#I feel like pre-humans return and the war the three of them got into trouble

[beautyofattolia]

Avatar Incorrect Quote

Jake: People ask me how I manage to keep my kids in order.

Jake: I don’t. This morning Neteyam called me into the other room and when I walked in, Lo’ak shot me in the throat with a nerf gun.

Jake: I’ve never been more proud. 

[thewalkingfanfictions]

I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader (part two)

I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader

Part One / Part Two

Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)

Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control. Can “dat gay shit” be a genre?

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

A/N: I hate this. So fucking much. I am, however, willing to write a part three with somma dat gay smut, if y’all want. I won't do it if no one says anything, though, so someone better comment. This is a threat.

Words without A/N: 2342

Masterlist

<—————————————>

The two of us crept through the old, neglected house. It was big, two stories with several rooms on each floor, and crawling with vamps.

Looking at Lidia over my shoulder, she motioned that she was going to go north, and waved me the other direction. Taking off as silently as I could, it wasn't long until I ran into the first group. How they hadn't noticed me yet, I guess we'll never know.

Creeping closer, I got within a few feet before the group of three tensed up and turned towards where I stood. Baring their teeth, two of them launched while the third took off through a doorway. Coward.

Dispatching them was easy enough, and I was quickly on to another room, leaving a stack of bodiless heads behind me. The next rooms were much of the same: alternating between empty bedrooms, to ones with two or three vamps chilling together, the job was simple enough. It wasn't until the very last room on my side of the building that I ran into trouble.

Seven, all together, and they already knew I was there. The one from the first room who had run when I showed up was standing beside them.

Fourteen bloodthirsty eyes glaring down at me, they slowly began surrounding where I stood. My heart beat in my ears, and I strengthened my hold on my machete, trying to form a plan. I should work on the big ones first, as they could pose a larger threat--but I should really save the bigger ones for after, so I can focus more of my energy on them--but at the same time, the smaller four could be more trouble than the big ones, they are more, and they are probably faster--or I could just focus on whoever came at me first--but what if they all launch at the same time? Am I really overthinking this right now?

Fuck it.

One of the smaller ones came forward to glare at me, sharp, disgusting teeth on display as she inched ever closer. As she got within reaching distance, she opened her mouth to say something--only to be cut off by my blade disconnecting her head from the rest of her. Her body fell to the floor like a...well, like a body, and all was silent for a moment, before the rest of them launched. Slicing and dodging and trying not to die was becoming increasingly more difficult as all six of the rest fought for a piece of me. I felt the side of my face light with a sting as one of them struck out and hit me, just before my blade cut through their flesh, hands grabbed me from behind, and I swung back as hard as I could, listening to the "shlingt" of the blade cutting through its neck. Before I could move to swing again, another body was grabbing me from behind and pulling me back, turing in their grip to swing again, my wrist was caught in their fist, making me look up at my opponents face.

Familiar, smokey-honey eyes surrounded by locks of fluffy brown hair graced my vision, and my breath caught in my throat at being so close to that perfect face.

"Sam?"

He pushed me behind him and went to work on a vamp that was right behind me, hacking its head off before turning to me with a bashful smile.

"Heh, uh, hey? Fancy seeing you here," a cheeky smile lit up his face as he turned back to the fight. My heart did an odd little "per-thump" as I gazed at his muscled body (now clad in a red and white flannel that did wonders for his shoulders (not that I would, uh, notice that.)) Shaking those very-not-me thoughts out of my head, I launched back into the fight beside him.

I knew there was something familiar about his room.

It wasn't long till we had dispatched all but one. The thing launched at Sam, who had at some point in the battle lost his own machete. He dodged gracefully around the vampires outstretched claws, and managed to get ahold of him from behind, holding the beasts arms behind its back and looking up at me. Well would you look at that. It was the same asshole who'd run away before and warned the others.

"(Name)!"

Wasting absolutely no time, I stepped forward and beheaded the thing, splattering blood onto Sam's face in the process. Good riddance.

Dropping the blood suckers body to the ground, Sam stepped over it, and walked towards me without so much as a second glance at the thing. A worried look came over his face as he moved closer, and his hand reached out to trace a thumb over the side of my face. Hissing, I couldn't help but flinch back at the sudden pain that erupted under his fingertips. My own hand flew to my face on reflex, coming away sticky with blood.

Apparently the thing that punched me earlier got me a bit more than I'd realized.

"You're hurt. We should get back and clean you up before you get infected, you might've gotten vamp blood in it."

His hand carefully traced over it again, this time taking care not to hurt me, and his eyes shone with his concern for me. It was kind of sweet, actually. We only met, like, less than twenty four hours ago.

"I knew there was something familiar about you," I mumbled, gazing up into his eyes, which silently questioned me in return. "Your room. The pre-packed bags, and the half-drank coffee next to the pile of papers and the laptop. It looked a painful lot like what my room usually looks like before a hunt," I smiled.

He grinned back at me, gaze dropping a bit lower than my eyes for a half a moment before darting back up. Licking his bottom lip, (an action I definitely didn't gawk at) he opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.

We both flinched away from each other, and it was only then that I realized just how close we had been standing, and that his hand had still been rested gently against the side of my bleeding face. Turning quickly towards the interruption, I locked eyes with my sister, who stood beside the larger figure of her bedmate from the night before, both smirking and gazing at us knowingly. I felt an ugly blush crawling its way towards my ears.

"Uh-uh-I-uhm-hey--hi-ah-uhm--" Sam stumbled from a few paces away from me, looking far more like a human-lobster hybrid than he had a moment before.

An ugly snort came out of my sister at that, and her smirk only grew as she looked between the two of us, looking like she was trying to refrain from saying something that I would most definitely punch her for. I wonder how hard it would be to dig a grave her height by myself.

"Shut up."

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

The ride back to the hotel was literal hell.

Lidia waited exactly six seconds (I counted) after we were both safely in the car and following the brothers' Impala down the road before she started interrogating me, that stupid smile still clinging to her face.

I've never wanted to punch her more.

I didn't know my face was capable of turning that red.

I was out of the car practically before it had even stopped rolling, and back in the hotel room before anybody else had even gotten out of their rigs. I could feel eyes on me the entire time, and hear my sisters uncontrolled laughter even through the closed car doors. I made sure I was already in the shower before she could get up to the room to bother me any more.

The water was nice, one of the best I'd had in a hotel, actually, and that is definitely the only reason I was in there for as long as I was. Yup. The only reason. It had nothing to do with avoiding my womb mate, and absolutely nothing to do with the thoughts going through my head about a certain 6-foot-something brunette.

After a good solid hour of wasting hot water, I finally decided it was probably time to get out. I'm sure Lidia wants to wash off too. Good luck with the few drops of hot water that I left you, punk. Drying off my hair and pulling on the baggy sweats and a tee-shirt that was way too big on me that I had thankfully remembered to grab from my bag before I rushed in here, I opened the door enough to peek out.

Of course, because it's only my luck, I got a nice side view of Dean with his tongue down my sisters throat.

Apparently they heard my exaggerated gagging sounds, because they split off and looked towards the bathroom door, eyes lust-drunk and lips red and swollen. Gross.

"Oh, don't act like you're not jealous, (nickname)," Lidia chided sassily, before rolling her eyes dramatically. "If you were in there any longer, we woulda started fucking, instead of being the polite person that I am and waiting for you to leave first."

I cringed at the thought of having to see that again, and flipped her off, before grabbing up a book and heading for the door as quickly as I could, listening to the two of them chuckling at me as I went.

“Loser.”

“Punk.”

"Your boyfriends waiting for you over in our room again, (name)!" I heard Dean say just before the two of them erupted into aggressive kissy noises, "(Name) and Sa'am, sitting in a tre--" the door slammed closed behind me.

Children. They are both complete children.

I found myself standing in front of the brothers door without even realizing I'd started walking yet, and I was knocking before I had the chance to try and compose myself. Fuck you, muscle memory.

The door opened before I'd even finished knocking, like Sam had just been sitting on the other side and waiting for someone to get there. His face flushed as we locked eyes, and I think he realized how it came across, too. I smiled at his cute ass dimples before my eyes dropped to take in the rest of him. Grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips (I'm not drooling, you are) and a plain white tee that had to be a good two sizes too small (holy mother of pecs). I probably stood there for a solid minute before realizing that it was really kinda weird for a totally heterosexual man to be staring like I was, and promptly looked away, clearing my throat and blushing stupidly once again.

His earthy chuckle was enough to break me out of my stupidity.

"Uh, so, uhm, uh--" I cleared my throat again, trying to reel my mind back into my body and refusing to look at him "Our siblings were dangerously close to fucking again and I really didn't wanna have to see that again, and I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you like last night but I totally get if you say no and I'lljustgofindsomewhereelsetogoI'msorryI'llleave--" I was half way through turning away when I felt him grab ahold of my arm, and pull me back towards him, his laugh cutting through the aggressive amount of self-loathing that was rushing through my system at the moment.

"Its okay, please don't go, Dean said to expect you over while he was there."

I paused for a second and stared at him, dumbfounded. He's a fucking angel.

Blushing stupidly, I nodded and followed behind him as he turned and swept his arm as an invitation to follow him inside. I stepped through the doorway, very aware that his hand still rested on my arm, and moved to sit on the bed when he pointed to it.

"Your face is still kinda busted up, I've got a first aid kit in here somewhere, let me help you," I was opening my mouth to protest when he turned and gave me a playful glare, like he already knew what I was going to say.

Soon enough, he was kneeling in front of me, one large hand resting on my shoulder while the other tilted my head to look at the cuts and the forming bruise. I couldn't look away from his kaleidoscope eyes.

Smearing some cold cream on my face (which I assumed was Neosporin, that's what it smelled like, anyway) I flinched slightly, which made him move both hands up to my head to hold me in place. Letting go for a split second, he reached for a bandage and moved back to cupping my face, and gently laid it over the split in my cheek. Being this close to him, smelling his freshly washed leather-and-old-book scent, I was practically drooling. It took far more restraint than it should have to not lean into the weirdly-soft hand that was cradling my cheek so gently.

Soon enough, he was done patching up my cheek, and looked up from his work. When our eyes connected, it was very much like the first time they had last night. I never wanted to look away. I don't exactly know when we started leaning in, but at some point we had. My eyes closed of their own accord, just a fraction of a second before his peachy lips were on mine. It was really just a peck, and far too soon he was pulling away from me, looking nervous. Before he had the chance to ruin the moment, or I had the chance to chicken out, I reached up and grabbed a handful of his shirt, and pulled him right back to me.

One of my hands found its way into his hair, the other still clinging to his shirt, terrified of him disappearing from my grasp. His hips found their way between my knees, where I still sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my body closer by the small of my back. By the time the both of us were too out of breath to continue, and he had to pull away, I was already far too lost to his hands.

Okay, so...Maybe I am a little bit gay.

                                                          fin

[allicekitty13]

A Garden On My Skin

Read On AO3 Read On FFN

In a world where every scar produces a floral mark on the body of your soulmate in the same spot Alice Brandon tries to find the one who's caused her body to look like a garden.

Alice was strange; her skin was covered from head to toe on almost every surface of her body in flowers. Alice, like so many others, was blessed with a soulmate. Every beautiful flower on hey body represented a scar received by the individual to whom her heart was connected.

It started when she was a baby, at least that's what her mother had told her. At just five months old, the first flower appeared on Alice's shoulder. It was a reasonably common occurrence; her mother assumed her daughter's soulmate must have been in their terrible twos, causing trouble that ended in injury.

Alice was one when her mother woke up to find that a dahlia had surfaced on her daughter's leg overnight. Two flowers on a one-year-old was less common but not entirely unheard of. Lilian Brandon hoped that her daughter's soulmate would grow to be a bit more careful. 

By the time Alice was of school-age, however, Lilian was fretful. Her daughter now had six flowers; a number most people would accumulate over their lifetime, not in only five short years. She dressed her daughter in long sleeves and pants to cover as much as possible, leaving only the rosebuds that framed her left eyebrow exposed.

Lilian didn't mind her daughter's floral embellishments; it wasn't something that could be helped; instead choosing to teach Alice to appreciate the gift. Her husband looked at things differently. Edgar had always hated the flowers; the small lilac on Lillian's left knuckle had always been a source of tension between the two. Not everyone had a soulmate, and Edgar had no flowers while the local librarian had a small scar on his left knuckle. Lilian did not go to the library often. 

At sixteen, she was old enough to understand what the markings meant. Old enough to recognize that most people didn't have a soul mate, to fully know that people treated those with markings a bit differently. It was a societal standard to keep your marks concealed wherever possible, never to discuss them. Alice couldn't do that. There were lilies on her cheek, a rose above her eyebrow, a lilac on her neck. Her arms long since covered by so many overlapping flowers, it was hard to identify them all. 

She didn't allow herself to be bothered by the marks, the stares she got on the street, or how people in her town did not want anything to do with strange little Alice. She loved the garden on her skin, spending a lot of time alone thinking about what must be happening to this person. Why and how they must be getting hurt so very often. It seemed as though a new mark would appear every few months. She worried for them, were they safe, did they think about her. She often wished she could skip all the in-between and go find them.

She was sixteen when her life took a dark turn. One morning, she had woken up to find the police in her living room carrying the news of her mother's passing. I was a car crash, deemed an accident, but Alice couldn't quite bring herself to accept that. A week later, the library closed temporarily; the librarian had drowned. His death had people talking; the townsfolk gossiped about Lillian Brandon having an affair with the librarian, how the man had drowned himself out of grief when he had heard of her passing.

Alice had other suspicions; she had felt that her father had a hand in her mother's death from the get-go. He would put up a good show of playing the part of mourning husband with the police and the mourners who came to pay respects, yet acted as though nothing was wrong when it was just he and Alice alone in the house. 

She felt as though her suspicions had been confirmed the day after her mother's funeral. She witnessed her father handing a strange envelope to a shady stranger at the memorial service. A week later, he moved a woman named Anna-Marie into the home. They were engaged within the week, married within the month.

Alice hated her new step-mother, the way she would dote on her in public, playing the part of a loving parent. At home, Anna-Marie was distant, cold; she wanted nothing to do with Alice. Sadly it seemed neither did Edgar. The only solace she took was in the genuine care and adoration given to her younger sister. At least no matter what happened, Cynthia would be Ok.

Alice knew what was coming long before it actually did. She'd had her escape planned out for weeks. Alice would wait for Edgar and Anna-Marie to leave for town without her, then grab the pre-packed backpack hidden in her closet and run. She would go through the woods and search the country for her soulmate; surely, they would care about her. Surely wherever they were would be better than here. 

She had made it just far enough into the woods that no one in town would hear anything that may transpire deep in the woods. Whoever her father had hired to follow her wasn't very discrete. She'd heard the footsteps long ago, the crunching of leaves and occasional snapping of a twig. She'd tried to lose them but had been ultimately unsuccessful. She recognized the smell of gunpowder first, hearing the sound of the gunshot mere milliseconds later. Alice understood what had happened before registering the pain letting out a soft chuckle as she fell to the ground. She felt as though she lay there for an eternity silently crying as the life faded from her body before everything went black. Unconscious, Alice didn't notice the strange man who silently approached. Didn't feel as he bent over, sinking his fangs into her throat. However, she did notice when he unclenched his jaw from her neck, and the most intense pain she believed possible spread through her body like fire.

----

When Alice opened her eyes, she was alone in a small, dark, wooden shack. She looked around at the space from the bed she had been placed on, trying to figure out how she got here. The last thing Alice could remember was the bullet hitting her back, and then... so much pain. Now, her throat was burning; she needed water. No, not water... but what? 

Alice stood, needing to find something to relieve the pain she felt in her throat when a man entered the one-room shack; he held his hands out, indicating he was not there to harm her. He tossed an unconscious rabbit at her feet. She immediately understood what to do, picking it up to drink deeply; the blood coated her throat, ceasing the burning sensation temporarily. 

Alice would spend the next five years with this man, whom she learned to be named Carlisle. He explained how he'd found her bleeding to death in the woods and turned her into a vampire just before she had passed on saving her life. Carlisle taught her about vampiric customs, how they lived in secret, and how to hide in plain sight amongst humans. How he fed off of animals and how to hunt. 

As much as Alice enjoyed her time with Carlisle and eventually, his wife, Esme; she still wanted to find her soulmate, as new flowers continued to show up every day. So she bid the couple farewell, promising that she would return one day.

Three years later, she met Charlotte; Alice was working as a sketch artist in Philidelphia when she encountered the woman on a walk late at night. She had never seen another person with as many marks as she had and immediately approached the woman. Charlotte was kind, explaining how she and her soulmate Peter had been involved in vampire wars in the south. They had both been bitten numerous times during battle; consequently, they both had gardens just like Alice. 

She stayed with the pair for a month when she approached Charlotte with a question. Alice pulled down her sleeve to expose a long scar on her left shoulder blade. She wanted to know if Charlotte or Peter had ever seen anyone with a matching mark during their time in the south. Maybe just like the pair,  her soulmate had been involved, thus the reason for her floral prints. The couple shared a mutual look of realization; Peter nodded in affirmation before leaving abruptly.

Charlotte sat down with Alice, prepared to explain some things. She told her about a man named Jasper, a man who'd had his entire worldview shaken apart the day a rose vine appeared on his shoulderblade. Not only was Jasper involved in the wars, but he was also a significant player. Jasper was the right-hand man of the leader of one of the most powerful covens in the south, the very same coven from which Peter and Charlotte had escaped. Charlotte confided in Alice that he had been questioning his role in the disputes for decades, how Peter had gone back countless times, risking his life in attempts to convince Jasper to leave. It had taken that rose vine to change his mind, to make him realize just maybe there was something better out there for him. He had been looking for her ever since.

When Peter returned alone, Alice wished she could cry; she had wanted desperately to find this man ever since the day her father had brought Anna-Marie into their home. She wanted someone to honestly care for and understand her. When Peter told her Jasper was waiting at the train station, she'd never run so fast in her life in her haste to get there. 

He was waiting as promised; suddenly nervous, she hid behind a stone pillar just hidden from view, taking him in. He was a tall, stoic man; even from a distance, Alice could make out a rosebud on his neck in the exact same spot Carlisle had bitten her years ago. When he turned his head slightly, she was able to make out a pair of striking red eyes and an expression of apprehension. With a sudden surge of courage, she stepped out into full view, taking cautious steps toward the man who now stared at her. 

They stood there for a moment, each taking the other in neither speaking, both of them just existing in this long-awaited moment. The instant Alice looked into his eyes, she felt comfortable; he seemed so familiar as though she had known him her entire life. It was an instant, overwhelming connection, and in that moment, she knew that she would never leave his side.

"Hi, my name is Alice." She broke the silence, finally extending a hand.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Adventure Time Reviewed - Season 1 Episode 6 to Episode 8

From The Jiggler to Business Time

S1E06 The Jiggler

This one is about the cautions of adopting cute little forest animals. I wonder why Finn and Jake are covered in so many bite marks? Why was that kingdom on fire? What was going on? How much trouble can one watermelon get into? Anyway this is the first episode to feature Finn’s autotune voice. I can’t remember the last episode he said something in autotune - there was the s6 finale, then a few scenes in season 7. 

When they take the Jiggler back home, they Get Creative and escalate until they destroy their entire house interior. I think Princessss made an AMV Nightosphere gag about this.  I love how chiptune noises play every time the Jiggler moves on day 1. 

I always loved this episode. I thought it was very disturbing when the Jiggler gets sick, and then explodes. It reminds me of failed attempts to save birds or insects after my cats have gotten to them. I can relate so much to Finn and Jake here. Poor Jake having to keep himself together and look after his traumatized little bro.  I love the OST of this ep. The soundtrack was uploaded to soundcloud once, along with Ricardio the Heart Guy. I love how artistic this ep is with the edible drawings and the painting of the jiggler’s mom. Very bright and colourful. I always found the momma jiggler’s cry to be... weirdly genuine. 

S1E07 Ricardio the Heart Guy

This ep starts with Finn saving PB from Ice King, who humorously kisses Jake’s butt. PB gives Finn a kiss on the.... neck? hat? as thanks, and Finn’s crush truly begins. Oooooh boy.  I always wondered in hindsight why Pb let the ice king roam free to begin with. That question is raised later in this season. Ice King kidnaps dozens of princesses daily and roams free, but Princess Cookie starts 1 hostage situation and is locked up forever. In the ep What Have You Done, it’s reasoned IK can only be punished for recent crimes, but... ehh, there are a few reasons. Pity? Old ties? Maybe she doesnt want to lock up a pathetic old man forever.  There are some really funny statues of Finn and Jake in the castle, they look buff. I wonder who made these? PB commissioning them makes a lot of sense. Hey, it’s Peppermint Butler’s first speaking lines!!!  “This style of massage is called Best Friend Massage. Because it can only be done for friends. It is completely consensual.” Well the first line from Ricardio the Rapist Stand-in is already incredibly sus. What’s even more sus is he’s apparently friends with LSP.  I find it interesting that Ricardio is so intelligent. This must have been one of the motivators behind making Simon really smart. Ricardio is his heart, at the end of the day. Oh, Simon at the end of the show still has maracas in place of a heart. I wonder if that has health complications? 

“I hear you appreciate ancient technology.” This is foreshadowing of MULTIPLE things now. One - Ice King being pre-war. Two - PB building everything out of pre-war technology. Three - The fact there was a war to begin with!!!! 

Jake is trying to help Finn deal with his new emotions of jealousy (burning low war flashbacks) and he’s once again trying to make him happy, Jake never once considered the logistics of whether Finn and PB would ever actually go out, because it was far more important to him that Finn grow up and have the courage to listen to his heart. Jake encourages Finn’s crush to a fault, and provides lots of support to him when he’s heartbroken later on. 

I love how PB and Ricardio were talking about dangerous micro-organisms and poor Finn has no idea how to approach the topic. I love how Zanoits are actualy dangerous and Ricardio uses them as a poison later.  Anyway even PB can tell Finn is jealous. Finn is of the idea that she has no idea of his crush on her. Of course she knows. But from her side it’s exactly the same as Baby-snaps wanting to be a princess, or every other candy person doting on her - she thinks it’s adorable and completely fails to take the other person seriously. At least, until Braco comes along. Then you realise it’s a good thing she didn’t take Finn seriously, because she might have done something ridiculous like make him a robot clone of herself.  

Holy shit, the duck from The Vault!  I just made a post about it. 

Anyway this ep provides a challenge to Finn or a test of his character, ironically through his own test of Ricardio’s character! Finn gets obsessed with proving Ricardio evil to the point that he gets easily baited into punching him, and doesn’t care that the Ice King is basically dying. Poor Ice King. At least Jake is here to approach the situation with a level head. 

I was wondering as of late, with all the post-Obsidian sexuality discourse (in no way ignited by that one towel scene), whether PB was interested in Ricardio during this ep. It’s possible, and in the past, I thought “maybe”? But upon rewatch? No. She is only interested for as long as she can have scientific discussions with him, and as soon as his knowledge becomes lacking she has already used him for all hes worth. SAVAGE. But not as savage as him trying to rip out her heart. Ew, creep!!! 

I should say that Ice King wanted to cast a spell that would force PB to fall in love with him. He’s NOT safe, he’s dangerous. He’s especially a danger to PB. He does kill her twice at the end of season 2, after all. Once again I don’t know why she hasn’t locked him up LOL. Anyway, even if he did cast a love spell, she wouldn’t change any of her decisisons. It’d just make her sad, like it did at the end of The Suitor.  There was that one time PB tried to make a love potion but we don’t talk about that.  Ice King does demonstrate some concern for Bubblegum’s welfare when he reveals Ricardio’s plan to literally murder her. Ricardio’s plan here is pretty slapstick violent, and it’s funny watching Finn beat him up, but when he returns in season 4, it’s far more... personal and insidious. As in, here he could be seen as a jokey stand-in for a predator creep, but in that later episode he 100%  sexually threatens her and forces her into a non consensual relationship, making it very satisfying when PB beats the shit out of him instead. 

Holy fuck I forgot about this joke. Golden.  

S1E08 Business Time

For some reason, I don’t feel like there’s a lot to say about this ep. It doesn’t demonstrate any remarkable characteristics of Finn and Jake themselves. Instead, it seems to be more of an inside joke. 

When they find the business men, Finn and Jake at first feel like the business men are helping them work more effectively with their assists. However, the boys end up just being lazy, and not realizing that their workers are messing everything up. You can sympathise for the business men because they’re just doing what they were told to do.  This all seems to be metaphorical for when Pen and Patrick McHale started work on the show, and they got tons of help from Cartoon Network staff. They wanted to do everything by themselves, but ended up having to delegate. Maybe they feel lazy for it? 

What makes this episode EXTRA SPECIAL, however, is its confirmation of the Great Mushroom War.  By the time the season had released, the first shot of the intro was already Mushroom War bombs. There was also a reference to the war in the previous episode, where PB and Ricardio shared an interest in “ancient technology”. However, the only reason those references exist is because of THIS episode - This is the one they were working on when they decided it should be post-apocalyptic. They made the human zombies, and the icebergs filled with human junk, and then every GMW reference we see in the show is down to this decision. 

I enjoy the physicality of this ep. Finn and Jake crash through the entire gauntlet. Finn’s still wearing his fire resistant glove as he does it. They get covered in bruises, because they... like pain? I liked when you could see Finn’s sword legit being shinier, and his shoes having bouncing noises. And I want to be hydrated! I loved how smushy Jake was when he became an ice cream monster.  I love the colours of the Fluffy People. S1 has this unique art style compared to the rest of the series. They often draw white outlines to white things, it works nice here. 

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Souls of the Sea (Still Belong to Blue Tides)

(since I have no self control and I want to share and some of y’all seem to want to see it, have the snippet I mentioned earlier! In which Nyx’s day goes from Boring to Very Much Not In Just A Few Minutes)

...

     Nyx chewed the piece of ration he’d snitched from Libertus’s pack idly as he settled further on his haunches.

     Keeping watch was so boring. But that was the front line for you. Endless minutes of boring inaction punctuated by total chaos and bloodshed. Still, he would have thought he’d feel more alert than this. This was the furthest they’d ever pushed Niflheim back. Another aggressive, hit and run sabotage campaign from the Marshal paying off with its usual brutal flare.

     He wondered what the Captain would have thought of it, the irony of them making more progress in the two months since Cor the Immortal took over than in all the years Captain had been fighting and bleeding and grouching alongside them. Then he shut that thought down, because wondering about that led to wondering about why Captain had disappeared three months ago and there was no point in thinking about something for which there were no leads or hope. The Captain was still listed MIA, so there was a … thin hope he would return someday, but that would mean he’d been captured.

     Knowing Captain, Nyx thought the man would prefer to be dead than three months a prisoner of the Nifs.

     Something in the air changed, the sensation of a predator watching him from the undergrowth and Nyx kept his shoulders relaxed even as he shifted his heels under him for a better jump and carefully rested one hand on a kukri hilt. He looked around casually, refused to tense up when he saw nothing but the feeling of being watched by a greater predator increased. If it’s another freaking voretooth pack…

     Somewhere to his left, something cracked under the weight of an unseen creature. Nyx stood up, not even pretending to be oblivious as he stared at the wilds outside their temporary base, both hands on his kukri and magic bristling slowly under his skin. He didn’t call out, because it was probably just wildlife that was curious about the foreign presences in its territory. Nifs were rarely this stealthy, considering their love of bombing everything from their ships or unleashing waves of clattering MT units. Still.

     All the hairs on Nyx’s neck were standing up. He breathed and was inwardly startled to taste ocean salt on his tongue. No- not ocean salt. That was impossible. But … there was the impression of it. The impression of ocean salt and hissing waves, the glitter of sleek serpentine scales in the corner of his eyes when it wasn’t there. He inhaled and felt something inside him quiver, something that screamed with the same warning he’d felt when he’d wandered too far from his parents on the shoreline when he was boy, had splashed too deep into unchecked waters and had almost been snapped up by one of the great Silver Serpents that sometimes lurked there as they migrated.

     Then-, a rustle of leaves, a glimpse of a human silhouette in the shadows of the brush. Nyx drew his kukri and raised his voice, sharp and loud —both to be intimidating and to alert the other glaive in the camp that they had company—, “Hey. How about you get out here and introduce yourself rather than lurk? This is a restricted area.” Nothing, Nyx eyed the spot he’d thought he’d seen the silhouette and was disconcerted that he couldn’t see it anymore. No Niflheim soldier was that stealthy in the wilds, that was almost Galahd skill. A refugee perhaps? Or a Hunter taking a shortcut and surprised to find their base, “If you’re a Hunter,” he called cautiously as more glaives scrambled up the wall behind him to see what he was yelling at, “then come out and say so. You won’t be in trouble as long as you don’t cause any.”

     “Nyx?” Libertus breathed in his ear.

     “Someone’s out there, might be alone, might have company.”

     Tredd twitched on his other side, sniffed the air and muttered, “Why do I smell the ocean?” Oh good that wasn’t Nyx’s senses failing him.

     “I have no idea,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth, sensed Libertus shivering faintly out of the corner of his eye, just as alarmed by the eerie aura of an ocean predator nearby as Nyx was. Nyx raised his voice again, “Come out or be considered a hostile!”

     There was a moment where nothing happened and then-. A boy. No warning, no sound of undergrowth, he was just there, a teenager of maybe fourteen years standing just a few yards away, on the very edge of their perimeter, “I’m not an enemy,” he called in a voice that immediately made Nyx revise his mental estimation of from teenager to pre-teen, “are you really Kingsglaive?”

     Libertus narrowed his eyes at the boy still half-hidden in the shadows, “Yeah, and you’re trespassing on our perimeter. Identify yourself!” The boy took a few slow steps out of the shadows, hands away from his sides and safely away from the short sword Nyx could see peaking over his shoulder and Nyx hissed softly.

     The kid was a mess. Thin as a twig, his wrist bones on display beneath tattered sleeves, his cheeks too hollow to be healthy even if he wasn’t drastically underweight, his clothes filthy from endless travel, and his stance wide and cautious. Skittish. Either the Nifs are getting more dedicated in their acting, Nyx thought, or this kid is a refugee. Nyx sheathed his kukri and ignored Libertus’s warning hiss as he jumped down from the wall and approached the kid. The boy watched him with too-sharp, too-old eyes that promised a fight if Nyx tried anything. Nyx leaned down a little so they were closer to eye level, “What’s your name kid, and what are you doing out here?” The boy didn’t look Galahdian. He had no braids and paid no attention to the braids in Nyx’s own hair. But that didn’t mean Nyx’s heart wasn’t already going out to him —Nyx had seen too many Galahdian children in this kid’s position, had seen Crowe in this position, had himself been in this position at one point—.

     The boy took a slightly shaky breath, closed his eyes, then opened them and very slowly reached for the harness holding his sword. Unbuckling it and keeping every movement non-threatening, he held the sheathed gladius in the flat of his palms and turned it so that Nyx could see the battered crest engraved on the hilt, “My name is Gladiolus Amicitia,” said the boy as he looked Nyx in the eyes, “And I would very much like to go home.”

     Nyx reared back as if slapped because that- that was impossible. There was no way this kid was the missing —dead, everyone knew he was dead even if he was officially MIA— son of the Shield. The boy had gone missing in Tenebrae. That was across the entire ocean, through Niflheim controlled waters and then Niflheim-conquered territory. It couldn’t … really be …

     Nyx looked into too-old, too tired eyes that burned a war-aged amber in a too-thin face and found himself believing anyway. Nyx ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the incredulous mutters of the other glaives on the wall, “You got any proof other than that sword, kid?”

     The boy seemed to think, then hesitantly shook his head, “You wouldn’t know the safe words of my line.” He paused, “If- If I could talk to Cor Leonis, or my father, I could prove it.”

     Nyx mentally made peace with the fact that if this kid was not who he said he was then Nyx was going to be in so much trouble and gestured toward the base, “Gimme the sword and we’ll call up the Marshal. How about that?”

     With a grimace the boy turned over his sword and followed Nyx into the base under the incredulous stares of the other glaives. Libertus continued to give Nyx a despairing look as Nyx called up the Marshal using their “important business only” communication line. The Marshal picked up with a curt, “Report.” Because of course he did. Of course he had the number of the emergency communication line memorized or labeled.

     Nyx took a deep breath and bid his career goodbye if this went wrong, “There’s a kid here who insists on talking to you, sir. Showed up on the perimeter with a banged up old gladius bearing a noble crest. He says-.” Nyx hesitated. Even if the line was supposed to be secure, paranoia made him reluctant to say it, “He’s calling a Code Thunderroc, sir.” Code Thunderroc, the unexpected return of an MIA soldier. Closest he could get without blurting it out.

     The Marshal’s voice held a furious growl that made Nyx wince, “What crest.”

     “Amicitia crest, sir.”

     There was a fragile pause, brittle on the other end and then a subdued, “Put him on the line.”

     Nyx passed the phone to the boy, who put the phone to his ear and physically sagged when he heard the Marshal’s voice on the other end, angry as it was. Amber eyes blinked back tears and for the first time the kid looked like an actual kid as he said in a wobbling voice, “Godfather Cor, it’s me. I … I want to go home. Please. I want to see Minn Konungr.”

[siribear]

‘let glory take point,’ deacon says. ‘she’s the one with the armor.’ it’s true. glory’s the only one even remotely defended, her heavy jacket modified with metal plates stitched within the padding of the tan coat. she and deacon are only dressed in their plain shirts and jeans, for lack of any other armor available at hq.

‘after you, ma’am.’ whisper gestures, falling in line behind glory.

‘don’t call me ma’am,’ glory mutters, leading them through the metro.

thankfully, they only encounter raiders during their trek. the unorganized group doesn’t stand a chance against the three trained agents. glory draws all the attention while whisper and deacon sneak around to pick off the distracted raiders.

‘nice to see that even with your sneaky shit, you haven’t lost your touch, dee.’

deacon, almost in response, finishes off a raider with a clean shot to the head. ‘i aims to please.’

whisper slings an arm across his shoulders, now that the area’s cleared. ‘it’s why i keep him around.’

glory frowns and makes to flick at her glasses. whisper flinches backward, slinking behind deacon. ‘and he made you into a deacon 2.0.’

‘i have to admit, she’s the better looking between the two of us.’

whisper turns around to call the elevator and to hide her growing blush. only made worse when glory openly agrees. the elevator dings, and an automated voice announces its arrival to bzzt floor. ‘after you, miss glory.’

‘being pretty doesn’t make that any less annoying,’ she says, but still enters, and whisper can only smile.

down in the basement, they’re greeted by the haptic sounds of gunfire. immediately, deacon and whisper duck down and behind the minuscule cover the open elevator doors provide. glory ducks, winding up her minigun. no sudden gunfire slams into the elevator, but they can still hear the gunfire, followed by screaming. the only voices they hear are human, over the unmistakable sound of laser fire.

‘more synths,’ whisper says, low. ‘sorry, glory.’

glory sighs. ‘let’s just get this over with.’

glory takes point again as they slowly make their way forward, down a short hallway that ends in a left turn. slowly, at least, until glory charges forward, whisper and deacon on her heels. a handful of raiders, whatever’s left of the group that took over the metro, faces off against a squad of synths. unfortunately, the raiders are trapped behind their makeshift wooden structures, and even with the high ground granted by their constructed lofts, they’re no match for the synth’s lasers and glory’s minigun. the synths, on the other hand, have taken advantage of the stalled subway car, peering through broken windows and metal doors.

between the sharpshooters, the synths are picked off, sparks lighting the dim subway with every one that goes down. glory ends the remaining raiders in a bloody shower of red. all in all, they did well. no injuries on their side, but the carnage turns her stomach. they probably thought the trio could help them; everyone turned against the synths - but the raiders would have turned on them right after, no doubt. some dimming part of her feels - terribly guilty.

‘what’s going through your head, partner?’ deacon asks from his crouched position, hands deep in the pockets of a dead raider. he passes her a handful of pistol ammo, the bullets tinged red with blood.

‘idealism,’ she says, softly.

‘go on.’

she groans, frustrated. ‘just - wondering how many people we can prevent from turning to raiding, you know? no lack of food, water, safety. no need to turn to chems. that sort of thing.’

deacon stares at her for a moment, silent. then, ‘watch that bleeding heart of yours. most people are content to let you bleed out.’

‘yeah, i’m figuring out that much.’ the world pre-war was by no means perfect, but it still shocks her how bad things have gotten. but maybe it’s always been this way, just under the surface, the bombs blowing away the top level of society, peeling back the layers, leaving them with this. she doesn’t take part in the looting, this time.

when the scavenging is finished, glory stands near the door that will lead them back to the surface. ‘you know, this was actually a pretty good run. you two aren’t so bad. guess i can say it was good seeing you two, but i should report back to griswold.’ on the way up, whisper quickly runs her through the updates from the day’s earlier meeting. ‘hey, you find a way back into the institute, i want to be there.’ she cracks her neck. ‘storm the place, give my last fuck you to the assholes who created me.’

‘top of my list, glory, don’t worry.’

‘and keep an eye on the brotherhood,’ she says, motioning to the sky. ‘i’ve been seeing those vertibirds flying around. who knows what they’re looking for.’

‘duly noted, mademoiselle gloire,’ whisper says with a grin. deacon chuckles.

glory isn’t as amused - or not that she’d admit. there’s definitely a smile she’s fighting. ‘and you were doing so well.’

‘what was it? i aims to please.’

glory points between the two of them. ‘i’m getting out of this pair. right now. before i strangle the both of you.’

‘you know we’ll miss you terribly, gloria.’ deacon receives a friendly middle finger in glory’s wake.

-

whisper hardly needs his help maneuvering around the city these days. it almost makes him feel useless. almost. until he stops her from walking right into mutie territory; the mutants have moved further into the city, set up their favorite, bloody decorations along the buildings like christmas lights.

but his partner likes to walk the old roads, likes to wear away the poor, centuries old pavement. ‘save some road for future generations,’ he begs her, and, bless her, she takes to a sidewalk. leave it to her to think of the future.

so, maybe that’s why he appreciates her. it’s been far too long since he’s thought of the future. can’t appreciate the seeds you’ve sewn for the future if you don’t survive the day. she makes him think there might be an end to that.

whisper stops at the entrance to goodneighbor, hand stilled on the metal door.

‘take a hit to the head back in malden? forget how to use doors?’

she spins on her heel, puts her back to the door, and all deacon can think is: uh oh. he knows the look; she wants to talk. and he’ll talk, sure, but -

‘why didn’t you tell me about the tech you picked from kellogg’s brain?’

- deacon is, unfortunately, finding it more difficult to lie to her. she’s picked out enough of his bullshit, gone along with the rest of it. the act itself isn’t difficult - deacon’s been lying for years. but there’s a little part of him that whispers (ha) don’t lie to her.

‘didn’t seem important.’

she cants her head to the side. ‘try again. you can do better.’

see, he can. but he doesn’t want to. so he gives her the truth. part of it, anyway. ‘it might have been a waste of time. i figured, between tom and carrington, they’d find out if it was a lead worth pursuing.’

he notices the tension begin to drain from her shoulders. a leak, not a release. ‘so it wasn’t because you don’t trust me?’

so that’s what this is about. carrington must have gotten to her more than she let on. ‘of course not. i trust you.’ more than he probably should, but deacon still considers himself a good judge of character.

she catches her genuine smile, turns it into a grin, and he can hear the wink in her voice when she says, ‘thought you can’t trust anyone?’

he rolls his eyes even though she’s turned her back to him to push through to goodneighbor. ‘just you, partner,’ he mumbles, low enough that she can’t hear.

-

amari looks between the two of them before pulling away from her paperwork. the memory den is empty today, likely in preparation for what they’re about to do. though, irma had apparently been told who to look out for, because she had simply waved them on to the back.

‘do you have a geiger counter?’ the doctor asks.

‘mine is in the shop,’ whisper answers dutifully. the doctor’s hands return from under her desk and away from a pistol she no doubt has hidden. deacon has taught them all so well.

‘i recognize you.’ amari nods at deacon. ‘you’re the other one?’ when whisper introduces herself, amari’s eyes widen. ‘ah, i see. h2 mentioned you.’

‘he’s why we’re here. malden center is open again for one last run. desdemona is working on another route.’

amari closes her eyes and nods. ‘i thought as much. thank you. it was getting dangerous holding him here.’ she rises from her desk. ‘i’ve kept him the back room, but we’re going to need it if we’re going to go through with this procedure.’ she holds out a note with another shorthand - different from deacon’s own - scribbled in drummer boy’s handwriting. ‘your other friend isn’t here yet. i’ll go have h2 move to another room.’

‘no!’ whisper near-shouts. ‘i’ll get him, it’s no trouble.’

‘i don’t think that’s - ‘ amari begins, but whisper is already halfway to the back. ‘is this her first?’

deacon nods. ‘they got particularly close. she took a bullet for him.’ he remembers the look in her eyes when they were sitting in the lobby in ticon. like a mother looking at her son. how it didn’t hit him then that she’s a mother - ‘she’d find out one way or another.’

he can’t protect her from this.

‘he left this for her.’ amari pulls a holotape from her pocket. ‘that’s how i knew who she was.’

-

whisper is breathless, half-skipping down the stairs to where h2 waits. she takes in that mop of brown hair, his padded blue jacket, though he’s grown a beard since the last time she saw him. he sits on a couch at the edge of the room, staring down at his hands.

‘hey - ‘

‘whoa, lady.’ it’s h2′s face, but not his voice. this man’s voice is rougher, not the soft-spoken young man she met in the church. ‘doc said i’m in quarantine. i might be contagious or something. what’re you doin’ down here?’

there’s no recognition in his eyes when he looks at her. just confusion. ‘i, uh, i work with the doctor. she said you’re clear, and we’re moving you to another room. she’s - she’s upstairs.’

‘oh, hey, cool. i was gettin’ bored down here. only so many times you can count ceiling tiles, y’know? was tempted to take a little nap in one of those pods. anyway, upstairs, you said?’

whisper’s glad for the sunglasses when he comes closer. somehow, she keeps the tears out of her voice. ‘yeah, upstairs. she’ll get you set up to leave.’

‘thanks again, lady. nice meetin’ you.’

she doesn’t turn, just listens to the sound of his retreating footsteps. ‘yeah. nice to meet you.’

it’s where deacon and nick find her moments later, standing in the middle of the room, staring at the two memory pods in front of her. the former puts a hand between her shoulders, leans around her. ‘you okay? i should have warned you - ’

‘no, i needed to find out myself. i get it.’ she’s since dried her tears.

‘this is for you.’ he takes one of her hands in his, places something cold and metal in the center. ‘from h2. before.’ it’s a small holotape with her codename written on it.

she puts it in her pocket. ‘thank you.’

nick passes by the two of them and runs a leathery hand over the glass of one of the pods. ‘from what i understand, we’re jumping into kellogg’s memories. sounds crazy, but knowing the institute - ’ he looks to her. ‘you ready?’

the pod looks like the one she stepped into two hundred years ago, though cushioned and inclined. the top half is entirely glass, with a single monitor hanging from the top. static hums on the screen.

whisper takes one step toward it, then freezes. what if it doesn’t open when it’s over? what if she’s stuck again, two hundred years - she grabs deacon’s hand without thinking, grips it like she’s holding on for dear life.

maybe she is.

‘we’ll all be right here,’ he reassures her. ‘it’s just memories. kellogg can’t hurt you in there.’ he turns to someone walking by, and she sees dr. amari has joined them downstairs. ‘he can’t hurt her somehow, right? this is just routine memory viewing?’

dr. amari sighs. ‘routine is not the word i’d use. unorthodox, yes, but no more dangerous. mr. valentine here is the only one in danger of complications.’

‘nick - ‘

‘it’s all right, doll. i agreed to this.’

she sighs heavily. deacon leads her over to the pod and doesn’t let go of her hand until it begins to close. it hisses shut, the hinges clicking as it locks. locks.

‘your heartbeat spiked. i need you to calm down or the memory sync won’t work,’ comes dr. amari’s voice from a small speaker near her head.

calm. breathe in, breathe out. count to ten. breathe in - deacon taps on the glass next to her. the closed pod muffles the sound of him dragging a chair over next to her. i’m right here, she reads his lips.

‘that’s better. this is your first time, so i have to tell you: it might feel a little strange. the static on the monitor is white noise, that’s all. you will be viewing these memories, as if you’re there. but you will be viewing them from kellogg’s perspective. okay?’

‘okay,’ whisper croaks. her voice barely sounds like her own. like h2′s didn’t sound the same -

‘no, no, calm down. we’re almost there. mr. valentine is ready when you are. are you?’

breathe out. ‘i’m ready.’

‘good. sunglasses off, close your eyes, and - ‘

whisper feels a sharp shock at the base of her skull, and the world goes black.

-

deacon watches whisper through the glass, eyes closed like she’s sleeping, but her eyes move back and forth rapidly. her breathing is even, at least. he props his chin in the palm of his hand, and waits.

-

she’s in a bedroom, looking down at child drawings on a bed, worn out crayons spread across a threadbare blanket. a woman sits next to her, smelling of cigarette smoke and something - something else, something familiar, but she can’t place it. she wants to turn her head to look at her, see why she seems so familiar, but she can’t. instead, she flinches at a loud knock on her bedroom door and a louder, male voice screaming on the other side of it.

the woman slides a gun into view, the revolver she’ll come to know, and places a hand on hers. ‘connie,’ the woman says, and finally she looks up. mousy brown hair, bruises on her face, a split lip. ‘you can’t rely on anyone else, honey. this is the only thing you can trust.’

the gun is heavy in her small hands. the man bangs on the door again. she aims the revolver at the door, hands shaking. the man screams and yells, and she doesn’t pull the trigger.

i ran away from home, kellogg’s voice is soft in her mind. i think she wanted me to kill him, but i didn’t realize until i was older and it was too late. don’t know what happened to her. maybe she got out.

oh, whisper thinks.

‘that’s not it. we’ll move on to the next memory.’

-

she’s older now, a prominent scar on her face and leather jacket reflecting in the kitchen window. she watches her wife clean up after breakfast. she has a job to get to in the afternoon, but until then - she wraps her arms around the woman’s waist, presses a kiss to the top of her head. sarah, this she knows. she remembers her, because how could she possibly forget her? her face, the sound of her voice.

and then their daughter coos from her high chair, tosses around crumbs sarah will be finding around the kitchen for months. mary. almost two years old. thank god she’s got her mother’s face. don’t know what she’d do if mary inherited this mug.

surprised to find out i had a family, once upon a time? we aren’t so different, you and i.

‘another memory, then.’

-

she stalks down a hallway like death. she’s the reaper. she’s deliverance. justice. revenge. there will be no mercy when she finds them. the revolver fits perfectly in her hand. a voice calls to her overhead: ‘they died like dogs. and you weren’t there to protect them.’ she knows this voice. she hates this voice. she’s going to tear his throat out with her teeth. she kicks down a door and fires. one, two, three, four, five, six. one was enough. two through six were for sarah and mary. it doesn’t bring them back, but it feels fucking good.

not so different.

‘getting closer.’

-

she nurses a beer. or was it a whiskey? maybe it’s rum tonight. she doesn’t know the name of the bar, but it never matters. what does matter: there’s always a drink.

this was the start of it, she remembers. remaking a name for herself. answering to no one but herself. having someone else lord over her makes them think they own you. and, well, when you have something they can take away?

she takes the job from the drifters. kill some family upriver. names don’t matter. caps do. keeps the liquor flowing.

kellogg is quiet, contemplative. all she gets is the soft buzzing in the back of her mind, and then she’s shuffled off to the next memory.

-

she stands in front of a woman in a clean, white suit. not many people like that around here, anymore. and she’s got two robots flanking her with a third hovering just over her own shoulder. she’s already calculated every way to make it out of this alive if it goes bad.

institute. boogeyman. and apparently she’s gotten on their bad side. not her fault, really, if the institute’s been pissing off people with enough caps to buy her help to get back at them. the only solution she can see: the institute pays her more than that. no more problem.

so the scientist doesn’t believe her at first, that’s fine. she believes after she single handedly takes out three of their skeleton-looking synths before any of them can get a shot off.

minutemen for you, institute for me, kellogg says. how close we were to becoming the same person.

-

‘manual override initiated. cryogenic stasis suspended.’

no. no, no, no. please, she can’t watch this again.

she stares at the faces of the people as they begin to wake up. first, the confusion. then, the panic. they don’t need to open any of these pods. just one. a man wakes, a baby held in one arm. that’s the target. the man looks at her, then past her, and when she turns, she sees - herself. the back up. the pod hisses open, and the man coughs and sputters, never letting go of the child.

cruel. she wonders what the fuck she did to the institute to deserve this job. the old man could have done this himself. not hard to steal an infant from a man whose muscles have been held in stasis for two hundred years.

she raises her revolver when he won’t let go, though, and maybe that’s why she’s-he’s here. do the hard job no one else wants to do. she pulls the trigger, and the man slumps forward. the scientist with him takes the baby who cries loud, echoing off the vault walls. she wonders if that’s what mary sounded like when they took her. oh well. that was years ago and she was a different person, then.

she looks to the woman with murder in her eyes. she grins. this woman would be her justice. her deliverance. her reaper. if only they’d let her go. as it is, she’s the back up. the other scientist down the hall puts her back to sleep. the other poor suckers stay trapped in their pods, forced to suffocate until their end.

‘are you okay? your heart rate increased again.’

‘dr. amari,’ she whispers, throat laden with tears, ‘next memory.’

-

their little house in diamond city has started to become a home. shaun has started to pin his drawings everywhere. some of her, down to her distinct scar. some of his parents he can barely seem to remember. she hasn’t had the heart to tell him what she did. because she’s rather enjoyed - this. what she could have had. shaun’s got the floor covered with his comic books now, and he knows he’ll have to clean them up before dinner.

he’s a good kid. looks like a perfect mix between his mother and father. shaun laughs at travis rambling on the radio, or maybe it’s something he’s reading in his books. she’s busy cleaning her revolver, breathing in the moment.

it ends, though, as do all things. the institute’s courser steps through the door, and everything changes. shaun is to go to the institute, for good. and she’s to hunt down virgil, hiding out in the glowing sea. shaun looks up at her with confused, but understanding eyes. she doesn’t even get to say goodbye before he and the courser disappear in a flash of blue light, teleported back to the institute.

she spins the chambers on her revolver, listens to it click and whir. with a flick of her wrist, it’s done. she’ll set up in fort hagen for now. the old man will have her house cleaned out the moment she leaves, so she packs only what she needs. her guns, ammo, armor. her favorite cigars and booze, because if she’s going to the glowing sea, she’s going to enjoy herself before setting foot in that radiation bath.

she picks up shaun’s pile of comics and stacks them neatly on the desk. maybe whatever courser that cleans her place will take them back to shaun. she laughs, realizing how stupid that sounds. so she picks up the stack herself and throws the entire thing into the trash can.

she shoulders her bag and turns off the lights, locking the door behind her. at least she had the taste of her perfect little family.

good riddance.

now get out.

-

‘that’s it!’ amari shouts, but deacon isn’t listening.

he’s watching whisper wake up slowly, electrodes at the base of her skull falling as she pulls away from the chair. she touches her cheek, follows the trail of her tears from earlier. whatever she saw bothered her. a lot. she practically jumps when the pod clicks open, and he’s there in an instant, helping her out of it and steadying her shaking legs.

‘that’s why we could never find an entrance to the institute. there isn’t one. at least not an obvious one.’

‘teleportation - that’s,’ whisper starts slowly, tries to reform words. ‘how?’

‘i assume that scientist the courser - ‘ deacon stiffens. ‘ - mentioned, virgil, will know something. he’s your best bet. the glowing sea,’ amari says to him, the only one not privy to any of this, ‘that’s where you’ll find him.’

the glowing sea. a heavily irradiated expanse of land. great.

‘where’s nick?’ whisper asks.

‘he was up before you. i’m going to check on him, make sure there’s no side effects from that procedure. then i need to get ready to move h2. excuse me.’

amari leaves in a rush, but whisper stays where she is, looking dazed. he remembers the first time he used the memory pod, and he ended up much like this after it. though reliving the memories of an institute hitman couldn’t have been easy on her.

‘whisper,’ he tries, bringing her focus back to him, instead of the chair she’s burning a hole into. ‘you okay?’

‘deacon,’ she stares up at him, eyes wide. she opens her mouth to speak, cups his face like she’s trying to see if he’s real, and then her eyes shift down, and suddenly she’s kissing him.

his hands instinctively go to her hips, but the rest of his body is two steps behind his brain that is currently short circuiting. it’s over, as quick as it was unexpected, and he has a hell of an internal war trying to convince himself that he isn’t disappointed.

she pulls away slowly, eyes half-lidded, and she whispers, ‘thank you,’ against his lips, still so close he can trace out the syllables. whisper comes back to herself, eyes back to his, bright and hopeful. ‘thank you, thank you,’ she repeats.

‘wait. what?’

she’s still grinning when she bends down to pick up her sunglasses, fallen to the floor of the memory pod, and it doesn’t fade even as she drags him back upstairs to the main floor of the memory den.

[altumvidetur]

MCU: Stucky Fic Recs

MCU FIc Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’m not even close to reading the whole Stucky tag in AO3, and I lost my wind a little bit with Endgame, so this is an incomplete list at best. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Not Easily Conquered, by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears

Summary by me: AU in which Steve wasn’t frozen and Bucky wrote letters to him during the war confessing his love. 

Induction, by windsweptfic

For a prompt at Livejournal's capkink community: 'pre-serum!Steve/Bucky, hypnosis'.

In Love and War, Don’t Seek Counsel, by sinuous_curve

Most of being Steve’s -- or Captain America’s, really -- right hand man entails busting into Hydra weapons factories and blowing them to hell with stolen Hydra weapons, making sure that Cap has room to use his superpowers to the greatest effect while no one on their side gets killed in the process. Bucky used to be afraid every single time he heard the sharp report of gunfire, but since Cap came and pulled him out of a very literal hell, there isn’t much room left in Bucky for something like fear. Dying can’t be worse than what Schmidt’s pet scientist did for kicks. And being a part of a team as special as the one he’s on now keeps him feeling like he’s varnished in heroism. It’s more brilliant explosions and less humping it through sticky mud in the rain.

The Soft Darkness, by sinuous_curve

He’s not going to tell Steve that of everything that got lost between docking in England and where they were, he never lost the packet of letters Steve wrote. He understands, now, the oddity to them that he could never place. The reason it seemed like Steve was talking around his life rather than about it is because he was. Bucky wants to ask about the chunks he neglected to mention, but won’t. Can’t. Has no reason, to, because there are things Bucky omitted in his letters back.

Beneath a Blue Umbrella Sky, by victoria_p

Steve's been to Coney Island before.

That Heart of Yours Could Crumble Kings, by CallMeBombshell

But then, Steve’s always been a better man than Bucky, always been the better of the two of them, and Bucky thinks that Steve can handle it, can handle the weight and the pressure and the responsibility of it all, because for as much as Steve carries the world, Bucky has always carried Steve.

It Wakes The Seeds, by Sharksdontsleep

They still call him a sharpshooter, even if they let Bucky bring his own rifle, not a Sharp, a nine-pound breech-loader that feels like certainty when he slings it across his back.

Bucky and Steve, becoming who they become. Civil War era AU. Thanks to figletofvenice for the lovely and thoughtful beta, and to the long-suffering marycontraire for hand-holding and head pats. See end notes for (slightly) spoilery warnings. Title from Wilfred Owen's 'Futility.'

The Spin I’m In, by victoria_p

Five times Bucky kissed Steve because of ~reasons~, and one time Steve finally believed he really meant it.

Alarm, by pollitt

Despite the vast and mind-boggling technological advances that happen in the 60 years that Steve had been frozen, there are a lot of things that make sense. Security doors, codes, things like that.

Cell phone alarm clocks, though, not so much.

A Place Called Home, by Renne

New Years Eve. Suits. Party at Stark's place. Honesty happens.

The curves of your lips rewrite history, by victoria_p

Five times Steve was distracted by Bucky's mouth.

i like my body when it is with your, by unfinishedidea

Steve is jealous of the people Bucky goes to visit at night.

space!military au, by Renne

Fics set in an alternate future universe with the queer-friendly space military. The Allies vs. Hydra. Steve is the poster boy for humanity, Bucky is a flying ace. It all unfolds as it has before, with pain and loss and a slow, difficult return. For the full rambling plot full of ridiculous angst and pain see here.

Nothing But the Rain (The Quit Your Grinning and Drop Your Linen Overdub), by victoria_p

We have to get out of these wet clothes.

Our history is just in our blood (history, like love, is never enough), by victoria_p

Steve is sure the guy working the morning rush at Starbucks is Bucky. Unfortunately, the guy doesn't seem to know that.

People and Things, by quigonejinn

Steve, Natasha, the past. The smell in the room is indescribable; the way it looks is indescribable, too.

The Finish Line., by quigonejinn

Your best friend comes back from the factory camp, walks thirty-five miles next to you, and you aren't sure what is wrong with him.

Flesh Seven Ways., by quigonejinn

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes walk into a brothel. Seven variations.

Beast of Burden., by quigonejinn

There is a SHIELD response team all over the apartment. Steve rubs his face with both hands, asks if he can go ahead and use the kitchen. They say that he can.

Avengers, reframed.

Why Then Oh Why Can’t I? (or, 5 Times Steve Rogers Felt Awkward Talking About Sex, and One Time He Stopped Talking Altogether), by ladyblahblah

“You really never did grow up all the way, did you, Steve? Of course it changes things. But hey.” He lifts his glass, and Steve reluctantly lets go to join in the toast. “Who says change has to be bad?”

Here Where We Stand, by orphan_account

Steve helps Bucky acclimate to the modern day era.

Our Carnival Life, by victoria_p

Bucky is the best gift he's ever gotten, every time.

Kind Men, by quigonejinn

D/s-ish-verse retelling of Captain America: The First Avenger. When the time comes, Erskine doesn't throw a grenade onto the training ground.

Fortunate Son, by orphan_account

Bucky wakes up in the future to a world that needs Captain America; meanwhile, a Cold War-era supersoldier assassin emerges.

Counting Backwards, by honeypuffed

It's not exactly friends, but it's not exactly more than that either.

eye of the beholder, by attice

Bucky doesn’t like Steve’s drawings. Not the way everyone else does, at least.

Pictures of You, by Sarah K

Bucky wants a souvenir to take to war with him.

Беда́ не прихо́дит одна́ (trouble never comes alone), by postcardmystery

There’s a tracking device beneath his skin, wrapped around his carotid artery, and if he pulls it out, he’ll die in seconds. They’ve got a wolf on a leash and he’s never heard them so pleased with themselves, so sure that this is the only weapon they’re ever going to need. They did not win the first war in Chechnya, but a second time and the story is rewritten. (He knows that this is a thing they truly believe. He’s lived more history than they have. He knows better.) He rides on tanks, jumps from helicopters onto ground solid with snow. He stands, ringed by ruins, in a capital that burns. He lost his last war in Grozny. This time, he slings his rifle on his back, breathes smoke, knows what it is to watch history being made.

but hey, you’re all right, by beardsley

'This is not my fault,' Tony lies. 'It was supposed to be a joke! Christ.'

'Thanks to your joke,' says Coulson, 'we now have a code three-four-delta, with the variable being a Russian immigrant. We're checking his background right now, but it might take a while. Meanwhile, I suggest you civilian-proof the Tower. If any SHIELD intelligence is compromised, I will hurt you.'

Yes, this is the story where the Winter Soldier is a Russian mail-order bride. Everything goes about as well as you'd expect.

he likes a boy in uniform, by lazulisong

Bucky's always been better than Steve at things like this; at pulling his collar just so and making his tie sit right. Bucky always looks sharp, a real dapper dresser.

Gone Quiet, by victoria_p

Three times Steve and Bucky comforted/quieted each other.

in my fortress alone until you came, by haipollai

Steve murmurs Bucky's name. He wants to list off every time Bucky woke up feeling like he couldn't breathe because of Steve, but he knows Bucky wouldn't listen. The metal arm is between them and Steve doesn't touch more than necessary. He knows Bucky doesn't like it being touched. Doesn't like Steve touching it; he's seen Bucky and Natasha grapple enough to know that Bucky doesn't mind when others touch it.

It's just Steve.

Eisner Award for Best Writer and Artist, by orphan_account

(Summary by me: ComicWriter!AU, with actual ray of sunshine artist!Steve and grumpy, disillusioned writer!Bucky.)

with the lights out, it’s less dangerous, by victoria_p

Bucky says it's what friends do, they help each other out, and it's their little secret, right?

i’m no angel, by haipollai

His first instinct is to tease Steve for jerking off to one of his own drawings but then he sees what the drawing is.

Who it is.

You’ve Got Me In Between, by Renne

In a gross lapse of judgment, Professor Rogers takes one of his students home. Sex (and guilt) ensues.

[foreveratlas]

Chronicles of an Elf 6

Links to Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, and Episode 5.

Episode 6: New Routines

Light spilled through the high window that was suspended well above the plain mattress in the small room that Luka was granted. The beam cascaded at just the right angle to shine obnoxiously across her face if she were laying. The irony was that it wasn’t morning. The light was being shined through by an outside sconce illuminating the fortresses outer walls. Instead she stood, appraising her new home after a long day of being in the sweltering heat of the forge with Tomlan. She grinded her teeth at the thought of him and turned to face the doorway.

Time was a concept that Luka was about as familiar with as anything else. Morning was morning. Afternoon was afternoon. Evening was evening. So staring up at the circular device with three extensions, one ticking away in a direction around the face while the two others moved far more slowly, gave her pause. It was placed just above the doorway into her quarters.

    “That’s a clock,” a familiar yet unfamiliar voice said. Tetra stood in her doorway in the female form that Luka had seen earlier. “It’s used to tell time.”

    Luka frowned. “Why didn’t the bunker have one?”

    Tetra shrugged. “It requires power or batteries. Scavenging for pre-cataclysm batteries is a bit of a hassle and the electricity we were able to use had be used conservatively. Knowing the time wasn’t really a necessity.”

    “A necessity? You kept me locked in a bunker for years and you want to talk about necessity?”

    Tetra let out a long sigh that caused her shoulders to slump. “When it comes to elves, it’s incredibly hard to know who to trust outside of us. You were chained to a tree for a reason, and though that reason hasn’t been made apparent, the fact was that the culprits could have been on either side of the border.” She came closer and dragged the chair from the desk against the wall with her and sat down. “You need to understand that outside of our own kind, elves are either hated or coveted.”

    “Coveted?” Luka asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

    “The human nations have a habit of wanting us for perverse reasons. Draconians are either neutral to us or want to destroy us for whatever war they happened to be in with us. Umbrans aren’t known to be the most likable of the realm. Sylvarians are usually detested for being…”

    “Snobby?” Luka interjected.

    Tetra chuckled. “That’s better than the word I was going to use.”

    “And Temprests?”

    “Surprisingly, the least despised. Probably because they keep to themselves in the great forests.”

    “So you kept me sheltered and ignorant, out of what… concern? And why didn’t you get Laon involved prior to now?”

    “Because the idea was to work the case on my own so not to draw attention from possible connections and leads. I wasn’t sure I could trust Laon completely, and you even migrating South into the capital has not only put a target on your back but has also basically informed the world that an Umbran managed to get into continent’s most fortified city without much effort.”

    Luka pursed her lips in response before adding, “But what about us being attacked on the side of the road?”

    Tetra shook her head. “An unfortunate event. They had been looking for you for over a decade prior to that point. It was carelessness on my part.”

    “They followed us back to the bunker.”

    “More carelessness on my part.”

    “They got Whilsk!” Luka cried, kicking the leg of the bed.

    “That I can assure you did not happen.”

    “And how can you be so sure? Whilsk can’t use magic because she’s not a pure elf.”

    “That doesn’t mean she isn’t capable. Whilsk’s official title is the Weapons Master. Not to mention, she is a Shadow Arts genius. The Fire Dragon Priestess’s guards were trained by Whilsk over a hundred years ago. Those teachings remain the core of their abilities today.”

    Luka realized that she was very much a child in comparison to Tetra and Whilsk. Her life was still very much beginning. Tetra, known as the Blight of Sylvarnia and Whilsk, the Weapons Master. She felt like she truly didn’t know them after all. Who was she to them? They were trying to baby sit her while also trying to solve a case.

    “Whilsk will be ok. I’d be more surprised if she hadn’t already murdered everyone involved in the infiltration,” Tetra chuckled.

    Luka sighed. “So what will happen now?”

    “Now,” Tetra said, puffing her chest out. “I go find her.”

    “Will she even recognize you?”

    Tetra took a moment to appraise herself. First her arms and then her torso and stomach, then her thighs and shins. She spun around absently and before nodding. “Whilsk is very much aware of my ability to change my gender based on how I feel.”

    “How is that even a thing?”

    “It’s specific to elven blights as we kind of already bridge the idea of—look that’s not the point. The point is, I can do this. Do you have a problem with that?”

    Luka shook her head. “Absolutely not. Just offended that you would keep me in the dark for so long about this and other things.”

    Tetra sighed. “I understand. Believe me when I tell you that it was all for your benefit, I promise.”

    Luka rolled her eyes.

    “I’ll be gone for a while. I plan to find Whilsk and the source of the attack on the bunker. Stay here and try not to draw unnecessary attention.”

    “I’m apparently going to be working with a blacksmith. I’ll never see the light of day, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

    “Don’t give me that. Laon wants you to earn your stay. Everyone who is in this fortress has a job. You get a place to sleep, food, and a wage for doing what you’re supposed to do.”

    “Sounds like a lucrative means of keeping everyone in line,” Luka spat.

    “It’s about making sure everyone has a place to sleep and a roof over their heads. Not everyone may enjoy their jobs, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like the perks.”

    “And do you not like your job, Commander?” a new voice asked. Ultima stood in the doorway holding two duffle bags over one shoulder. A large claymore hung across his back.

    Tetra smirked. “I never said I didn’t. But that’s neither here nor there.”

    Ultima snorted. “We’re phantoms in fifteen.”

    Tetra nodded as the prince walked away. She then turned to face Luka once. Her appearance began to change once again, slowly returning to the masculine form Luka was used to seeing. At a head taller than before, Tetra stared down at Luka and took her by the shoulders. “Going forward, you will need to be your own person. You will need to take accountability for yourself. Whilsk and I won’t be able to help you anymore. Now you’ve got to stand on your own two feet. Even when I bring Whilsk, it will be obvious that she won’t be able to walk away from this place like she could before. Now she will be forced to return to this life. I didn’t want that for you or for her. Do you understand?”

    Luka nodded.

    “I’ll see you in a few days if everything goes according to plan.”

    “And if it doesn’t?” Luka asked.

    “Then I won’t be seeing you at all, I imagine.” Tetra gave a sad smile, patted Luka on the head, and turned to leave. “You’ll have to find those answers on who you are and where you came from on your own without me.”

    “Can’t say I’m happy about that.”

    Tetra shook his head. “No. I imagine you won’t be happy with the outcome either.” And with that, Tetra turned to leave, moving out into the hall and out of sight.

    Luka watched the door for a long while, hoping for something to change in its appearance, or for Tetra to return out of nowhere with Whilsk acting like all of this was a joke and that they were ready to go home. But the idea of home felt miles away, and Luka realized that the bunker was not a place she could easily return to anytime soon. Or maybe ever. She felt a tremor creep across her heart, causing her breath to come cascading through her lips. It was a new anxiety, one she wouldn’t understand until much later.

    Her stomach growled, but she ignored the hunger that had been building up. Slowly, she closed the door in her disdain, deciding sleep was better than sating her appetite.

    Luka woke before the sun rose the next morning and after dressing in an outfit that was more suitable to work in the forge than the armor she had on the day prior (yet keeping her traveling gloves on anyway), she made her way around the fort. Beyond the guards and soldiers that made their rounds, eyeing her suspiciously, she didn’t meet anyone else. She imagined that the reason they didn’t stop her to give her any trouble was due to Tetra or Ultima or maybe even Laon making a statement to leave her alone. Her wandering led her to a kitchen where a few draconians were setting up for the first meal of the day.

    “Breakfast won’t be served until seven-thirty,” a massive man with a great big beard said upon Luka’s appearance. She noticed that he looked human in origin, which was insane for how tall he was. But his girth was just as impressive. He was thick, well fed, but equipped with muscles all across his arms and chest. His skin was pale and mottled in light brown spots across his nose and cheeks and forehead and his hair and beard were both the brightest orange and red she had over seen on someone.

    “Seven thirty?” Luka repeated, twisting her nose slightly at the number.

    “About two hours,” he said again as he began to stack pan after pan after on the wide counter. When Luka didn’t respond, he sighed. “Can you tell time?” he asked.

    Luka slowly shook her head, her cheeks darkening in a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

His face turned to look at a large clock was mounted to the wall above a massive freezer door. “Do you see that?” he pointed. Luka nodded. “The long hand tells you the minute. The fat, short hand tells you the hour. So the fat short hand is pointed at a five, and the long hand is pointed at seven. Minutes go by five. So fat short hand is at five, long hand is at seven, count from the twelve: five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five, thirty, and thirty five. It’s five thirty five. Do you understand?”

Luka nodded. Telling time was easier than she anticipated. Not as easy as understand that mornings were when the some comes up and the world was mostly cool; noon was when the sun was at its highest point; and evening was when the sun was beginning to set. Night was dark. But this pinpointed time for her a bit more easily. Her stomach growled suddenly, loud enough for the larger man to hear.

He let out a loud snort. “Looks like you wont make it to breakfast.” He turned from her, opened a large cabinet and grabbed two apples, a banana, and hunk of bread, delivering the bounty to Luka on plate that must have been made of tin. As he approached, Luka realized just how big the guy was as his hand was almost twice the size of the plate.

“Thank you,” she said, almost surprised as he pushed the food in front of her. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Life isn’t easy for someone who doesn’t look like everyone else here. I’m Borg,” he nodded.

“Lukanay Fial. Luka for short,” she said as she took the hunk of bread and tore it in half. She then held up a half section to Borg.

He smiled warmly, “No, no little Luka. That’s for you. I ate already. Have you seen the size of me? I can’t keep this astounding physique without constantly eating!” he gave a hearty laugh and returned to setting up for the day. Luka ate the banana and an apple along with one of the pieces of bread. Borg gave her a bag to keep the rest in for later if she got hungry.

As Luka stood up to leave, Borg called over his shoulder, “Come by any time, little Luka.” She smiled and waved as she left with her bag in hand.

Luka arrived at the large doors to the forge. To her dismay they were unlocked and the fires were already beginning to glow. The large room that was dedicated to Draconia and Fort Dragoon’s armor and weapon making was mostly void of people, but she could make out a few individuals going through their morning routines to set up their fires.

Tomlan was one of those people. When Luka found him, he was stoking the coal with a long prod. A stack of billets of different colors were already set out to the side. He looked up to see Luka as she approached. “You’re early, Umbran.”

“When did you expect me to show up?” She asked.

“I didn’t. Put your apron and gloves on, we have a large order to fill.”

Luka set aside her bag with her bread and apple and pulled on the heavy leather apron and the thick gloves. She flexed her hands in them slowly, feeling how two sets of gloves worked together. She realized she would be handling iron, and thus her skin began to itch in response. The multiple pairs of gloves would definitely help her avoid her allergy.

“We have three swords to make and a battle axe head to get started on before noon. Grab two billets and lets get to work.”

Luka realized after a few hours of holding a billet down as Tomlan folded the piece over and over that he wasn’t well liked by the other blacksmiths. Draconians weren’t affected by flames or heat the same way Tomlan and she was. If they wore gloves, it was for the sake of grip and not for the sake of avoiding being burned. If they wore aprons, they were made of cloth, while Tomlan and Luka’s were made of leather in the event sparks were to hit them. He spent more time on individual blades as well. Many times Luka heard area blacksmiths chiding him as he worked diligently heat, hammer, and fold billets. Some even said he folded the metal too much. But Tomlan ignored them. Even when one particular Dragonian “accidentally” knocked Tomlan’s stacked billets over, he didn’t stop his progress. He kept working to ensure his products would get to a satisfying point.

Once a soon-to-be-blade reached enough folds, he taught Luka how to take a metal, “Spring Steel,” he called it, and fold it into the middle of the billet. “This will add shock absorption,” he noted. Once that combination was well heated, he began to hammer in quick succession turning the billet over until it began to elongate into the vague shape of a blade. His heating process was methodical, and he made sure his timing was exact, never wasting a minute in the process. When one billet was set into the fire to be heated, another was pulled forth from the embers, glowing yellow to be hammered further.

Three long broadswords were the end result of such a process, and though they were rough, Luka could tell how they were powerful and well made. The sun was shining through the open end of the room.

Tomlan cursed as he pulled the billet he had been heating from the forge for the axe head. Luka came close to see what his issue was. “This billet is inferior,” he said without giving much of an explanation, but she could see what he meant. Unlike his other billets that she had worked on with him, this one had crumbled along the one side and a large gaping hole could be seen.

Laughter could be heard from across the forge. “How’s the billet treating you, Tomlan?” one of the Draconians called. “Does it not meet your high standards?”

Tomlan spat into the fire and dropped the bad billet back into the flames. He turned to look at the pile of billets that had been knocked over earlier. He grabbed two and felt their weight before tossing them aside. Luka watched curiously before he finally grabbed one he was satisfied with and thrust it into the fire. “We should have been done with the first fold by now.”

“How long will it take for this one to heat?”

“Too long.”

“That can’t be helped,” Luka said before pulling off the top set of thick gloves.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry,” Luka stamped. Tomlan pursed his lips in response. She grabbed the bag that Borg had given to her earlier and pulled out the hunk of bread and the apple. She noticed Tomlan watching her. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

“That’s not concern of yours,” he snapped.

She frowned and broke the bread in half along the with the apple and handed him a piece of each. He refused at first but she forced the food into his hands. “You need to eat.”

For a moment, Luka worried he was going to throw the food into the fire and perhaps Tomlan was seriously considering it. But instead, he pulled off his gloves with his teeth and proceeded to eat the modest bounty Luka had shared.

As she ate in silence, Tomlan asked, “Why are you wearing two sets of gloves?”

She looked over curiously to find his expression had changed. She then looked to the tight leather traveling gloves on her palms. “I’m allergic,” she began before choosing her words carefully, “to certain things. Touching them causes extreme reactions to my skin. I always wear a pair of gloves so I don’t accidentally touch something and burn myself without realizing it.”

Tomlan was silent for a moment to her response before nodding. Just as he was about to say something, a messenger came up to him, departing a letter with him.

He took a moment to read it before frowning. “Twelve daggers and four full breast plates by the end of the week?” The messenger shrugged.

“Breaks over,” he sighed. “Our order has just increased on top of what we haven’t finished already.”

Luka frowned but for the first time since she started working with Tomlan, noticed a bit of warmth emanating toward him.

CONTINUE ON TO EPISODE 7!

[bushybeardedbear]

Lance Birthday Week!! - 3/7

@mcclainetwork‘s Birthday Week for our favourite Blue Paladin, more than just a boy from Cuba to us all, continues! So does my contribution spanning the full seven days. A series of Fan Fictions covering each of the daily prompts. This one seems to have gone a little off the rails in a good way. Never thought I’d be writing from a Lion’s Pov. A part was also inspired by this post from the lovely @anchoredtether. Be sure to check on the previous parts because, like Voltron, it’s all connected.

DAY 3 - Red Those Whom I Have Homed

Running his hand over the almost impossibly smooth metal, Sam Holt smiled, his lips and grey beard curling to an awed smile. Somewhere between reverence and fear, the elder Holt looked cautiously into the gently glowing eyes of the Red Lion, finding only unexpected kindness therein. Amid the vast hangar, retrofitted hurriedly into the Pit-Stop of Lions, Sam sat. Machinery of coalition worlds without number were scattered, stacked and partially unpacked around his seat beside the Red Lion. Today alone had shown Sam such miraculous little wonders as the Olkari Echo Cube, Reiphodian gravitation webbing and the subtle nuance of pre-imperial Galra poetry as translated by an Altean linguistic scanner. He was sat amongst the kind of technology that most humans had only dreamed of, himself included. Cataloguing them as if they were mere odds and ends to be later used simply as tools, no more incredible than a pencil. Proof positive of alien life and of whole new branches of scientific enquiry were already gathering dust. Any one item would have been enough to make a career out of in any other context. Now though, the cerebral had to give way to practical. Still, when he had a spare moment, such as this, he took the chance to examine the most incredible of all the technology here. The Lions. Today, if only for not previously having tried, he had chosen to sit alongside Red.

“I still find it remarkable...” Sam's tone was peaceful, “The nature of this metal. The warmth of it, the sensation. It feels almost as though I'm holding my newborn children again. Like a heartbeat from the universe...” “That's great and all, Sam!” Hunk called back, “But I'm about to...” His voice was drowned out by a loud clattering of boxes, their heaving mass bashing into the floor. Mercifully, none burst open. Though one was resting quite painfully upon Hunk's toes. The protection of his usual civilian garb offering not much in the way of defence. “Ok, just a tick too late there... Little help...?” Hunk asked with a heaving squeak of repressed pain.

Sam stood himself slowly, shaking his head, “Let the work set aside for a while, Hunk.” He smiled, even as Hunk busied himself tidying the boxes aside. “I know you've been trying to balance getting things ready here and organizing that party for your friend. Really, you should take a break for a little while.” Sam sat himself again beside Hunk on an overturned container.  

Hunk sighed, setting himself heavy on nearby a box, “Well, you're not wrong. Between Coran and Pidge, I feel like I've been put through a marathon. Throw in building Earth's defences and I just want to sleep...” He made a grab for a small plastic tub, cracking open the pliable blue lid and offering it to Sam, “Free sample. Not my best work. New recipe I'm trying out with ingredients from across the coalition. I think the Nemdari Cinnamon is touch a touch too fizzy...”

Biting into the iced roll, Sam's response was a pleased hum, “It adds a little character.” He laughed softly, “Honestly these are superb. No need to be such a perfectionist, is there? Take the risk, bake something great!” He parodied his own favourite saying with a self congratulating laugh. “Alright, if you say so...” Hunk smirked, glancing to a large array of hanging cables and cobbled together boxy looking devices. The entire odd assembly hung over the Red Lion's head, set upon a large set of mechanised rails. “Is that ready Commander Holt...? Still looks a little on the hodge-podge side...” “Sam is fine, Hunk. You know that.” Commander Holt chastised just a touch, “And yes, Cadet Garret...” He teased, “I've just now put the last few touches on the scanning array. Had a little trouble getting the Galra and the Olkari systems talking first to each other and then to the Taujeerian systems.” He sighed, “But, in the end and now owing a favour, I got it working after all. Which reminds me, you know Harris from Tech? He needs a batch of muffins. I'll owe you instead.” Hunk grumbled to himself, “Fine. I guess I'll be opening a Yellow Lion bakery when all this is over... If it's ever over...” Sam nodded sadly, “If indeed.” He agreed. “Now, all that aside. I think it's time we set this scanner here in motion, don't you? See if we can't just possibly find something fascinating eh? Bound to be a little something within a part magic part science sentient being with a body made of a comet from outside the universe, right?”

Hunk agreed, following Sam to a nearby workstation with nothing but a laptop. “You sure this is going to cut it...?” “One nano-millimetre of Red's structure. Just a proof of concept really. It may not do it superbly quickly, but it will certainly give us something to work with.” Sam looked to the scanner and nodded, “Alright!” He smiled, striking a key. “Here goes nothing.” 

Strange energies awaken ancient memory. “They are remarkable, my husband.” Her soft tone lost to the millennia, in my mind she speaks again. Beside her, unknowing what shall pass and hopeful for the future, My Paladin. “Even standing near them, it is as though... Reality bends to them...” “It's not far from the truth.” My Paladin agrees. My Paladin knows. “Maybe it bends to them and recoils from them all at once.” His young eyes regard my young chassis. Much is yet to pass. Much is yet to be known. My Paladin, in my mind, lives once more. His absence is never far from me. His was a will that binds and guides. His was the power of hope and unity. His was the heart of the Five of Us. My Paladin. My Creator. My Lost Friend. He places a gentle palm to his queen and beloved. So often have I known My Paladin's mind, I feel their bond of quintessence as if we three were one. They have created another. “The Lions of Voltron will serve as the hope of the Universe. I want to give our son...” “...or our daughter.” She corrects My Paladin.

“Our child.” My Paladin agrees. “The best possible future.” My Paladin shall never forge this future. I am saddened that it is so. My mind moves. As it moves again it stays in motion. Yes! The thrill of battle fills me! I am among the stars. Cold metal shears beneath my might! A blade in the darkness cuts deep into the fray! I am pounced upon and spin, I fire forth such fury!! Another reduced to nothing and still, he calls out within. My Paladin. That he has rage I know well, that he focuses that anger I know well. That when I am wielded by him and he by me, there is nothing in this reality to stand before us. And the memory is good. The satisfaction at each fresh enemy reduced to atoms. The hunger for the battle, it always burns within him and so too in me. My Paladin is uncomplicated. Yet, he is guarded. My Paladin seeks simplicity. In truth, much is hidden. In battle, he understands. In battle, there is nothing but his instincts to rely upon. Something perhaps of his other side that no other yet knows. Yet they shall in time. When he is my guide and I his champion, it is a deadly dance we weave and cleave upon the stars. My Paladin, he has so far to grow and yet so much skill already. Again my mind moves. We are as One. Our Paladins and Our Selves. One. Here in the moment, I feel him. Once my own, now Paladin to Black. A sword. Fresh forged. That was My Paladin. He is tempered now. Wisdom and time have quenched him. Raw power now a strong weapon. My Paladin. I trust you unto Black now. I know that you are ready. We are as One. And we charge. My mind moves on again. He stands. So meek before me and unsure. My Paladin? This? It seems a joke at first. Then, I truly see. Even in my thousands of years, I trust too easily the surface. The mind of this boy is doubt and fear. But the spirit? Yes. The spirit, the quintessence. He is My Paladin. When we fly it is not always smooth. He always apologises for every bump. When we fight, it is not always elegant. But his heart is always in the right place. His motivation. His mind. His quintessence, pure. He has such love within him. Love enough to sacrifice his very self. I feel him pass again. My Creator's Last gift to the universe. She keeps giving still. She returns My Paladin to me. I feel him rise again. Deep within him, unknown even to himself, he guides and inspires. There is greatness. Bound greatness, shackled only by self doubt. And then, there are such dreams. Across the gulf of space, as we journey to his home, his dreams fill me. Strange and wonderful. Family and Friends. Hope for a future free of war. The many faces and smiles he has loved and longed for and lost. My Paladin, Lance. He reminds me so much of My Paladin, Alfor. Neither of them acted in rage nor anger. They act in defiance of darkness. They act at the behest of the universe. They are not men of war, but guardians of peace. Such nobility and courage in them both. I am honoured to be and have been their Lion. My mind moves and we are as One again. We call upon the sword. She is nature's wrath and wielder of the shield. I am fire, creation and destruction alike, who bears the weight of the sword. Each of us have our place. We draw together. Closer. I feel her quintessence as if it were my own. Or it is perhaps my focus is only upon her. If feel her Paladin as though she were my own as she feels mine. My quintessence seeps into hers and hers to mine. We are One, yet we are distinct. We touch. For a moment, we are truly One. Or so it seems to me. As we draw apart, the blade ignites. I feel the ties of our quintessence grow taut and strained, yet always present. And for a moment, weaker, growing, reaching, threads tying ever closer, Our Paladins. I have no time to think on this. The Battle must be won once more. We are One and again we charge. My mind moves to the now. Yellow's Paladin is concerned. The creator of dear Green's Paladin stands expectantly. Another war approaches. Another front to ever more defend against the darkness. Somewhere else upon this world, I feel his quintessence. What he calls, his soul. His soul reaches out to mine and to one other strongest of all. Yet, it spreads further, like a web of threads combined. Such love to give and to share. So many to protect. And also, I feel it. The power to do so. Perhaps, My Paladins and I will yet forge the future they dreamed for...?

The sound of the clicked key had barely faded. “Well.” Sam waved his arm furiously, trying to waft away the smoke from the sparking laptop. Not long after the scan had begun, the poor quantum processors he had assumed fit to the task were now, to use the newest technical term, QUBAR. Quiznaked Utterly; Beyond Any Repair. “I was not expecting that. More than it could handle I suppose” Hunk pulled a nearby extinguisher free, smothering the laptop in flame proof foam. “There wasn't even enough time to upload the data...” He ruminated, “I don't suppose Iverson would let us jack into something with a little more oomph, would he?”  “Most likely not.” Sam considered the base computer reduced to wreckage, “Most likely not...”  It was then that the older man's expression subtly changed in a way Hunk was not familiar with. As the two of them cleared away the remnants of the laptop, Hunk awaited something. Though he had no idea what. “So Hunk, could you perhaps tell me a little about this friend of yours, Lance?” Sam asked in a very fatherly way. The kind of tone that suggested he was very concerned really, but wanted to appear unconcerned, “Didn't really get a lot of chance to talk with him back on the castle, you see. But ever since my little girl came home, well, his name seems to keep cropping up a lot. Excited about a party for Lance, wanting to meet Lance's family. Deciding who gets to keep her and Lance's adopted child she said... Thankfully she was just talking about Kaltenecker. Gave me a little fright, honestly... There was talk about who keeps the games console and on what alternating days they'd trade, who'd host game nights. Talking with Colleen about picking out the right dress for the evening. Things like that. Gets the old noggin joggin' as they used to say.” Hunk could feel his stomach squirm as he nodded, offering only a nervous, “Mmmhmmm...” In response.  “They must be very good friends, is what I would assume.” Sam nodded, “Though, I wonder... As a concerned parent might, you know? I'm probably being over analytical aren't I? But is he a good man? Good head on his shoulders? I'm sure he must be, right?” Hunk fell into silence as he carefully considered his next words. He could already see himself setting hours aside for baking, this was going to be an even worse interrogation than Iverson's debriefing. “Could my favour be not having this conversation...?” Sam smiled kindly. Then shook his head. Red, sat silent and ever patient, returned to his thoughts once again.

[thelordfool]

When The Sun Rises - Chapter Three

Non Facias Malum ut Inde Fiat Bonum

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Between the two men sat a long period of silence. Arcade turned the helmet of the riot gear over in his hands a few times, feeling the weight of it, humming at the possibilities presented to him. Aberdeen patiently sat, fingers folded across his torso in a relaxed stance.

“Well,” the doctor finally sighed, “I have a few questions, first.”

“Shoot.”

“One, why do you have a spare set of this armor? Two, where did you keep it to return so quickly? Three, why me?” Arcade had a look of... bewilderment. All of this was happening so quickly. “And I have a fourth, depending on your answers to the previous ones.”

Aberdeen sucked in a breath. “Well,” he sighed out, “it’s always a good idea to have a spare set of armor around in case yours starts to fall apart - which mine has - but I figure, it’s been the best set of armor I’ve ever had and probably will ever have save for a set of power armor, which I’m not even able to use anyway.

“To answer your second question, I had it stored nearby in McCarran. They owed me a few favors so I’ve got a little temporary setup over there since it isn’t exactly easy to travel to and from Novac every night for some decent sleep. Can’t sleep with all the lights and noise of the Strip right on my doorstep, personally, so a short walk is fine by me.

“And third...” The courier paused. Underneath his own mask, his lips were stretched taut. Why did he want to travel with Arcade? “You said I needed a friend. I think we could be friends.”

“Aren’t you blunt.”

“I seem to be getting that a lot today. Are you people not used to honesty, or something?”

Arcade snickered. “Unfortunately, we aren’t. Around here we get a lot of addicts, gamblers, and youth who are always trying to find an excuse for what’s happened to them.” With this, he sighed, finally setting the helmet down. He noticed something carved into the back of it - the word FORGIVE, just like that. He briefly wondered what that meant. 

“You said you had another question,” the courier interrupted his thoughts. “Hopefully I answered you in a way that allows it to be asked.”

“Well, Courier, I’ve heard of what you’ve done. Everyone talks about it - talks about you, I should say. How you found a way to peacefully settle what would have been a bloody battle in Goodsprings, right after you crawled back from death’s grip. How you got Primm back into working shape.” The name of Primm made Aberdeen wince, and it was a good thing Arcade couldn’t see his face. Aberdeen could only think, in that quick moment, of the eyebot that had been in his life so briefly. The doctor continued, “Providing medical relief to various NCR camps, farms, villages, and you’ve gained quite the reputation in the Legion, as well. My question is, with all the help you’ve given to others, do you plan to continue that in Freeside?”

“Of course,” replied the courier without hesitation. “I’ve seen... I’ve seen what war can do to a man. What the wastes can turn people into. The people of Freeside are no different. If the Legion had an ounce of basic human respect in their blood, I would be giving them the same treatment.” He sounded bitter about this, like he had lost an old friend to Caesar's reign. “The NCR has its faults, and quite frankly, if the Followers were in charge of everything... this world would be a better place,” he finished quietly.

“We’re not all that perfect,” Arcade admitted. “Caesar was once one of the Followers. Before my time, of course. He wanted to rebuild a new world in the image of the old. A sad story of good intentions gone bad. In that regard, he’s hardly unique.  If you set aside his leadership capabilities, extensive knowledge, and ruthless cunning... he's just another jerk who steps on people to get his way." He shook his head, rustling the hair that he had managed to relax back down on his head from right-out curly q’s to something a little more manageable. “If the Followers can produce such a man, then-”

“Then you are not at fault,” assured the courier. “As a whole, I mean.”

“We know that, just... abundans cautela non nocet.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Don’t let that caution get in your way of pursuing what is right, though.”

“You- you speak Latin?” Arcade sputtered.

“Semper paratus,” Aberdeen said with a wink, who then realized that he still had not removed his mask. “It was more out of necessity than anything.”

“What could have possibly- you know what, no,” Arcade slapped a hand down on the table. “Actually, I don’t even care. From your actions alone, I can say - with strength - that I will come with you. I’m not sure what help I’ll be out there, but... Something in my gut tells me this is right.”

Somewhere, in another area of the Fort, Julie Farkas was hit with a sudden and great wave of relief and joy.

“But.. one last question.”

“Hit me.”

“Uh, do I have to wear this?”

“It’d make me happy if you did. It’s a security measure. You won’t be protected from Fiends - or the rain - in that lousy lab coat of yours.”

Arcade looked down at his coat. It hadn’t been washed, in, well, probably a few years, if he had to be honest with himself, and running out into the rain that morning didn’t count. It was actually still a bit moist, as the lone radiator in the room only worked so often, and when it did, it was barely enough to keep one from shivering, much less able to dry anyone. Even so, the doctor felt almost insulted.

“What’s wrong with my lousy lab coat?” He grinned at his childish joke, stripping it away to rest against the back of his chair.

“Yeesh, if I’d known you were that attached, I’d’ve found someone to perform marriage rights for you,” the courier was quick to retort. The two men shared a chuckle. “I’ll get out of your hair to let you change. You’ll want a dry set of clothing underneath that too - it chafes like the devil.”

“Noted.”

*

Aberdeen’s Pip-Boy chimed, signaling noon. He really wished he could figure out how to turn that off, as it’s ruined a number of covert missions. He snorted at the thought of that phrase, thinking back to pre-war spy holotapes. He’d seen a few in the Big Empty, before he ditched that place. Soon he’d have to return on his monthly trip there, though, if not for the fear of the wrath of the Toaster, but to check in on everyone. 

The last three-ish months had been eventful, every day packed with fighting, not sleeping, and a load of things he truly didn’t understand. It was right after the bullet had been lodged in his head that Aberdeen found paths that lead outside the Mojave. A week, at best. He vowed never to listen to another strange radio signal again, because a month and a half each in the Big Empty and dealing with the droning on of a voice he’d come to hate gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Long had he wished just to taste the copper sands of the Mojave on his tongue again.

Under the cover of a mostly dry overhang, the courier lit a cigarette. He wondered if the good doctors here in the Fort would chastise him for such an activity, but as soon as the nicotine hit his brain, the thought dispelled and flew away in a puff of exhaled smoke. He let the next inhale simmer in his lungs as he stared into the relentless rain. 

What am I going to do today, he thought. More importantly, what is taking him so long?

Arcade should have been finished dressing himself by now. The courier gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that not as many people would be ready to go as quickly as he would be. For now, the courier sat on the lone, rain-moistened stool, elbow propped on a table. There was an ashtray, a radio, and a few playing cards turned indecipherable by the water. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by the cursing rumble of thunder, and the radio, to the courier’s astonishment, flickered to life. 

Like earlier, he couldn’t really hear it, but he heard the unfamiliar words “Sierra Madre” and reached to turn the volume up. Leaning in, he could make out the broadcast.

“... s inviting you to begin again. Come to a place where wealth, excitement and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends, or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under clear star-lit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our villa rooftops. Countless diversions await: Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you and cater to your every whim. So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October... We'll be waiting."

There was about thirty seconds of buffer silence before the dialogue repeated.

“Oh, hell naw,” he scoffed, smacking the radio off. 

“Something the matter?” The suddenness of Arcade’s voice made the courier jump with a yelp. Arcade chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” The doctor now looked nearly identical to the courier in his riot gear, and, Aberdeen noticed, he had a plasma pistol strapped to his side. 

“No, just...” Aberdeen hesitated. “You ever hear of a place called the Sierra Madre?”

“Hm... Yes, on the radio, and in passing some time ago from... someone I used to know.” He was omitting something there on purpose, but Aberdeen didn’t want to pry. “Why do you ask?”

“Just heard it myself on the radio here,” he gestured to the radio with a now-broken switch. 

“Think the signal might be worth checking out?”

“Aren’t you eager to get out and about. No, I’ve had my fun following lost signals. I have other things to do. So, who around here needs some help?”

*

This is part three of ? of a slow-burn Courier Six (Aberdeen)/Arcade Gannon fic. If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or donating to my PayPal. I am remaking my commissions post, but I also do artwork.

If this is your first time seeing this, you can start here with chapter one on tumblr or on Ao3.

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #45

It’s been more than a year since I started this weekly rec list. No, I didn’t quite do it every week, otherwise there would be 52 now, but I’m pretty impressed that I kept it up this well. I honestly wasn’t sure how long I would keep wanting to do this, but my obsession with Voltron fanfic is still going pretty strong, though it’s waxed and waned at times. Let’s see if we get another year out of it. Thank you to everyone who likes and reblogs these rec lists, and especially for reading the fics and letting the authors know that you appreciate them. That’s why the list exists.

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Returns and Lost Belongings by Itsjez Words: 8,986 Author’s Summary: Shiro curled up in his small bunk, legs tight to his chest as he stared at the control panel on the wall opposite. Even now, days since he’d “returned”, everything felt different. Oh sure it wasn’t as if he’d been gone for a year or worse ten, but still. Just where had he gone?That question weighed most on Shiro’s mind. My Comments: Angsty and suspenseful post-Season 2 fic in which Zarkon is an incredibly present and dangerous threat not only to Shiro, but to the entire team. Great resolution and great comfort.

Back to the Future (With a Dash of the Past) by SteamPowered514, theeyesofthestorm1848 for (the entire discord) Words: 11,914 Author’s Summary: Haggar gets mad, messes up, and sends the Paladins back in time one day before they leave earth to fight the good fight against Zarkon. The paladins get to say goodbye, make their peace, and go back to their lions for the first time again. Too bad Commander Mitch Iverson sees the dramatic changes in his students and jumps to the conclusion that they have to be alien spies. My Comments: I love the fact the paladins get a choice time, and they want to go. They have time to prepare, time to grab hold of each other and jump. Hopefully everything will go better this time around. The addition of a tenacious and genuinely concerned Iverson was a very fun touch. What a great fic.

Whump Week by bookwormgir1LH Words: 2,400 Author’s Summary: A collection of triple drabbles written for Voltron Whump Week. 1. Fever: Lance 2. Hypothermia: Pidge 3. Blood Loss: Keith 4. Torture: Shiro 5. Insomnia: Hunk 6: Poison: Allura 7: Head Injury: Coran 8: Free Day: Pidge & Coran My Comments: Can you believe I’m STILL finding gems from Whump Week to rec? Good grief, what a gift. Enjoy this lovely variety pack of whump.

The Space Race Is Over (And I’ll Never Get to The Moon) by Schistosity Words: 14,939 Author’s Summary: The garrison trio stumble into trouble on an undercover mission after they uncover a surprising and eerily familiar piece of space junk. But with the harsh reminder of how far they are from home comes an opportunity to, in a small way, help it. A fic about kids who love space, miss home, and don’t know correct museum etiquette. My Comments: This is such an incredibly fun and good fic. There’s some angst, some action, some humor, some great characterization, but mostly it’s just about how cool space is and how cool humans are for wanting to be in space. It brought up a lot of RL feelings for me, haha, things I feel when watching videos of shuttles launching or visiting the Air & Space Smithsonian. Highly, highly recommended.

Swear On It by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 7,449 Author’s Summary: “Geez, Keith. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” My Comments: Absolutely wonderful Dads of Marmora fic with a sometimes angsty, mostly humorous Lance POV and wonderfully protective Kolivan. And curse words. So many curse words.

A Former Shade of Blue by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk) Words: 8,590 Author’s Summary: The Blue Paladin crash-lands on Earth after Alfor sends the Lions away and is trapped in her healing pod for ten-thousand Altean years. When she wakes, she must come to terms with the Galra Empire. This was started before season three was released. You can take the three generations of paladins headcanon from my cold dead hands. My Comments: Really angsty and action-packed look at the life of the former Blue Paladin, Keith’s mother. I’m still kinda sad this theory got jossed, but at least we have fun fics.

Catch Me If You Can by wingedflower Words: 3,485 Author’s Summary: Hunk only wanted to make a pie and Lance only wanted to be a good friend. What could possibly go wrong? My Comments: Aww, so cute! There are not NEARLY enough fics in this fandom of Hunk and Lance just hanging out and being adorable together. I’m begging you, fandom, more like this please.

Too Little Too Late by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 3,890 Author’s Summary: “That was where Kolivan found Keith, spacesuit big enough to pool around his feet and flap over his hands, both of which were curled tightly around a sword as he stood in front of Pidge like the fiercest little warrior Kolivan had ever seen.” My Comments: Urgh my heart. Tiny, deaged Keith is distrusting and wary of adults, probably for some extremely good reasons, but Kolivan manages to win him over in the most Blade of Marmora way possible. The ending gave me cavities, and I’m happy about it.

It’s a Losing Battle - No Need to Feel Ashamed by kyanve Words: 6,849 Author’s Summary :While the Castle’s getting its final repairs to leave, Shiro spends some time in the Arusian village helping rebuild, and finds out one of the Arusian elders has been around long enough to know better than to believe his assertions that he’s “fine” - and that the Black Lion is stubborn, opinionated, and also not falling for it. (Occurs around chapter 3 of Truce.) My Comments: Stand-alone companion to a previously recced fic. I loved this view of Shiro and Black early in the series, and the worldbuilding for the Arusians was really cool. This author seriously excels at the worldbuilding, I highly recommend their stuff.

A Life in Pink and Blue by Sand_Cursive Words: 4,796 Author’s Summary: So long in stasis had done a number on her faculties, on the only ones that mattered, and for a few brief, blissful moments she had forgotten that there was a war. That her people were being decimated, that the horrors of the galaxy had descended upon her home, that she had great cause to be afraid. An Allura Character Study My Comments: A great look at Allura’s thoughts both pre-series and during some key moments in Season 1. Good backstory and worldbuilding for Altea, too.

Singularity by acestriker Words: 8,201 Author’s Summary: Nothing feels right anymore, and Keith finds an unlikely ally in Matt Holt. Things go downhill from there. A face gets punched, and the team is in tatters. (formerly “Unravel.” I thought this title fit better.) My Comments: Angsty post-season three fic with Matt and Keith teaming up to figure out what’s wrong with “Shiro.” It’s a little rough on everyone, but I really enjoyed the relationship between those two, very supportive no matter what.

Let Me Be Your Shelter by StarryFeathers Words: 5,780 Author’s Summary: What happens when the one who always saves needs the saving? They are used to following, used to him doing the saving, but this time it’s their turn to bring him home. Alternatively: Shiro should really trust his instincts but the Paladins make him proud. My Comments: Really great, tense fic in which the other paladins fight against time to save an injured Shiro, plus some backstory for Keith and Shiro. Very emotional.

A Bone To Pick by Ahhuya Words: 9,557 Author’s Summary: It started as a tingling sensation. Keith shoved it off as training in the Red Lion for too long. Soon enough however, he started to lose control of both his own body and his lion. My Comments: I’ve never seen this particular way to whump a character in fanfiction before. Poor Keith is much too stubborn for his own good, but his motivations and actions make sense. Still, he has to accept help in the end.

Get What You Need by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 3,114 Author’s Summary:“Shiro taught me everything I know about being a pilot.” A look back at the beginning. My Comments: Thoroughly enjoyable fic about Shiro giving Hunk some pointers, not just on piloting but how to deal with things in general. I absolutely adore how they were help each other here and the development of their relationship throughout. Extremely satisfying.

To Love a Lion by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan) Words: 1,403 Author’s Summary: Just as important as the bond among paladins is the bond the paladins have with their Lions. In this, a kiss for each of the Lions who have accepted them for who they are. My Comments: Sweet and short collection of bonding moments between the lions and their paladins.

Space Tortuga by ozbian Words: 1,379 Author’s Summary: Allura chats with an alien monarch, then decides to let her hair up. (What happens on Space Tortuga stays on Space Tortuga) My Comments: You know what’s more fun than diplomatic Allura? Allura deciding to go, “Screw diplomacy, I’m gonna have fun now.”

Don’t Commit Felonies, Kids by fandomsnstuff Words: 2,858 Author’s Summary: When Sam Holt gets rescued from the labor camp the galra put him in, he’s reunited with his daughter a whole lot sooner than he expected. My Comments: Wonderful Holt reunion with some great banter to lighten it up at the end.

Garrison Trio for Life by A_Zap Words: 1,261 Author’s Summary: Pidge had made her decision: she was going to stay. That doesn’t mean that she stops reflecting over her decision and her team as she sits in front of Lance’s cryopod. Luckily, the third member of the Garrison Trio knows what to say. My Comments: Nice missing scene with Hunk and Pidge talking while Lance is healing in Season 1.

The Moments When You’re (Not) Alone by Voidfish Words: 2,809 Author’s Summary: Five times Lance comforted the team (and one time the team comforted him) My Comments: Sweet fic, all the way around. Love everyone being open with each other.

Take A Break by WildWolf25 Words: 2,223 Author’s Summary: They drew a shuddering breath and released it. “And no matter what I do, no matter how much code I write or what kind of enhancements I make or how many numbers I crunch in whatever way… none of this looks good for us. None of it. And… I’m scared. I’m terrified, and I don’t know what to do besides keep trying to make more improvements to the lions, decrypt more Galra tech, do more even though I know that what I’m doing will barely even make a dent.” They sniffed and leaned into his hold more. “Why does the universe have to be so big?” They asked, voice watery. Lance hugged them from the side and rubbed their opposite arm. “I don’t have an answer for that.” He said quietly. “None of us do.” Pidge groused. “That’s the problem.” Lance took a deep breath. “I’m scared too. We’re all scared.” (Lance finds Pidge working late again due to stress, and does what he can to help) My Comments: Aw, Pidge gets herself worked up thinking about the odds of their fight, and Lance offers some comfort. Lovely fic.

In Your Arms by Copiel Words: 6,286 Author’s Summary: In which Lance gets sick, the team takes care of him, and Keith realizes a thing or two. (And yes, there is some cradling in arms sprinkled throughout) My Comments: Endgame Klance. I just love feverish, delusional Lance and a worried team so much.

Beneath a Sky of Orange Leaves by Zurela Words: 36,366 Author’s Summary: Thanks to the druids, Keith and Lance are launched through a corrupted portal and crash onto a mysterious planet. Stranded, alone, and with no one else to rely on but each other, they quickly realize that rivalries don’t last long in survival situations. My Comments: Engame Klance. Great characterization and bonding in here, some very deep discussions about why Keith and Lance both push others away when they should be seeking in help. In the middle, Lance get desperately sick and Keith has to care for him. Excellent survival fic with teamwork and dumb boys learning to take care of each other.

Rough Week by taylor_tut Words: 2,517 Author’s Summary: It’s been a rough week for the paladins, especially Lance. My Comments: Lance is too self-sacrificing, and too stubborn, and his team loves him very, very much.

Turn Up the Heat by Copiel Words: 2,546 Author’s Summary: Lance just wants someone to make his room warmer, and he gets more than he bargained for. My Comments: I’m always up for weak, feverish Lance and a worried team. This is a great fic for scratching that itch.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Light on the Dark Side of Me (26634 words) Water and Blood (27612 words) Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans (33273 words) As Color Fades Away (138083 words) The Field of Blood (22769 words) The Machinations of Perception (53464 words) I'm not the Lance You think I am (59352 words) Little Crystals (2304 words) The Ones Who Were Left Behind (44569 words) The Lion in Winter (29107 words) - now complete

[littlespacestars]

Shallura Fic Recs

A long-ass list of some of my favorite Shallura fics. LOL. I tried my best to categorize them since some of them can apply to more than one. No particular order either. This got out of hand, oops.

Multichapter

By Prudence Ruled (4/4) - ehmazing

“As per tradition, the soon-to-be Queen of Altea appoints a ceremonial guard to accompany her during the coronation. But spending six months at Allura's side may prove more difficult for Shiro than keeping her alive.” 

Slow burn, bodyguard AU

A Thousand Moments (7/7) - smolsarcasticraspberry

“The war is over. Allura is engaged and settled on New Altea. But when Shiro returns to New Altea with the other Paladins, his presence brings back old memories for Allura - of their time together, and the love they shared during the war.”

Mature, Shallura as exes, past relationship, regretful pining, future fic, after the war, angst, pining, Altean Shiro,

How to Drown in the Desert (8/?)  - wordswithdragons (shiroallura)

“Conducting a diplomatic mission on a nearby planet, Shiro and Allura have to pretend to be married to build rapport with the locals. Easier said than done―especially when they just happen to be secretly in love with each other.

Fake relationship AU, fake marriage, mutual pining, fluff, injuries, so much pining, sharing beds, pining, nightmares

The Shards of Us (7/7) - HomuraBakura

“Shiro and Allura travel to a small cabin on Earth in the middle of nowhere to find a small oasis of peace for a while. A series of oneshots for Shallura Week 2016.”

Fluff, hurt/comfort, cabin, one-shots

The Places We Call Home (6/6) - ashesandhoney

“A little bit Allura character study, a little bit fluffy cuddle fest, a little bit playing with headcanons.”

Explicit, sexual content, fluff, cuddling/snuggling, solarium, garden, trouble sleeping, use of Altean magic, castle translation, Allura’s markings

Lion Soul (2/4) - Braincoins

“Allura is one of the leaders of a nomadic pride of werelions. Shiro is the lone human in the pride, always out of place, unable to be a part of the culture he was raised in. Whatever he feels for Allura is irrelevant. He's no match for her, no matter how much he wishes he were. The pride is considering going on the offensive against the Hunters - humans who stalk and kill weres - rather than continuing to flee and hide. And Shiro has to decide if the only home he's ever known is really home, and, if it's not, what should he do about that? What can he do?”

AU, werelions, medieval fantasy, pining Shiro, human Shiro, background Alforan, background Klance

Jealousy (3/3) - paladinsofquiznak

“As the team forges a new alliance, Shiro must confront a figure from Allura's past, a new challenge, and his own feelings.”

Jealousy, pining, mutual pining, light angst, fluff, suitor

Kindergarten (238/?) - MilkTeaMiku

“Shiro works as a kindergarten teacher.”

Short chapters, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, modern AU, kindergarten teachers Allura and Shiro, new teacher Shiro, Kid Fic, Childhood, Domestic fluff, family fluff, kid paladins, side Klance

If You Seek His Monument, Look Around (3/13) - Haywarde

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. Or. Very slow burn Shallura fic involving post traumatic stress and survivor's guilt.”

Dealing with PTSD, BAMF Allura, Shiro needs a hug, hurt/comfort, injury, Altean culture, strong!Allura, guilt, breathing exercises

Touch the Earth (11/11) - addie-cake (MonkeyVenom)

“After a tragic accident, one that left young Katie Holt an orphan and Takashi Shirogane both a victim and a new legal guardian, the two have to learn to weave through the struggles of family life such as working through each other's schedules; helping each other with school; and, naturally, finding some new family members along the way.”

Pre-school!AU, teacher Allura, Shiro raising Pidge, kid paladins, fluff, disabled Shiro, young parent, mutual pining, domestic fluff, Takashi

The Worst Timing (9/?) - SeveralSmallHedgehogs

“The most beautiful man in the world lives in Allura's apartment building, and he only sees her when she looks absolutely awful. Good thing he's friendly.” Mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, broganes

Breaking Point (6/?) -- selfishmachxne (**not exactly Shallura-centered)

“First responder AU, crime dramedy, angst, drama, eventual relationships, gang violence.”

Shallura, Klance, ocean rescue Lance, firefighter Keith, sheriff Allura, police officer Shiro, paramedic Hunk, EMT Pidge, detective Coran

Drabble Collections

Closer (5/5) - alluran

Collection of Drabbles for Shallura Week 2016

Fluff, pining, Allura and Coran centric, reunited, first time they meet AU, babysitting AU,

Chasing Clouds (10/10) - stellatiate

“‘A person learns how to love himself through the simple acts of loving and being loved by someone else.’”

Short Drabbles, prompts, fluff, NSFW, modern au

Kuroweek 2017 (8/8) - rainingWolf

“(Hopefully) a whole week of stories dedicated to dark Shiro, be it the paladin himself being a dark character or the story being dark in general...”

Angst, suspense, drama, pining, romance, twist endings, Shiro angst, tragedy, PTSD, self-harm

Stars Don’t Sleep (8/?) - wordswithdragons

“A series of drabbles and oneshots, based off tumblr requests and random inspirations, about the relationship between Shiro and Allura from "Voltron: Legendary Defender" (originally posted on tumblr: shiroallura).”

Dancing, romance, fluff, Altean and Earth culture, sparring, secret relationship, trouble sleeping, first kiss, mission, rival gang family au

Shallura AUs

A Stranger on a Train - ashesandhoney

“An all-human AU in which Allura is a lawyer and Shiro is a pilot and they meet on a commuter train and smutty things happen in places where smutty things aren't supposed to happen.”

Explicit, modern setting, meeting on the same train, hangar, pilot Shiro, lawyer Allura, fluff, blow jobs, semi-public sex, strangers

Underlying Everything - stellatiate

“The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat — soft and persistent, underlying everything.” Three times Shiro's heart beats out of control and the one time it stops.”

Set in the future, time skips, living on Earth, mild blood, fluff

Hit it Off - distinctive_pineapples

“She would have reveled in her victory for a while longer if she hadn’t noticed a few glaring details. Sure, the man in front of her had a patch of light hair above his brow, but unless Lotor’s hair was darker and significantly shorter than she’d initially perceived, Allura had just punched the wrong man.”

Lance and co throw Allura a party, giant blind date, eligible suitors, meet-cute

A Wish Your Heart Makes - nayanroo (teslatricity)

“Takashi Shirogane is the only son of two very loving parents, and has a golden childhood. But then his father dies, and when his mother remarries, it is to a cruel man who cares more for his two sons than for his new stepson. When Shiro's mother dies and he's left with only his stepfather, his life becomes an endless cycle of servitude. But if you believe, even if just a little, your dreams can come true--all it takes is a hint of magic, and a very determined princess.”

Cinderella AU, Male Cinderella, fluff, mutual pining, dancing

A Risk to Date - stelliate

Shiro tries asking Allura for the date. He accidentally asks her on a date instead.

Tourist AU, intergalactic travel hub, vacationing to other planets, tour guide Allura, visiting Altea, Shiro’s Altean fails him

The Weight of Your Hands - MilkTeaMiku

“Five times Shiro comes to hold Allura's hands in his.”

Modern AU, university, fluff, hurt/comfort

Stowaway (1/?) - Kuro_cache

“Shiro, retired from galaxy exploration, lives on the 'second Earth' space station orbiting the original planet of his species. His life of retirement suddenly changes when an alien fugitive crash lands into the station and he chooses to save her from the alien empire on the hunt for her. He later learns the consequences of his choice might be fatal.”

Action/adventure, romance, angst/tragedy, exploration, science fiction, sexual content, alien culture, alien sex, developing relationship

Shallura Fluff

The Voltron Intervention - ptw30

“The Paladins realize the dance Shiro and Allura are playing around their feelings and decide to take matters into their own paws. Lance has the best plan, of course, and hey - he might even take his own advice.”

Fluff, family fluff, side-Klance, everyone gangs up on Shiro

Not All Touches are Innocent - Linae_Luminae

“Allura walks in on the team tickling Shiro and before she could ask, they all bolt. A conversation later about how tickling differs between cultures and suddenly things get a little bit... steamy.”

Group tickling, awkward situation, flirting, close conversation, sexual tension, Shiro tickles Allura and it backfires

Your Heart is Your Masterpiece - pensverusswords

“The five times Allura surprises Shiro with her Altean abilities, and the one time he surprises her. Or, the one where Shiro really likes it when Allura is taller than him.”

Fluff, pining, minor injuries, pining, non-sexual kink, size and strength kink, developing relationships

Tether - orphan_account

“Five times they held hands and didn't want to let go.”

Fluff, hand holdings, mutual pining, comfort

And We Were One - Stratagem (stardustandrobotlions)

“Shiro wants to dance with Allura. Shiro is nervous about asking. Allura wants him to ask. Paladins and Coran ship it. Tango!Lance.”

Dancing, fluff, fancy dress

The Limit of Stars - solarlances

“the sky is the limit. this steel is my temple. I am the champion.”

Pining, first kiss, Shallura Week

White - SakuraChiyo

“Allura finds a new hobby in learning a language from Earth, and who better to teach her Japanese than Shiro?”

Fluff, drabble, Japanese

Go On and Kiss the Girl - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“Five times Shiro and Allura almost kiss...”

Almost kiss, fluff, trouble sleeping, dancing, pining, library, small injury, basically cock-blocked by all the paladins

Show Me the Stars - xsilverstar

“His eyes do more than ground her. They make her float. (For Shallura Sundays)”

Altean soul theories, space metaphors, quintessence, reading souls, pining, dancing

Moments of You - Seliphra

“When Allura gets injured saving the day, Shiro can't help but try to take care of her.”

First kiss, love confessions, fluff, minor injuries, BAMF Allura, nervous Shiro, hurt/comfort, Shiro is in awe and Allura is amazing

First Step - feelsbender

“Shiro and Allura share a dance together, one that is close to Allura's heart.”

Shallura Sundays, dancing, fluff, hurt/comfort

Just Say So - StellarRequiem

“What was supposed to be a stern conversation with Shiro about his insistence on putting himself at risk to protect Allura turns into an unanticipated confession. Shiro being Shiro, he takes it like a champ. Allura being Allura, she jumps right into a kiss.”

First kiss, mutual feelings, declarations of love

Phenomenon - Stratagem (stardustandrobotlions)

“A year after their marriage, Allura and Shiro figure out that Allura is pregnant. So much happy.“

Pregnancy, future family fluff, married shallura, shallura baby

What a Shame, the Poor Groom’s Bride is an Alien - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“Shiro proposes, Allura doesn't quite understand why marriage is an Earth thing, Lance fails at planning a wedding.”

Marriage, marriage planning, future fic, background Klance, fluff

Let Me Come Home - westandvigilant

“Shiro is finally back and Allura doesn't exactly know what to do with herself. this is my attempt at fluffing up a sad prompt...”

Sad fluff, hurt/comfort, injured Shiro, worried Allura

Rules of the Baby Bump - Stratagem (stardustandrobotlions)

“1. Strangers = No Touching the Baby Bump 2. Family = Can Touch the Baby Bump 3. Shiro = Well This One is Obvious“

Pregnancy, alien cultural differences, space family, fluff

Shallura Pining

Got Me Workin’ - Redburn

“In desperate times of need, Allura searches out Lance for flirting advice.”

Mutual pining, fluff, ripped Shiro, dancing, bad pick-up lines, wingman Lance

What Lies Beneath - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“Shiro and Allura are stranded on a deserted ocean planet after the Black Lion crashes. The most they can do is wait for rescue, but something lurks, and it's not just feelings they have yet to act upon.” -- mutual pining, stranded, cosmic horror, Shallura Week fic

Astronomy in Reverse - minsazucar

“in which: allura is not pining, shiro is dense as hell, lance & pidge are a menace, and Hunk Saves the Day” -- pining, dense shiro, wingmen pidge and lance

Snowdrop - Linae_Liminae

“It’s a delicate flower that droops. It hangs and offers only promises in metaphors and hazy prophecies. He does not understand why it comes to mind as he falls and falls for her…”

Lost in space, sexual tension, brash first kiss, trouble between them, saving Allura, desperation

Androcles - Braincoins

“If Shiro’s not going to confess his feelings to Allura, then Black will take matters into her own paws.”

Wingman Black lion, Black and Shiro’s bond, Black’s thoughts, pining Shiro, first kiss

It’s Gonna be Me - nerdy_caito5

“Shiro is in "Dad Mode™" and has it bad for Allura. What else is obvious?”

Slight panic attack, mutual pining, Pidge helps him, goes into “Dad Mode” to help Keith

Shallura Hurt/Comfort

Electric Indigo - phollie

“Shiro's mind takes him to the bottom of the ocean.”

PTSD, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, talking w/ Pidge, Allura to the rescue

Space Cold - Braincoins

“Shiro doesn't handle being sick well, but fortunately Allura knows how to handle Shiro. (NOT THAT WAY, YOU PERVS)”

Space Dad caught the Space Cold, whiny sick Shiro, nasty medicine, fluff, Allura takes care of whiny Space Dad

An Abyss of Our Own - smolsarcasticraspberry

“Shiro has a panic attack. Allura has to figure out how to help him.”

Angst, hurt/comfort, panic attack, fluff, dark, mind link AU, feels/emotions

Nevertheless - thir13enth

“All she will ask of him are his lips.”

PTSD, hurt/comfort, battle scars, insecurities, implied sexual content, fluff

Petals of Consolation - StarlightTigress

“As the leaders of Voltron, their minds lay heavy and tired at night. However, a run in with each other may leave both minds at ease.”

Hurt/comfort, PTSD, grief/mourning, fluff, trouble sleeping

Line of Fire - MilkTeaMiku

Hurt/Comfort, fluff, light angst, sleeping together, stress, tired Shiro

Connection - Braincoins

“Leadership has its consequences. The paladins and their lions are back with the Castle, but Shiro's more than a little worse for wear. Allura's apparently been keeping secrets and no one's happy about that. Keith and Lance have a confrontation. Meanwhile, the Galra Empire has a new plan to capture Voltron. With the paladins' trust of each other fracturing, will they be able to stop Zarkon from succeeding this time?”

Hurt/comfort, blood, nightmares, PTSD, season 2 AU, first kiss, story that got away from its author, badass Pidge

One Million Sleepless Nights - FractalBunny

“Feelings are a real bitch to sort through when no one understands what you're going through. Thankfully, Shiro and Allura realize they're able to confide in each other.”

Hurt/comfort, angst, PTSD, reminiscing, drunk Shiro, hotel room, they talk about their feelings

Autoclave - ilgaksu

“Four days after Allura kills her father, Shiro finds her crying in the control room.”

Hurt/comfort, dealing with loss, birthday, Japanese, Altean, language, culture

Gone - coralreefskim

“Shiro is gone and Allura realizes something she'd always known.”

Allura-centric, Black paladin Allura, angst, angst with a happy ending, kinda, coping with loss, crying, coping, everyone’s POV, minor Klance

Grief is Like the Ocean - thirt3enth

“some days are better than others. —shallura (ft. love, loss, and recovering)”

Meeting Shiro’s parents, grief, death, hurt/comfort, loss

Mature Shallura

Drowned in Oxygen - nayanroo (teslatricity)

“Shiro has some questions about the marks on Allura's body. Allura is a very willing teacher.”

Porn without plot, alien biology, Allura’s markings, smut

Closer to Midnight - smolsarcasticraspberry

“Allura and Shiro love goofing around after hours, but when they decide to get into a healing pod together as a joke, they get a little more than they bargained for.”

Explicit, smut, mind link AU, feels/emotions, little bit of plot but mostly smut

Conflict of Interest - smolsarcasticraspberry

“The elevator ride up to the bridge every morning takes forty-five seconds. Allura thinks that forty-five second elevator ride counts as "work time". Shiro thinks it doesn't. So far, they're at an impasse. The conflict devolves into a competition to see who can make the other flustered right before they have to go to work. But hey... it's not a conflict if you both win, right?”

Smut, flut, mind link AU, boinking in the elevator

She’s Like the Sun - sdd_writes_things

“In which neither Shiro nor Allura can actually sleep at night and they're super thirsty for each other, turning tentative hand holding into nearly making love on the floor which then somehow turns into seventy miles of blankets and then sleeping in front of a window.”

Mature, almost smutty content, shy handholding to violent necking

Get Out of Our Hair! - orphan_account

“shallura nsfw: 5 times where they almost get caught fucking by the paladins/coran and the one time they were discovered.”

Explicit, cockblocked by literally everyone, and then caught in the act

Stress Response - georgette_the_frog

“Last time Shiro slept with Allura he accidentally wound up incredibly fucking high.”

Xenobiology, fluff, accidentally drugged, Shiro is high oops

Risk and Reward - Braincoins

“Allura is the Black Paladin of Voltron, former Champion of the Galra arena. Everything else she's wanted in her life - going to space, meeting aliens - has ended badly. Why should wanting Shiro - the advisor to Princess Romelle of Altea - be any different? It's not worth risking their friendship to pursue this crush. Or is it?”

Human!Allura, Altean!Shiro, smut, flutt, vaginal sex, oral, language

Pulled Me Into Focus - wingsofbadass

“It took Shiro longer than expected to figure it out.Allura had thought it was so obvious, that he would see through her in no time. Shiro was an observant man in general and an observant lover in particular. Quite easily, he read her body language through touch alone and understood the needy noises she made like pleasure was his mother tongue...”

Established relationship, sexual content, explicit consent, arm kink, trust

Drapery is Not Soundproof - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“Allura is bored and Shiro is hot. They just so happen to be at an intergalactic diplomatic event. Not a problem in the slightest.”

Porn without plot, semi-public sex, fingering, blowjobs, oral sex

Heat - awriterandhismuse

“Allura couldn’t help but picture Shiro standing underneath his own sun, soaking in all its heat. But picturing Shiro doing anything other than what he was doing at that very tic was proving to be very difficult.”

Shiro is warm, sleeping together, smut, alien anatomy, first time, so much for resting

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Annnnnnd here���s some shameless self promotion for the two fics I have, pfft:

The Weight of a Name - littlespacestars

“Shiro confides in Allura about his real name when she notices he’s more quiet than usual.”

Slight angst, sad Shiro, comforting Allura, fluff, inner turmoil, coming clean, soft talk, wise Allura

The Truth About Forever - littlespacestars

“Allura and Shiro take a break from protecting the universe in a secluded cabin on Earth. Allura comes to the realization that their relationship might not work due to their differing aging process.”

Angst, fluff, secluded cabin, snow, cabin fic, smitten Shiro, worried Allura, the downside to an alien girlfriend, Shiro talks about forever, Allura realizes there won’t be a forever, Shiro is a dork, hurt/comfort

[valkyrie-echo]

Project Echo, Part 2: Chapter 25 (One Worse Than Apocalyptic)

Part 2 Summary: A new enemy surfaces with a team of the Avengers’ greatest foes, hand-picked for their destruction. Meanwhile, Inessa’s pre-Hydra past begins to surface, casting doubt on where her loyalties truly lie.

Chapter 25: One Worse Than Apocalyptic"Oops, he did it again," Thor picked up the latest folder when he returned from the loft and dropped it on the kitchen table.

Clint snickered, "Thor, I admire that you made a pop culture reference, and I'm impressed you even got it in the right context-"

"-thank you," he said proudly.

"-now never say it again. If Fury heard you, he'd kill you," he passed the file to Natasha, "More dead ends, I'll bet. Wherever these guys are in the pictures, that was months ago. Safe bet they aren't there now."

Natasha flipped through the photos absentmindedly, "All of the same guy, no name." She tilted her head, "He looks... I don't know, Asgardian?"

Thor came to see the pictures for himself, "That is not possible Natasha. I would know if any of my people-" he saw the face of the man and stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth fell open and all color drained from his face. He even quit breathing.

"Earth to Thor," Banner stood next to his friend and waved a hand in front of his face, "You in there, buddy?"

"Heimdall?" Thor barely murmured.

"What?" Banner leaned in.

"Heimdall?" he sounded like a child who'd seen the monster that lurks under the bed.

"That's Heimdall? Thor, I don't get it, I thought Heimdall was an ally..."

Thor took one long, ragged breath, "Heimdall?" he tore his eyes away from the face and ran for the door. All three followed. As soon as his feet hit the dirt of the back yard he began shouting, "HEIMDALL? ANSWER ME!" he waited, desperate, for only a few seconds, "DAMN THE ALLFATHER'S DECREE! IS IT HIM?! IS HE LOOSE?!" Again, evidently there was no reply, "I MAY BE IN EXILE BUT I AM STILL ASGARD'S REPRESENTATIVE IN THIS REALM AND I DEMAND ANSWERS! IS IT HIM?!"

That, at least, moved the keeper of the Bifrost to disobey orders and speak only one word that echoed in the minds of the Avengers, "Yes."

The prince fell to his knees. He stared at the ground, "Thor, who is he? What's wrong?" Banner and Clint approached slowly.

Thor thought of something and jumped up, the other two flinched back from the manic demi-god. He only activated his communication device, "JARVIS, tell our allies in SHIELD to find Jane Foster. Hide her as well as any on Midgard can hide. Somewhere remote and safe. If there is a path off this realm, shove her through kicking and screaming if need be."

"Thor, stop." Natasha stepped around the boys and confronted him directly, "Tell me who he is."

He held up a hand to stop her and looked skyward, "HOW LONG?!"

"Three days. That is all I will say." Odin would know if he did more, Heimdall had to keep quiet.

"The photographs are new."

"So Morris is alive," this gave Natasha precisely what she needed to prove it to the others- without Berny's pictures.

Banner came to stand by her, "Who is he? Thor, what are we dealing with?"

Thor gulped, visibly shaken, and answered, "My father's elder brother, Cul Borson."

"And that's bad," it wasn't a question, but Thor nodded anyways, "tell us about him."

"He has been locked away since before I was born, since the first days of my father's reign. You call me God of Thunder, my father God of Wisdom, my brother God of Mischief. Cul Borson... He you would call God of Fear."

Clint tried to lighten the mood, "So, no fun at parties?"

Thor was not, as he liked to put it, in a gaming mood, "He draws life from those around him, literally. All his power infects become his slave. My father lost thousands trying to capture him after he was passed over for the crown. Thanks to him, an entire realm fell to flame. It is said to have required the Casket to even contain him."

"Why did he burn the realm?" Clint was willing to bet it wasn't a party trick gone awry.

"You misunderstand," Thor shook his head, "he did not burn the realm. We did. The Counsel of Yggdrasil gave the Casket to the Jotuns- the only ones he could not draw from. They killed every last man, woman, and child to break his hold. Destroyed the home realm of the Valkyrie, and made of the Icari'i an extinct race. Only then, when he had none left to fuel his power, could he be taken. My father threw him in the deepest, darkest cell in all the nine realms, guarded him with thirty destroyers, left him chained with the same metal forged in the same star on the same day as Mjolnir generations ago!" he went from a shout to a whisper, "What sort of creature could have released him?"

"And why partner up with an ex-Hydra lackie," Natasha felt a cold tingle up her spine, "We're sure this Morris guy is human, right?"

"I know not, but it is no coincidence that he is here now. It took a genocide to stop him last time. The Icari'i world burned, their link in the Bifrost was destroyed wholly and completely. It took but a week. If he has had three days and we've seen nothing? Whatever controls Cul, son of Bor, it is evil incarnate."

The words hung in the air for a long time before Banner spoke, "The Jotuns kept the Casket- that's what started the war?" He nodded, "So we probably can't count on their help. Or Asgard's, apparently." Banner considered it, "An old associate of Natasha's, my old friend General Ryker, the Asgardian equivalent to Hitler, Steve and Bucky at one another's throats... Things are getting weird."

"No," Natasha had a hunch, "Me versus Albatross, you versus Ryker, Bucky versus Steve, Thor versus Cul, and Clint versus-" she cut herself off suddenly.

"I'm not important enough for an enemy, apparently," Clint pouted.

Natasha let out her breath, "The point is, he's matching our forces. Not one impossible enemy, one each."

"I don't see Bucky and Steve fighting to the death," Banner was apprehensive. "The 'to the death' bit, I mean. Fighting is very easy to visualize. And, I mean, Clint has a point. If this Morris guy is the recruiter, why don't we have more? Sam, Tony, Clint, even someone for Inessa? She's why Dennisson lost control of New York. If he's smart enough to hunt down our old enemies he wouldn't be dumb enough to count her out. He's gotta be someone to pull this off, I grant you that, but he doesn't look like the type to fight in his own battles. Where are the rest? Cul Borson hardly sounds like someone you keep waiting around until a fight happens to break out.

Natasha just shook her head, "I've got a feeling," she looked to Clint.

"The lady's never been wrong," he nodded, "I say we plan for the worst. If we're wrong, it's a pleasant surprise."

Thor was still pale, "If he has Cul Borson's allegiance, we're already dead."

"Then it's time to call in reinforcements," Natasha returned to the farmhouse to call Steve.

Location: Unknown

Slime dripped from the walls and collected in putrid, green pools on the cave floor. Air did not dare to move in this evil place- not even a whisper of a breeze could be felt.

The women who lived here were warped, gnarled, ancient. So long they had guarded their charge, never leaving the cave, that they forgot the feeling of sunlight on their skin. They found sustenance in the small fish that thrived in the freshwater pools, in what strands of plant life clung to the rocks in the darkness. Total, complete isolation, just as their long-absent god decreed.

Only the pale, thin light of the cryo chamber illuminated their world. Inside their sleeping angel waited for her time of rising.

She was beautiful- flame colored hair, blood red eyes, blue-white skin. A raw spark of fire just waiting to be unleashed. It had been whispered long ago that she was the god's greatest weapon, bred to bring absolute ruin to his enemies. Bred to grant the mercy of death to the watchers in the cave.

The god granted a singular gift when he passed down his charge. He gave them eternal life, immunity to illness or disease, even enough strength to keep them going for nearly a century, locked deep within the Earth. The same potion that made him a god made them his eternal servants- a simple injection an eternity ago. But, at long last, the signal came. Three clicks on a long-dead radio the god himself designed. Three short clicks, and it was time for the world to burn.

While six women went to unseal the tunnel, the 7th and oldest went to the tube. She was hesitant- it had been so long, could they have imagined it? No. Three clicks. It was time. She pressed the little blue button and the machine began to hiss and creak. It would be hours yet, but their angel would wake soon enough.

Sinthea Schmidt, heir to the Red Skull, was returning to the surface at last.

Avenger's Tower: Gym

"Nessie, can I talk to you for a minute?" she stopped rubbing at her arm and sat down on the balance beam she had been pacing along. Steve leaned on it next to her and twiddled his thumbs, how to begin?

"What's wrong?" she hadn't gotten into trouble over her dive off the roof yesterday (though now the balcony door was locked), Inessa just figured they were choosing her punishment carefully.

"We are unsteady, typically unstable, unprofessional most of the time, uneven in abilities, and nearly all of us are stubborn as hell. Basically, we're a train wreck. We manage to figure it out in the end though- how to work together," she didn't see where this was going. "None of us have anything much more than one another and a handful of very close friends, and only Thor even has family anymore."

She really didn't see where this was going, "The point is, there isn't a single one of us who came from a normal home- you included. Thor excluded. I had amazing parents, but they died a very long time ago. The simple truth is that you are a teenager. You're sixteen with the education of a fourteen year old, but I think you're even older than that in some ways."

She really really didn't see where this was going, "Get. To. The. Point," Sam said slowly. He'd come to watch Steve deliver the news, bu this was getting ridiculous.

"Right, um," Steve leaned back and looked Inessa in the eyes, "We don't know anything about how to raise a kid. You've done everything we've asked. You made progress with Doctor Pryor- amazing progress. You've been training every day and listening to everything we ask. Even when we were prepared to give you a pass, you resisted going on an unauthorized Hydra raid and chose to cool off in a nice, safe park," (they'd finally managed to verify Bucky and Inessa's story and track the damned place down). Inessa felt guilty all of the sudden. She was consumed with thoughts of the Helius device, but asking for help would mean admitting she and Bucky had lied. How well would that end?

"We've decided to cut you some slack."

Sam smiled, "JARVIS? Now's good."

Nadya dove from the shadows behind a gym mat the second the frequency was halted- Inessa didn't even realize she'd been trying to open the door. The room darkened considerably and the wolf went straight to it's mistress, jumping up and down and wagging it's tail like a real dog and not some freak shadow-denizen. Inessa tried to ease the tremor in her hands. Nadya licked her neck, "There are rules," Steve continued, "if you follow them, you keep your powers."

She just nodded, whatever they wanted, "You go nowhere without one of us present to make sure you're safe. You keep up with your work, and that includes your sessions with Doctor Pryor. You don't miss a single, solitary one. Plus," he grabbed her hand and squeezed, "you get one more job."

"What?" she whispered, overwhelmed.

"You start studying again. We'll figure out all the fine print, you'll have to have a whole new identity built, but we're scrapping the 'until you are 18' rule and replacing it with 'until you are a high school graduate'. Do you understand?" It was a measure, stunningly, all Avengers agreed on almost instantly (except Tony, who lost his vote when he lost his mind).

"Hey," Steve put a hand on her shoulder when she slid down from the beam, "this is good. It means we trust you to do what's right. The same threats apply as always, but even so- we're all really proud of you."

Somehow that only made her feel worse.

Avengers Tower

"Smooth, very well thought out speech," Sam walked back to the lobby with Steve.

"Shut up," he laughed in spite of himself.

"It was like listening to a Shakespearean sonnet, or Winston Churchill... Or someone with severe brain damage."

"Shove it up your ass," Sam gaped, scandalized. Steve laughed harder, "Stop cheering me up, I need to be serious, there are leader-ie things to do." he punched his friend lightly in the arm. Unfortunately, "lightly" for Steve Rogers was enough to bruise Sam Wilson.

"Well, cheer is important. We have an urgent call from Old MacHawkeye and the gang."

"Oh, sure, build up my mood then, just when it gets good, spoil everything."

"I've already called Bucky down," now there was a downer. Bucky. Never knew if he was going to show up or the Winter Soldier.

"How bad is it?"

Sam thought, "What's one worse than 'Apocalyptic Bad'?"

Steve sighed dramatically, "That would be 'Avengers Bad'."

Chapter 26: Despair and Deception

[ljones41]

“WONDER WOMAN” (2017) Review

"WONDER WOMAN" (2017) Review Since the release of "MAN OF STEEL" back in 2013, the D.C. Comics Extended Universe (DCEU) franchise has been in a conundrum. Although the 2013 film and with the two movies that followed - "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE"and "SUICIDE SQUAD" - were all box office hits, they had been heavily condemned by many film critics. Then along came "WONDER WOMAN", the first superhero movie that featured a woman in the lead since 2005. Directed by Patty Jenkins, "WONDER WOMAN" is basically a flashback on the origins of Princess Diana of Thymerica aka Diana Prince aka Wonder Woman. Some time after the events of "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE", Diana received a package at her Antiquities Curator office at the Louvre Museum. It came from Bruce Wayne aka Batman and it contained the original photographic plate of her, Steve Trevor and their comrades during World War I:

The photographic plate led Diana to recall her past, starting with her childhood on Thymerica Island. While being raised by her mother, the Amazonian Queen Hippolyta, Diana learns about Zeus' creation of mankind and his son Ares' jealousy of his father's creation and the latter's attempts to destroy humans. After the other Mount Olympus gods were killed by Ares, because of their attempts to stop him, Zeus created a weapon for the Amazonians, a "Godkiller", in case Ares decides to return. Although Queen Hippolyta has no trouble telling Diana about Zeus, Ares and the other Mount Olympus gods; she forbids her sister and military leader of the Amazons, Antiope, to train Diana. Eventually she relents and demands that Antiope train Diana harder than the other Amazons. During the last year of World War I, Diana rescues an American military pilot named Captain Steve Trevor, after his plane crashes off Themyscira's coast. The island is soon invaded by German sailors from a cruiser, pursuing Trevor. The Amazons engage and kill all of the German sailors, but Antiope sacrifices herself to save Diana. Interrogated with the Lasso of Hestia, Trevor informs the Amazons about World War I, his position as an Allied spy and his mission to deliver a notebook he had stolen from the Spanish-born chief chemist for the German Army, Dr. Isabel Maru. The latter is attempting to engineer a deadlier form of mustard gas for General Erich Ludendorff at a weapons facility in the Ottoman Empire. Against her mother's wishes, Diana decides to help Steve's war efforts by leaving Themyscira and accompanying him to London. Recalling Hippolyta's tales about Ares, she believes the latter is responsible for the war and hopes to kill him with the help of the Lasso of Hestia and the "Godkiller" sword that Zeus had left behind. As I had earlier pointed out, "WONDER WOMAN" received a great deal of critical acclaim. In fact, it proved to be the first film in the DCEU franchise to do so, leading many to regard it as better than its three predecessors. Do I feel the same about the movie? Not quite. Do not get me wrong, "WONDER WOMAN" struck me as a first-rate movie that I found very entertaining. As a woman, I found it personally satisfying that it proved to the first successful comic book heroine film. More importantly, it was also the first comic but the first to be directed by a woman. In the end, "WONDER WOMAN" became one of my top favorite movies from the summer of 2017. Many people were surprised that most of the film - namely the flashback - was set during the last month of World War I, especially since Wonder Woman's origin began during World War II. It could be that Warner Brothers wanted to avoid any comparisons with Marvel's Captain America, whose origin began around the same time. I am glad that the movie was mainly set during World War. One, I feel that it would have been compared to Marvel's 2011 film, "CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER". But more importantly, the World War I setting meshed better with the film's portrayal of one of the villains, Erich Ludendorff. And without the World War I setting, I would have never experienced one of the best action sequences I had seen this summer - Wonder Woman's foray into "No Man's Land", as seen in the images below:

Thinking about the No Man's Land" sequence reminded me of other action scenes in the movie that I found satisfying. Those scenes include a montage of Diana's training as a warrior, the Amazons' defense of Thymerica against invading German sailors, Diana and Steve's encounter with a group of German spies in a London alley. The "No Man's Land" sequence eventually led to another fight in which Diana, Steve and their companions led a liberation of the Belgian town Veld, which had been occupied by the Germans. You know what? It is possible that I may have enjoyed this sequence even more than the charge across "No Man's Land". One, it lasted longer. And the sequence featured more of a team effort between Diana, Steve, their three companions and troops from the Allied Powers. In fact, one scene featured Steve remembering an Amazonian tactic from the Thymerica battle and utilizing it with Diana in Veld. I literally smiled at that moment. But "WONDER WOMAN" was not all about action scenes. Personally, I regard the movie as a character study of its lead character. Ever since Diana had informed Bruce Wayne that she had walked away from mankind for nearly a century in "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE", I have always wondered what led her to become that slightly cynical woman. For me, "WONDER WOMAN" told that story . . . to a certain extent, thanks to Allan Heinberg's screenplay. The Princess Diana aka Diana Prince that we see in this film is an intelligent woman with a fierce sense of justice and duty. Whereas her mother and other fellow Amazons want to isolate themselves from humanity and the rest of the world at large, Diana views Steve's arrival and his revelation about the war being raged to save humanity from what she believed was Ares' destructive influence. Diana is also portrayed as a compassionate woman incapable of turning a blind eye to the devastating effects of war upon the Belgian civilian population and servicemen like Charlie, a Scottish sharpshooter and ally of Steve's, who suffered from posttraumatic stress disorder (PSTD). She also possessed enough compassion to become aware of the discrimination that Steve's other two friends faced - the Blackfoot warrior and smuggler Chief Napi and the French Moroccan secret agent, Sameer. But Diana's belief in Ares' role in the Great War also revealed some negative aspects of her personality. One aspect of Diana's personality in this film was her naivety. There were scenes in which her naivety about the "world of man" that I found humorous - namely her shopping trip with Steve's assistant, Etta Camp; her introduction to ice cream; and her discussions with Steve about human sexuality. But there were plenty of times when I found her naivety very frustrating - especially in those scenes in which Steve tries to explain the true ambiguous nature of human beings and the war. A good example was Diana's interruption of the Allied Powers' high command and her attempt to instruct the generals on how to "run a war". Many found this scene as an example of Diana's feminine empowerment. I found it as an example of her naivety and a bit of arrogance on her part. In these scenes, Diana seemed to display a stubborn, almost hard-headed and blind reluctance to let go of her misguided beliefs. Because of this unwillingness to believe she might be wrong about matters, Diana killed one of the characters believing him to be Ares without any real proof. I found this moment rather frightening. This hard-headed trait revealed what I believe was one example of Diana's penchant for extreme behavior. Diana's angry and frightening reaction to Steve's sacrifice was another example. And the hard lessons she had learned about humanity, along with personal tragedy, led to her almost century long foray into emotional isolation. In many ways, Diana's journey is that if an idealist, whose positive assumptions had been ripped away in the most painful manner. While watching "WONDER WOMAN", it seemed obvious to me that Patty Jenkins is more than a competent director. She is obviously first-rate. Mind you, I do not believe that she possesses Zack Snyder's razor-sharp eye for imagery. And yet, judging from the sequences of the Thymerica battle, Diana and Steve's arrival in London; along with the outstanding "No Man's Land" sequence, it seems obvious to me that Jenkins has a solid grasp of imagery and is capable of being a visually original director. It helped that cinematographer Matthew Jensen and film editor Martin Walsh contributed to Jenkins' visual presentation of "WONDER WOMAN". I would not consider the costume designs from "WONDER WOMAN" to be among the best of Lindy Hemming's career and a costume designer. But I thought she did an excellent job in designing the Greco-style costumes for the Amazons - including Diana's Wonder Woman costume. And I found her re-creation of the 1918 wartime costumes for the characters of both genders well done:

Although I believe there is a great deal to admire about "WONDER WOMAN", I do have a few complaints. One of them happened to be Jenkins' use of slow-motion filming in many of the film's action sequences. Yes, I realize that Jenkins was not the first director to use this form of filming action scenes. Her fellow DCEU director, Zack Snyder, was notorious for his use of this technique - especially in his pre-DCEU films. Unfortunately, I found myself getting tired of the slow-motion technique not long after ten to fifteen minutes into the film. I mean . . . good grief! Jenkins not only used it in the film's every action sequence, but also in one scene that featuring one of the Amazons' combat training sessions. I just got tired of it . . . really fast. My second problem with the film centered around the final action scene between Wonder Woman and Ares. I had no problems with Ares' revelation about his identity. And I certainly had no problems with his revelations about the true nature of humanity and the war itself. And I found Wonder Woman's reactions to his revelations and Steve Trevor's sacrifice rather interesting. But why . . . why in God's name did Jenkins and Heinberg find it necessary to have Diana say the following line to Ares before their final duel? "It's about what you believe. And I believe in love. Only love will truly save the world." While the sentiment is lovely, it contradicted Diana's cynical attitude and words to Bruce Wayne, following Clark Kent's death in "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE": "A hundred years ago I walked away from mankind; from a century of horrors... Men made a world where standing together is impossible." Now, one could say that Diana had acquired this attitude during the 97 years between her showdown with Ares and the incident with Doomsday. But she made it clear to Bruce that she had walked away "a hundred years", which is roughly between the end of World War I and “BATMAN V. SUPERMAN”, save three years. Why did Jenkins and Heinberg allow her to spout that line about how love with save the world? Was this some emotional sop to those critics and moviegoers who wanted to pretend that Diana had managed to avoid wallowing in her grief over Steve and disappointment over Ares' revelation? If so, that is bad writing . . . or bad timing. Jenkins and Heinberg could have saved the line for Diana's narration at the end of the movie. After she had received the photographic plate and Steve's watch from Bruce . . . and after she had finally lifted herself from her cynicism and detached air. I certainly had no complaints about the movie's performances. Mind you, there were two performances that failed to knock my socks off. One came from veteran actor Danny Huston, who found himself saddled with the clichéd riddled character of General Erich Ludendorff. Huston did not give a bad performance. Being a first-rate actor, he did the best that he could with the material given to him. But the screenwriter's portrayal of the character reeked with the Hollywood cliché of an aggressive German military officer, straight from the "Ve haf vays of making you talk" school of screenwriting. And I believe this may have hampered Huston's performance. I also had a slight problem with Eugene Brave Rock, who portrayed one of Steve Trevor's allies, Chief Napi. Rock was not a bad actor and I found him very likeable. But it was easy for me to see that he was not exactly the most experienced actor. And I was not surprised to discover that he had spent most of his film career as a stuntman and stunt trainer. When Ewan Bremner first appeared in the film, I suspected that he had been cast to portray another one of the many comic roles he has portrayed in the past. However, his character Charlie proved to be another kettle of fish. Thanks to Bremner's skillful performance, Charlie proved to be a tragic figure whose peace of mind had been ravaged by the violence of war. Elena Anaya, whom I have never heard of before this film, gave an intelligent and intense performance asIsabel Maru aka Doctor Poison, the Spanish-born chemist recruited to create chemical weapons for the German Army and specifically, for General Ludendorff. Unlike the latter, Dr. Maru is a villainess straight from the pages of the D.C. Comics titles for Wonder Woman. And yet, thanks to Anaya's performance, she was not portrayed in a ham-fisted manner. But I must admit that I adored Saïd Taghmaoui's portrayal of French Moroccan secret agent, Sameer. I found his performance charming, witty and very intelligent. And in my view, he had the best line in the movie (about Diana, of course): "I am both frightened... and aroused." Connie Nielsen's portrayal of Diana's mother, Queen Hippolyta of Thymerica proved to be more interesting that I had assumed it would be. Frankly, I thought Queen Hippolyta would be a somewhat bland parent figure, who was simply protective of her only daughter. In the end, Hippolyta's protectiveness toward her daughter proved to have a major impact upon the latter. This same protectiveness, along with her world-weary response to Diana's decision to leave Thymerica revealed the true, ambiguous nature of the character and Nielsen did an excellent job in conveying it. Robin Wright had an easier time in her portrayal of Diana's aunt, Antiope. The actress not only did a great job, I was especially impressed at how she embraced the more physical aspects of the role. After all, Antiope was the Amazonian army's lead general. I was very surprised to learn that the actress who portrayed Etta Candy, Steve Trevor's assistant, was none other than Lucy Davis, who had a supporting role in the 1995 miniseries, "PRIDE AND PREJUDICE". Personally, I adored her portrayal of Etta. Like Taghmaoui, she was a walking embodiment of charm and wit. I especially enjoyed Davis' performance in the scene that featured Diana and Etta's shopping trip. David Thewlis gave a superficially pleasant performance as the dignified Sir Patrick Morgan, a diplomatic liaison with the Imperial War Cabinet. I found him intelligent, subtle and a little tricky. I have a confession to make. I have always liked Gal Gadot as a screen presence. Honestly. She has a very strong presence. But I have never considered her as a top-notch actress . . . until recent years. But I must admit that her portrayal of Princess Diana of Thymerica aka Diana Prince aka Wonder Woman really knocked my socks off. I was impressed at how Gadot managed to portray Diana during two distinctive phases in her life - the naive, yet stubborn young woman who seemed convinced that she knows what is best for the world in this film; and the cynical and weary woman who is somewhat contemptuous of the world in "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE". And she did such a marvelous job in conveying this two phases in Diana's life . . . in two different films. Ms. Gadot has come a long way. I think Steve Trevor might one of my favorite roles portrayed by Chris Pine. Aside from the fact that he has great chemistry with Gadot, Pine gave a very entertaining portrayal of the American intelligence officer who first befriends Diana and later, falls in love with her. I found it fascinating to watch Pine convey Steve's intelligence, cunning and wry sense of humor. I also found it fascinating to watch how Pine conveyed Steve's struggles with Diana's naivety, stubborness and impulsive behavior. And he did so with a great deal of skill. "WONDER WOMAN" is the fourth film released through the D.C. Comics Extended Universe (DCEU). And like the other three, I found myself not only enjoying it very much, but also impressed by it. Aside from a few flaws, I thought director Patty Jenkins and screenwriter Allan Heinberg did a first-rate job in telling movie audiences the story of how Princess Diana of Thymerica became Wonder Woman . . . and how she also became that world weary woman from 2016's "BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE". And she did so with a first-rate movie crew and a wonderful cast led by Gal Gadot.

[betabites]

Good Parts Campaigns

Lately, I’ve been having trouble keeping a consistent campaign schedule. Folks are busy, I’m bad at setting time aside for game prep, etc etc etc. Now, I like running one-shots, but I also hunger for continuity like a good little nerd. So I had an idea.

Basically, you run a series of interconnected one-shots, sort of a highlight reel or ‘good parts” version, to steal from the Princess Bride. As an example - I want to run a game about the Elf-Human Wars. I identify four points that are high-action points:

1) Border skirmishes over forestry rights escalate uncontrollably. The PCs are on hand when survivors of an elven attack stagger back into town, and the garrison organizes to retaliate. The PCs are dragooned into serving as local guides. (Level 2)

2) The wars proceed apace, with a human task force driving deep into the forests to assault a well-hidden elven fortress. Depending on their actions in the previous session, the PCs could be on either side, or just caught in the middle. (Level 5)

3) Both sides grow increasingly desperate for a definitive edge in the wars. A mated pair of dragons - one red, one green - live in the area. A team from the other side is also in the area. The PCs have to neutralize the threat, either by diplomacy or brute force. (Level 8)

4) After a particularly brutal campaign, both sides have exhausted their immediate resources. They’ve called for a ceasefire, and the PCs, now distinguished veterans (or die-hard anti-war types), are part of the summit. But what about this incidents that seem conveniently timed to squelch peace? (Level 11)

Now, if I was running a campaign, I’d start off with a character building session, get a relationship maps drawn, figure out what the PCs’ goals were, and how to work that into the ongoing campaign, against the backdrop of the main plot.

In a good parts campaign, I have a few options - one, I can do my standard character-building session, but that’ll create a lot of wastage. Two, I can do my one-shot standard, and just hand the players character sheets with predetermined backstories and personality hooks, and let them make the character their own. This has worked well for me in the past, but not making the character yourself can create a bit of a disconnect.

My thought for a good parts campaign is to attempt to combine the two options. This is something I’ve been trying to do more with my pre-made one-shot characters - give the player at least one option on their character sheet. Previously, it’s been limited to gear - the Alien Tower Assault games had gear slots to fill, the drow assassin game had a choice between two themed gear packages. What I was thinking with this was to have a small deck of background and deeds cards, which could influence statistic and gear, in addition to informing the character’s personality.

To return to our Elf-Human Wars example, let’s look at the PCs:

The Archer - a human following a monastic bow tradition. Came to learn from the elves.

The Ranger - a half-elf who grew up in the area. Familiar with the local people and terrain.

The Witch - a half-elf hedge mage. On the fringes of both magical traditions.

The Kid - a young elf of a disgraced noble line. Fascinated by humans.

In our background deck, we might have the following cards. Each PC can choose one.

Deputy Sheriff - You have been deputized by the local human government, and are empowered to pursue criminals, make arrests, and the like. The job comes with a pension.

Elven Lore - You have a stockpile of secret elven lore. 3/session, gain a +4 on an Arcana or Nature check.

Healing Herbs - You know where the good stuff grows. Start with two potions of healing (10hp per), and the ability to make a 5hp healing potion in one hour with access to the outdoors.

History of Hate - You’ve got a score to settle, justified or not. Choose elves, humans or half-elves. You have a +2 to hit and damage against that race. With the DM, figure out the origin of your grudge.

Logger - Years of labour have given your mighty thews and a stupendous endurance. Increase your hit points by 5. On a critical, you deal +5 damage.

Outsider - You’re not from around here. New arrived, or just passing through, you’ve got fresh eyes on all this. 2/session, reroll any one die.

Windfall - There’s mithril in those hills! Striking a mithril node has made you rich. You have 500gp, a good residence, and a reputation as a lucky and prosperous person.

In subsequent games, we can add a deeds deck, from which the PCs can, say, draw three, and keep two. Some deeds:

Captain of the Troops - You have military rank and authority over local forces. Uses of those forces is subject to review by your commanding officers.

Expert Guerrilla - You’ve led or participated in some devastating raids and ambushes. 2/session, you can reroll any one die related to setting up or making a surprise attack.

Race-Traitor - +2 on all rolls on readied actions against foes of your own race. Foes who recognize you may target you preferentially, while those who do not recognize you may assume you are charmed or dominated.

Slayer of the Elven-Prince - frostbrand sabre, elven foes who know your reputation may challenge or avoid you, as per their morale/level/etc.

Spellbook of the Archdruid - Depending on your class, you either have access to more spells, or can permanently expend pages to cast spells. The spells primarily deal with plants and beasts.

The goal with deeds is to pull a Star Wars Episode IV regarding the Clone Wars, and suggest cool things without actually having to do the work. Imply that time has passed between the sessions, that the PCs have been keeping busy, but don’t feel obligated to fill in the blanks. It also means you can pull up NPCs that have a pre-existing connection to one of the PCs (be sure to pass the PC a card with what the NPCs did to/for them!).

I’m going to try to run one of these. I’ll get back to y’all on how it goes.

[captainignatiuspigheart]

Another week, another near-sun tan. This week I’ve seen a friend in person (what the actual fuck?) and found a new direction for exercise. That sounds pretty good, right? It was extremely disconcerting to meet up with a person in real life – I’ve begun to feel a little like all my friends who have long assured me that they’ve met their best friends purely online – but three hours sitting in the local park in a government-approved triangle was lovely. I’ve been seeing others largely as things to be avoided as they blunder towards me, breathing heavily with no sense of physical distance. Apart from the postman and chin tilts to neighbours it’s the most human experience I’ve had of late. I also attended a properly fun Zoom birthday party too (thanks Mr Ben!), so clearly we’re getting used to these things.

Heading out in the direction of Dovecote Lane park eventually sent me that way on my bike too. I’ve found exercise really hard for the last couple of months. I’ve always relied on cycling to work (and the swim at the halfway point) for a few miles in each direction to keep me fit without feeling like I was doing exercise, and it’s been pretty good for keeping me fit and able to eat and drink what I like. Well fuck you very much lockdown, that’s been properly trashed. Cycling in an aimless circle round university park or Beeston has been quite cack, and while jogging on the spot clearly burns calories it’s too tedious. So I’ve started cycling out to Attenborough Nature Reserve. It’s not especially far, but I’ve rarely explored round there, so I’m enjoying heading off down a road with no clue where it goes. It’s not made me late for work… yet. Even when I didn’t sleep at all on Thursday night I got up and went for an explore before work. Must be good!

In between late night walks around Beeston, drinking too much and watching TV, we’ve continued our slow build of the LEGO Brick Bank. It’s quite lovely.

I’ve also finally returned to LEGO Star Wars: The Complete Saga on our Wii. I’m up to 30-something per cent and enjoying it enormously. I have discovered though that our TV really can’t handle proper dark contrast on a sunny day, so I’m dying a lot by falling off edges I can’t see. There have been a few levels where I’ve had to stand right in front of the TV (in sport mode), and just hoped I’d find the exit to a room. Still, I’ve got Indy and General Grievous to hop around and smash stuff, so I’m happy.

Oh yeah, and another bootleg Mando arrived this week – with shiny beskar armour! Baby Yoda will have his Mister Shiny Helmet. Nicely, he comes with a screwdriver accessory which I assume is supposed to be the tracking fob. There is something in me compelling me to acquire more of these guys… I’ve also just got the Armourer, but pics of her will have to wait till I’ve crafted a custom cloak. What is wrong with me…?

  Watching: Hollywood

OK, so this should have been in last week’s post, but I’d forgotten that we’d watched it. That’s no indication of how good it is, everything belongs to the neverwhen at the moment. Plus we caned through it in three nights. This is a very strange show, offering us an alternate Hollywood of the 1950s in which the reviled minorities of the day can actually get a foothold in the industry. The show nails the golden era vibe, from movie producer boardrooms to the grim/delightful gas station gigolos. Over the first couple of episodes the show draws together the flailing careers of half a dozen interesting and purposely diverse young Hollywood hopefuls and then sets them together in a movie, despite, or perhaps because of, their race, gender and sexuality – all things that would have killed their careers in real Hollywood. It’s a very pleasing show; the acting is great, from the keen Jack Castello moonlighting as an escort from the aforementioned gas station (it and its owner, Ernie West, are an absolute highlight), aspiring black actor Camille, Archie the black and gay screenwriter who finds himself in a relationship with Rock Hudson (also a delight, and terrible actor in a fantastic screentest montage), and the awesome double act of Hollywood execs Dick Samuels and Ellen Kincaid, plus the quite distressing sleazy and manipulative agent Henry, played with soiled glee by Jim Parsons. 

It’s really good fun, and a moving story – each success feels wonderful, and Hollywood getting behind this gang is immensely satisfying, as is the acceptance and coming out of various characters at all levels of the business. For me, it remained jarring however, for just how unreal the situation is compared to Hollywood of the ’50s – it never escaped its own unlikeliness. Most certainly worth a watch.

Doing: We Are What We Overcome – Live Specials

We’re continuing to livestream every other Monday on Facebook, this time on trying to be aware of our mental health states, as well as that of others. I feel like we’re getting better at this live babbling thing. It feels less awkward now. We’ll be streaming to Facebook next on Monday 1 June, and you can watch em all right here.

Reading: The Lock Artist by Steve Hamilton

I’ve been through another couple of weeks of struggling to read properly, or at least as quickly as I enjoy. After discarding half a dozen books less than one chapter in, I finally prised open my book cupboard and pulled out the first pretty thing I could find. It was this! A pleasing and sharply written story of a boy traumatised into silence by an event in his childhood (which is only fully revealed toward the end, and works very nicely),  a lad who discovers he has two talents, drawing and lock picking…  We’re given two main story threads to skip between: his life as the lock artist led by a series of pagers offering jobs that he responds to, and how he got into all this trouble in the first place. They’re both peculiarly endearing, and that’s partly down to the charming internal monologue which carries through all of his interactions, since he does indeed remain mute throughout. He’s funny, and sweet, enough of an outsider through his selective mutism to have a cynical eye, and yet through his silence other people just trust him. Including proper big bad criminal types. It all ends rather badly, but we’re told that from the beginning. His lengthy infatuation and distance romance via comic book pages that he and his sort-of girlfriend exchange is genuinely delightful. This is fast-paced and fun, with a harsh shade of real darkness in both his past and future.

Reading: Transformers vol. 1: The World in Your Eyes

This was a hard read for me. I’m a huge fan of IDW’s previous Transformers continuity, which ran for an extraordinary thirteen years (a feat that I don’t think any other Western comic series, still less one based on a toy line, has achieved), taking us from the brutal finale of the Autobot-Decepticon war through to peace time, with wonderful characters, alternating humour with dark political wranglings. This new reboot has quite a lot to live up to… 

We’re taken millions of years back to Cybertron pre-war, introducing us to the sights through the eyes of newly forged Rubble, who’s being shown round by Bumblebee. Of course, it’s the worst possible time to show a new kid round, as the tensions between the establishment and Megatron’s “Ascenticons” are just now bleeding over into violence. It’s a lovely Cybertron, one we’ve only glimpsed before in flashbacks (or, memorably, time travel), and it’s a thriving world with vast architecture, travel and commerce. A successful world, which for what feels like the first time, has organic alien races living alongside the Transformers. It’s sad to think it’ll all be ripped apart soon…

It’s a very pretty comic, but is incredibly slow moving, even for the first chapter introducing a rebooted world. I suspect I’m finding it hard going from the well-established characters of the last continuity to seeing them all reshuffled and now filling different roles. It’s a cool era to set the story in though, and I think it’s got promise.

Building: LEGO Ninjago 70736 Attack of the Morro Dragon

I love Ninjago’s dragons and the insane aesthics the range has pursued down the years, giving us both traditionalish ninjas and dragons, but also Mad Max dieselpunk, enormous mechs, and more recently Tron-style arcade stuff. Bonkers. Oh, and also the stunning Ninjago City builds and the even wilder designs from The LEGO Ninjago Movie.

This set’s a little older, and like most of the Ninjago line I only pick them up when they’re quite severely discounted. Obviously it was the glow in the dark colours that appealed to me most of all, and those lovely wings. It’s a satisfying assembly, with a mini temple build, sky bikes (or something, I don’t really follow the stories), a couple of ninjas and three more of these evil ninjas with transparent legs and heads. Oh, and two ghosts. I’ve already put them somewhere but it’s the dragon I was interested in.

This is actually a smaller set than I thought it was, and comes together very quickly indeed. Despite being larger, and having more pieces than Master Wu’s dragon (a fantastic LEGO set), it’s a shorter build all round. The construction is like many of the others, a combination of big crunchy joints and the little Mixels ones for legs, wings and tail. I always enjoy the design of the dragon head itself, which gives the beastie a lot of character. The chin horn is oddly satisfying! All the glow in the dark pieces give the dragon its lovely roiling curves, but leave it sadly inflexible. It’s a dragon I’d love to coil around a building, but that’s gonna take a severe re-engineering of its body. It’s rather striking, and I imagine this one will remain constructed for quite a while, at least until I want to plunder its glowing parts.

And just because I liked it…

Watching: Never Have I Ever 

We watched this in a single night… I’m always thrilled to stumble across shows with under half-hour episode lengths at present. This is a pretty straightforward US highschool outsider tale, from the somewhat unusual perspective of an Indian-American family. That’s a pretty familiar trope in UK TV, and was very welcome in the even-more-familiar US high school setting. I’m not sure that there’s anything exceptional here, but it’s warmly told, with a number of fun and occasionally over the top performances, all solidly conforming to our expectations of a high school drama. I had some trouble figuring out how old the characters were supposed to be as it’s the usual casting combo of girls who must be in their twenties, but look about 14, and guys who are plainly in their mid-thirties. No wonder kids are so confused these days etc. As usual it’s the vibe between the BFFs that makes this fun to watch, particularly drama-queen Ramona Wong (wonderfully and worryingly odd in the lamentably cancelled Santa Clarita Diet). As filled with diversity and coming out stories as you could hope for, this is plenty of fun, if not especially memorable. Oh yeah, and it’s narrated by John McEnroe. Yes, the tennis player. 

Doing: MissImp’s Virtual Improv Drop-In – “Specific and True” with Terje Brevick

Continuing our mission to bring you improv from everywhere, this week’s episode features Norwegian improviser, Terje Brevick, with fun games and a good reminder of the value of details and honesty in improv.

Last Week – a really busy week! Featuring another mental health livestream, books: The Lock Artist & Transformers vol 1, TV: Hollywood & Never Have I Ever, LEGO: Morro dragon and MORE. Sleep now please. #books #tv #lego #stuff https://wp.me/pbprdx-8EZ Another week, another near-sun tan. This week I’ve seen a friend in person (what the actual fuck?) and found a new direction for exercise.