Crosshair felt like he had after that damned operation. Something was lifted from him, dark and oppressive and it was so good it was gone but now he felt himself being carried downstream faster than he could take it all in.

Really, it wasn’t a surprise when the first tear fell. He supposed that was what had been building up in his chest, part of that pressure, for days now. But the grip on his shoulder tightening, the shushing and the hand that was suddenly cradling his head, unafraid of the rippling, ugly scars, that was nothing he had ever expected to have again.

Hunter just held him impossibly closer. Everything was blurring, but Omega had reached across Hunter and was gripping onto Crosshair’s hand. He found he was gripping back.

The blurring turned into the good, floaty hazy he so rarely achieved.

For the first time, Crosshair felt safe again.

When he woke up the next morning, not remembering the moment he’d lost the battle with sleep, Tech sandwiching him in against Hunter’s side. Omega was where she had been the night before, but Echo was sitting in a chair taken from their messhall, sipping caf and wearing the most ridiculous handmade sweater Crosshair had ever seen.

Wrecker wasn’t there.

“He kept watch all night.”

Echo wasn’t even looking up from the ‘pad in his lap.

“And yes, he was the one who made me this. Thought I looked too cold all the time for my own good.”

Crosshair snorted.

“I know, it’s ridiculous.”

Silence again. Echo’s eyes darted from the ‘pad but to his caff, not to Crosshair yet.

“They—we – really do want you here, Crosshair. No matter what.” He shifted a bit, sipped his caff before laughing. “I mean, look at me. I’m a screwed up reg you guys picked up without a second thought. You really think they’d give you up that easily?”

But they had, hadn’t they?

Echo finally met Crosshair’s eyes.

“Crosshair, Hunter beat himself up after losing you ever single day until we got you back. Still does. It wasn’t right but it’s what happened. You’re back with us now. You’re with us, so you can stop running, alright? Take it from someone who knows. Running gets you nowhere but alone.”

Echo’s eyes shone with tears but they didn’t fall; Crosshair’s rolled down his cheeks and pattered in a steady rhythm onto Hunter’s shoulder.

All he could do was look his brother in the eyes and nod.

#Timelady my dear this turned out really well #thank you so much for requesting thi #this #I'm actually so pleased #request response #Willow talks #Crosshair #the bad batch #Hunter #Echo #emotional hurt/comfort

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

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#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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Hey! I literally love your last post so much but I'm confused about the rebels bit (never watched it). How does Rebels criticize the jedi? Thanks!

Aw, thank you! (Lol, this is such an old ask I don’t remember what that post was, but here goes).

Well in s2 Ahsoka, Kanan (a survivor from Order 66) and Ezra (his Padawan) all go to an old Jedi Temple to talk to Yoda about Vader and his Inquisitors (Darksiders who hunt the few remaining Jedi and kidnap Force sensitive kids). Yoda is only there spiritually and the three of them get different visions. Ahsoka sees Anakin as Vader, and Kanan has to fight several enemies and eventually admit he can't protect his Padawan from the world, only guide him (which prompts the vision to finally make him a Jedi Knight, as he survived Order 66 as a Padawan.)

And Ezra... Ugh. Ezra had a previous encounter with Yoda, in which he got his lightsaber crystal. Basically Yoda asked him why he wanted to be a Jedi, and Ezra had to do some self-examination and eventually realized that helping and protecting people made him feel alive, which greatly pleased Yoda who told him he might become a Jedi after all. That's a really great exchange and I love the character development Ezra gets, as he starts by saying he wants never to feel powerless and eventually realizes that's not the right answer.

But in this second encounter, as Ezra asks how they can defeat the Inquisitors, Yoda basically says that fighting is rarely the right path. And to illustrate that, he says that line about the Jedi being arrogant and joining the war swiftly "in their arrogance," which really bothers me. He also says they were "consumed by the Dark Side", which is why they're now gone. In all fairness, he also mentions that they were motivated by fear, which is partially true.

Now, I write analyses and I try to be intellectually honest about them, because ignoring contradicting stuff weakens your argument instead of helping you. Except this time, I really can't accept this quote. I have an excuse, Lucas wasn't involved in Rebels so it's not the highest canon in my opinion (the 6 movies + TCW are, here are the quotes justifying my position), and I feel like that assertion is out of character for Yoda, ignoring his ST ghost appearances, and also plainly factually incorrect.

I understand that Ezra really needed to be taught not to always seek to fight. At this point, he's still an emotional kid who occasionally struggles with the Dark Side. Not fighting is important to a Jedi's path, so I can understand Yoda's intention. But the example he uses? According to Lucas, the Jedi were drafted in the war. That's not jumping into a conflict out of arrogance, that's literally being dragged there against your will. And sure, there’s Geonosis, but how exactly is rescuing a bunch of your people that’s getting slaughtered by a Sith Lord the same thing as arrogantly jumping into a fight? Like, what’s the option here? Not go, and let an innocent Senator and a bunch of Jedi be murdered?

It's like Rebels!Yoda isn't acknowledging that the war was fake and that a Sith Lord engineered it as the perfect trap (which is recurring problem in Rebels; at one point Ezra, Kanan and Rex have to fight an old Separatist tactical droid and Ezra "solves" the Clone Wars by pointing out that nobody won except the Empire, so really they were on the same side all along, and he gets praised for doing what "a bunch of Jedi, senators and Clones couldn't do," ie getting both sides to talk to each other – except wtf??? setting aside that the Jedi and Rex were aware of the war being fake by the end of it, and that the Separatists were openly led by a Sith Lord and attempted to commit genocide several times in TCW and did commit mass murder, and reduced like several worlds to slavery or starvation and were backed by the worst big corporations you could imagine, the war would NOT have ended if the two sides had tried talking it out. 1) The Senate made it illegal 2) the big corporations arranged for terrorist attacks on both sides the one time they tried to negotiate so the war would drag on and they'd get more money out of it 3) Sidious. Was. Controlling. Everything. What. The. Heck. Would. Have. Been. Accomplished. By. Negotiating.) Plus the question of whether or not the Jedi should even fight is like... constantly raised by the Jedi during TCW, so I really can’t see it as “oh wow we didn’t even take the time to think and we got killed because of it, we really sucked.”

Seriously, there’s this S6 quote:

MACE: Are you sure we are taking the right path? YODA: The right path, no. The only path, yes. Designed by the Dark Lord of the Sith, this web is. For now, play his game, we must.

Like yeah, totally rushing in and being eager to fight lol. Nothing to do with being boxed in and having no alternatives.

So yeah that's bothers me and I don't think it jibes with the rest of canon. I don't remember Yoda telling Luke (who, in the beginning, is as eager to fight as Ezra is) that the Jedi "disappeared" because of some fault of their own, or because of an eagerness to fight. (Seriously, pussyfooting around the fact that the Jedi were slaughtered grates me.) The OT never, ever, ever implies that the destruction of the Jedi Order was their fault - and unless you assume that the OT is “pro-Jedi propaganda” (*laughs in dumb youtube comments*) then I don’t see Rebels weaving it into its narrative as legitimate.

Again, choosing alternatives to fighting is a great lesson on a personal level, but it doesn't work on the scale of the Rebels/Empire conflict - or the Jedi/Sith one. Ezra should often choose not to fight because of what it'll do to his soul. The Rebels should not stop fighting because there is no cohabitation with something as evil as the Empire. Imo Yoda is always presented as wise enough to know the difference.

The last thing that makes me think it's out of character is Yoda's spiritual journey in TCW s6. He gets all of his flaws thrown into his face and has to conquer them – he has to face his literal Dark Side and he wins. And yet at no point during that arc is he ever made to conquer his ‘Jedi arrogance’ or whatever. He has to face his worst fear (first vision, all the Jedi dying), let go of his attachments (second vision, him having to accept that he can’t live in a perfect world where everything is beautiful and no one is dead), and reaffirm who he is as a Jedi (third vision, refusing to give up on Anakin and trying to save him rather than to kill Sidious) but at no point is he ever made to recognize that wow, the Jedi are the worst for fighting.

I’d argue that the very purpose of the visions showing him Order 66 and Anakin falling are to make him accept that these things are completely beyond his control - and as such, not his fault. He doesn’t get to fix things, because the fate of the Order is not in their own hands. It is, in fact, in Anakin’s (from a thematical/narrative standpoint). Yoda has a hard time with it (actually he almost shuts down when he first sees everybody dead and his first reaction is to say that he failed them, so I can’t accept Yoda blaming his grandkids for dying) but he accepts it in the end, when he tells Mace and Obi-Wan he’s not certain one ever wins a war, but they might still find ‘victory for all time’ (referring to balance aka Sidious’ death in RotJ).

So anyway that’s my beef with Rebels!Yoda. Not hate on Rebels though, there are many parts of it that I really, really love - but some of them kinda infuriate me, and this is one of them.

#ask #anonymous #yoda #yoda appreciation #in defense of the jedi #long post #meta #more like me ranting #my meta

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incorrect-sdv-quotes · 4 years ago

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Okay so I know this is a SDV Incorrect quote blog but I really wanted to show off my SDV headcanon’s so you may ignore this post if you wish (I’ll go back to the normal posts after this, I have like 13 quotes queue’d up right now)

Headcanon’s under the cut:

1.Alex’s real first name is Alexander he just prefers to go by Alex

2.Alex is a trans male so he was born female but transitioned to male at age 13

3.The bachelors ages are (listed youngest to oldest):

Alex: 19

Sebastian: 19 (one month older then Alex)

Sam: 20

Harvey: 25-30

Elliott: 36

Shane: 38

4.Despite Sam being older then him Alex is taller (if you put them side by side Sam looks taller but that’s only cause of his hair if you flattened it you could see Alex was taller)

5.Sebastian is secretly a vampire (He does look like one anyway)

6. Haley and Alex kind of have a Hazel and Xander from Bunk’d relationship where they’re kinda friends but one of them *cough cough* Haley *cough* has a huge crush on the other to where it’s at yandere point- Haley is not QUITE as crazy about Alex that Hazel is about Xander and unlike Hazel Haley can hide the craziness she does have around people but when it’s just her and Alex she’s all crazy and clingy-

Like, she’ll call him pet names like “My jock prince” or “Alex-zandy-” or “My knight in shining armor” Etc. etc- or hug him and never let go until someone LITERALLY prys her off- Talk about nutty nutty nut-so-

7. My headcanon voices for the bachelors are: (Well some of them, if a name is in strike through that means I don’t have one for that one- yet)

Alex: Shining Armor from MLP

Sebastian

Sam: Rottmnt Leo/2020 Sonic the Hedgehog/Dewy from Ducktails (this one might change)

Harvey: Fozzie Bear (Harvey: WaKa WaKa (I’m sorry))

Elliott: Gunther from Shake It Up

Shane

8.Shane is basically the god of chickens he’s such a good caretaker of chickens that he could summon an army of chickens to peck the eyes out of everyone in town with one “Babock” CHICKEN ARMY!!

If you decided to read this post and you liked my headcanons then this is it for now more might be added later as I play the game and scroll through the SDV tags on Tumblr more

EDIT 1: More headcanons!:

9: Elliott is an amazing actor but a horrid horror-movie actor (It’s just his screams are unrealistic he will literally just say “Aaaah” otherwise it’s the same as the rest of his acting) (This scream-glitch is an easy fix if you yell “Ghost” more on that in 10)

10: Elliott is TERRIFIED of ghosts even those cute and/or clearly fake ghosts (Why else do you think Spirits Eve/Halloween has Skeletons every year and not ghosts? No one wants to scare anyone Too bad.) Actually Alex dared Elliott to watch the Disney Junior show Vampirina which went fine until Demi came on screen- Elliott literally wet himself and screamed for 3 whole hours- (Poor Alex who had to listen to that the whole time-)

11: Elliott treats his pocket crab as his ACTUAL son, not as his pet but as his actual biological son (it’s actually really cute)

12: The portraits in this video for a portraits mod is how the characters actually look to me (Excluding Elliott Sam and Sebastian they still live in my brain with their cannon looks): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmBW8BzSZpU&list=WL&index=1&t=5s

13: Krobus is Sebastian’s father (yeah you THINK it would not make sense along with Hc numb.5 but if you think about it if his father is a monster and his mother is human he’s gonna be born as a human-looking monster! Which is a Vampire!)

EDIT 2: Damnit. I was scrolling through this and I realized I missed a Hc and it slipped through the original post and the EDIT 1!

14: Alex has Dyslexia (this bugger Hc belonged in the original post but it slipped through both edits)

EDIT 3: MORE HEADCANNONS-

15: Both Abigail and Sebastian used to have hair to match their parents (Abby’s was brown (Like said in game) and Sebastian’s was Ginger) but due to their “Unusual” parents (Abigail: Wizard Sebastian: Krobus) their hair changed color when they got older and their mothers just pretended they died their hair so both the towns people and Abigail and Sebastian themselves would not freak out

16: Sebastian has snake bite piercing's but he only wears them when he’s alone (he got them in the first place cause 1: Sam dared him and 2: he decided it would be a fun way to rebel against dead to Sebastian Demetrius, he didn’t have to keep them but he ended up liking the look)

17: Sebastian owns a giant frog plush, it’s twice the size of him, is really soft and is incredibly fat (it’s to the point it’s just a circle that has stubby legs) he loves it more then anything Excluding Alex but he does not want anyone finding out he loves it let alone owns it so he stuffs it under his bed when people are in and/or near his room

18: Sebastian’s first word was literally “Froggy”

Ex:

Robin: Can you say “mama”?

Baby!Sebastian: ...Froggy!

Robin:

Robin: Out of all words your first word is “Froggy”? Really?

19: The shortest to tallest Bachelors are:

Shane

Sam (If you take his hair and go *Squishes flat*)

Alex

Sebastian

Sam (If you count the added height from his Mullet)

Harvey

Elliott (Tall stinky sea dude)

20: Sam got Sebastian to scream “Bubbles” for 5 hours straight

Details on that:

Sam: It’s impossible to say “Bubbles” threateningly

Sebastian:

Five munities later:

Robin: Uhhhh Sam? Why is my son on the roof screaming “BUBBLES”?

21: Sebastian owns a biker jacket but he only wears it when riding his motorcycle cause the jacket makes him look way more goth then emo and he prefers the emo look over goth look despite he acts more like a goth

22: One Feast of The Winter Star Sebastian got everyone an empty box and when they opened it Seb said: “It’s a void of nothingness. Just like life.” He did not get in trouble or nothing cause your allowed to give what you want but he did not do that again

23: Sebastian requires glasses to read, he can see perfectly but when it comes to reading on a computer or on paper he needs glasses

24: Sam does a perfect Darth Vader voice and Darth Vader breathing noises

25: Sebastian has vampire powers (cause he is a vampire (Hc 5)), he knows about them and is chill about it but he does not use them unless necessary cause he just does not feel the need to use them otherwise (His powers include, immortality (he also can’t be killed cause on my take on Vampires the stuff that “Traditionally” harms/kills them is just a mith and actually does nothing to them), super strength, increased speed, fast self-healing, telekinesis (I know this is not “Traditionally” a vampire power but Seb does have it) and the ability to change into a bat)

26: Both Sebastian and Elliott are actually pretty jacked (Not Alex level jacked but still) you just can’t see it unless they’re shirt-less (but in Seb’s case at least loose the hoodie)

27: Harvey’s doctor’s mallet weapon is just as heavy and as big as himself so he rarely goes into combat cause he has trouble welding his own weapon-

Harvey: Time to explore the mines! *grabs his giant doctors mallet*

Harvey: Nope going down. *falls backward with a thud*

28: Elliott carries at least one very sharp pencil with him at all times so if he sees a very annoying person or a slime that escaped the mines he’ll grab it and go *StAb*

29: Everyone else makes Hermit jokes around Elliott which he finds funny and annoying at the same time (They used to do the jokes about Sebastian as well but they stopped cause when they did Seb strangled them Darth Vader style) Ex of the hermit jokes:

*singing* Someone’s on the beach with a hermit! There’s a hermit on the beach I know I know! Someone’s on the beach with a hermiiiit! And the hermit’s name is Elliott!

30: If you think Elliott’s cannon SDV schedule is anti-social you should see how anti-social he gets when writing a book-

EDIT 4: Surprise, there’s more

31: Elliott is a mermaid merman (he’s a human by day half human half fish by night but he’ll change forms sooner if you dump water on him- found that out by Haley throwing water on him in hopes he’ll melt-)

32: When in ‘fish’ form Elliott’s tail is incredibly strong (if you get hit by it you’ll go flying 900 feet in the air in 5 seconds at full strength)

33:Elliott only lets Harvey call him “Elly” if anyone else does so expect Elliott to dump water on himself then hit you with his fish tail)

34:Vincent will sing The Little Mermaid song “Under the sea” around Elliott and Sebastian (Sebastian cause think about it and Elliott cause he’s an IRL Mermaid)

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #headcanons #not a quote #I have to edit this like 100 times cause I'm dealing with a strikethrough glitch

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

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(Slightly) Less Useless, (Definitely) Gayer Chapter 1

The Morning After

This is the sequel to Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays. You can find the last chapter here, and the Useless Gays Masterlist here.

Chapter 2

There’s a brief mention of sex halfway through the chapter, but that’s about it warning-wise. I hope you enjoy!

Virgil groaned as he woke up. He went to sit up, but there was a heavy weight on his chest and legs. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Janus and Remus on top of him. Instead, Patton was laying on his left side, holding hands with both Virgil and Logan. Logan was laying on Virgil’s right, nuzzling Virgil’s neck. Roman layed across their laps, his head in Logan’s. Both Virgil and Logan had a hand in Roman’s hair. Virgil sighed, petting Roman’s hair. He kept his eyes open, if only to keep this dream lasting a little longer.

He felt Logan stir next to him, breathing deeply into Virgil’s neck. If this were real, Virgil’s cheeks would be tomato-red. Instead, Virgil sighed happily, leaning his head on Logan’s. Logan nuzzled deeper into Virgil’s neck. “Mornin’” he mumbled out, the vibrations of his voice tickling Virgil’s collarbone. Virgil huffed out a laugh, moving his hand (the one in Roman’s hair) to rub Logan’s.

“This ‘s a nice dream.” Virgil mumbled, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. He felt Logan tense for a moment before he removed his hand from Virgil. There were a few moments of silence before-

“Ah!” Virgil jumped slightly, a sharp pain at his side. He froze, making sure that Patton and Roman were still asleep. When neither of them stirred, he turned to glare at Logan. His hand was still at Virgil’s side from where he pinched him. “What the hell, Lo?!” Virgil hissed out, trying not to shout.

“You assumed that this was a dream.” Logan responded, nuzzling back into Virgil’s shoulder. “One of the main signs of dreaming is the inability to feel pain. Therefore, the best way to test your hypoth… thesis… is to…” Virgil watched with a fond smile as Logan fell back asleep. He sat there for a few minutes, trying to remember how this dream became his reality.

The memories hit him like a freight train. His plans for their date, the rainstorm, his confession to being Anxiety. They had not only accepted him, but they wanted him to join their relationship. And he said yes! Virgil tried to remember what happened next. They had a Disney movie marathon while eating Virgil’s picnic lunch. Virgil blushed as he remembered how they playfully fed each other the chocolates Virgil had bought for them. Afterward, they cuddled on the couch and watched a few more movies before falling asleep. Virgil smiled as he looked at his three crushes- no, boyfriends. Wasn’t that a weird thing to say? Virgil’s boyfriends. Virgil could hear that a thousand times over and it would still feel surreal.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Virgil snorted as Roman jumped, falling off of their laps and onto the floor. “You okay, Princey?” Roman groaned, not moving from his spot on the ground. “Are you gonna answer the door?” Another groan, but no movement.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Roman sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Coming!” He called out, slowly getting up. “I swear to Disney this better be important.” He grumbled out. Virgil huffed out a laugh as Roman made his way to the door. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he heard the conversation clearly.

“What are you doing here? It’s only… 8:30 in the morning!”

“Well, RoRo, Virgil was supposed to meet up with us last night, but he never showed. Since last we heard from him he was on his way to see you, we assumed that he was with you.” Virgil silently groaned, resisting the urge to facepalm. He’d completely forgotten about his plans with Remus and Janus.

“Well, Virgil decided to stay here tonight-”

“Wait!” Janus yelled, interrupting Roman’s explanation. “Did you guys have sex?”

Roman sputtered. “No! It was our first date! Why on Earth would we have sex on the first date?”

“But did you sleep in the same bed together?” Remus asked in a teasing tone.

“I mean, we all slept on the couch together, so-”

“AHA!” Remus yelled. Patton and Logan woke up with a start.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Patton asked, his voice slurred.

“I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD SLEEP TOGETHER!” Remus yelled, obviously not caring that he woke everyone else up.

Janus sputtered. “But- that was obviously not the connotation you were using when we made this bet!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” Remus screamed out. “A DEAL’S A DEAL! THAT RUG’S GOIN’, BITCH!”

“Wait a minute.” Virgil said, speaking up for the first time. “Janus, you betted your rug on something with such an obvious loophole?” He sat up as Roman let Remus and Janus into the house. How they were so impeccably dressed at 8:30 in the morning, Virgil would never know.

“Wait,” Patton said, still half-asleep. “What’s so important about this rug?”

Janus cleared his throat. “It was a birthday gift from an associate of mine.”

“A bear-skinned rug.” Remus clarified, still bouncing on the tips of his toes. “Set up in the middle of the hallway. Almost every time I pass it, I trip on it. And he won’t even let us have sex on it! What’s the point of a bear-skinned rug if we can’t sex it!”

“Ignoring how grammatically incorrect that last sentence was,” Logan said, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. “Have the two of you had breakfast? We just woke up so we will probably be eating soon.”

Remus and Roman both turned to the people on the couch, speaking excitedly at the same time. “Can you make pancakes (Pattycake/VeeVee)? Please!” They both paused to stare at each other.

“What are you talking about? Pat makes the best pancakes!”

“You obviously haven’t had Virgil’s blueberry pancakes! I thought I was in heaven the first time I ate those.”

“Just wait until you’ve had Pattycake’s strawberry pancakes! Nothing on this Earth could rival his strawberry perfections!”

Virgil looked down at Patton, a goofy smile on his lips. “You know what this calls for, right?”

Patton giggled. “Pancake fight?”

Virgil laughed, finally feeling content with life. “Pancake fight.”

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Patton and Virgil didn’t have any spoken rules for their “pancake fight,” so they ran into a few issues pretty quickly. Most of them were easily resolved, such as who can use the mixer and who gets to use the stove first. However, they ran into one issue near the end. Virgil was using the stove first, and Patton took the moment to taste some of Virgil’s batter.

“Hey!” Virgil said, lightly pushing Patton away. “Hands off the batter.”

Patton playfully scowled, before his expression turned serious. “Did you put chocolate in this?” He saw Virgil’s guilty look and yelled. “I didn’t know we could use chocolate! You cheater! You’re using our boyfriend’s love of chocolate against me!” He gestured to Logan, one of the judges for this event. “Now I’ve gotta add chocolate,” Patton grumbled, heading towards the fridge.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil laughed as he turned off the burner. He grabbed Patton’s sleeve. “It’s already your turn to use the stove, and you said I couldn’t add more blueberries when I was flipping flapjacks.”

Patton’s face went slightly red, trying to force his own giggles down. “How dare you use my own logic against me!” He grabbed a handful of flour and smeared it across Virgil’s cheek. The room went silent. All eyes turned to Virgil, who was staring at Patton in shock. Patton’s face immediately softened. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” He said stepping forward to cup Virgil’s cheek-

Suddenly, there was a handful of flour in Patton’s hair. Patton stared at Virgil, who suddenly had a mischievous smirk on his face. Virgil kissed the tip of Patton’s nose while he used his hand to smear the flour into his hair. He suddenly backed away, a plate full of blueberry-chocolate pancakes in hand. “Your turn to use the stove, Angel.” He said cheekily.

Patton laughed, grabbing another handful of flour. “Oh, it’s on.”

The resulting flour battle could only be described as disastrous. Logan and Janus teamed up around halfway through the fight, and the twins seemed to only be targeting each other. The fight long after they ran out of flour, when everyone was too tired to keep playing. Patton quickly made his pancakes and they sat down to eat (Patton had somehow snuck white chocolate into the bowl during the flour battle. How he did that while still constantly hitting Virgil and Logan with flour, they’d never know). They concluded that Virgil and Patton’s pancakes were of equal taste, though they were even better together.

Virgil smiled as he watched how Roman tried to toss leftover blueberries into Remus’ mouth. How Logan and Janus watched with exasperated fondness, gossiping (“evaluating information” they said) as they sipped their coffee. How Patton held Virgil’s hand from under the table. Virgil sighed. In his wildest dreams, Virgil had never dreamed of something so… perfect. But it was perfect. And it was all Virgil’s.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woelaf @im-an-anxious-wreck

#sanders sides fic #useless gays #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

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Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a time in the faraway land of Bostonia, lived a Princess named Emma Swan and her son, Sir Henry and while Sir Henry loved and adored his mother, he longed for adventure. Life at Skyline Manor bordered on mundane, and Sir Henry wanted to see the world, find buried treasure, or save the kingdom from impending doom. But most of all, the thing Sir Henry wanted most in all the realms was for his mother to find true love.

Princess Emma had many suitors, presently she was being courted by Duke Humbert of Rockport, a friend of her brother King David’s and an honorable man. Yet for all the dancing, flowers, and bold intentions, his mother had not yet settled for the Duke.

For Sir Henry knew that his mother was longing for her own adventure. He had observed her many times from her window, while glancing up from his place in the garden. She would sit, stoically, her gaze always looking outward, staring wistfully at the sea. But alas, adventure was frowned upon for the Princess, as King David wanted her to settle down and marry, forever giving up her chance at finding the one thing that had alluded her. A happy ending.

“Henry, dinner is ready.”

Henry dropped his pen and turned toward his door, shoving his notebook in his desk drawer as his mother entered his bedroom.

“Did you hear me? Dinner’s ready.”

“Yup, just finishing up my homework.” He closed his math book and stood from his desk. “We aren’t having meatloaf again are we?”

His mother tussled his hair and pushed him toward the kitchen. “No, mac and cheese tonight.”

“Oh yum.” He exclaimed before she grabbed him by the shirt.

“Wash your hands first.”

“Mom.” He whined. “My hands are clean.”

“Now.” She demanded. “Then come to the table. We won’t start without you.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I told you last week that Graham was coming for dinner tonight?”

Henry smiled, “Oh yeah.” He turned away from his mother so she wouldn’t see the frown on his face. Graham “The Bore” Humbert and his mother had been dating for six months. It wasn’t that Henry didn’t like him; he just wasn’t interesting. He had been excited when he first met him, leather jacket, with a shiny gold badge, he couldn’t wait to hear all his stories about chasing bad guys or shooting a gun, only to find out that he wasn’t exactly a cop but more like a security guard for an old folk’s home.

He was a nice man, polite, friendly, and his mom seemed to like him, so he tried not to show his disappointment when his mother invited him along to things they used to do together. Going to the zoo, spending time at the park by the docks, or go-kart racing, all of the previous mother/son activities became, mother/son plus Graham activities. While it was disappointing, his mother deserved to be happy. She had gone through a rough time with her dad and though they had stopped yelling at each other, he knew that she had been unhappy for a really long time.

Seeing his mother laugh and smile was great and everything, but Henry just didn’t feel like Graham was the right man for his mom. Case in point, when he and his mom wanted to try sailing, Graham got seasick and threw up the entire trip. Or when they went to that new escape room downtown and Graham ignored his mother’s suggestion to enter the code they found in the chest on the cabinet lock and ended up wasting twenty minutes entering random numbers until time ran out.

Henry was sure that someone could be a nice man, just not the right man.

He spent many of their outings trying to find a better match for his mom. Every man they passed, or spoke to, became eligible options for Emma. So far he hadn’t found anyone worthy enough. He guessed Graham could do until he found something better. At least she wouldn’t be sad like she was before Graham had arrived.

“Goodness, did you wash off your fingerprints?” His mother asked as he sat down at the table.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” He said sheepishly as he sat down.

“How are you Henry?” Graham turned his attention nervously toward him.

He shrugged. “Good I guess.” Dinner was quiet, he dug his fork into the noodles, slipping them into his mouth as he glanced around the table. There was small talk that didn’t include him, mostly things Graham had dealt with at work, some man named Leroy fell and hurt his hip, the lady he always called Grans had gotten angry about the food in the cafeteria again, so he had to settle her back to her room. Not terrible things, but nothing that interested Henry and he wasn’t exactly a part of the conversation either. “Can I go hang out with Will tonight?”

“I thought maybe we could watch a movie.” She replied, looking between him and Graham.

“Will promised we could finish the Falcon tonight.” He whined.

“You’re building a bird?” Graham asked.

“The Millennium Falcon.” He corrected with an air of disappointment when the man shrugged his shoulders, not understanding what it was.

“Ok, what’s that?”

Henry’s mouth dropped and he turned toward his mother. “He doesn’t know what it is?”

“Afraid Graham doesn’t like Star Wars.” Henry blinked slowly. Another strike against you, buddy, he thought. “We were thinking we could watch “Paul Blart, Mall Cop.” His mother smiled toward Graham.

Mall Cop, he groaned internally. His mother hated that movie. He tried to fake a smile. “Sounds great.” He knew his voice must have sounded disingenuous when Graham cleared his throat and spoke.

“Emma, if he wants to build this Falcon car, I don’t mind, we can watch the movie some other time, or I can leave it here if he wants to watch it after we do, tonight.”

“Ok fine, but you have to go to bed at 9 tonight, you have school tomorrow.” Henry jumped up from the table. “And tell Will I said no bad words. I’m still getting dirty looks from the principle after you felt the need to use the phrase bloody hell when your teacher asked if you did your homework last week.”

“Got it, bed by 9, no bad words. Love you mom.” He kissed her cheek and ran out of the room, sticking his head back through the opening of the door. “Bye Graham.” He announced before running from the room toward the front door and sprinting across the hallway, colliding with something solid as soon as he shut his door.

He fell backward, landing on his rear and looking up to see a tall, dark haired man in a leather jacket staring down at him. “Sorry, lad, I fear I didn’t see you. I hope I haven’t injured you.” He held his hand out and helped him off the floor.

“Takes a lot more than that to hurt me.” He replied with a grin taking in the stranger’s appearance, wondering who he was and what he was doing here.

“Alright then lad, glad you’re not hurt.”

Henry looked down and picked up the item the man dropped, turning it over in his hand, it was a set of keys with a ship’s anchor hanging from a chain. “Cool anchor.”

The man laughed and took the keys from his hand. “Thanks, mate. I’m Killian Jones, I just moved in next door.” He gestured to the door on the other side of his own.

“My name’s Henry.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sir Henry.” He stated and Henry’s eyes grew wide. “I hope you get to where you’re going safely.” He chuckled.

“Thanks, just going to visit my friend Will, he lives across the hall here.” Pointing to the door in front of them.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you. Be careful, I’m sure your mom and dad would be quite upset if you were injured.”

“I just live with my mom. My dad doesn’t live here.”

“You sure do give out a lot of information to strangers. You should be careful with that; I could be an untrustworthy person?”

“Are you?”

“Well, no, but you should still be careful, lad.” He said with a laugh. “Have a good evening, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Henry waved as the man retreated down the hall, his anchor keychain jingling from his back pocket. A smile grew on his face. A new player had arrived on the scene, he thought before knocking on the door in front of him.

Will Scarlet opened the door, smiling down at him. “Bloody hell, it’s already 7pm. You’re already late.”

“Mom says you can’t use that word while I’m here. And I couldn’t help it, Graham came over tonight and wanted to watch Mall Cop.” Will Scarlet was his mother’s best friend. They had known each other since before Henry was born. Will was Henry’s Godfather and Will’s place was his favorite place to be besides his own home.

“Oh God. He takes that security guard thing a bit too far doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t even watch Star Wars. Who doesn’t watch Star Wars?”

“Loads of people, mate, loads of incorrect and ignorant people.” He teased as they sat down in front of the multitude of Legos spread out on the table in front of them. “But cut him some slack, he’s a good man. Your mom could do worse.”

“She could do better.”

“Henry!” He warned. “Just because he’s a snoozer, doesn’t mean your mom doesn’t like being around him. She seems to see something in him that’s worth having around to her, so don’t screw that up, kid.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, I was nice to him. I promise.”

“Good to hear, kid.” He ruffled his hair and they worked together to find the pieces they needed to continue where they left off. “Did your mom get the chicken for the barbeque next weekend?”

Henry’s favorite summer tradition was the annual Skyline Apartment’s barbeque. It was held every June on the roof of the building and all the residents attended. The roof had the best view of the harbor in town and was the main reason his mom chose this place when they moved here three years ago.

“Yeah, she got it on Wednesday.” He paused. “Oh yeah, there’s a new guy, we need to invite him too.”

“Which new guy?”

“The guy who moved into the vacant apartment next door, 4C, I ran into him on my way over here.”

“I’ll make sure Rubes invites him, then.”

“Awesome.”

When Henry returned to his room later that evening he pulled the notebook out of his drawer and stared at the page.

Sir Henry hoped that a new adventure would be revealed at the annual ball. Every year, the residents of Skyline Manor hosted a party, which was attended by the King and Queen of Bostonia. Perhaps this would be the moment that his mother would find her true love. As preparations for the ball were being set, a mysterious ship dropped anchor at Bostonia Harbor, helmed by the bravest sailor in all the lands, Captain Killian Jones.

~*~

Killian Jones dropped his keys on the counter, looking around the empty apartment in front of him. Stepping out onto his balcony he closed his eyes and listened for the sound of the seagulls. He smiled to himself as he drank in the smells of the fresh ocean air. He could barely believe his luck when a unit opened at Skyline Apartments. He had been on the waiting list for a year after scoping out the best apartments close to the harbor.

This was a rare find. Living near the harbor meant he no longer had to sit in traffic to get to his job each day. Killian loved the ocean. When he moved to Boston from Maine two years ago, he knew that he wanted to work on the water. It was by chance that an old Navy friend of his knew of a job for a charter company that needed a Captain to give tours of the harbor to paying guests and the rest as they say, was history.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out from his restrictive denim jeans to glance at the screen.

Belle: Want to get dinner tonight? I assume you haven’t bought any groceries for your new apartment and if I didn’t get to you soon, you’d have already ordered pizza and opened a beer.

Killian laughed; Belle knew him so well. He’d been seeing the lass for the last six months, but he tried to keep things light between them. Dinner and a movie, perhaps a round of pool at a nearby bar, but Killian Jones didn’t have a girlfriend. She never spent the night, they didn’t celebrate each other’s birthdays, and they never talked about their future.

He liked Belle very much, she was a friendly lass, very attentive, an excellent lover, and honestly a great friend. But he couldn’t afford to make attachments.

His last relationship, if you could call it that, had lasted two years. The woman he had been seeing wasn’t exactly up front on all aspects of her personal life. Perhaps he should have seen the immediate red flags when they met and her relationship status on Facebook was “It’s complicated.” Turns out complicatedmeant married, and not in the separated variety either.

An arrest from a bar fight and a restraining order later, it was over. Everything Killian had thought he knew about his life had turned upside down. He had lived with a friend for a few months while he tried to recover from losing the woman he had planned to ask to marry him. When he was finally determined to move on, lost in drink and terrified of having his heart broken again, he swore to his brother that he would never enter a relationship with another woman.

He had not broken that drunken vow since. He enjoyed women, in fact, he had enjoyed the company of many a lass after nights spent at the bar, carnal activities were something he found himself quite skilled at. But that was usually as far as things went. One-night stands, chance encounters, never emotional connection.

Sure, his one-night stand with Belle French had extended into six months. One dinner that turned into a string of dinners and bedroom romps, but Killian kept his heart out of the transaction. Belle was fun, she was safe, and she seemed to understand their arrangement.

Killian: Or you could bring sandwiches from that place we went to on 5th. I’ll provide the beer. As long as you don’t mind sitting on the floor. Furniture doesn’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon.

Belle: On my way!

Killian stepped into the hall, locking his door behind him. He knew there was a convenience store within walking distance where he could purchase some beer for the evening. Turning toward the elevator he saw the door to the apartment next to him open and a man step out into the hall. He believed it to be the one the young lad came from earlier when they collided in the hall.

“Tell Henry goodnight for me.” The man’s attention was focused on the occupant still inside the apartment. “Sorry he missed the movie.”

“Maybe next time.” He heard a laugh as he approached, nodding to the man in the hall and turning toward the open door. He made eye contact with the most radiant green eyes he had ever seen, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Good evening.” He offered the greeting to the couple with a nod.

“Hey.” The woman said with a gorgeous smile that seemed to cause the entire dark hall to light up brightly. He continued to the elevator, only turning back when it opened, and he saw the man turn toward him.

“Hold the elevator.” He leaned over and kissed the woman, running down the hall and joining him in the small space. “Haven’t seen you around here before.” He offered his hand toward him and Killian shook it. “I’m Graham. Do you live here?”

“Aye, just moved in to 4C. Name’s Jones.”

“Ah you’re neighbors with my girlfriend and her kid.”

“Ah, Henry, I believe? I think I bumped into him in the hall earlier.”

“That’s him. Great kid.” He said as he exhaled. Killian nodded, unsure of what else to share with the man. He hated small talk and found it completely unnecessary. He was relieved when he heard the ding of the elevator announcing they had arrived on the ground floor.

“Nice meeting you.” He offered as he headed toward the exit.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

~*~

Emma stood in her doorway watching her boyfriend and the mystery man enter the elevator. She’d never seen him in the building before. She wondered if Ruby had met someone new recently. Obviously if she had, she could understand why she was keeping him a secret. He was gorgeous in that sort of dangerous, don’t-take-home-to-mom, kind of way.

She closed her door, locking it behind her as she went about cleaning the cups from the living room. It was a lovely evening with Graham, even if the movie was on her do-not-care-to-watchlist. Graham was a really good man. He was friendly, had a steady job, and treated her well. It was more than she had with her ex-husband, Neal.

Neal and Emma had burned with a fire that she knew could never be sustained. They burned hot and blew up just as quickly. She had been married to Neal for less than six months before he got arrested for breaking and entering. She should have known things weren’t going to work out when their first date was to a club that turned out to be a target for a robbery that he had been scoping out. She tried to reconcile all the reasons he could change if they stayed together. But Neal never grew up.

As soon as the ink dried on their divorce papers, she found out she was pregnant because isn’t that just how life works? She had thought she would be done with Neal forever, and then they were forced to work together to parent a child. Henry being born did cause Neal to grow up at least a little, and he gave up his previous life in order to maintain joint custody of their son. Emma had threatened that the moment she found out he was messed up in anything illegal, she would take him back to court immediately.

Eleven years later, and Neal was still clean. Completely and utterly immature, but at least he had held down the same job for the last three months. And he was getting paid legally instead of under the table, which was a welcomed change. For the most part they got along, mostly for Henry’s sake, but she was happy that Henry had both of his parents in his life.

That had been the most important part to her, growing up in the foster system without knowing her real parents had led to a difficult childhood. However, when she turned six, she had been adopted by Ruth and Robert Nolan. They had a son that was only 2 years older than her, and Emma and David became best friends. She had been so grateful to finally have a home, and a family and she never wanted her son to go without either.

She had everything she could ever want in life. A beautiful son, a wonderful family, the best friends she could ever ask for, and a man who cared about her. For all accounts, Emma was happy with her life. Which was all the more reason to be frustrated when she found herself sitting on her balcony tonight, like she did most nights, wondering if there wasn’t something more out there for her. She had everything she had ever asked for, so why was she always looking for shooting stars or waiting for the clock to hit 11:11 to make the wish she made every night when she closed her eyes…

I wish something big and exciting would happen.

#skyline manor #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan modern au #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 years ago

Text

31 Days of Apex Legends

Little bit behind, but I combined Days 1 & 2 (Pride & Friendship)

Chapter 1 of an upcoming fic I am still writing.

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Title: Pride & Assumed Prejudice

Chapter 1: Masks

Something sour lingered on the tip of his tongue, on the razor’s edge of every thought; like a granule of poison sinking slowly into a beverage, unseen as the hapless victim takes a sip. Unnecessary, unnerving, and oddly enough, inducing a curiously debilitating sensation of anxiety for the first time in well over a decade. An emotion long-ago thought cordoned off, and utterly aggravating in its resurgence.

One could theoretically shut it out with enough mental fortitude and regimented distraction, but this tended to only provide short-term relief, for it always returned; faster, stronger, more pervasive than the last time. A creeping sense of wrongness that seemed to seep through every vein, clutching tightly to each breath as it worked to enter his lungs, twisting his stomach at random intervals, and reigniting old memories best left buried in unmarked graves. Unmourned and unwelcome.

At least, that is what Caustic tells himself.

There seems to be some level of psychological impairment at work, he rationalises in the depths of the night when he can barely think for the voiceless fears that make his heart race and air withdraw from ravaged lungs before it can fully impart its gift. The only hypothesis that makes even the vaguest sense is that there is likely a chemical agent of some kind, a poison, being introduced into some facet of his daily routine that is affecting his mental faculties?

Caustic is perplexed to find that his bloodwork runs clean each time, as do random samples of his food stores, lab equipment, clothing, cleaning products, furniture, air filtration units, plants and even toothpaste. Though he runs them often, at random, in hopes of locating the culprit for these uncomfortable sensations, these distractions from his research. Randomising events on his mental schedule each day in order to avoid any other human or non-organic being from identifying his routine again; if they ever even had. And yet, it persists.

Denial is perhaps the only shield that he will not admit to using, in this instance. Though for all his great logic, his knowledge and emphatic belief in the fundamental laws of science… there is still a strange feeling that persists in coursing through his veins. If he would allow himself but a moment to acknowledge it, to let it in and experience the sensation then it may lead to a breakthrough… but at what cost? If the facade falls, then who would he be?

Yet still his whole body feels electrified from within; as if sensing a change coming, like the increased atmospheric pressure before a thunderstorm. Everything that had been built was starting to decay, and it was not clear why now, why this year… why this ridiculous event was the catalyst. Even though such an obvious connection between this heightened emotional state and the particular time of year never actually occurred to the unnaturally overwrought man.

As the days between the present and the event grew shorter, and the other Legends began to ramp up their ridiculous displays of personal expression, the odd physiological effects increased exponentially, until simply existing in the same dwelling had become almost unbearable. It was merely because the others were younger, more prone to ludicrous displays of ebullience, constantly impeding his research with their tomfoolery… yes, that must be it. The reassurances ring hollow, even to his own mind.

Yet still the simple fact remained… that the year previous, as a new Legend, this whole event had been laughably easy to ignore. So why did it bring such distress, such melancholy? What variable had changed between these two points in time that was bringing this insidious juggernaut of disruption to his mind, body and experiment schedule?

Despite what he, at the time, perceived as his best efforts to provide a front of general indifference and borderline contempt for the ‘nonsensical festivities’ of the majority of the other Legends; it became apparent that these actions were not nearly enough to stave off the eyes of the irritating coworkers. Without even realising, Caustic was shrinking away, becoming distant once more and this, in turn, naturally raised a few eyebrows.

Certainly, he was not the most extroverted or beloved amongst their ranks, but at the insistence of Miss Pacquette, that damnable Gibraltar, and the unerringly difficult to evade Salvonian he had been making small forays into socialising in the name of increasing battle compatibility with the others. In the name of increasing battle efficiency, of course.

Caustic’s sudden detraction from even the few low-key communal activities he had begrudgingly begun to attend on a generally regular basis in their shared lodgings, such as the occasional movie night or weekly shared meal, was a blatant signal to the more empathetic and suspicious of the Legends that something was not right here. Some moved immediately to paranoid delusions, others queried if the scientist was unwell or had been caught up in work and forgot; Caustic could always feel Miss Pacquette’s eyes on him these days. Waiting for him to do something she could no longer forgive.

The sting of her derision only made matters worse, silencing all explanations he might give to the others when they arrived at his assigned room; so that all any who arrived saw was a brief silhouette before the door slammed shut in their faces. Assuming hostility, when the words were simply trapped inside; not wanting to admit this disgusting weakness that clawed, bit and screamed every moment of every day.

However, it was the unintended actions that gave rise to what came next; and he could blame none other than himself. For, as the foolish often do, a handful of those in the complex began to conjecture… rumour, if you will, and they spread like an unchecked wildfire. Caustic was not able to tell if they had been an errant thought turned unintentionally malicious or the deliberate attempt of one of his detractors like Loba or Crypto; and as much as he wished to close off the side of himself that felt anguish at these new beliefs swirling between his coworkers… he could not.

To say the rumours were incorrect would be an understatement, but even he could see how the gossip-mongers amongst their ranks had extrapolated a tenuous but alluring hypothesis that slandered his character, from such limited data points as were available. Especially after their foray to… the planet of his youth, most recently.

It seemed wherever he went, that blasted Crypto seemed to be hovering nearby with a smug look on his face; as if waiting for the opportune moment to mention a few inconvenient truths. Did the younger man realise what was happening to him? Could he use that drone of his to deliver a toxic compound into Caustic’s chambers when the scientist was absent? No, no of course not. Mystik would never forgive him… unless he could provide a plausible alibi. Even that particular train of thought was beginning to wear on him, feeling more tangible each time his brain brought the concept up. Actual poison was not the hacker’s style; but social poison, the slow and cruel kind that seeped from mouth to mouth, assassinating without a blade… that might be plausible.

These days, Caustic found his pulse always quickened when he caught sight of the hacker in the living complex, the anxiety making his mind rush through the worst possible scenarios of his secret being openly divulged to the masses without warning; even though some seemed utterly ridiculous. What would happen, after all? The worst case scenario? Repulsion from the others would be one thing, a natural consequence of their newfound awareness of his misdeeds and discovering the depths of his past, somewhat less than legal, activities. A strong possibility that perhaps the Legends would take the rash step of immediately contacting authorities to attend the Legend dwellings; something even Caustic would understand as rational.

Yet still, with his normally formidable intellect being absolutely and utterly subsumed under false assumptions and fallacies; the kind only a mind shuddering on the verge of collapse could generate… far worse fates arose like apparitions behind his eyelids. Such as the bizarre and somewhat infuriating insistence of his anxiety-ridden mind that the other Legends could hear of his past and simply decide to take matters into their own hands; pretending all is well until an opportunity arose to publicly execute Caustic themselves, mid-match with his beacon deactivated, for all the world to see. To denounce him in such a way that none could ever assume they had kept his secret; the disgust on their faces as they would wipe his blood from their skin would be proof enough.

Often in the depths of night Caustic muses on this highly improbable outcome. Yet, he finds that the variable of the scenario that keeps him awake is simply that, in this outcome there was the uncomfortably very real possibility of his Mother inadvertently bearing witness to the second death of her son; a thought that makes his chest constrict with a nameless horror. She loved to watch the games, according to that brat she favoured so much… and he could not put her through that grief again.

No matter how nonsensical, the idea and an uncountable number of similarly impossible scenarios would repeat over and over again every waking moment of the day. And again throughout every second of sleep he managed to wrest from this endless void of uncertainty, until it felt like the only true outcome. Caustic was aware he was not thinking logically, or even assessing all the variables… but his mind clouded it all out with whispered worries to distract, to isolate and distress.

These imagined ends and their outcomes added an almost unfathomable heaviness to his existence; adding unearned gravitas to the myriad of little concerns, worries and secret guilts until they felt like a thick fog that obscured all rational thought. Every little concern, so often hidden from his own conscious mind by a never-ending series of experiments and day-to-day tasks he employed to quiet the thoughts he did not wish to entertain, was now screaming inside. Some days he felt not unlike a speaker, reverberating from the harsh beating of his heart, and almost surprised none other than himself could hear.

No, this was ridiculous. He could not allow this to continue, not if he wished to remain Caustic. As a Legend, as a researcher with endless funding as long as he gave the right results in battle, as a scientist seeking additional data, and… as reluctant as Caustic was to admit it, as a member of the rag-tag team that shared the Apex-funded lodgings. A collective, almost like a-...

The thought always shut off there, twisting to a rapid mental analysis of the other Legends for the sake of anything else to focus on. Certainly some of the other ‘champions’ were irritating and he found it difficult to deal with them for long; but others he had to concede were fascinating, and startlingly brilliant in their fields, many of whom were willing to engage in discussions about their expertise and experiences. Even with mild distrust guarding their words to begin with, until passion for the subject overtook their misgivings.

But, as loathe as he was to admit this to even himself; to Caustic... the legends themselves were something he was starting to feel part of. Somewhat like they were a-... the word lodged in his chest like a blunt knife, something that could cause harm if he ever admitted how far he had fallen into the illogical void of social intelligence. He railed against the term, but logically it was the only apt one available to describe this group of strange people; and that was… family.

Bile scorched the back of his throat as he allowed the thought to flow through him like a soundwave, the sentiment of it far more distressing than the physical sensations; as Caustic been under the strong impression of having successfully managed to cut off all sense of sentimentality, along with his fingers, on Gaea. This feeling, this potential vulnerability, was therefore repulsive.

However… it could not be denied that recently the increased socialisation had brought out some surprising connections and insights with the others. Even simple interactions such as providing a gruff thank you to a teammate for pinging a weapon component whilst looting was noted by the others; and the way that Caustic made certain to inoculate his squadmates before a match. Inconsequential activities, but seen… apparently. He had never noticed their eyes on him during these moments before… and now he felt as if they never ceased their burning gazes on his every breath, every twitch and thought.

As it stood, he was closer to some Legends than others; and had forged several, somewhat tenuous but holding, connections he was not wholly ashamed to admit.

For example, Caustic found Horizon’s expertise on astrological matters an excellent way to pass sleepless nights, when both found themselves in the kitchen for coffee at 2am. Minds full of half formed ideas, or regrets, and unable to speak them aloud to anyone; there was an odd companionship between the Legends, so close in age and so vastly apart in lived experiences. Or, at the least, the experiences of their alibis.

Even through the distress he felt, Caustic could not help but smile as he recalled that their first two meetings at such a location and hour had not gone quite so well as in recent times. For the good Dr Somers had been blissfully unaware that a rather prominent side effect of Caustic’s initial and continued toxin exposure often expressed itself as a bright green glow about his irises; therefore the first time they had met in the pitch-black kitchen at an ungodly hour, the astrophysicist had said some truly profane things and thrown a mug of hot coffee in his direction. Lifeline had not been pleased to deal with burns at that time, no matter how Horizon had insisted they needed a proper assessment of the damage, but the young woman seemed to have found the whole situation quite humorous in hindsight. Often making smart ‘Be careful, Doctor, that’s hot!’ quips when she caught either of them holding coffee.

Ah, but their second meeting of this nature had been different. Caustic had merely been resting his eyes at the kitchen island when Horizon had carefully crept inside the darkened room, footsteps barely audible, and proceeded to make herself coffee on the quietest setting possible. It was, in fact, the sound of her sipping the beverage that had roused Caustic, and Horizon had promptly performed an almost perfect spit take in shock at his ‘sudden appearance’. The stain in the wall had never quite come out and neither of the older Legends had bothered to inform the younger Legends how it had manifested. Though some had their suspicions...

There was a calming energy to Dr Somers, and she seemed to have a distance in her eyes that he could relate to without ever broaching the subject. When they spoke of stars, of technology to traverse the time and space between the worlds, there was a communion of unspoken camaraderie there that soothed in an inexplicable manner.

Of the others, Caustic had occasionally found himself ensconced in fascinating discussions and discourse with Mirage when the pair had found themselves trapped in a social setting, such as lunch in the common area, fumbling for topics. Or more accurately, Mirage visibly sifting for a safe topic to be polite, and Caustic pointing at whatever the man was tinkering with at that moment, in silent question. It was rather intriguing how the younger man’s stutter settled when he was intensely focused on a subject he enjoyed. Although it must be said that now the scientist knew entirely far too much about holographic projection technology, and he was hard pressed to find an application for just such knowledge in his research.

On a more irritating note, was Gibraltar’s continued attempts to convince Caustic that attending events such as karaoke night or some roleplaying adventure evening with the rest of the Legends would be fun, positive, and a good bonding experience; and not at all humiliating, bizarre or definitely subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known by the other champions. Disgustingly, Makoa Gibraltar was a weapons-grade optimist with a sharp mind behind that disarming smile of his.

Recognising that the current stratagem was not working as it allowed the subject too much free will, Gibraltar had added additional variables to his socialisation experiments with Caustic. Even since, Gibraltar had been occasionally dropping by with a small portion of some homemade meal or other; often with one of the other Legends as an unspoken form of backup. More often than not, in recent times, Fuse would be the person of choice.

The rescue specialist was a very large, very polite man who had gracefully accepted the times Caustic would shut the door in his face to avoid allowing anyone to breach his inner sanctum of isolation and research. Walter Fitzroy was decidedly not.

Fuse was a very charming man, but he genuinely believed that any closed door was an invitation to trial his knuckle clusters on it, ‘in the name of friendship’. The pair would then invite themselves inside, and somehow a conversation would occur about the most randomised of topics, amidst the hidden garden-like interior of Caustic’s quarters. After weathering the scientist’s myriad of multisyllabic protestations about property damage and right to privacy, with mildly amused expressions on their faces, of course. Now that he thought about the subject in detail, the visits had been increasing in duration rapidly in the past two months or so; detracting from his research, yes, but at the same time… Caustic had begun to find himself not wanting to reduce this contact in the slightest.

Rampart had recently asked Caustic, in a quiet moment, if he wanted something strong enough to withstand a knuckle cluster barrage whipped up, because he was more often without a door than with one these days. Caustic had found himself smiling under the mask as he declined; not catching her sly grin of understanding in response. “It’s your funeral mate…” she teased as she left. He still had not had a chance to analyse her meaning or motives in relation to that interaction.

Still skeptical of his motives, but warming, was Lifeline. On the odd occasion, the healer would simply come into the common area to ‘hang out’ with whomsoever was present, and initially this had been a frustrating strain on his limited social endurance. Especially if the runner joined in, or she decided that the volume was far too low for her chosen programs at the time. They had engaged in arguments, which tended to resolve when he left, seeking solitude and silence in his own quarters.

Although, to review the past month or so in subjective data; Caustic was intrigued to find himself less irritated by Lifeline’s choice of audible and visual entertainment than previously.

However, the woman’s unerringly pleasant but smug grin as she would turn and catch Caustic’s fingers tapping the datafile laden table in subconscious adherence to the rhythm of the background music, was still a nuisance. At present, if he attempted to tell her so, Lifeline would laugh or roll her eyes and throw a quick, ‘Whatever yuh say, Doctor…’ in his direction.

Caustic believed that the newfound camaraderie between Lifline and himself was either in relation to a number of recent matches wherein he had had to shield her bodily from a hail of incoming fire while she revived a teammate; or pertaining to his begrudging assistance in formulating an altered version of stim for Octane, with lower health impacts. While it seemed counterintuitive to his stated goal of wiping out humanity; the challenge of forcing a volatile substance into a different composition to improve health on use rather than detract from it, had been exhilarating. While the current formula, Stim 2.3, was by no means perfect, it could always be improved in future testing. In fact, Caustic had been surprised to find himself looking forwards to improving upon the newly created formula with Miss Che in future. Her mind was agile, quick and experienced around medical, political and Octane-related matters. Verbal sparring with Miss Che was akin to mainlining caffeine, and possibly her persuasive arguments may have something to do with how thin his facade was feeling at present. How he was starting to regret his actions, when previously they were buried deep, untouchable, as Lifeline skillfully pointed out fallacies in his logic and ideologies.

Of all the Legends, the hunter Bloodhound, he hunter, was a mystery that continued to intrigue and distract from his research. Caustic had honestly been certain that there it would be highly improbable for the pair to have anything in common; given they were from a world that despised the very technology that his homeworld had embraced with open arms.

He had also felt that perhaps the hunter would avoid him, given Gaea’s reputation around such things as diversity in attraction and gender identification; he knew what was said and not all of it undeserved.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was a shared interest in plants that began their interactions; as the hunter had peered from their room at the right moment to catch Caustic returning home with a new specimen of unknown origin. The GAVN 1.2 bot stationed at the nearby Solace City plant nursery had no knowledge of what species it may be of, but the important matter was that the machine had recalled Caustic’s request to contact him if anything ‘interesting’ came through. Bloodhound had stopped him to ask how a Crentular Vynth bush had made its way to this planet; and Caustic had been so distracted by the conversation that followed that he did not realise they had moved to Bloodhound’s room until his second cup of herbal tea.

That had been the oddly auspicious beginning of… whatever this was. Whether they were now coworkers, or something slightly below comrades in arms, their companionship had been cemented nearly a full three months later on Olympus, when a bullet shattered Caustic’s mask mid-match.

Things had not been going optimally at the time. Their third squadmate was dead; some nameless human who had dreamt of glory and fame, and was now likely in a respawn pod beyond the arena commiserating their loss with the other failures.

Bloodhound was in the process of scouting for activity within and without the building they were currently camping inside; at the far end, if the faintest of footsteps could be believed. Skirting carefully about Caustic’s traps despite the pre-match inoculation provided that assured temporary immunity for the other two.

He had been calculating the potential ring trajectory of the next round, and automatically reloading the mozambique in his hands mechanically, when a careless step had placed him directly before one of the many damnable slatted windows of the building. The first he became aware was a crack, and a split-second realisation that made him jerk back just in time for the kraber shot to hurl his mask clean off and away.

Ducking automatically, not risking a second looking for the person who was definitely chambering a new round in anticipation of taking him out, Caustic had snatched the shattered mask up and slid through the rails to the floor below. Landing with a jarring impact that raised dust, forced air from his lungs, and inspired a violent coughing fit. Panic began to stir, as the reality of his vulnerability became apparent.

To counter this, Caustic set off a nearby gastrap deliberately, obscuring himself amidst the swirling green smog; allowing a moment to focus purely on the issue at hand, and forestall the intense anxiety that the cameras could be observing his features or condition too closely. He could already see the mask was beyond repair, the hoses hissing upon his shoulders as his filtered supply fed into nothing; despair was starting to claw at his chest, tightening it until it burned...

And then Bloodhound was there. Without a word, those impassive goggles took in the scene in its entirety as they crouched down by his side; pulling a small spare mask from one of the many pouches on their belt, without the slightest hesitation, and pressing it to Caustic’s face. “Here, breathe easy felagi fighter.” they said, nothing more, nothing less.

The filtration hoses hissed a moment more before the hunter had them shut off at the valve, so as not to waste more of the carefully balanced components. The mask adhering quickly and filtering the more violent components out of the air automatically; as Bloodhound needed, given their own damaged airways. Caustic may not believe in their All-Father, but he could almost admit to himself that it was very fortuitous they had been there that day.

When the smog cleared, vanishing as it dispersed to a minimal level, the crisis was over and his panic subsumed. Bloodhound clapped a hand to his shoulder and rose, making a statement of thanks in relation to receiving ammunition. A weak cover, but one they hoped viewers would be satisfied with; feel no great desire to dig for more information on this brief ‘green-out’.

“Come, there are three squads remaining, we have foes to slatra.” they offer, and he rises quickly to follow. Win or Lose, Caustic had felt confusingly like he had already received some small victory that day; though to put it in words was beyond even his skill.

Unfortunately, the downside of increased awareness of other human beings was that they tended to request opportunities to strengthen the bond. Of all things, the Hunter and the Salvonian now wished Caustic to go camping with them; in Kings Canyon or some equally feral locale, where they may all die of undercooked food or rabid wildlife. As disagreeable as he found the idea, Caustic found himself rapidly running out of excuses as to barriers that would forestall his presence on such an experience. And just the other day, before this intense sensation of dread descended, he found himself considering purchasing a prowler-proof sleeping bag… which had been a definite call for self-reflection at the time.

Indeed, when he thought back over the past few months… Caustic found that he had had at least one small interaction of moderate-to-positive success with all of the other Legends. Even with that know-it-all Crypto. Though Caustic strictly maintained that the whole scenario had been pure happenstance; and not any display of coworkerly or implied sibling affection.

If the young brat had just so happened to be tinkering with his little drone at the kitchen island and required a tool that Caustic, also present and working on his own project, had just so happened to have on him at the time… so be it. Truly, Caustic was not even certain if Park had realised who had supplied the multitool that had readily slipped into his grip on request; although, the fact that it had been returned nonetheless to his quarters, possibly by drone through a window he had forgotten to close overnight, gave a different impression.

Ironically, whenever Caustic finds himself thinking about the other Legends recently, shades of distress, distrust and uncertainty began to fill his limbs with lead and his mind with a million illogical questions. Did Loba’s smile at breakfast mean she was intending to out him to the others? Was it normal for Revenant to ask to view his research on gases with compounds that could corrode organic metals? Was the laughter between Wattson and Wraith about him? What made Bangalore watch him instead of the screen during the movie night two weeks before? Why did so many whispers stop when he moved closer? When was the last time Gibraltar had used the phrase ‘hey buddy, you doin’ okay?’ with any other Legend?

Who. When. Why. How. What. An endless merry-go-round in a carnival of horrors, all of his own devising… and there was no way to signal to the ride operator that he wished to exit. What was wrong with him?

Or, was there something wrong with him, at all?

Perhaps this was normal, for someone whose life was close to its ending. Didn’t people feel distress over regrets and mistakes in their life?

Desperate for a concrete reason, Caustic ran diagnostics on his blood and biometrics at least twice a day, and yet felt disappointed to find no significant progression in the disease. For if not the disease… then what was this?

Days wore on as he remained confined to his quarters for all but the most necessary outings. He did not see or hear how the household was becoming more and more colourful and the Legends pre-celebrating. Glancing out his window at the billboards in the city beyond, his lip curled derisively; ah, the corporations became more sycophantic as time wore on, disgusting. But all he could focus on was the manner in which this swelling sensation of anxiety was drowning him; Caustic was awash in a sea of tumultuous negative emotions with no sign of rescue. Quietly hoping that none would come.

It felt, constantly, as if he had an anchor bound to his ankles; the chain a cruel twisting thing, cold and rattling in the currents, always just long enough so he could bob above the despair for short periods of time before another wave crashed down. Caustic was beginning to wonder if it was worth trying not to drown at all...

Unbeknownst to the scientist, his absence was noted, and some were more concerned than others. The sudden withdrawal from household life drew attention from concerned parties with irritating accuracy; and he found himself subject to gentle half-questions that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, his hands balling into fists to hide their shaking, and his mind racing to decode the hidden trap within the questions. Overwhelmed, Caustic responded by pulling back from the internal life of the Legends with greater fervour, trying to handle this situation himself; hating that it had come to such a ludicrous turn of events as this.

It was only when he was in the depths of despair and fighting to hide this from himself, that Caustic himself began to hear the rumours swirling about. Abhorrent, pervasive, and inaccurate… but easily believable if you lacked critical thinking skills. They made him feel more vile and misrepresented than the original advertisement campaigns for his arrival as a legend ever had. All that fabricated nonsense about being a verified and diagnosed sociopath; when it was only partially true, mixed with showman’s flare for the sake of selling him as the villain to the public. But these rumours… gossip rag conjecture, utter debasement and filth. Easy to believe… and in the mouths, hearts and minds of the people he had somewhat began to trust.

~)0(~

“It ain’t his fault, he’s from Gaea, yuh know?” whispers one legend to another, in a tone so casual that the sentence was doubly alarming to have come from seemingly out of nowhere. Caustic nearly drops the mug he is holding, mind shocked into momentary pause, at the statement. At the implication behind it.

The other sighs, “I know they’re, uh, different about things… but I thought that being in Solace City this whole time might have…” There’s a pause. “Well, you know, shown him a different reality… he’s already made progress in being an okay human, or something like it. Thought things were going okay, caught him smiling at one of Rampart’s jokes the other day… ”

“Yuh best keep it quiet though, don’t want the media gettin’ wind of this or it’ll be a problem.” hisses the first, acutely aware of how the media at large takes any vague hint of something, right or wrong, and runs with it. For the last six months magazines had been declaring that she was ‘going to propose to Wraith anyday now’ because they’d been snapped shared a sandwich at a Legend event a while back. The online forums were a constant minefield, even if some of the fanart was well-done.

“Oh yeah, I’m not going to put anyone through that deliberately, my dearest fiance-to-be…” the other laughed back. “You think surprise-portalling him into the middle of the parade would help? Or do Gaeans drop dead if confronted with new ideas without any warning?”

Just as despair was filling his heart like a lead weight, the rumours like tiny knives in his heart, filleting the memories he held about someone now lost… another combatant enters the ring. So to speak.

“Enough!” snaps a third, highly unexpected but nonetheless welcome, voice. The word hissing between what can only be clenched teeth, in a normally serene face.

Caustic finds himself holding his breath as he presses close to the kitchen wall nearest the common room entrance; desperate to hear more, despite his stomach churning, wanting him to flee this whole situation. It boggled the mind, after all he had done… Miss Pacquette, coming to his defence? How could she find it in herself to speak on the behalf of such as him?

“Listen to me, and hear me when I say that not all of Gaea’s citizens think in such a backwards manner… you cannot assume because people are poor, from a small place on their world, or work on farms that they all perceive things so narrow-mindedly. There is acceptance on Gaea, in much the same way that there are pockets of intolerant people on Psamanthe and Salvo who believe that robots are not sentient, or people of different races cannot be allowed to love one another. There are good people there too...” Wattson says, voice rising with the internal fervour of righteous anger. She was so very like her father, unable to allow someone she cared about to go undefended when people brought slander to their doorsteps. If someone raised a knife to his back, she would put up a fence to bar their way, and then continue to tell him off for his inappropriate actions from the months before.

In the brief silence following her statement, shuffling is heard, and it is clear something is happening though he dare not attempt to see in. He would be sighted for certain.

In a calmer tone, almost too soft, Wattson continues. “I once knew a man from Gaea when I was very small. He was… very important to my Papa, and to me. They worked together for many years, and I believe that they loved each other just as deeply as Papa and Mama did. He was always very kind to me, like a father you could say, even on his darkest days he was always ready to make me feel happy.” She took in a shaky breath. “Many of my youngest memories involve him, from my first baking soda volcano, to my recovery from the ‘ghost’ incident; not to mention the first attempt to create my sparks… and then the hour or so we spent resetting the powergrid for the whole map due to the short we made. He was a good man, if very obsessed with his work; as Papa was. Driven, you could say.” She sighed sadly, in a way that made even Caustic’s shaking arms want to wrap around the younger woman in comfort. “But he was forced to go home many years ago because he was having a disagreement with the company overseers about a new project they assigned to his research team. He was so angry when he left, and I wish I could have had a happier memory to keep of him. I only discovered later why he was so… you see, Papa mentioned that his team was assigned the goal of manufacturing a way of purging unwanted biological urges through aerosolised disbursement in the general population, and, well… he did not agree.”

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from a few too many voices for simply two other people to be present in the common room. Given what the ruling bodies of Gaea were known to stand against, it did not take much guesswork around the applications of such a project.

Caustic had always liked to break accepted ethical conduct on the odd occasion to get breakthroughs that pushed science to the edge of a new frontier, but even he had been abhorred by the very concept. Caustic closed his eyes, recalling the very arguments he had had with his then-superiors about the situation; and how he had even held out the ‘impeding human rights’ card as a final way to thwart the project. The cold smirk on thin lipped faces as he was informed that none who would be affected could be counted as a true human until they were cured of their odd notions… it was a miracle he had restrained from using his fists there and then.

His ‘compliance’ was bought with a simple reminder of how very important the company’s healthcare policy was to Caustic’s mother, at the time, and how it would be a shame to have it terminated alongside his employment. Feigning defeat, and hating himself, he had made a show of deferring to their wishes. Those pompous, self-inflated fools had taken him at his word. That was their first mistake.

Caustic jerks slightly, as if he has fallen out of his own memories and back to the present, bodily. Finding Miss Pacquette still speaking, her voice growing ragged with emotion.

“He… he died shortly after leaving us. I was devastated that he was gone, but even more so for the way it had happened. I could not imagine the fear and sadness he must have felt as the lab burned around him, with his entire research team. All they ever found was a charred corpse and two fingers that had enough DNA remaining to confirm his identity.” A soft sob shocked out, before she masterfully pushed it back. “U-Unfortunately for the company it seemed that all of his research and specimens on the topic burned with him; and some kind of alternate chemical residue coating the lab after the fire made the building unusable. Sometimes… I wonder if it was deliberate, for him to have taken it all with him. To be honest it would not surprise me in the least, he was as stubborn as Papa…” Natalie trailed off, clearly upset by the recollections. “Oh mon dieu, I do not mean to be so silly… I just miss him and Papa so much! And now you are all being so awful about the only person who… who reminds me of them, and I know he is difficult but there is good there, somewhere.”

Caustic’s teeth grind until it is agony. He longs to comfort her, even now as a full fledged adult and not the doe-eyed little girl who always wanted his attention... but how would that look to their comrades? Would she accept it after what he had tried to do? The anxiety wrings his stomach out like a wet rag, and locks both legs firmly in place. The scientist is disgusted with his weakness, debasing himself internally even as he countered with the simple truth of not being able to fight your own brain when it had decided on a Freeze response to distress.

He can clearly hear Lifeline and Wraith providing quiet soothing statements to Miss Pacquette, and it lessens his own distress over hers. Until he hears the one voice he would prefer never have been party to the conversation, speak up. “What was his name?” A general query, curiosity and a hint of foreboding there, as if the puzzle pieces were sliding together in the younger man’s mind.

Caustic’s heart freezes in his chest. Of all the Legends, why must Park be the one to overhear this tale? He who knows too much already...

There’s a soft muffled sniffle, muted most likely by Wraith’s shoulder, before Wattson replies; utterly unaware of how she was putting the final nail in his aliases’ coffin. “Oh, did I not say? His name was Alex… or I suppose Alexander. Dr Alexander Nox…”

The sound of Crypto’s drone clattering to the floor almost swallows the high pitched shattering of the ceramic mug meeting the kitchen floor. Almost, being the operative word.

By the time anyone has a chance to check the kitchen, Caustic has long since made a tactical retreat to his room. The racing thoughts feel like they are wrapped about his throat, constricting his chest until he can barely breathe. Hoping that none saw his frantic flight back to the safety of familiar walls.

~)0(~

#apex legends #caustic #please tell me if its too ooc #i have been agonising over chapter 2 #it was meant to be a short little fic and now chapter 2 feels very ooc #31 days of apex

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blkmxrvel · 5 years ago

Text

All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited.

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments?

Do you think this relationship is going to work?

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking.

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building.

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered.

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all.

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1.

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down.

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?"

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you.

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more."

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body.

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates.

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead.

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up."

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat.

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap.

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?"

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers.

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass.

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well.

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie.

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work.

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly.

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day."

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours."

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her.

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows.

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away.

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed."

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?"

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through.

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand.

“I promise, princess."

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend?

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter.

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.”

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie?

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.”

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better.

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.”

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.”

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone.

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad.

What had she just done?

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had.

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head.

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain.

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.

#madi writes #brie larson #brie larson x reader #brie larson imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers

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glass-rose-paperweight · 4 years ago

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The Narrative Structure of Sherlock - And Why Season 4 Seems So Off

A lot has been said about why Season 4 just seems wrong (for a more complete list than I could ever hope to make, go here and here). And while all of those are great points that point to something strange going on, I want to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. I propose that what’s wrong with Season 4, ignoring plot holes and inconsistencies and things that seemed to have just been done for shock factor, is that the narrative structure itself is just incorrect. We all know what big proponents of the 5 act structure Mofftiss is. Let’s take a moment to look at the five act structure for a moment, shall we?

The Five Act Structure

The five act structure has its basis in the narrative structure of the ancient Greeks, of telling a story with a beginning, middle, and end. However, it was really solidified starting with German playwright Gustav Freytag in 1863 and his mapping of a narrative structure. He identified the different parts of a story: the Exposition (which sets up the story, introduces characters, gives the audience the background needed to understand the story, and, most importantly, contains the inciting moment, the conflict that the story and the protagonists will revolve around), the Rising Action (which are the obstacles placed in the way of the protagonists resolving the conflict and any more information needed for the audience to understand the story narrative and the characters; often here is where you really start getting a good understanding of what characters are like and understanding their complexities), the Climax (the turning point of the story, the point with the highest tension; often the Big Showdown or big battle), the Falling Action (the end of the climax and the aftermath of whatever happened; things are starting to calm down and resolutions are being reached), and the Dénouement (the final resolution and tying up of lose ends. This is the moment of emotional release, when the characters you have been watching and hopefully grown attached to are reaching their happily ever after and you get to see what their life is like after going through the climax). This is a well known narrative structure that basically everyone learns in grade school. You’re probably familiar with the Story Triangle.

A lot of stories revolve around this narrative structure. Most of Shakespeare’s plays revolve around this narrative idea. The plot triangle is one of the most commonly used ways of telling a story. Supposedly, this is the model that Mofftiss are trying to shoot for with Sherlock. Lets take a look at how this structure generally fits within a typical 5 act play.

Well ... we already have a bit of a problem when it comes to Sherlock, don’t we? The climax is in the wrong spot. If we try and fit Sherlock into the Freytag narrative structure, the first episode really serves as the exposition while everything leading up the The Reichenbach Fall serves as the rising action. And then we get the fall itself as the climax. But, if we think of each season as being like an act, then the climax comes at the end of the second act. Which would leave all of season 3, 4, and 5 to act as falling action and dénouement, which generally leads to a slow, drawn out story. However, lets take a look at the Freytag narrative in a 3 act play, shall we?

The Three Act Structure

Now, a 3 act structure can really just be thought of as a condensed 5 act structure. The Exposition and Rising action are somewhat combined together to serve as an act 1 with a mini climax at the end of act 1. Then, in act 2, there’s more Rising Action, more obstacles to overcome, usually with some sort of midpoint in which a big twist happens. In Buddy Road Trip Movies, this is usually the annoying point at which they split up for some reason before coming back together for whatever the climax is, which falls at the end of Act 2. Act 3 is composed of the end of the climax, the falling action, the resolution, and the dénouement, the time of emotional release and seeing our characters ride off into the sunset.

Well, I’d say Sherlock fits much more securely in this narrative structure. You have the exposition of the fist episode, with the inciting incident coming at the Cabbie saying Moriarty’s name. The rest of the season is more buildup, with the end of The Great Game acting as the climax of act one (and one of the biggest fucking cliffhangers ever). Then we have the resolution of the climax of act one, more rising action, and the the big climax of act 2 with Sherlock jumping. The first two seasons of Sherlock fit much better into the 3 act narrative than into a 5 act narrative.

Sherlock’s Structure

That’s not to say the show doesn’t fit into the 5 act narrative at all. It isn’t uncommon for stories to have multiple ‘climaxes’, smaller ‘peaks’ in the narrative structure that add tension and draw audiences in to the story being told. Each peak just needs to be ‘higher’, with the stakes rising and the climax getting more and more tense each time (this is one of the reasons why big superhero movie franchises constantly feel the need to one up themselves when it comes to the size and scope of the final climax of the movie and why its often so hard to do that with later movies - once you create an ‘Avengers level threat’, where do you go with the story from there?) And, admittedly, the end of the ‘third act’, the end of season 3, does come with a pretty big climactic moment that ‘one ups’ the previous climaxes: Moriarty returning. There’s just one little problem: this is almost immediately resolved.

If we ignore The Abominable Bride for a moment and focus just on the ‘actual’ episodes of each season, act 3 ends with Sherlock shooting Magnessun and Moriarty returning and act 4 starts with both of those issues already resolved. It’s the gaming playthrough equivalent in Minecraft of ‘I did some mining offscreen’. Even though, technically, there wasn’t anything done ‘offscreen’ to resolve the conflict (except for editing a video of Sherlock shooting Magnessun), we never see anything done on screen to resolve the problems, especially not the problem of Moriarty. Sherlock simply dismisses it as not real and moves on. ‘Moriarty isn’t really alive, this is just some plan from beyond the grave that I can deal with easily because I am the great Sherlock Holmes.’ The climax wasn’t really a climax. It just kinda fizzled out, and then the story moves on to instead deal with Mary. Now, we later come to learn that Moriarty had, actually, returned ... in a round about sort of way. We learn of Euros and everything she had done behind the scenes, directing Moriarty, and how the climax at the end of act 3 is linked with her. Ignoring all the plot problems that come with her, the biggest problem with her is placement: her story is in the wrong spot. Her story, the part that finally gets around to explaining and resolving the ‘big climax at the end of act 3′ doesn’t happen until the end of act 4, when we’re supposed to be drawing to the end of the falling action and about to enter the dénouement. That’s not to say that ‘climaxes’ can’t happen in the falling action, because they can. The caveat is that they have to be smaller than whatever the ‘big’ climax of the story is (and that the big climax of the story needs to be resolved in a satisfying way). The climaxes in the 4th act have to simply be what happens while trying to tie up the lose ends of the story. The Final Problem acts as a resolution to the climax of act 3, but it happens almost an entire act after when it is supposed to, with no sort of rising action or narrative structure to fit the two stories, the two pieces of the narrative puzzle, together. Nothing in The Six Thatchers or in The Lying Detective really link Moriarty’s return at the end of act 3 with The Final Problem. The other issue with The Final Problem is that it attempts to fit all of the falling action and the dénouement into the end of the episode. Not even all into one episode, but to fit everything into, like, the last 5 minutes of the episode. The end montage with Mary’s voice over feels very much like a ‘riding into the sunset’ kind of moment, even if you believe there will be a fifth season. You just can’t resolve a story in 5 minutes. You can’t fit two whole acts into 5 minutes and it feel like a satisfying story. And if there is another season, the end sequence of The Final Problem just throws another wrench in the Freytag narrative structure.

Basically, what I’m getting at is, no matter which way you try to look at it, Sherlock doesn’t fit neatly into clearly established narrative structures. Which isn’t inherently a bad thing. Stories don’t have to fit into a 3 act or 5 act structure or even follow the Freytag narrative structure at all to be good stories. However, most of the stories we consume today, most of the books we read and movies we watch and, to a certain extent, the overarching plot of many TV shows we watch, fall into this narrative structure. While there are plenty of stories out there that don’t, in any way, fit into these structures, the point is that it is a narrative structure we are familiar with and that Sherlock attempts to fit into it. Sherlock makes it look like it’s going to fit into that narrative structure. And then it doesn’t. After growing up experiencing all these stories that very clearly follow the Freytag narrative structure, we expect stories that attempt to fall into that narrative structure to stay in that narrative structure. To follow it all the way through. It leaves audience members extremely unsatisfied if it doesn’t. This is why even if all the plot holes and inconsistencies and the characters being out of character were resolved, even if the Extended Mind Palace theory turns out to be true or John’s Bungalow theory or whatever other theory you could come up with to resolve season 4, the narrative structure of Sherlock will never be satisfying. It’s the reason why people have proposed different orders for watching the Star Wars movies or watching the Avengers movies. Because we understand how these stories are supposed to work and end up feeling unsatisfied when the curtain closes and the lights come back up. We want that familiar structure, that release of emotion that we have come to expect from clearly established narration that we are accustomed to. This is the problem inherent with Sherlock. Not the secret sister that seemed to come out of nowhere. Not the inconsistencies or characters knowing things they shouldn’t or doing things they shouldn’t. Not even Redbeard being a boy and not a dog, but the very foundation of the show itself. It’s narration. Because the ‘final’ climax is likely going to have to fit itself into the 5th season (especially if the Extended Mind Palace Theory is correct and we have a ‘it was all just a dream moment’), a resolution to the problem, all the falling action, AND the dénouement are all going to have to be shoved into the 5th act. Which is likely going to make for a story that feels very rushed.

That’s why I have a proposition: a restructuring of the story. This doesn’t resolve plot holes, but it does, I think, make the story more satisfying. It’s moving things around kind of a lot, so things might get a little messy.

Okay, everything is almost exactly the same through season 3, with the one change being that the clues pointing towards another sibling, the build up of it, happens over the course of season 3 instead of season 4. The Abominable Bride doesn’t really matter in this retelling, so take it or leave it as you wish (personally, I choose to take it). The first episode of the 4th season still has Rosie being born and the very beginning of the episode (with the footage of Sherlock shooting Magnussen being altered and Sherlock being dismissive of Moriarty’s return), but everything that happens in The Final Problem happens in this episode. So, discovery of a secret sister, Sherrinford, confrontation of a secret sister, murder games, all of it happens in the first episode of the 4th season. The climax with Moriarty’s return is resolved when it is supposed to be. However unsatisfying it is that he isn’t actually back, at least the narrative flows in this way. The second episode of season 4 is an entirely new story, something that starts the resolution of Sherlock having a secret sister and of obvious trauma from when he was a child. In The Final Problem, Mycroft mentions that he gave Eurus ‘gifts’ for her assistance in fixing problems, so perhaps a problem comes up that Mycroft and Sherlock can’t solve, and they have the moral dilemma of whether or not they should go to Eurus and whether or not her demands will be worth her help. IDK, I’m just spit balling here. The last episode of the season is also a new episode, something that emphasizes the Johnlock dilemma, something that brings into focus John’s feelings for Sherlock and Sherlock’s feelings for John. Something that explicitly shows their attraction for each other and the problems getting in the way of them being together (Mary, heternormativity, maybe John having internalized homophobia, idk), but they don’t actually get together. The first episode of the 5th season is The Six Thatchers, and Mary dies. That episode plays out basically exactly as it is. The episode still ends with John extremely mad at Sherlock and not wanting to be around him. The second episode is the Lying Detective, basically completely as it is. The final episode of the season and the show is them talking through everything, The Reichenbach Fall and why Sherlock left for two years (because that’s not something they seem to have discussed at any point), the pain John still feels over Mary being dead, the feelings both of them have towards each other, and some sort of case to show them that they are still the good friends of the first two acts, that things haven’t really changed. That regardless of whatever romantic attraction they may or may not have for each other, they still deeply care about each other and want to be in each other’s lives. Something to show us how their lives will play out in the future, that they’ll continue to solve cases together. Hell, you can still have the end montage with Mary’s voice over if you want. It’s certainly a lot more fitting there. In my personal opinion (though others can disagree with me if they like), the most fitting ‘resolution’ to John and Sherlock’s attraction towards each other isn’t actually a resolution, but a beginning. I say, after the end montage and Mary’s voice over, cut to the two of them on a nervous date with each other, obviously not knowing what the hell to do but excited about the possibilities of the future. It leaves things open to the imagination for the audience (which is always nice, especially for fanfiction potential) and it doesn’t try to cram too much into a short amount of time (I really feel like trying to show them long term dating or getting married or anything like that would just be pushing it as far as narrative flow).

I’m not saying my proposed solution solves everything. There’s still plenty of issues to either have to work through or ignore with my version of events. Plenty of plot holes and character inconsistencies. But at least my version of events makes sense, at least narratively speaking. It follows the five act structure Mofftiss say they are so fond of. (If you want to say that The Six Thatchers would work better as the end of act 4, serving as the last episode of season 4, and then have The Lying Detective serve as the first episode of season 5 with a completely new episode as the second episode and then another new episode as the final resolution of what life for our Baker Street boys will be like in the future, I would also accept that proposed version of events; it does allow for more evolution of John and Sherlock’s relationship as a couple, though it does leave things less open ended for the two of them. If you prefer that, that’s valid. If you would rather stick to a 3 act structure, then keep The Empty Hearse exactly as it is, have The Sign of Three as it is but with Sherlock and John getting married, and pretend like season 3 ends with the montage of John, Sherlock, and Rosie and just pretend like John and Sherlock adopted a little girl. If you would prefer that version of events, that is also valid.) Even with all the other issues that come with seasons 3 and 4, this version of events just feels more satisfying, at least to me.

(Something I wanted to point out but couldn’t find a good place to insert it, so I’m just adding it as a footnote now: that’s why The Hounds of Baskerville feels kinda out of place. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great episode, but it always seemed to stick out like a sore thumb to me. And that’s because it does, narratively speaking: it doesn’t contribute to the rising action. All the other episodes in the first 2 seasons contribute and lead back to Moriarty in some form or fashion; they act as an evolving narrative leading to the Reichenbach Fall. Except for The Hounds Of Baskerville. It is it’s own, separate narrative. It’s a good narrative. It’s one of the best narratives in the show, if I’m being honest. But it still is out of place. It would fit much better as the second episode of the first season, acting as a continued exposition of the first act before we get the first (not so) mini climax with The Great Game. Narratively speaking, it would make more sense to switch The Hounds of Baskerville with The Blind Banker.)

TL;DR first of all, understandable, this is a very long post. Second, the narrative structure of the show itself is fucky, and that’s why season 4 will never feel satisfying, no matter what happens in a possible season 5 to try and resolve the fuckery of season 4

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

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(未定事件簿) 夏彦 SR [忆中人] [Tears of Themis] Xia Yan SR [Reminiscent Person] Card Story Translations (Part 2)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Xia Yan’s personal tag will be #Tears of a PI. Personal master-list under construction! *Suddenly I’m sad—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / SMS

Location: Within the Maze

After splitting up with Xia Yan, I entered the "Memory Maze" through the other door.

The interior of the room was dimly lit. Following the narrow path that had been set out, I eventually stopped in front of a wall.

MC: Touch the Magic Wall and accept the test of Memories...

Following the instructions on the wall, I slowly reached my hand out to touch the wall before me.

A holographic screen appeared on the wall upon my touch. It wrote:

"Which day and month does his birthday fall on?"

MC: Now this question is just too easy.

Ever since he came to my house, we'd always celebrate all our birthdays together.

A cake accompanied by a table full of hearty dishes, the only difference being the increasing amount of candles as the years went by; the same homely warmth never changing.

MC: The 5th… of December.

Entering the date that I'd long since committed to heart, the "wall" in front of me opened, revealing the path hidden behind.

MC: I see, so it was a hidden door…

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Within the Maze

On the other end of the maze, stood Xia Yan as he stared at the question displayed before him.

Xia Yan: Which one of the following has she never done before?

Xia Yan: Watching a movie alone, eating hotpot alone… going to the Amusement Park alone…

He looked at the multiple choices in front of him, lapsing into a long silence.

Xia Yan: I can only choose one out of the lot?

Xia Yan: In my opinion, you shouldn't have to experience any of this.

He looked at the fourth option of "All of the above" hesitantly, unable to make up his mind.

After hesitating for another 3 seconds, he tapped his finger on the third option of "Amusement Park".

The screen flashed red and a "boop" sounded; his answer was incorrect.

Xia Yan: That was actually wrong?

Xia Yan: Under what circumstances would you end up going to the Amusement Park alone…?

The door before him didn't open. Instead, the screen dimmed, entering a one-minute lock-down period.

He lowered his eyes.

His usual cheery smile disappearing for the first time since he stepped foot into the challenge establishment.

Finally, the screen lit up again; this time, a different question coming into view: “How did she spend her previous birthday?”

Xia Yan: ……

Xia Yan: We used to celebrate our birthdays together last time.

A wry smile formed on his face; his eyes obscured in gloom.

His finger trembled ever so slightly as he pressed the option of "Celebrated alone" with a long sigh.

The door before him opened, but his steps were no longer as brisk as before when he stepped through the secret door.

Xia Yan: Was our parting… Was 8 years too long of a time…?

Xia Yan: Actually, wasn't one of my intentions in coming here to understand you a little more?

Xia Yan: You'd always cover it up with a smile every time we'd talk about the ups and downs of these 8 years… I know absolutely nothing about how you've spent those years.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: Huh. Does he sleep in…?

MC: (He has gone through a multitude of military training, so I don't think he'd have a chance to sleep in, right?)

Even though that was the correct answer, I still couldn’t help but to recall how he loved sleeping in way more than I did, back when we were still little.

It’d take repeated bombings by both our parents to wake any of us up every weekend.

MC: I think… he can't even sleep in even if he wanted to now...

I got a good many questions wrong this round, mostly relating to Xia Yan’s experience for those 8 years that he had been gone.

I didn’t know anything about what he had experienced for those 8 years of his life that I wasn’t a part of.

MC: 8 years can really change a person's habits, huh.

???: You have 10 minutes remaining for this segment.

The reminder was like a bucket of ice water, jolting me out of my reverie.

Re-composing myself, I hurriedly proceeded on, exploring the maze in hope of finding a way out.

It was dark and suffocating within the maze and the path led to dead ends more than half the time. Those who had a fear of the dark would probably be panicking a lot more.

MC: No wonder the Staff Member earlier said that this was the stage where most people got stuck and failed…

After going back and forth, retracing my steps for a couple of times, I finally found another door that I could enter.

A seemingly simple question appeared before my eyes:

“Does he sleep-talk when he sleeps at night?”

MC: I know this one. He sleep-talks once in a while and I’ve even teased him a couple of times about it.

MC: Huh…?

The screen flashed red and entered lock-mode.

MC: … Why would that be wrong…?

There wasn’t much time left and this one minute seemed to stretch on for a very long time.

Suddenly, I faintly heard the sound of a secret door opening nearby. Looks like Xia Yan was already close by.

MC: (Finally! A new question!)

What’s the best present he has ever received?

MC: If he’s not going to be springing any more surprises onto me, then...

As expected, the treasure chest with a Sherlock Holmes-themed periphery was one of the answers. That was something that my parents had bought for him back when we were little, and he had used it to store various prized treasures of his.

It was unfortunately, currently in the possession of Sphinx.

MC: I’ll definitely find that chest back for you, Xia Yan.

The answer was correct. The screen lit up in green and the “wall” before me slowly opened.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Xia Yan appeared before me, but he didn’t look quite as carefree and easy-going as he had been earlier.

He was silently standing in place; who knew what he was thinking about? A familiar smile took its place back up on his face upon seeing me appear from behind the door.

Xia Yan: Oh, you’re out. Pretty quick, aren’t ya!

MC: Sad that I’m still slower than you though...

???: You have 5 minutes left for this challenge.

The faint sound of the Staff Member’s voice calling out from a distance away within the maze made me and Xia Yan rush to find the maze’s exit.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Fortunately, there weren’t any more puzzles, riddles or questions for us to run into the rest of the way, so we managed to make our way out of the maze in no time at all.

However, there were no Staff Members coming for us this time to lead us back at the maze’s exit, and the timed reminders never sounded ever again.

Xia Yan: The maze’s exit has been deadlocked.

There was a long corridor stretching out before our eyes, but it was dimly lit at the curve, making it hard to see the path that laid beyond.

Both sides of the wall had old oil paintings hanging from it and some even had spider webs hanging from them.

Xia Yan: All these paintings… Why are they all identical?

Even the picture frames were identical. Xia Yan took one of the paintings down but wasn’t able to find any hidden clues upon closer inspection.

Returning the painting back to its original position, he frowned.

Xia Yan: Looks like we can only proceed onwards.

MC: Does this mean that we have to find the last checkpoint on our own?

Xia Yan: Not necessarily, they might pull some random quick-time events to test out reaction time.

MC: They wouldn’t… make a member of the staff dressed as a ghost jump-scare us out of nowhere, right?

I glanced at the dim and dark corridor of doom and gloom, a bad feeling settling within my heart.

Xia Yan: Weren't you not afraid of ghosts?

MC: But you’ll still get a fright if they suddenly jump out at you when you’re least suspecting it, right…?

Xia Yan: How about I scout the way ahead for you? That way, there won’t be anything out there to scare you.

MC: You’d always walk in front of me like that whenever we used to go to Haunted Houses back when we were young.

Xia Yan’s footsteps paused as he turned his head to face me.

Xia Yan: How have you been for those 8 years that I wasn't here…?

MC: Pretty well!

Xia Yan: You… When did you go to the Amusement Park alone?

MC: Are you trying to ask me “how lonely” I must have been to do that? It’s really not like that, I swear.

MC: That was actually the time when I had agreed to go to the Amusement Park with a friend of mine, but she cancelled at the last minute when I was already there, saying how she had something urgent crop up last minute and she wasn’t able to get away.

MC: Since I was already there and all, I simply decided to go in and have fun for the entire day by myself.

Xia Yan: So that’s how it is. And here I thought...

MC: You thought what?

MC: That I didn’t have a single friend to go to the Amusement Park with?

Xia Yan: No, no! That’s not what I meant!

MC: Actually, there was a period of time where I felt really lonely all by myself. You were gone, and my parents weren't around either.

MC: And during holidays, I'd eat hotpot alone, but I'd also set out four sets of bowls and chopsticks, as if all of you were there...

Xia Yan: ……

Looking at the slightly pained look on his face, I hurriedly changed the topic.

MC: But it's all already in the past; plus, I think that this was also a really good chance for me to learn how to live alone by myself.

MC: Enough about me. Are you still so busy that you don't even have the time to sleep in, even though you're now back in Stellis City?

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Challenge House Corridor

MC: Enough about me. Are you still so busy that you don't even have the time to sleep in, even though you're now back in Stellis City?

Recalling all the questions that I had answered incorrectly to, I couldn't help but to start doubting myself. Was I usually somewhat ignorant when it came to him?

Xia Yan: I'm not as busy now. If I was, then I wouldn't have accepted a job like this.

Xia Yan: The reason why I don't sleep in is mostly because I'm already used to it.

MC: You're used to it?

Xia Yan: Yeah. Sleeping wasn't allowed during training.

Xia Yan: And I've been trained for so long that it looks like I don't need that much sleep anymore.

He spoke very casually about it, but I couldn't help but to feel that those three words that he had just uttered, "used to it" , wasn't as simple as he made it out to be.

MC: You don't sleep-talk anymore; was that also something that changed over time?

Xia Yan: I didn't always talk in my sleep now, did I?

MC: ……

Xia Yan: Okay… This sort of thing definitely had to be fixed through special training. Plus, it wasn't severe in my case, else they wouldn't have chosen me in the first place.

Even though there was no one in our vicinity, Xia Yan still lowered his voice as he spoke

Xia Yan: Getting rid of a bad habit definitely comes with a bit of difficulty and no short amount of effort.

Xia Yan: But these little problems aren't enough to take me down!

MC: Haa… You always make it sound so easy.

He beamed confidently, one filled with as much warmth as it did back when he was still a boy.

Just remembering those years that we were separated for, the strict training he had gone through and the dangerous nature of his job made my heart ache like no tomorrow.

Xia Yan: (Y/n), don't you think we've been walking for too long now…?

Xia Yan suddenly came to a halt.

MC: Too long?

Xia Yan: Yeah. There's obviously no way an Experience Hall like this would have such a long corridor.

MC: How strange. We've been walking for this long, but we've still yet to reach the end.

Xia Yan: We might be going round in circles… I purposely hung the painting I took down earlier a little more crookedly.

He pointed at one of the decorative paintings hanging on the wall.

MC: So, you're saying that that's the painting you took down at the start, and that we're just walking around this place in circles?

Xia Yan: Probably…

MC: Then it looks like we'll have to search around and see if there are any hidden clues lying about this corridor.

Xia Yan and I started searching for anything that might be hiding some clues in this endless corridor.

Thankfully, there wasn't anything too complicated in the area, so we were soon able to find a slip of paper hidden at the back of a mirror.

Xia Yan: Find me, take me, and the curse shall be broken.

MC: So they want us to find a certain something in particular…

MC: And as to the things here that could even be remotely referred to as "me"...

We both looked into the distance, setting our eyes onto the "bone" that was seating above the piano…

MC: No way… Is the answer really that simple?

Xia Yan: That doesn't seem quite right. I'll go take a look first, so you wait here for me.

He patted my shoulder before proceeding onwards.

Right when he reached the piano and picked the "bone" up, all the lights in the corridor suddenly went out.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: AHH——!

Xia Yan: You good, (Y/n)?

I was just about to reply to Xia Yan when a hand suddenly grabbed me from behind, pulling me in the opposite direction.

MC: !!!

???: Shh—— Quiet, don't make a sound. Come with me; this is all part of the game.

The hushed whispering of a Staff Member sounded beside my ear. I hurriedly shut my mouth, letting the Staff Member pull me forward.

It was pitch-black in front of him, but it seems like this person was already used to traversing this path, for the utter darkness didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

#Tears of Themis #Xia Yan #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #忆中人 #Reminiscent Person #午夜华章 #Symphony of the Night #Tears of a PI

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youngbugandtonystank · 5 years ago

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IT'S ONLY ONE YEAR GAP BETWEEN SPIDEY 1 AND INFINITY WAR!! for fucks sake bitch stop trying to make sense of the relationship between peter and tony. They were NOT THAT close, they did NOT work together or something. that is fantasy you irondad fans dream about. He was just his MENTOR. Morgan STARK is HIS daughter. His REAL daughter! get that thru your thick skull. THEY WEREN'T THAT CLOSE. the majority of their moments are fan made NOT REAL

I normally just ignore these messages, I receive like thousands of them every time I post analysis and stuff but this one is hilarious and only because you’re that triggered that they spent TWO years together, I’m going to prove it to you.

First of all, I understand the confusion. In FFH, Peter says he’s 16. Now, the Spider-Man movies in the MCU tend to do these kinds of mistakes. Back when HOCO was around, remember the ‘8 years later’ thing?

That was also a mistake.

In Infinity War, Tony Stark says the attack on New York was six years ago.

Infinity War co-director Joe Russo described the Homecoming eight years time jump as “very incorrect”. This mistake inspired Marvel Studios to release an official new timeline for all three phases:

1942 - 1945: Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)1995: Captain Marvel (2019)2009: Iron Man (2008)2010: Iron Man 2 (2010), The Incredible Hulk (2011), Thor (2011)2012: The Avengers (2012), Iron Man 3 (2013)2013: Thor: The Dark World (2013)2014: Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017)2015: Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Ant-Man (2015)2016: Captain America: Civil War (2016), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Black Panther (2018)2016 - 2017: Doctor Stranger (2016)2017: Thor: Ragnarok (2017)2018: Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Ant-Man & the Wasp (2018)2019: Avengers: Endgame (2019), Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)

2016: Captain America: Civil War, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Black Panther.

2018: Avengers: Infinity War.

In case you can’t read, the years on the left are the MCU timeline and the years in between parentheses are the year the movie was released.

Oh, and before you say something about:

2019: Avengers: Endgame (2019), Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)

Back then Marvel couldn’t exactly reveal that between IW and EG there was a 5-year gap.

There.

Also, I mentioned proof in the other movies, I’m going to repeat in case you need it as well.

Wanda Maximoff, Infinity War: ‘For two years, we’ve stolen these moments… trying to see if this could work and…I don’t know.’

Rhodey, Infinity War: ‘Wow. You guys…really look like crap. Must’ve beena rough couple of years.’

Ant-Man and the Wasp: ‘He’s allowed to return to the U.S., provided he serve two years under house arrest’ ‘Give me a break. I haven’t driven in two years.’ ‘Oh, hey guys. Are my two years up already?’

In FFH, it’s a little difficult because they probably didn’t give the full details to Jon Watts, just like in Homecoming. Remember that IW and EG were a big secret for everyone that not even the actors were allowed to read the full script, they had to piece together some stuff. This is clearly a mistake too. The cast of FFH even joked about how is it possible that Peter is still in school lmao

And second, it doesn’t matter that Tony has a real biological daughter. I feel sorry for the people that don’t understand Peter and Tony’s relationship. If you have any trouble believing they’re in fact father-son to each other, here’s a little reminder:

1. Here’s a fully detailed list of directors, writers, actors reminding you Peter and Tony are father-son. Thanks to the lovely dobreviasstuff.

2. Here’s Joe Russo reminding you that Tony thought of Peter as his other child and that child was the one to spur him to save everyone.

“This is like his other child that he’s lost,” Russo said of how Tony views Peter. “[That] spurs him to action. [It] makes him consider that, you know, even though he has this child [his daughter, Morgan], he still lost a child, and there may be potential to bring that other child back, and he’s now in conflict.”

And you must be smoking something if you think their moments are only fan-made. I recommend you to watch Civil War, Homecoming, Infinity War, Endgame and Far from Home. But for REAL this time.

#tony stark #peter parker #far from home #spiderman #iron man #infinity war #endgame #marvel #mcu #tom holland #robert downey jr #joe russo #ffh #civil war #homecoming

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escargon · 4 years ago

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May I have context for the Doug Walker review?

I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I started typing and accidentally wrote the script for like. A rant. So feel free to just skim but The Nostalgia Critic was a very vital influence and special interest to me when I was starting to view media more critically, as embarrassing as that is to admit now after everything that has happened. Ideally you don’t have to watch his review and give him anymore YouTube clout so, technically, I’m saving you about fifty minutes and keeping you from contributing financially to a scummy channel.

Doug Walker, esteemed Critic and Online Personality for 13 years wrote a little "love letter" to Pink Floyd in the form of his ""review"" of The Wall (1982). I don't know why he thought it was a good idea, maybe because of his Magnum Anuses of reviews of Baz Lurhmann's Moulin Rouge! (Review posted 2011) and Tom Hooper's Les Miserables (review posted 2013), where he rewrote parody songs to diss those movies in collaboration with other members of That Guy With the Glasses or Channel Awesome.

I grew out of that type of content in late 2017, but had no hard feelings other than a little embarrassment for admittedly basing a little bit too much of my epersonality on being a fan of his in middle school, but respect for his work especially since he seemed like an actual critical voice in his more laid-back, less scripted videos. That was of course until the document. The Not So Awesome Document* came out about a lot of workplace harassment, and led to the majority of the creators leaving and going on to do other things awhile ago, and the dust had settled around Doug and Rob Walker, and there are only a handful of creators left at CA.

Fast forward to September 2019. Doug Walker, The Nostalgia Critic teams up with a 3D animator and the lead singer of Slipknot and his son to produce a critical deconstruction in song of the 1982 animated film The Wall based on the Pink Floyd album of the same name.

And he just. Doesn't. Get it.

[Content Warning for the "Not So Awesome" Document: discussion of abuse and harassment both sexual and not sexual, I can't remember if it's in the document but discussion that occurs around it might make reference to a team member’s suicide. Let me know if there was anything I missed, I went through the document when it first came out and may have forgotten if there was anything else. Viewing the document is not necessary for the context of this post, but is there in case you are interested]

Or maybe he does, but he chooses to not express it because poor ol Doug made some bad decisions during the peak of CA's questionable and harmful business practices, and now he's stuck in a role.

Either way. The review sucks.

He spends the entire video mocking the style of both the music and the visuals, and weaving a weird thread of shallow modernization through visuals like cellphones replacing the iconic marching hammers, for example. There is either a lack of understanding, or deliberate ignorance on his part as to what the piece means both to Roger Waters, but also of what it has gone on to mean for those who love it. There is a reason why The Wall is one of the most iconic rock operas of all time, and its because there is so much soul and meaning put into the songs. But you know what Doug Walker, experienced critic and expert deconstructor of cinema, got out of it?

Like... Doug, if you’re out there. I don’t know how to tell you this, but Pink Floyd’s lyrics were not meant to be subtle.

PINK FLOYD’S LYRICS WERE NOT MEANT TO BE SUBTLE.

The whole entire POINT of The Wall is that it’s angsty music from an angsty place, discussing the issue of self-isolation and bottling up one’s emotions, creating a WALL in between oneself and those around them as a result of various experiences experienced in Roger Water’s life. Doug’s assessment (because at a certain point it is just incorrect to call it a review) of both the visual and lyrics add nothing to the actual work, which wouldn’t be a problem if this were a seven to ten minute video in which he expressed ambivalence, or even dislike for the on the nose lyrics and abstract visuals. Not every review necessarily has to enhance the piece, especially not negative ones.

But Doug is so self-important in his assertion that his musical “”reviews”” are his best works, and he is most proud of those. His works are not reviews, they are recreations and parodies. They offer nothing but a glimpse into the mind of a sad man, out of touch with any critical analysis skills other than “hehe he used a DOUBLE NEGATIVE. He DOES need education because he’s STUPID” (.... he almost got it, I guess.)

There are moments like this, where it seems like he gets it. But then the fact that he is a straight, cis, white gen-X hits you in the head.

Whether or not this is genuinely how Doug thinks, by throwing so much time and money at this project he is endorsing this particular reading of Pink Floyd, and all the bands who have and still are making politically charged music. Doug Walker is presenting himself in a way that is no different to the cishet, white Gen Xs suddenly giving up support for Rage Against the Machine for uh. Raging against the machine.

Did I mention this was a musical review? Because it’s a musical review. Nobody is a good singer, and Doug Walker, Egomanic, really decided that his Pink Floyd parody songs were good enough to put on Spotify, which he gratuitously advertises in the video that you can go stream it on Spotify.

Through his video that’s supposed to be a “Love Letter” to Pink Floyd, the Nostalgia Critic gives us one of the stalest takes on what is one of the most celebrated pieces of classic rock. He critiques the movie for strange visual choices of both abstract and painfully literal imagery to accompany the songs Roger Waters wrote in response to feeling as though his personal relationships, experiences, and family’s stories. I believe he did love Pink Floyd, but his interpretation tells me that he grew up and out of feeling as though society needs to change, and that Water’s music is whiny and entitled because it targets and critiques a society in which he, now a grown man, is at the top of the pecking order.

The worst part is that the only real, solid comment that we get from Doug himself is that he like the movie just fine, and he squeezes it in right at the end. How insulting to the viewers, where instead of giving an actual review until the very end of your nearly hour-long video, you put on musical skits that point out “logically unsound” lyrics or “weird and obvious” imagery as though you think you’re some meta genius.

And he still has the balls to call this a “Love Letter” to Pink Floyd. Great. Incredibly lukewarm and lacking musical talent. 1/5 stars for the effort, however misguided and unnecessary.

Anyway, so that was probably more context than I needed to give RE: Doug Walker’s review of The Wall, but as I said before he was one of my inspirations and I feel like it’s only right that now that I’m older and wiser, and have as a result developed better critical thinking skills through education and otherwise analyzing media for myself I feel it is only right to hold him to the same standard, especially when he thinks he’s making art.

#chatter #i used to be really invested in the nostalgia critic so i still keep an eye on him and the others who came out of ca #forbidden brigid lore lol #long post #channel awesome #nostalgia critic #doug walker #sorry if you see this without the line break

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f-nodragonart · 5 years ago

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have you guys ever watched the docufiction film The Last Dragon | A Fantasy Made Real? Its a fictional documentary set in an alternate universe where dragons were real

I wrote a few reviews abt it quite a while ago, but the longer one is p old and kinda cringey/incorrect in certain places, so I’ll run down my basic thoughts here

also if anybody wants to watch this film, here’s a link to it. I first watched this when I was a wee lil dragon-fanatic, and I’m obviously a sucker for faux-documentary/field journal fantasy media, so this movie holds a special place in my heart. HOWEVER, as I will explain here, it unfortunately gets a LOT of things wrong. it’s def got some positive qualities (which I will also describe), and it’s a fun watch, but DO NOT take this movie as an accurate assessment of what dragons could have been under different circumstances

WHAT THIS DOCUFICTION GETS WRONG*:

*I’m ESPECIALLY harsh on this movie b/c it’s a DOCUfiction. I tend to be a bit more lenient when a story isn’t necessarily aiming for a realistic setting (stylistic consistency is relevant here), but when a piece of media sets out to describe a scientifically feasible setting?? I bring the hammer DOWN

1) dear god, the anatomy is janky

the wings in particular can get RLY bad.

these wings clearly need more musculature and lower arm/’hand’ length, and a full membrane connection to the torso. they don’t even have ANY hint of integration/connection to the ribcage– no keel, no shoulder/chest musculature, not even any scapula!!

disgraceful…

while I can accept elbow spines in certain cases, I still don’t rly think they’re necessary in most cases– ESPECIALLY in this case where they don’t even provide extra area to the membrane around the elbow! what’s even the point!!

also I just noticed the designers forgot to put the elbow spines in the skeletal, so I can’t even check if they were integrated correctly….. hell, looking closer, I don’t think the front legs have scapula either….. DISGRACEFUL…

the wing shoulders also need to be shifted back behind the front leg shoulders, obviously, but they ALSO ought to be shifted down more towards the sides of the ribcage. wings based high up near the spine are typical of birds b/c they’ve got specialized wing musculature that basically pulls all the wing muscles (including the “back” muscles) down under the ribcage. bat wings aren’t built for that kinda setup, thus the shoulders are based more towards the sides on actual bats. this would likely be the same for bat-winged dragons

and those aren’t even the worst wings

I legit lose my mind a little lookin at these wings like…. why no membrane…. WHY NO MEMBRANE…

also there was clearly some attempt here to give these wings chest/shoulder musculature, but the designers didn’t know how much musculature a wing actually needs (or even how those muscles need to be shaped to properly hold a body..). thus, we just get pillowy, bara-boy boobs that would be useless for flight, even if the wings themselves were actually designed right

obviously a keel is necessary for a creature this big, but even if the designers nyxed the keel, the LEAST they could do is stretch the pecs down the full length of the ribcage to properly support the torso…

beyond the wings, some of the torsos are JUST a mess

the wyvern’s torso is mostly a problem b/c of weird wing integration, but the hexapod up top just has a plain weird torso, wings or not

it feels like the designers attempted to slap canine-like front legs on an ungulate/equine chest, and just utterly failed to integrate them properly. thus, the legs are floating to the sides of the chest rather than connected to and holding it up in any substantial way

I actually see this lack of shoulder integration in a lot in dragon designs, but it’s usually a result of trying to preserve the shape of chest/throat scales, so it’s kinda weird to see on a leathery-skin design

another thing abt this particular hexapod dragon is a bit hard to explain, but the neck is like… weird. idk if it’s super apparent to others, but the neck attaches more under the skull, a bit like a dog (ignore the skeletal, it’s clearly not accurate to the dragon actually presented). however, the flow of the neck from the chest is more of a horse neck? the strong up-and-over curve of a horse neck can’t rly attach to the skull in any way except the direct back of the cranium, yet this neck attaches somewhat to the underside of the skull, giving it a VERY awkward curvature. I happened to recently answer an ask abt necks that may explain this better, but suffice to say, the neck is weird

also, as u can see above, the base of the neck at the chest is super stiff b/c the animators didn’t bother to shift the mass of the chest/neck w/ the movement of the neck, which in turn makes the neck look ABSURDLY thin at angles like these

oh, and while this is certainly not the worst of the anatomical sins, the shrink-wrapping is p bad. yeah yeah, flighted creatures gotta be light, but flying animals still have SOME fatty deposits, like…. c’mon, u can SEE the cartilage rings in the throat of that poor wyvern, gimme a break… + it gets cold in the sky, where are some protective feathers/’fur’ for these guys?? especially side-eyeing the one living in the mountains. yeah I know they’ve apparently got that heat-retaining blood protein or whatever, but much like the flight bladder (which I will get to later), that’s asking me to excuse a bit much in terms of anatomy

(tho to be fair, the actual dinos featured in the film are naked and thin too so… at least this inaccuracy is consistent..)

I feel like this is especially bad w/ the heads. it looks like there’s barely any muscular support at the connection to the neck, and no jaw musculature to speak of. of course, a croc-like jaw design could layer the muscles under bone so that they’re not necessarily visible from the outside

but note the mass distribution of the bones of the jaw– they still stick out a fair bit to leave room for the muscles underneath (including on the upper jaw), and more importantly, the area for basing the muscles on the lower jaw is WIDE. now dragons may not necessarily need a strong bite-force like crocs if they’re using their talons and fire for attack, but most ANY toothed-animal skull is gonna NEED a lower jaw with a wider back end to provide stable, strong support to the jaw muscles. what I’m seeing from the ‘croc-’like dragon heads in this movie (not the wyvern head so much, that actually isn’t too bad in this respect) are flimsy, cardboard structures that will warp at the slightest hint of pressure

also, the teeth on all the dragons are weirdly straight and thin? like fishing teeth? but the main dragons are all land predators– they SHOULD have thick/curved teeth. even crocs have thick, slightly curved teeth, get w/ the program!!

and let’s not forgot this fucker

sir… SIR, that is a muscle-less TUBE with LEGS…..

………..funny how suddenly the wiener-dragon ain’t shrink-wrapped, eh?

also this dragon absolutely CANNOT glide, no matter what kinda “flight bladders” they got, the membrane surface area is FAR too small even for gliding, I’m sorry!!

2) “evolutionary theory? what’s that??”

basically the film goes, “WHOA this dragon has 6 limbs! no other vertebrate on the planet has 6 limbs! they must have a wild genetic mutation for that to happen– oh, yep, they sure do!” and just… leaves it there

the evolution of 6 limbs in any evolutionary tree similar to Earth’s is literally so complicated, I have an entire post dedicated to breaking down JUST that concept. the way this movie so briefly presents this “wild mutation” doesn’t even BEGIN to cover how incredibly difficult it would be to shift something as hard-wired as vertebrate limb number from four to six

what’s even MORE frustrating tho is that this movie’s timeline for evolution doesn’t even make SENSE! supposedly their oldest dragon is the wyvern– the tetrapod. then that TETRApod somehow led to the HEXApod marine dragon. what in the world?? WHERE did that other limb set come from? WHY is there another limb set suddenly???

as I explain in that post linked above, it’s practically impossible for another functional, full limb set to evolve in a complex vertebrate– that’s why it’s most reasonable for hexapods to evolve long before tetrapods set the standard, and the two evolutionary lines would go their separate ways. there’s a small chance a limb set could evolve properly into a small, early tetrapod (tho even that is a long-shot), but in a LARGE vertebrate whose entire physiology revolves around their current tetrapodal, bipedal setup, as this movie suggests w/ their wyvern? hell nah, not a chance

and there are def other evolutionary problems throughout– generally just the fact that dragons seem to change VERY little, ‘aesthetically’ speaking, despite so many years of evolution and adaptation to wildly different environments (looking at the marine dragon..). yet when the dragons ARE markedly different from one another (wyvern vs. hexapod), it only brings up more problems, as covered above. like it’s all just so vague and ungrounded in any real evolutionary reality

also this post pointed out further problems w/ the evolution I didn’t even think abt (like the forest dragon being a contemporary to the mountain dragon, despite being used as an intermediary b/t marine and mountain) so I’m rly just 🤔 abt all this

3) BAD lab procedure!!

why aren’t the researchers wearing masks? they need masks to protect the corpses from human germs, and protect themselves from breathing in anything weird that was on the corpse! and they keep touching the corpse w/o gloves, getting their human oils all over the body! have they never heard of contamination?? AUGH

there’s definitely more wrong here that I rly don’t have the experience to speak on (and some of it I’m willing to excuse for the sake of a short, dramatic film– like the team having a whole lab setup right on the mountain), but the cross-contamination is what rly bothered me.

WHAT THIS DOCUFICTION GETS RIGHT and/or FUN:

1) realistic, cool behavior

the dragon behaviors featured are actually realistic, and downright cool at times!

screaming to both call for help and hurt an opponent’s ears; flashing wings to warn off opponents; mimicry to trick prey; that KICK-ASS courting ritual (if not displayed a bit awkwardly in terms of body positioning); the fiery brooding method (if we at least assume egg physiology that could handle and require that kinda direct heat, which I don’t think is…. necessarily outside reality… perhaps… maybe…)– these are all awesome examples of neat behavior

2) flight bladders? kind of??

this one is in the “got it right” list based more on potential than actual application in the movie

see, the idea of a flight bladder is p cool! the source of gas from digestion is completely reasonable, and it makes sense as a way to help a huge creature relieve some of the stress of flight

plus, the connection w/ fire-breathing is super interesting! it’s a very reasonable give-and-take system, and I like it a LOT. so this post pointed out the problems w/ having a flight system that relies on a product also used up by a different system, so now I can’t even give it that much credit lmao

however, the flight bladders in the movie are used to excuse some of the worst wing anatomy I’ve seen passed off as “realistic designs”. flight bladders may make up for *some* shortened wing length, or flight endurance, but they CANNOT make up for the problems I described in the “got it wrong” list

3) fire-breathing mechanics

if we now ignore the problems w/ this gas system being directly connected to the flight system, the fire-breathing is decently grounded in reality! the designers not only took into account the fuel source (gas from digestion), but also ignition source (platinum deposits). both of these sources are super interesting to me cus’ they technically utilize outside resources, which is not usually the case w/ a lot of fire-breathing mechanics I’ve seen

also love the specialized mouth anatomy– a scaled inner mouth and protective palate-valve make perfect sense to protect the dragon’s innards from fire, esp since the fire is igniting towards the back of the mouth. though the source of ignition being so far back in the delicate throat is itself suspect, and makes me wonder why it wasn’t simply ignited up towards the front of the mouth to prevent injury….. man I can’t give this film an inch w/o taking a mile back, huh!!

-Mod Spiral

#reviews #dragons: a fantasy made real #mod spiral #ask #anonymous

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