#I once saw a clip that you can accidentally die from her fight and she is horrified for a split second before the death screen

[golden-explosions-main]

“Hmm. Well, losing that fight with something a mere inche away from striking me. I think it was the closest I have ever been to death that I can remember. At the very least, it showed he had self-control, though I did not appreciate how narrow that margin of error was between life and death.”

Her sadness worsens when her eyes fixate on Frisk, “Oh child, how little better I was when I tested you. We were grown adults, but you were a mere child. If you had fallen into the wrong path of the fires…” Toriel chokes on her words and brings a hand to her mouth.

Flowey frowns uncomfortably at the return of his mother's guilt about that old fight, looking away and attempting to pretend that he doesn't have a mountain of Frisk-related guilt as well.

Frisk looks at Toriel with big sad eyes.

Frisk: "But I didn't, and I've forgiven you, and...as tough as you were, you and Azzie helped me be prepared and realize that not everyone was going to be friendly, I learned to keep my guard up,"

[junicai]

Relationship with NCT 127

➣ Taeil ☾ taria 

taeil is the Sole Protector of aria’s sanity 

taeil loves his maknaes so much, but he literally looks at her like she put the stars in the sky 

the Proud Dad smile :’)

when aria first debuted, czennies thought that she was the same age as jungwoo - because she acted older than her age - but with taeil she lets her inner kid come out 

highkey dependent on his approval for things in relation to singing

“was, was that ok?” “perfect, ari.”  “ (O_O;)  - (◕‿◕)♡”

she will fight mark and donghyuck for his attention, and she will win

for a while, the two had shared a dorm room before they were rearranged, and taeil let her slip into his bed when she was feeling homesick 

the offer is still open, but aria takes him up on it less and less

taeil is NOT sad about that. absolutely not.

he’s vehemently against any and all diets she tries - saying that if she gets any smaller he’s going to be able to pick her up with one hand

que him dragging her out for ice-cream after a promotion, paying no mind to her protests

aria helps taeil with translating a lot of things into english during lives and interviews - so much to the point where he’s picked up a bit of an irish accent and the others never fail to clown him for it 

taeil still has the small braided bracelet that aria gave to the members on their first anniversary of nct (he keeps it in the drawer beside his bed)

aria is his self-professed happy virus. he told czennies in a vlive once that her smile makes him feel really happy and he wants to protect it to the best of his ability

aria always fixes his micpack before they go onstage if its crooked, because she comes out after him in the lineup

they have monthly movie nights and they alternate who chooses the movie / show (taeil normally goes for mystery or drama themed ones, while aria enjoys making them both sob miserably)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria and taeil singing “I See the Light” from tangled for the NCT Music channel, and the tears that were shed by both moonis and realtai alike. sm really popped off with the staging and the lighting of the whole video - between the smiles that were on both of the singers faces and the whole ambiance created, its a cinematic masterpiece 

no one was surprised when it hit 2 million views in a day, and a lot of solo stans were born from that video

➣ Johnny ☾ johria

indisputable siblings 

there is not a single czennie who ships these two romantically, and that’s because they’re just too wholesome 

johnny is one of the few members that aria calls “oppa”, mainly because of the age gap and sm wanted her to appear respectful, but also because he thinks she looks so cute

very chill, excellent vibes

their vlives are either chaotic messes or the closest thing to therapy since ice cubes 

the blanket on aria’s bed? that was a gift from johnny - she had been complaining to mark about how cold she always was anemia tings

czennies are begging for sm to allow aria to open up a solo instagram account, becuse they see the amount of pictures johnny takes of her

in the park? he’s making her pose in front of the flowers. backstage before a show? the lighting, c’mon.

big big bear hugs - the height difference make nctzens want to die 

185cm vs 158cm? p l e a s e she’s so tiny in comparison  (/ =ω=)/

when she gives him backhugs it looks like a little kitten trying to wrestle with the family dog 

play fighting about vernacular:

“ITS CALLED A SIDEWALK” “S I D E W A L K, ITS A FOOTPATH YOU BUFFOON”

very vocal about her wellbeing, and has asked fans before to remind her to take better care of herself and get to sleep sooner

aria, starting a vlive at 3am: hi hi~

the comments: NO GO TO BED

johnny helped her a lot when it came to the style change in choreography, as aria was used to soft, flowing movements and not the powerful, sleek style that most nct dances have 

consistently forgets the fact that she is not the fourteen year old he first met, and is, in fact, an adult now. “you’re a child” “im 18″ “...no”

is the person to get angry on her behalf when interviewers belittle or ignore her 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

during a fansign, a fan asked aria who did she think was the most comforting when she was stressed (besides mark and donghyuck) and aria said johnny. “he’s so, constant? like nothing seems to knock him or throw him off, and that’s really comforting when i feel unsteady.”

johnny is now known as aria’s weighted blanket. 

that is all. 

➣ Taeyong ☾ ariyong

taeyong took one look at aria the first time she showed up for group practice and immediately adopted her (not literally, but he would if he could)

eomma meets highly protective older brother meets life coach type beat? 

so so soft for her its sickening 

says he doesn’t have favourites and will then spend an hour cooking for aria because she’s been in the studio for the whole day and he knows she hasn’t eaten yet

when aria was given a duet to do for the sm stages, she had to pick another member to do it with and her first choice was taeyong

she always has said that taeyong is one of the pillars keeping her upright and sane - without him she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to complete her training

because of all the schedules they share together, if aria isn’t rooming with mark then she’s definitely rooming with taeyong

whenever she does his makeup (more often than you’d think) she point blank refuses to cover his scar, even when he asks her to 

“please? i don’t like it.” *gasp* “how dare you.” 

sleepy aria! snuggling into taeyong’s shoulder when a schedule ran late! 

he gets uncomfy when the stylists put her in too revealing clothes, and has spoken to them on numerous occasions about dressing her in age-appropriate attire, no matter how “sexy” the concept might be 

he keeps little bags of sugar-dusted strawberry sweets in his bag incase she forgets to eat and feels faint after the last time (they used to be blueberry flavoured, but he heard donghyuck throwing out any and all “blueberry-contaminated” food one evening)

taeyong doesn’t tolerate hate towards aria, especially in person, so he always makes sure to sit down the line from her so that he can see when people skip intentionally her

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

taeyong had just been awarded the solo bedroom on the last night of the Mtopia series, and was staring off into the corner looking rather uncomfortable. aria, who was meant to be rooming with baekhyun looked over and saw his mouth curled downwards slightly. 

“baekhyun-oppa, is it ok if i room with taeyongie-oppa tonight? i ran out of my tablets, and he has some in his bag..” 

baekhyun looked down at her with a small smile and agreed, while on the video edited captions appeared with the words, “a cute maknae, asking to room with a younger member...”

➣ Yuta ☾ nakamiya

the president of realtai 

this man is absolutely, completely and irrevocably whipped for aria and she is not afraid to use that to her advantage

she beat him at arm wrestling because she pouted at him - she’s too powerful 

aria.exe stopped responding when yuta started to playfully flirt with her the first few times

*winks* “hu-wha-”

one of the most outwardly protective members of her, because he feels a sense of responsibility for the younger girl

he was one of the trainees she first befriended, aria’s korean not being good enough to hold a decent conversation, and yuta happy that there was another japanese trainee 

9 times out of 10, when the members are making their way through crowded areas like airports yuta is always behind or directly beside aria

during a fansign one of the fans asked why he did that, and he said that he needed to keep her in his line of sight or else he’d get anxious that she’s so small that she could get swallowed in the crowds 

yes aria hit him for the short comment 

yuta, 50% of the time: you’re not allowed date until you’re 35

yuta, the other 50% of the time: bro where’s your boyfriend

he complains that she isn’t as sweet as she was when she first joined, and that hyuck must have corrupted her (╬ Ò﹏Ó)

he let’s her braid his hair when its longer, them both sitting on a bed with yuta in front and aria kneeling behind him so she can reach 

he was the first person to take her home for the holidays, because ireland was too far to go back for a week over christmas 

“what do you mean you’ve never been to japan???” 

bitching about the other members in japanese? more likely than you’d think 

when aria turned legal in korea, yuta took her out drinking and made sure to post pictures of her with her flushed cheeks on his instagram story with the caption “aish, i told you to pace yourself....” “happy birthday riri”

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

you know that one clip of the sasaeng getting absolutely trashed by nct’s bodyguard and taeyong jumping 7 feet into the air? 

well taeyong wasn’t the only one startled; standing beside yuta, aria was closest to the wall of fans when the girl ran forward towards the members. aria jumped in fright, while yuta barely made a face (#unbothered). he simply wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her around to the other side, tucking her underneath his arm.

tsundere!yuta

➣ Doyoung ☾ dori

*ahem* WHIPPED *ahem*

doyoung adores aria so much 

was he unsure about a girl being added to a group of boys? yes but it was moreso concern about how he was going to make sure she wasn’t accidentally trampled

they bonded over a night in the recording studio when he found her sitting on the floor with music sheets scattered around her 

a whole mentor when it comes to singing 

aria always turns to him after singing - especially when it wasn’t planned, like at a fansign - to see if she did a good job

doyoung has yet to tell her that she hasn’t but sue her, she appreciates the validation

the original mother and Will Not Let Taeyong Forget It

doyoung, dragging aria out of the studio: now listen here young lady-

kitten and bunny friends RISE

no seriously sm released merch of a kitten and bunny plushie and it sold out in a day

when aria had the accident that led to her two month hiatus, doyoung was the one who rode in the ambulance with her after refusing to let go of her hand 

“i’m sorry sir, only family are allowed in at the moment-” “we are her family” *nurse looks around the room at the 14 other boys sitting anxiously*

he is a weak, weak man he will crumple on any decision if she smiles and slash or whines at him even slightly 

carries band-aids and support strapping in his practice bag because he knows that she gets really bad blisters when she hasn’t practiced while wearing her heels in a while, and he makes her wrap her ankles for the first few sessions incase she falls 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS.

NCT 127 Take a Friendship Test (Glamour - 2020)

“ahh, my first impression?” *laughs* “actually, we first met in a recording studio, at like. 3 o’clock in the morning? he stuck his head in the doorway and i was so tired that i thought i had died and an angel had come to save me...”  (*μ_μ) 

➣ Jaehyun ☾ jaria

you know how cheetahs in the zoo get emotionally support puppies?

this is the same type of vibe

very snuggly together? but only in specific scenarios, like when jaehyun is too tired to move after a movie night, he’ll just kinda engulf aria in a hug and make her sleep on the couch with him 

any back hug she gives him turns into a piggy back, its non-negotiable 

likes to randomly compliment her to see how red he can make her face go

did she have a crush on him when she first moved to korea? yes, but who didn’t

that faded really quickly though once she started into the group officially - now they are more like siblings

they don’t interact that much on camera? rip to the jaria shippers

but that doesn’t mean they aren’t close with each other its just that a lot of their interactions happen off-screen

naturally, jaehyun began to think of her as a younger sister over the years they performed together 

jaehyun will end anybody who lays a hand on aria 

a little bap bap if you will 

he asked her to take him ice-skating one day, and the entire time was spent with aria laughing her ass off as he ate the ice nearly fourteen times before getting the hang of it 

he takes her out for food when he notices that she’s been put back on a strict diet plan (aria thinks she’s good at hiding those pieces of paper, but she forgets that when she puts it on top of things, that other people are a lot taller than her and have a higher vantage point)

the prince and princess of nct? check 

head pats

he likes to pat her head and she’ll swat it away immediately until she gets tired and just lets him do his thing 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

jaehyun was wearing a flower crown placed carefully on his head as he bent down slightly to run his hands through the damp grass. a soft shutter sound went off, before he heard a hum coming from behind him. “jaehyun-ssi, could you take off the flowers? we can’t see your face clearly because of the shadow.”

jaehyun glanced backwards at aria’s retreating figure, being chased by donghyuck with hands still stained green from the grass she had shifted through to find the fallen flowers. she stopped and waved at him before resuming her run.

“i’d rather not, if that’s alright. i think it fits quite well with the theme.”

➣ Jungwoo ☾ ariwoo

oh my god someone please stop these two

once jungwoo taught aria about the power that aegyo holds for persuasion tactics against the older members of 127, they were unstoppable 

you should be afraid of them

100% have plotted someone’s murder before (and have succeeded, czennies always wondered where that last manager went after The Incident)

aggressively cute together - to the point where your teeth will rot 

jungwoo will intentionally flirt with aria just to fluster her because its “so easy to do”

not very physically affectionate, but jungwoo has no hesitation calling out “uri fighting haeyadwae!” to her when she looks like she needs a little encouragement 

jungwoo is the reason she wants to do a bachelors degree after finishing high school 

he used to help her with her maths assignments after school when she was struggling with managing her time 

they’re called the “aegyo duo” of the group, and there has yet to be an outright winner of the competitions to find the cutest member (its aria. jungwoo said it himself, its aria but we been knew)

they have an odd dynamic of looking like best friends the first second, evil masterminds the next and then siblings who want to murder each other but they make it work 

will and has flopped down on her while she was laying on the practice floor and then whined when she tried to get up 

he spilled the tea that aria gets super emotional and affectionate when she’s drunk 

cutest shit ever that made ariwoo shippers lose their absolute minds was the clip that got released in the behind the scenes filming of Kick It, where jungwoo was half asleep in the corner and aria just pops up out of nowhere to shove a folded jacket under his head and made sure to prop it in a way that he wouldn’t get a sore neck when he woke up

jungwoo is the reason she knows korean curse words (dont tell doyoung)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

aria wobbled in her heels slightly as she stepped out of the van, trying to hold a blanket up to protect her legs while she slid off the seat onto the ground. jungwoo extended an arm around her waist, gripping the blanket in his other hand and carefully holding her to make sure she didn’t trip on the cobbled stone.

➣ Mark ☾ mari

1/2 of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny 

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable 

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible 

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired 

mari being confused in foreigner: ??? 

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?” 

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi 

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile(tm)

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it” 

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself 

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc. 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합... 結合..... le chéile.... le... le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”

and thus, a new confusion meme was born

➣ Haechan ☾ arichan

the other half of the best friend crew

absolute heathens to be around when they are together 

donghyuck is the person aria is closest to, and someone she’d call her best friend (only when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her)

she calls him “the demon child i can’t get rid of” but will, and has definitely pouted when he ignored her for too long 

generally aria is a pretty soft spoken person, but not with hyuck around - he brings out all her chaos energy (please pray for the patience of dotae)

the pair have a little tradition of kissing the back of each others’ hands before going on stage for good luck. they can’t even remember how it started, but now its an unnegotiable pre-show ritual

he’s so clingy with her absolutely everywhere its painfully adorable  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

interviews? hyuck has a hand on her knee, or if she’s wearing a skirt he’s tucked his hand in between their chairs so she can hold it discreetly. in the dorms? full body tackle onto the couch, where he proceeds to lay on top of her completely. 

because of hyuck’s nickname being the sun, and aria always being around him, czennies gave her the nickname “moon” to go with him

fans thought that aria was older than hyuck for a good year and a half before she released her birthday on a vlive, because she’s normally the one tasked with reigning his chaotic energy in during promotions (that is, if she hasn’t already joined him)

but off-camera, aria is absolutely hyuck’s baby there is no disputing that. aria’s sad?he’s there with ice-cream and a blanket and a baseball bat.

the winnie the pooh character that is on aria’s bed was a gift from hyuck for her 17th birthday, after she made him watch seven episodes of the show on netflix with her one night 

yes he complained, but he slapped her hand away when she went to change it to something else 

a twitter thread of a czennie comparing their horoscopes together went viral when people realized that it was quite plausible that the pair were each others (platonic) soulmates 

after an incident involving blueberries, donghyuck took it upon himself to check the ingredients of every. single. food item in their dorm to make sure it was ok for her to eat 

hyuck clowns her for her irish accent, and aria curses him out in japanese

tldr: they cute or whatever 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

donghyuck was doing a vlive in his bedroom, sitting and talking to czennies when aria opened the door to his room quietly. she didn’t say anything, just waved slightly with almost closed eyes before she crawled underneath his covers and tucked her plushie underneath her chin. hyuck didn’t even blink at it - so it must have been a regular occurrence.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“illusion”

Chapter 14

aaaaaa what?! ANOTHER Illusion chapter within 3 months? It's more likely than you think! WARNING: violence!!! MC gets the shit beat out of her!!! Haha! Trauma!

AO3 link 

WARNING: While this chapter is not spicy, this IS a work with spicy scenes. An sfw version has been in the works and will be posted soon.

This can't be real... it can't be...

My heart runs circles around my chest, violently beating as if it's trying to escape. And I don't blame it; Wren, Giles, and I are suddenly face to face with one of the notorious Shining Generals of the Diamond Kingdom. His unexpected presence throws a wrench into our plan, and now I'm not sure that we'll be able to escape this place with the civilians- at least not alive. Already, Giles is on his knees, struggling to stay conscious in the aftermath of the "Slime mold" attack. And now, we're next.

"This is your last warning-" A gross, green material starts to emanate from the general's grimoire. "Leave now, and I won't follow."

I exchange one last frightened glance with Wren. His confidence is completely gone, but the spark in his eye tells me that he isn't done yet. 

We can't win... can we?

Wren's eyes narrow.

Am I going to give up? Just like that?

No...

Slowly, I give him a nod before looking back at the general.

He hasn't seen my magic yet. I can still surprise him. 

"...we'll fight. Like magic knights are meant to!"

With that yell, Wren suddenly jumps ahead of me towards the attacker. "Feather Magic: Starling Swarm!" A huge flock of inky black feathers come out of nowhere, swirling around in the air around Wren before coursing towards his enemy like a vicious river. 

"Fools... Slime Magic: Amebic Plague." The mold queuing up in his hands bursts forth in three long tentacles, striking the swarm of feathers. Violent fluttering and squelching fills the air as the two magics struggle for dominance, until the mold overcomes and dissolves away Wren's entire fleet. "See, this is useless!" the man cackles softly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Now... you're next!"

The mold changes directions, this time streaming towards Wren.

However, it's too late.

In the moments that Wren was distracting him, I looked at the general's face. At his body. At his eyes.

His hands... they're soft. He hasn't done much physical training for this position; he doesn't need to. But even outside of work, he hasn't done much that was taxing. He doesn't play... not outside, at least.

His body... he's heavy. But it's not new weight. He carries it well, but his face is thin. He wasn't always this weight, but he's comfortable in it now. He gained it years ago- maybe 3 or 4 years ago. Why?

His eyes...

The flash I once thought was cruel is now something else... it's playful. And for a brief moment, when his gaze met mine, I saw something I didn't expect.

Sadness. Regret.

Please forgive me. You look like her.

Before the mold can reach Wren, I raise my grimoire, a spell forming in the palm of my hand.

You have a daughter... 3 or 4 years old. She prefers to play inside. She's sheltered. You gained weight when your wife did. Empathy weight, I think it's called...

And she looks a little like me. You love her more than anything in this world.

Illusion Magic: Memory Mirage.

Wren grits his teeth and braces for impact. I fire off my spell, a single word beaming itself right into the General's mind.

"DADDY!"

A girl's voice, high pitched and scared, screams through his mind. In that instant, I see all color drain from his face, turning him into a statue for just a couple crucial moments.

Bingo.

"FEATHER MAGIC: HARPY'S FURY!"

The general snaps out of it, but a moment too late. He and his men are bombarded with a thousand knife-sharp feathers, slicing through their flesh and clothes. With a scream, he stumbles and falls backwards. Taking a deep breath, I whirl around to see Giles already on his feet, sprinting towards the back wall.

"Horn Magic: Ibex Impact."

Two spiraling horns burst out of his head and drill right through the wall. The bricks crumble, letting sunlight stream in, and a large enough hole for people to run through is created. "Go! Everyone, run towards the outer wall!" I yell, grabbing Wren's hand to help him run as well. With a blur of movement, the civilians jump to their feet, desperate to escape, and thunder off in a big crowd. Wren sends back a few more feathers to keep the fallen enemies down just a little longer, before turning and following me out.

Giles stays at the front of the group to lead them while Wren and I bring up the rear. My heart is still pounding from that encounter, but I'm starting to relax. "That was close... we have to get out of here, then go tell the others that there's another General here!"

"Agreed!" Wren is already out of breath. "I can't believed Julius missed this guy..."

I nod, my mind suddenly filling with thoughts of Julius. Were he and the captain alright? Did they win their fight? I can still hear noises around the city, but I don't know where the sources are. I gulp nervously, parting my lips to keep breathing as I run. It doesn't matter... I'll see him again soon. For now, we have to get out of here, then I can brag to Julius about also beating a general-

"AHHH!" 

Wren suddenly stumbles forward before falling flat on his face. I freeze in place as I spot the same growing spot of green mold that Giles had earlier. "Wren!" I quickly kneel down and start helping him to his feet. "You're hurt... keep going-"

"Eh- no!" Wren grits his teeth through the pain, looking behind us as the rest of the crowd continues to run away. Sure enough, none other than the bloodied, battered General is behind us, staggering forward with pure anger in his eyes. My stomach turns, and all at once I realize just how much danger we're in. "I'll stay... I'll fight him-"

"Wren, you're in no state to fight!" I tell him frantically. We're running out of time, and fast, with each step the general takes towards us. "Go, help the others escape, I can hold him off."

"NO..." Wren shakes his head again, one hand coming up to grab my wrist, trying to pry my hands off him. "I- I need to..." His gaze raises to mine, strained with agony yet so... at peace.

"I need... to pay for my sin."

For a brief moment, the street disappears. The crowd disappears. The general disappears. We're alone, just Wren and I, as I stare into his eyes, confused and scared.

... sins?

Wren... what sins have you committed?

I wrench my hand from his fingers.

Whatever they are... they aren't enough to condemn you.

"I don't care what sins you've committed; I'm your comrade, I'm not letting you die!"

I raise my voice, and Wren's eyes widen. I flash him a grin, a confident look that he hasn't seen on my face in months.

"Go... I'll fight this guy, and win, I promise!"

Finally, Wren nods. With difficulty, he steps away, his eyes remaining on mine until he has to turn and limp (very quickly) off down the street. With a sigh, I look back at my enemy. 

I... I can't win.

I clench my fists, ice in my veins.

This fight could be my last... all I can do is stay alive until help arrives.

The general is alone, but badly injured from Wren's attack. However, I can see patches of his mold covering various spots on his body, undoubtedly stopping the bleeding from getting too bad. That's why he's alone... he's the only one in enough shape to walk out here. I grit my teeth, pulling out my grimoire once again. In that case, maybe beating him won't be so hard.

I see his mold tentacles rise up above him once again, and my time comes. I flip my hand, the spell in my book starting to glow.

Illusion Magic: Kaleidoscope.

The only thing I can make several illusions of at a time is myself, because my body is the one thing I know better than anything. The general stops in his tracks as his eyesight blurs, and once it clears, there are ten copies of myself standing ahead of him, all identical in every way. "I see..." he breathes, his mouth twitching into a grin despite the rage still burning in his gaze. "You make illusions, don't you? But..." His eyes narrow, and his grin disappears. "How... how did you know about her?"

I gulp, taking a step back. My eyes flicker up to the tentacles above him before going back to his face. "L-Lucky guess?"

He doesn't speak again, just raises his hand to point at my copies. The tentacles strike, like three perfectly coordinated snakes, and immediately rip through three of my copies, one of which is right next to my real body. Shit! My eyes widen. I almost flinch without thinking, but an unconscious impulse keeps me from doing it for just a moment. If I just flinch instinctively, the other copies will do the same, and he'll be able to see which one is me from the direction- So- Randomly-

The seven remaining copies, including myself, flinch in random directions, one right, two left, then another two right, and then two left. Without another moment to spare, I take off running, zig zagging down a side street, being careful not to accidentally clip into one of my illusions. It's a difficult task, since I can't actually see any of them, but I know where they are. With a grunt, we turn around to face our pursuer, and I raise my hands again. Seven voices ring out at once, all casting the same spell.

"Illusion Magic: Sudden Death!"

Seven balls of energy jump from our hands, converging in the middle before shooting into the general's chest. His mouth opens in surprise, his mind forcing himself to perceive the impact. That's it! I think as he stumbles back, his eyes widening. Now... look down... look down...

His gaze drifts down, to the ground, then up his legs, and then, to the gaping wound in his stomach. It's a standard one, a slice that leaves your entrails exposed, burnt to a crisp, but still oozing blood and juice. I watch as the blood drains from his face, his chest heaving as he draws in breath after ragged breath. His hand clutches at the imaginary mound, clutching at nothing, but I know that he's watching his life wane away. Finally, he looks back at where I stand, now just a single person. Any pity or sadness that he once looked at me with is gone. All there is is anger.

"Y-You..."

Finally, his knees give out from the shock, and he crumbles into a heap on the ground.

I exhale at last, my heart still pounding. I stand there for a whole minute, watching him twitch pathetically where he collapsed. That's it... I did it. Of course, I know I would be dead meat if Wren didn't weaken him first, but what's done is done. Wren... Giles... I wonder if they got out alright. Remembering the mission, I finally move, walking towards the still man who is now the least of my worries. I'm sure they made it... and then the captain, Alice, Cecelia... and Julius-

My mind is far away as I walk past the body. I don't notice the stray strand of mold until it wraps itself around my ankle, as tight and severe as fishing line.

SHIT-

I'm flung into the air, mold immediately shooting over my skin and up my body. I don't even have time to scream; the world revolves around me, upside down, and then I hit the brick wall as hard as humanly possible. With a spluttering gasp, gravity takes hold again and I thud to the ground. My entire body is being stabbed and eaten away by mold, tingling and stinging like a thousand jellyfish. Something lands on my shoulder and kicks me onto my back, and I finally open my eyes to see the shining general smirking down at me. "H-H-"

"How?" He lets out a snort. "Please... once I know the trick, none of your magic works on me. A lesser man would have fallen for it, but not me..." He laughs again, mirthlessly, and presses his foot down harder. More mold appears under his shoe, and I can't even scream.

AH.... AHHH... Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and my vision goes white. Stop it... please... someone...

"Your magic relies on dirty lies... you look at people and use the things they love and the things they fear against them."

His foot keeps pressing down, crushing me like a bug.

"You... you didn't wound my body. But my pride has been irreparably damaged." His eyes darken. "You will pay dearly."

Everything blurs for a moment, and hands grab me. No, not hands- the mold tentacles, burning into my skin, grab me and slam me against the wall again. I hear other voices, angry voices. Angry eyes stare up at me, the same rage burning within them as the general's.

"Is this the one who took you down?"

"She did not take me down... but she hurt my pride." 

I crack open an eye to see that the general is no longer alone- his five men are here now, too, varying degrees of annoyance and anger on their faces. But the general is finally smiling again, that playful, dangerous smile that I saw before.

My hands shake. My fingers uselessly pry at the mold around my neck. I can't breathe.

"Go ahead... make her life a living hell."

There are grins on all their faces again.

I- I can't move-

Hands reach towards me.

M-Move... please...

I open my mouth to scream, but choke on my own blood.

Someone grabs my neck. They hit me over and over again.

Stop... stop...

Julius reaches towards my neck with his healing hands. 

Stop... Get...

My grimoire begins to glow where it fell to the ground.

Get away-

I cough once, and something warm dribbles down my chin. I can breathe- I can breathe-

I open my eyes again. All of the men have the same face.

Lawrence.

DON'T TOUCH ME

...

...

...

Illusion Magic: Fear Landscape.

The mold retracts, and I slide to the ground and immediately slump over forwards. My body is broken, and there's blood all over me. The mold ate away at everything it could, and even now it lingers inside me. I take a few shallow breaths. My ears are ringing, both with the impact of the blows and... screaming? yes... someone's screaming and crying- no- multiple people are. I blink a few times, vaguely aware of bodies writhing around in the street. But I don't feel scared... no.

Everything is so warm. The pain slowly fades into a memory. 

A hand strokes over my hair tenderly.

"It'll be okay... I'll protect you. I promise."

Promise?

 ...

...

...

 Slowly, the pain comes back, dull and intense. I grunt as I slowly lift my head, finally sitting up all the way. One of my arms is wrapped around my middle to stop the bleeding there. "Ugh... what happened?" Was I saved? Did I cast a spell? Or did they just leave me here-

I open my eyes and finally see the scene ahead of me.

The men are still there. But they've all fallen, their bodies contorted and twisted. My breath hitches in my throat as I see their expressions.

Each one of them is filled with fear. Not any particular kind of fear- just fear, in it's purest form.

W-What... what did I do?

My hands shake as I crawl forward, one of my legs dragging behind me. One of the bodies is face up, and I recognize him as the General.

They... they're just passed out. I just shocked them into collapsing, right?

I reach out. The city is so quiet.

Please... don't...

My hand slides under his jaw, pressing down for a moment. Then another. Then another.

The city is silent.

I slowly retract my hand, to rest on his chest. No pulse of life can be found.

No... no...

My hand forms a fist, balling up his shirt.

No... I... I didn't... I couldn't...

I've seen death. I've seen blood. I've seen war. But... never at my own hand.

Something within me snaps, and I fall forward into his chest. I let go of my wound and grab his arm, as a sob racks my entire body.

"No... no... I..."

Tears stain his shirt. 

"I'm sorry.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

There are footsteps. Voices.

Sorry... sorry... sorry...

"I-I didn't mean to... I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

My voice raises in volume as the footsteps come closer. I don't hear them, just the sound of my voice and the silence of the heartbeat.

"Please... forgive me... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to! I- I-"

It wasn't your fault.

There's a heartbeat now. I'm numb, but warmth surrounds me. 

"I-I'm sorry..."

I know, I know.

That warm hand is on my head again, stroking my hair and coaxing me into a deep sleep.

Rest... you were so brave.

"...thank you. I'm...

I'm sorry..."

ooooh ouch! Well, next time, we'll see MC "recover" from her fight, but we find out that life is just as cruel to other people as well.

[iwouldratherprocrastinate]

Troy x Reader/Borderlands 3 Rewrite Pt 2

After being told that we had to find the Atlas operative, we digistructed my favorite vehicle. It was my outrunner that was pastel with skags painted on it. It only seated two however so we all had to take multiple vehicles. Luckily, FL4K was in mine, he drove while I got in the gunner seat. Our skags got into the back compartment. Driving down the streets in Promethea was exhilarating, the wind blowing through my hair as we sped to the location. All was well until I heard familiar voices coming through our Echos.

"So what do you think of our new corporate sponsors? So far, selling out is awesome!" I groaned hearing Tyreen's voice followed by Troy's.

"We gave Maliwan an unlimited supply of screaming war-meat, a.k.a. our followers. And they gave us a bunch of crazy high-tech guns." I rolled my eyes, mumbling, "Maliwan is garbage anyway.. Waste of lives.." I heard a chuckle come from Troy as if they could hear me and Tyreen cheerfully kept going. "And once they take the planet, they get Atlas, and we get the Vault. So, you're left playing with... whatever you got down there! Just keep doin' you! Ha!"

I growled, 'They are awful..' Lorelai informed us that the operative is aiming at a weapons depot. I fist pumped at the thought of new weapons, Atlas and Jakobs are my absolute favorite. The squad all jumped out of the car when we hit a road block and starting strategizing on how we are gonna take out the enemies in our way. I climbed onto one of the platform stairs while Monty charged off after the Maliwan men. Looking down my sights, I tried my best to cover Amara and Moze mostly as they are our front line. I hummed one of Tina's old songs about bombs as we slowly advanced and made our way through.

Lorelai came through on the comms just as I finished the last guy in our space and we started moving forward, "That weapons depot's a juicy target, but they've got an inpenetrable security force-field surrounding it. If you somehow crack it open, you're gonna find some quality firepower in there." I charged forward to find a new spot to snipe having a rush of energy at the thought of new guns. "Let's go guys! Guns aren't gonna loot themselves!" They all chuckled at my antics and rushed forward to cover me.

After all the men were taken out, we all jogged to the end and my face broke into a grin when I saw who it was. "Zer0!" After he super badass took out those security bots, I ran and tackle hugged him. "I missed you!" He chuckled as much as a robot ninja can and turned to the others after releasing me. "Hello, Vault Hunters. / Let's ruin Maliwan's day. / Our mission begins." I tried to act cool on the outside, meanwhile I was geeking on the inside at the idea of getting to fight along side Zer0.

He led us to a plaza and the fight immediately began. Zer0 kept me close to him, he probably still saw me as the young girl who followed him and Roland around. Zer0 and Maya were my favorites of the new Vault Hunters, Maya usually could only see me in private due to her trying to help me with my powers so the one I was always seen following around Sanctuary was Zer0. I resorted to mostly using my melee as I hadn't thought to bring anything besides my sniper with me. I was too excited about having room for new weapons. Soon enough all the bots and unforseen human enemies had been defeated and we made our way into the depot. After searching through all the weapons, to my dissapointment there were no pistols, shotguns, or snipers better than what I already had at home. 'Bummer..' I did find the sword powerup that Zer0 needed.

I ran it over to him excitedly and he seemed pleased, however he shook his head. "Let me trade for it. / Woudln't be fair. / To just take it." He held out a sniper, it didn't look like it was made by Maliwan. When I exchanged the powerup for it and began examining it, it was made by Jakobs and it was wayyy better than my current one. I thought for a moment and realized there was no way he found it here, "Where did you get this from Zer0?" He simply did a smile emoji on his head and started attaching the powerup to his sword. "Look at this. / Monomolecular edge. / Translation? Cool sword." I giggled at his antics and moved to equip my new sniper and attach the other one to the back of my hips.

My good mood soon got spoiled however when a spoiled twat came up on a nearby screen. I groaned and shook my head, 'Of course, I can't go more than an hour without hearing from idiots..' His smug voice started talking, "Hey, it's Rhys' best friend Zer0, stealing my tech. What's wrong? Atlas not "cutting it" anymore? My offer still stands. It's not too late to come work for Maliwan." He turned his gaze towards the team, "And YOU must be the Vault Hunters Tyreen warned me about. You know what, I don't even have time for you. I'll let my superior forces do the talking." His gaze turned to me now, "You however, I was told nothing about. Don't get in my way unless you want the same fate as your friends." I glared as the screen went black, "Dick.." Zane started laughing, "I would love to see you drunk. Everything would piss you off."

Zer0 interupted "That's Katagawa. / Head of Maliwan Mergers. / And Acquisitions." He made a goofy emoji face, "That guy is a douche. / And he's way obsessed with Rhys. / It's kind of creepy." He walked over to the shield blocking us in and made a happy emoji face, "With this new upgrade. / I can cut Maliwan shields. / Stand back and watch this."

I stood back and watched in awe as the shield slowly got annhialated by the sword. Zer0 seemed excited by this as I prepped the Catch-A-Ride to get my vehicle ready. "Walls cannot hold us. / Now to take down Gigamind. / That is our mission." Amara got hyped and rushed up to Zer0, "Is this Gigamind something I can punch?" Zer0 nodded, "Maliwan AI. / All their secrets in one place. / A juicy target."

Amara seemed confused, "So we break Gigamind into tiny bits and then sift through them for info?" A gleeful emoji popped up, "Precisely the plan. / Meet at Halcyon Spaceport. / Now the hunt is on." He dissapeared in true Zer0 fashion as we all loaded up into our vehicles again, this time instead of being greeted by the lovely sound of Calypso twins, my Echo started broadcasting Katagawa. I facepalmed my head into the gun in front of me resulting in it firing and accidentally hitting a security bot.

"This takeover won't be hostile for long. Atlas and Maliwan, we're hashing things out the corporate way. Rhys doesn't get it yet, but when this is over we'll all be one titanic happy family. You're small stuff, Vault Hunter. Not worth my time. Mess with my Gigamind, though, and that'll change. You keep playing under the feet of giants, you're gonna get stepped on." I grumble to myself and take my annoyance out on some random bots, 'I'll be the one doing the stepping. Mess with my friends..' We arrived at the location Zer0 marked on our maps, when a tv nearby suddenly started playing stupid music. I went closer to inspect it and saw a really slapstick comedy thing of Lilith getting her powers taken. Being the easy to upset person that I am, I prepped my brass knuckles and punched the screen out of the tv.

As soon as it went out, I heard a familiar voice in ym Echo, but no one elses. "Now that wasn't very nice, my brother worked hard on that clip." A feminine laugh came through, I growled in response, "How did you get my personal Echo code??" She laughed again, "You really think we don't know all of your codes? We always know where you are Super Fan." My only response was shocked silence. "Hey? Super Fan? Did you die of shock? That would save me some trouble, would upset Troy though." I raised a brow, "Why? He seemed to enjoy kicking the shit out of my mom." Everyone was getting supisicious of who I was talking to, "Listen Super Fan, I'm gonna need you to stop getting into the fights. Seriously. If you die, it would mean annoying issues for me." I scoffed and growled out, "I will stop fighting when you get the shit kicked out of you like Lilith had." After that I try to ignore her and act like I don't hear an annoying Calypso in my ear. Soon enough, we get near Gigamind and I hear the other one, 'Fucking great.'

Trying to tune them out, I hum and focus on sniping the men dropping in to defend it. Nailing one in the head, I pump my fist, "Fuck yeah. Best gun ever." I hear two chuckles in my ear and groan, "Why are you still in my Echo? Leave. I am ignoring you." Tyreen laughs loud, "Good job ignoring us, now you gotta start over." I hear Troy chuckle, they are basically children. "Why are you even fighting? They seem like they can handle this. You are just a girl." My blue eyes roll, "Even if I was just a girl, I would still fight. They are family now. You always fight for family." Tyreen groans at that, "Of course you are one of those types. Family is most important." She whined the last part.

I kept sniping and ignoring them, I assume Tyreen got bored and left the call as when we finished the fight I only heard one voice. It was humming and working on something metal if I am hearing properly. Maybe his arm, we all made it back to Sanctuary and I went into my room without talking to anyone while he still hummed and sang to himself. I hated myself, but I was mesmirized by it. I took my sweater off once I had my door locked. My yellow Siren tattoos glowed in the dim light, they extended across both my arms and slightly on my back and chest. I relaxed on my bed reading a book about Sirens that Maya had given me a while back. Pulling my stuffed bunny closer, I hummed along to the song that Troy was singing without thinking.

I read my book until I realized the singing had stopped, "How's it going angel? You like my singing?" I blushed and shook my head, "Nope. Not at all. I just know that song.." He smirked and laughed, it almost didn't sound smug or fake like usual. I kinda liked it, "I feel like you did like it, I heard you humming earlier, it was cute." I blushed harder and my tattoos glowed even brighter as I closed my book and glared at nothing in particular, "You have no right to call me cute. You kicked the shit out of my adopted mother." Hearing that made his go silent and still, after a few moments of silence he spoke up. "I'm sorry for that. Ty just gets carried away and we have an image to uphold to reahc our goals. I will leave you alone now though. Goodnight angel." I froze in shock, 'Did Troy Calypso just apologize to me??'

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 5

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Chapter Index here. 

***** 

Allison Argent is like a ray of sunshine, and Stiles is… well, Stiles is like a vampire, he guesses. He’s deathly allergic to rays of sunshine. He doesn’t feel happiness whenever Allison visits, even though he wants to, because it’s Allison. She’s sweet and funny and genuinely seems to care about Stiles, even though she hardly knows him, but all Stiles feels when she talks is a weird sense of envious disdain. She talks about school, and how she worries that she’s not fitting in, and how she misses her old friends in Phoenix, and Stiles is above all that, isn’t he? It’s petty teenage bullshit, because Allison doesn’t even know there’s a war going on—Allison doesn’t know anything about werewolves, or the multitude of other nightmarish creatures that actually stalk the world—and the stuff she cares about is childish and irrelevant, and Stiles wants to laugh at her for it, except he can’t, because whenever he tries to he feels a burn of pure jealousy in the pit of his stomach because she’s so normal. And he knows he shouldn’t want the things that she does, he knows he has a higher purpose, a birthright, but he remembers back when he thought he was just a normal kid too, and… and he thinks he was happy back then.

It’s hard to remember.

It’s harder still to evaluate his memories, because every single one of them has been tainted by his father’s betrayal. Every single one has been poisoned by the shame and the anger and the hatred Stiles feels now.

There was a time when Stiles thinks he remembers loving his father, but what the hell did he know back then? Nothing. He was just a dumb fucking kid.

“Stiles?” Allison asks, her forehead creasing. “Are you okay?”

Stiles jolts slightly. “Sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?”

Allison smiles and elbows him. “I’m saying that there’s this boy and I think he likes me!”

“Of course he likes you,” Stiles says. “Who wouldn’t?”

They’re sitting on Stiles’s bedroom floor with their books and schoolwork spread out around them. Stiles’s curriculum doesn’t quite mesh with Allison’s, but it’s still fun to have someone to do homework with. Well, Stiles guesses everything he does is technically homework since he’s homeschooled, but it still feels nice. It feels almost normal.

That’s the trap, probably.

There’s a locked box under Stiles’s bed with his Kel-Tec PMR-30 and four clips of wolfsbane bullets in it. Stiles is still getting used to the Kel-Tec, but he likes the European-style magazine release.

Allison dropped a pencil a little while ago, and it rolled under the bed. She touched the box getting the pencil back, and she doesn’t know. They’re sitting here talking about schoolwork and a boy she likes, and she doesn’t know Stiles is a hunter. She doesn’t know he belongs to a very different world than hers. There’s something absurd about it, something jarring. It’s unsettling. Stiles has spent the last six years around hunters. He’s forgotten how to pretend to be a regular person.

Allison laughs, the colour rising in her cheeks. “That’s so sweet!”

“Totally true though,” Stiles says. “You’re smart, and pretty, and just about the nicest girl I know!”

She raises her eyebrows appraisingly. “Am I the only girl you know right now?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Her expression softens into something uncomfortably close to pity. “I wish you could come to school with me.”

Stiles blinks down at one of his textbooks for a moment. “Yeah, Me too.” He doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not today. He forces a smile. “Anyway, tell me about this guy again. Is he cute?”

“Adorable,” Allison says. “He almost stabbed me with a pen the first time he met me.”

“That doesn’t sound very adorable.”

“It was an accident!” She laughs again. “I don’t even know how he knew I needed one, and then he shoved one at me so fast he almost fell over his feet. Maybe he tries to impress all the new girls with pens.”

“Ah,” Stiles says. “The mating rituals of the awkward teenage boy.”

“Do you have some experience with them?” Allison asks.

Stiles feels it again: that jarring, dizzying sensation. He shouldn’t have asked if the guy was cute, because is Allison… is she asking if…

Stiles flinches before he can stop himself.  

“You seem like the sort of guy who’d accidentally stab a girl with a pen,” Allison says hurriedly, the rush in her words like she realised what she was implying, and backed the hell away again because she saw the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Stiles says with a weak laugh. “That sounds like me.”

Allison hesitates. “His name’s Scott,” she says at last, and Stiles feels a swelling of affection for her for not pushing. “He has floppy hair, and his jaw is a little crooked, and he has the most beautiful smile!”

“He sounds nice,” Stiles says.

Allison ignores the rasp in his voice. “He’s invited me to a party on Friday night.” Her eyes widen. “You should come!”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think—”

“No, it’s perfect!” Allison exclaims. “Because Mom and Dad are being all weird about boys, as per usual, but if I say that you’re going with me, they can’t say no!”

Stiles bets they can. He also bets that Chris and Victoria’s reluctance to let Allison out of the house after dark has less to do with boys and more to do with the fact that there’s a werewolf pack in this town.

“I’m supposed to be concentrating on my schoolwork,” Stiles says.

“Stiles!” Allison rolls his eyes. “It’s one night! Ask Grandpa if you can come with me, please!”  

God. Put him in a dark forest with an entire pack of werewolves and he knows exactly what to do. But navigate the social quicksand of a high school party? Stiles has no fucking idea how to do that.

Not that it matters, of course.

Gerard won’t approve, so it’s never going to happen.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll ask.”

***

There was this boy, once.

Just a boy on the street in Budapest.

It had been winter, and everything was bleak and cold and grey, and this boy had been wearing a red coat, a flash of colour. A red coat, and a blue woollen hat, and he’d laughed, and Stiles had looked over at him—

He’s beautiful.

—and Gerard had followed the direction of his stare, his eyebrows tugging together in a scowl, and Stiles had torn his gaze away from the boy.

Gerard’s stare had settled on Stiles like he was seeing him for the first time all over again, except that this time he wasn’t pleased with what he saw.  

Stiles never looked at another boy on the street again.

***

Stiles lands on the mat, and all his breath is knocked out of him. He rolls onto his side and gets his knees under him. He tastes blood, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

Shit.

Gerard might be old, but he still has moves.  

Not that Stiles has ever been stupid enough to underestimate him.  

“Get up,” Gerard says, a growl in his voice. “If I was a werewolf, you’d already be dead.”

Stiles climbs to his feet. He sucks in a breath and rolls his shoulders. He dodges Gerard’s next punch, but a jab to his ribs has him twisting the wrong way, and Gerard punches him hard on the jaw.

Everything flares white with pain.

Stiles gets his gloves up in front of his face to protect himself. His vision is swimming, and he’s clumsy on his feet now. Still, he knows Gerard is right. A werewolf isn’t going to give him a chance to walk it off, is it? It’s fight or die in a hunter’s world, and if Stiles can’t handle a few punches from Gerard, how is he going to survive the real thing?

This time he takes a punch to the gut.

And a voice in the back of his head asks him: But if he keeps punching the shit out of you like this, how will you be in any fit state to go on a hunt at all?

Stiles ignores it, and sways on his feet for a moment, trying to find his balance.

A blow to the temple sends him down onto the mat again.

“Useless,” Gerard mutters. “Get up, Stiles!”

Stiles grunts, and tries to roll over. Flops onto his back again instead, and blinks up at the lights in the ceiling. There are more of them then there should be. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try to clear his vision.

“Useless,” Gerard says again.

Stiles opens his eyes and squints up at Gerard.

Gerard is unlacing his boxing gloves. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight? You’ve got worse form than a goddamn child.”

Stiles wishes he could say the words sting more than the cut above his eye that Gerard just opened up, but that would be a lie. “Sorry, sir.”

“You’ll get yourself killed out there!”

Stiles nods and swallows, and tastes blood again.

“You think that Kroměříž counts for anything here? You think that the Novákovi are anything like the Hales?” Gerard sneers at him. “You won’t last a second against the Hales unless you get your head out of your ass and remember how to goddamn fight!”

“Yes, sir.” Stiles tries not to wince when he breathes.

Gerard huffs and shakes his head. “We’re done here.”

He tosses his gloves down on the mat, and leaves the basement.

Stiles lays there a while longer, waiting to catch his breath.

He’s not sure how long it is until he’s able to climb to his feet, but the sweat is chilling on his body when he finally manages it. He stoops to pick up Gerard’s gloves, and places them back in the cabinet. It takes him longer than it should to unlace his own, picking at the knots with his teeth.

Gerard’s right.

He was useless tonight. He barely landed a hit before it was all over for him. He needs to train harder. He needs to get better. He needs to remember who he is, and what he’s here for. He’s a Stilinski, and he has a birthright. He’s a Stilinski, and he’s going to make that mean something again.

Something more than cowardice and betrayal.

He makes his way slowly up the steps, and into the kitchen. He fills a glass with water from the tap, and drinks it. Then he grabs a piece of kitchen towel and wads it up to hold against his split eyebrow.

He thinks of Allison and her normal life and her party and her crush on that boy who almost stabbed her with a pencil.

He doesn’t want that.

He doesn’t want anything like that.

He doesn’t.

He’s a hunter, not a kid.

Except later, when he’s curled up in bed trying not to move because it hurts, he finds himself texting Allison back and forth for a while and pretending, just for tonight, that he’s a regular kid after all.

And that, he discovers, hurts a lot more than any of his bruises.

[snowycrocus]

Frozen Fanfiction “Such a Cost” Ch.3/? Elsa Sacrifices her Magic to Save Anna

Start with part one and part two first.

Now to find out what is going on with Anna....

Anna hung her head and waited for the others by the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” she uttered as Kristoff approached.

“You should be,” he shot back, voice thick with emotion. “You….for over a month?!” He ran his hand through his hair, subconsciously closed his hands into fists. “You know what this means for you, what could happen – and you didn’t tell us?!” His voice had risen in anger and panic, his stance becoming tense and stiff, almost threatening in his concern. Movement from the corner of his eyes made him turn, seeing Elsa crouch down against the wall and hug herself into a ball in response to the situation. He recognized the start of a panic attack – something he had now seen a couple of times but less and less frequently as time went on.

Kristoff sighed, seeing his anger would only make things worse – for everyone. “It doesn’t matter now,” he told Anna. “All that matters is that we get you the help you need.” He took slow, careful steps to approach Elsa, crouching down to her level on the floor.

“Elsa.” He reached out a hand to settle on her shoulder before thinking better of it in the current circumstances.

Elsa drew a rattling breath. “I can’t go with you. I can’t.” Her breathing came staggered and stuttering, high-pitched through her throat which felt like it was closing.

“We might need you there.” He tried to soften his words while what he wanted to do was shake her shoulders and smack her senseless for prolonging the time until they could get help for Anna.

“You – you don’t need me,” she spit out, struggling. Her chest was heaving and Kristoff found himself needing to tear his gaze away from watching the tears slide down her cheeks before freezing and catching the light. “No one does. Least of all Anna. All I ever do is hurt her.” She tried to brush the tears away but they stuck to her cheeks. “Just go. You’re wasting time.”

His frustration bubbled up to the surface and broke through. “No, you’re wasting time!” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, figuring even if he began to freeze he didn’t want to live without Anna, and they were already going to the trolls for help anyway. Elsa gasped and sputtered in surprise and Kristoff was struck by just how fragile she felt underneath his palms, like he could accidentally crush her if he could get past the feeling of rapid-onset frostbite under his skin.

She staggered as he pulled her up and couldn’t meet his gaze. “Don’t touch me,” she cringed. She waved a hand vaguely in Anna’s direction. “Look at her.”

Kristoff bit his tongue before answering. “You’re coming with us, Elsa,” he said, his tone brooking no room for argument. “None of us know what’s going on, and you especially need to be there to help figure this out.”

Her breathing began to even out, panic fading into relief as someone else took charge of the situation for once. “Fine. But I’m not riding with you. Just – just stay away.” Her voice broke on the words and Kristoff merely nodded.

The ride to the Valley of the Hidden Rock was nearly silent – just the sounds of Sven’s hooves clip-clopping and Elsa’s disc of ice on which she stood gliding over the icy path she cast in front of her. Her path occasionally spread out farther to the sides than she intended, shards of ice and lumps of snow shooting out to the sides and encroaching upon Sven’s path ahead. The struggle increased as time went on and Kristoff recognized it as the fear overtaking her. Her facial expression spoke of her strain to fight her magic, brows knit tightly in concentration and lips twisted in a pained grimace.

Upon reaching their destination, Kristoff bounded off of Sven before helping Anna gently to the ground. He was relieved to note that Anna’s appearance hadn’t worsened during the journey, and though she felt chilled she didn’t feel close to the point of freezing like she once had months ago. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. We still have time.

As the trolls rolled around the incomers and called for Grand Pabbie, Elsa hung back, a light wind tossing her hair and skirts as little snowflakes fluttered in the air. Anna turned back toward her sister.

“Elsa,” she called. Elsa whipped her head around, startled.

“I’m sorry,” Anna started. “I should’ve told you. I just didn’t – I didn’t want to worry you or upset you. -Elsa!” she cried out, as her sister took a few more steps back, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach. “Elsa, please – please, I need you.”

“No.” Elsa’s voice came surprisingly strong to Anna, as far away as they were. “No, you don’t. Just stay away from me, Anna. I told you before and I’m telling you now. Stay. Away.”

“But the trolls will help! They can tell us what’s going on!”

“Anna, we know what’s going on – I hurt you with my magic before, and now I can’t even tell when I’m hurting you anymore!” Tears poured down her face and Anna felt more anguished over her sister’s emotions than the fact that she was slowly freezing once more. Elsa had finally broken free over feeling powerless over her own magic, from feeling like her body had betrayed her. And now that betrayal was back, and with vengeance.

“Princess.”

The rough, gravelly voice behind Anna made her jump in surprise. Grand Pabbie stood by Anna’s knees and held out his hands to her. His gaze passed calmly yet concernedly over her form. “Princess, what happened?” His gaze flitted over to Elsa briefly, who still stood away from the group, shuddering.

Kristoff stepped in as Grand Pabbie took Anna’s hands in his own. He examined her ice-encrusted fingertips and reached up to touch her blue-tinged ears. “We don’t know, Grand Pabbie,” he told him. “Nothing happened, this time.”

“Hmmm, strange indeed.” Grand Pabbie gestured to Anna to lean down in front of him so he could hold a hand to her forehead. He closed his eyes. “Queen Elsa – do you know nothing of this, child?”

Elsa’s hands closed to fists tightly and she shook her head violently. “No!” She protested. “I don’t – I didn’t – I don’t know how I-” she broke off with a choking cry.

Grand Pabbie concentrated for a few moments with his hand on Anna’s head still. Finally, he pulled back, and Anna gasped at the release from his probing magic.

“Interesting,” he started, as the three turned to him in desperate anticipation. He turned to Elsa first. “Queen Elsa, you are correct – as you know, you did not strike the princess with your magic this time.”

Elsa quite literally sagged in relief, her limbs suddenly turning to jelly and breath escaping her. The question remained, though, and her gaze turned perplexed as she opened her mouth to ask-

“How, then?” Anna interrupted. “What’s going on?”

Elsa felt safer to approach and joined her sister and Kristoff, who was holding on to Anna’s arm tightly.

Grand Pabbie pondered for a moment, hand rubbing his chin. “How do I explain…” He turned to Bulda next to him and they joined hands. Both the crystals around their necks alit and Bulda’s eyes moved beneath her eyelids as she felt and saw what Grand Pabbie had gleaned from Anna with his magic.

“Aah, I see,” Bulda exclaimed. “Kristoff- do you remember, when you were a child, you ate my fireweed soup?”

“Uuhh, no, sorry,” Kristoff scratched his head and looked down at Bulda apologetically. “Why?”

“Well,” she started, “you ate it, and then perhaps a few weeks later you ate it again. But that time, after you ate it, your skin turned red and bumpy and your lips swelled and you were having trouble breathing – remember that?”

“Sounds like something I blocked out,” Kristoff responded, looking a bit startled. “I’m glad to know now not to eat any fireweed though. But – what does this have to do with anything?”

“An allergy,” Elsa breathed. Her eyes were wide with concern yet she wore a calculating expression. “Anna’s body is reacting to….me?”

“Precisely,” Grand Pabbie nodded. “Though more specifically, to your magic.”

“The princesses’ body has experienced harm from your magic twice now,” Bulda continued. “Now it senses the presence of your magic and is attempting to protect itself.”

“But just like an allergy, the body often creates the very problem it’s attempting to protect itself from.” Elsa twined her hands together. She was fluctuating between breathtaking relief that she hadn’t harmed Anna and crippling anxiety over the fact that she was still causing Anna harm even when she wasn’t doing anything.

“Wait, what?” Anna sounded a mix of worried and outraged. She narrowed her eyes. “So, what, if I leave Elsa, then I’ll be back to normal?”

“Correct, Princess,” Grand Pabbie nodded. “As long as you are away from your sister and her magic, you shall survive. However, your body’s reaction to the presence of her magic is causing you to slowly freeze to death once more. If you choose to stay, and allow your body to react to her magic…at this rate, I would imagine you have perhaps four to six more moons until your body succumbs to the ice.”

The air around the group turned frigid and a wind began to blow. Elsa was struck speechless – she had only recently gotten her sister back – her sister who was her whole world – and now, out of her control, she would either have to lose her for eternity – or, essentially, watch her die.

“Whoa, whoa hold on-” Kristoff waved his arms in the air, breaking up the stunned silence. “What’s ‘far away’ mean? A couple feet? Kilometers? What’re we talking, here?”

Grand Pabbie looked at the small group gathered solemnly. “Queen Elsa’s magic is extraordinarily powerful, with a great range. Even out here in the Valley we can feel her presence.” Elsa bit her lip and her skin turned an ashen grey at the words she knew would follow. “If the princess wishes to live….she cannot see her sister again.”

Anna staggered back like she had been struck in the chest, while Elsa’s knees gave way and she crumbled to her knees as gusts of snow and ice began to swirl.

“No-”

“Please-”

“There must be another way!” Kristoff turned to Grand Pabbie, pleading.

The troll pondered, silently observing the mourning sisters who even in their deepest grief dared not to touch one another.

“There is – there is a way, but-”

“Anything.” The snow and wind stopped abruptly and Grand Pabbie actually had to look down to find the Queen of Arendelle on her knees, begging. “Anything,” she repeated harshly, tears cascading down her cheeks and freezing to twinkling droplets. Her gaze was fierce, eyes piercing blue. “Just tell me, and consider it done.”

Grand Pabbie waved his hands in the air and allowed his magic to create pictures of light in the sky. “Only with the power of love,” he began, painting two feminine figures above, “can I remove magic.” Anna gasped by his side at the light show above. He drew waves of magic being drawn out of both figures. The one on the left, as a result, turned from icy blue to blazing green and grew straighter, taller – fuller and healthier. The figure on the right, however, faded from an azure blue to an ashy grey, crouched and spasming in suffering and loss.

“Yes,” said the Queen without hesitation. She stood, once again confident, straight and tall. “Remove my magic.”  

“Elsa, no!” Anna ran to her sister’s side to grab her, but Elsa recoiled from Anna’s icy fingers on her skin and grimaced when her eyes found the blue tinge of Anna’s ears and lips. “You can’t do that, Elsa!” Anna continued, despite her sister’s reaction. “Your magic is a part of you! What makes you you. You can’t take that away!”

“Anna,” Elsa shook her head in grim acceptance. “You don’t understand. You are the most important part of me. You are what brought me through all the darkest times – it is you that brings me the most happiness. You make me me. Without you – without you I am nothing, I have nothing.”

There was no question, no consideration. She returned to stand in front of Grand Pabbie.

Elsa stood tall and proud, looking more like a Queen than even at her coronation. She raised her chin, squared her shoulders and spoke, strong and clear.

“Do it. Remove my magic. Save my sister.”

I’d love to hear your thoughts, readers! What did you think of my reasoning? Trying to stay away from the cliche “there’s still some of Elsa’s ice left in Anna, etc”

Please please let me know what you think of the chapter! I love to hear any words/comments/tags you care to share, each one means so much! <3 

From here on out I believe the chapters will be snapshots of Elsa and Anna’s lives as they grow used to (or not used to) Elsa without her magic. The original discussion thread gave me lots of ideas for these next parts, but please feel free to throw some more ideas at me as to how this would affect them.

Tagging those of you that commented and/or reblogged for the previous chapter- let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (or if you really do!) 

@grrlgeek72, @ellacarter13, @no-escape-from-the-storm-inside, @a-frozen-kind-of-love, @etiennia, @justlookatthosesausages, @thankfullyimgay, @pyre355, @above-d-clouds, @heidi-and-joseff-bjorgman, @frozenartscapes, @wandering-bard-from-the-id, @habibi18, @thegeekogecko, @maregnbue, @butimaloneandfree, @the-magic-one-is-you, @snowqueenofmyheart

[gunterfan1992]

Episode Review: ‘Come Along with Me’ (S10E13-16)

Airdate: September 3, 2018

Story by: Ashley Burch, Kent Osborne,  Adam Muto,  Jack Pendarvis, Julia Pott, Pendleton Ward & Steve Wolfhard

Storyboarded by: Tom Herpich, Steve Wolfhard, Seo Kim, Somvilay Xayaphone, Hanna K. Nyström, Aleks Sennwald, Sam Alden & Graham Falk

Directed by: Cole Sanchez & Diana Lafyatis (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

In August of 2012, I had just moved into a university dormitory to begin my second year as an undergraduate. On one of the last days of the month (the date escapes me), I was relaxing in the hall recreation room with my roommate. To my left sat another friend, watching something intently on his laptop.

 His focus was remarkable, and so I was intrigued. “What are you watching?” I asked.

 He glanced over and responded, “Adventure Time!”

 I’d heard of the show, and seen a few clips. At the time, I was taken aback by its combination of high brow and low brow sensibilities. But I saw how much joy it gave my friend, I put down my guard and decided to give it a watch.

 He tilted the screen towards my face, and what was I greeted to? Why a geometric space-god with a flaming blue sword attacking a green individual in a bright yellow jacket. Suddenly, a boy and his dog were in the picture. What was going on?

 As it turns out, I was watching season four’s “Sons of Mars”, one of the show’s wackiest episodes. In time, I was enthralled by the bright colors and the silly jokes. There was Abraham Lincoln. There was death. By the end of it, I was won over.

 I still think fondly of that day (as readers of this blog might be able to attest), for it was then that I was introduced to my favorite show, Adventure Time.

For years, it seemed like Adventure Time was just an omnipresent facet of popular culture. From t-shirts to Happy Meal toys, Finn and Jake were everyone, blending into what Marshall McLuhan would call the “beaten paths of impercience.” When we all learned that the show was ending in late 2016, it was sad, but because there were dozens of episodes left to air, this reality never really hit me.

But this week, it finally hit me. The end was nigh.

At 5 pm today, I sat nervously on my couch as the intro started, and we were off to the races.

The episode opens 1000 years after the lives of Finn and Jake. We are greeted to two new heroes: Shermy (voiced by Sean Giambrone) and Beth (voiced by Willows Smith). The two are heavily implied to be Finn and Jake reincarnated, and the latter is likely a descendant of Jake himself. After an encounter with the Prizeball Guardian (last seen in “Grabyles 1000+”), the two discover Finn’s robot-arm. They decide to journey to Mount Cragdor (where the Enchiridion was once kept) to find the all-knowing King of Ooo.

Once our new heroes make the journey and reach the top of the mountain, we the audience learn that the King of Ooo is not our favorite charlatan, but rather BMO. After Shermy and Beth present our little robot with Finn’s arm, BMO begins to tell the story of the “Great Gum War”:

1000 years prior (that is, during the show’s normal timeline), Princess Bubblegum and her Uncle Gumbald had each amassed armies to take one another down. Just before the battles are to commence, Finn devises a plan to stop any blood shed: He calls one last meeting between the Candy Kingdom and Gumbaldia, and then, using the magic, nightmare-inducing potion given to him by Nightmare Princesss in “Orb”, he knocks everyone into a subconscious world, where he hopes that they will make nice.

Everything goes a bit haywire, but in the end, Bubblegum and Gumbald realize that their is no real reason for them to fight one another: they each want different things, and are rightfully ticked off at one another, but through dialogue they can likely work things out. Finn and Fern, too, realize that they share the exact same fears that they have locked in their collective “Vault”. Putting aside their differences, they team up and kill the grass-curse spider that has held Fern a prisoner for so long.

At this point, our heroes (and villains) wake up and decide to make amends. Gumbald, however, is tripped by Aunt Lolly, and after being splashed with dum-dum juice, reverts back to Punchy. Lolly, however, vows to maintain the peace with the Candy Kingdom.

Just then, King Man crashes out of the sky and reveals that he, Betty, and an unconscious Maja donked up in a major way. He and Betty were trying to use magic to summon the primordial space demon/god Golb so as to undo the magic of the Ice King’s crown. However, their magic was too effective, and they accidentally summoned Golb to this plane of existence.

Golb begins to use his chaos magic, mutating candy kingdom and Gumbaldia citizens alike into grotesque monsters.  Ice King is summoned by King Man and told to try and stop Betty from completing her ritual, but in the commotion (which sees Maja literally explode) they, along with Finn, are accidentally swallowed by Golb, where they start to get digested.

Things start to go downhill fast. Golb’s monsters are extremely effectively, and decimate Bubblegum’s forces and those of her ragtag allies. As Bubblegum is standing on a rock, one of the Golb-monsters lunges at her and seemingly crushes her!

Marceline turns around and seeing the death of her past paramour, loses it. Unleashing both the beast and magic girl inside her, our favorite vampire turns into the Dark Cloud, last seen in Stakes and absolutely wails on the Golb-monster, tearing it to bits. She is absolutely furious that her best friend has been smooshed.

But luckily, it turns out that Bubblegum’s advanced battle armor had a handy shield, and she was saved from any danger. Marceline is overjoyed, and flies into the candy monarch’s armies, weeping tears of joy. The two hug.

And then comes the Bubbline kiss.

As Marceline and Bubblegum were holding each other close after the latter was very nearly squished, I knew it was now or never.

I was on the edge of my seat, as a tearful Marceline tells PB: “Even back when we weren’t talking, I was so afraid that something bad would happen to you and I wouldn’t be there to protect you and... I don’t want to lose you again!”

There’s some cute back and forth, and then the two quietly, effortlessly kiss.

The debate online as to whether or not the two were in a relationship has raged on- and offline since “What Was Missing” first aired years ago. As the two’s friendship evolved over the years, I came to believe that a romantic relationship was the next logical step for both the characters and the show itself to explore. Marceline and Bubblegum are unique in that they are two strong, intelligent, and emotionally complex female characters who often spend time exclusively with each other; the two ace the Bechdel test, a fairly rare occurrence in modern media.

It’s a bummer that the show waited until the very end of the series to canonize their relationship, but perhaps that makes it all the more rewarding? We have worked towards this culmination, and now we have a fully-acknowledged lesbian relationship between two major cartoon characters! How ground-breaking! Furthermore, regardless of when this canonization happened, the confirmation that Marceline and Bubblegum are “more than just friends” will inevitably help to undo some of the erasure that queer communities have faced since the dawn of media (if not time).

To sum up my feelings, let me just leave you with a (heavily) modified quote from Virginia Woolf:

“‘Marceline liked Bubblegum...’ Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes half-demon vampires do like sentient pieces of Bubblegum.”

(Of course, I am curious as to what their future holds. We seem them together snuggling in the epilogue, but they are not around one thousand years in the future. This is, honestly, the biggest question that will bug me about the finale!)

Despite taking a literal pounding from Marceline, Golb’s evil creatures pull themselves back together and march towards the Tree Fort. Jake gives chase, but is not able to reach them in time: they smash Finn and Jake’s beloved home, and seriously injure poor BMO.

Jake is beside himself! His house is gone! But then, BMO comes over to him, and lovingly calms him down. BMO points out that Finn and Jake have long been a parent to the little robot, and now it is time for BMO to be the parent. And then, BMO begins to sing a tune “for his son Jake”, entitled “Time Adventure”.

"Time Adventure", written by storyboard artist extraordinaire Rebecca Sugar herself, encapsulates the best of the series: it's sad but uplifting. Melodic but rough-around-the-edges. It celebrates the wonders of life while also admitting that we can't really see all there is to it. Some people online criticized it for being too obvious (yes, the song’s title is just a flipping of the show's title), but in some way, I find that it's the most poetic and philosophical thing that its ever done.

When I was 11, I had my first real panic attack. I was out with my family when I was struck by a thought that has not left my head since: I'm going to die. Not that I can die, or that death might hurt. No. I am going. to. die; presumably, my consciousness will disconnect and I will not exist. I want to believe in an afterlife, but it’s an idea that seems oh so very hard to accept when faced with what we know about nature (but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion). These revelations horrified me, and it has taken years to really process what death actually means—and I’m still not there. None of us really are.

But as I’ve aged, I've been comforted by some rather Stoic ideas, like the idea that what will be will be and we should not stress about things that we simply cannot change. I also like the idea that we are all part of the cosmos, and while we will die, we don’t cease to exist: we just merge back into where we came from.

These musings are adjacent to another comforting idea: the fourth-dimensional view of time that BMO sings about:

Time is an illusion That helps things make sense So we're always living In the present tense ... Singing, will happen Happening happened [...] And will happen Again and again 'Cause you and I will always be back then

It’s true. Perhaps my “arrow-of-time consciousness” will be blasted into nothingness once I die, but I’m not ceasing to be. I eternally am. What happened is happening will happen. “Time is an illusion/That helps things make sense.” While this idea might not extinguish a fear of death, it’s a nice thought. And just like Adventure Time, when you combine enough nice thoughts, you often get something beautiful.

And beauty is all that was really needed for our heroes. It turns out that Golb is a creature of chaos, meaning that the only weapon that the citizens of Ooo can effectively use is concordance—harmony in music. It might seem a little silly that “beating the baddie with music” is how Golb’s minions are defeated, but considering the sort of magical role that music has played in the show, it’s not too much of the stretch. It also remains me of how the show used (and subverted) “defeating a baddie with heart” to great effect did in Stakes.

BMO (who hilariously declares, “My art is a weapon!”) is joined by Marceline and Bubblegum, and soon by Jake and the rest of the crew. Their combined harmonizing weakens Golb, allowing Finn and Simon to escape from his belly. However, Betty decides to remain behind. She realizes that the singing has also reset the ice crown’s phantasmal magic. Putting it on, she wishes for the power to ensure Simon’s safety, which entails her transforming (in a stunning sequence that IndieWire writer Eric Kohn refers to as “straight out of Don Hertzfeldt”) into Golb him(her?)self. Golb promptly leaves this reality, dropping the crown onto the ground. Gunter grabs it, and—despite Jake’s warnings that the naughty penguin will wish to become Orgalorg once again—Gunter merely wishes to turn into the Ice King (or, “Ice Thing”).

Finn and Jake return to the ruins of their tree fort, where they plant Fern’s seed. A new tree immediately sprouts from the ground, with the Finnsword embedded within it. Bubblegum arrives on the scene and thanks Finn for directly disobeying her. She gives him an appreciative kiss on the cheek and then muses that he is getting taller.

We cut back to Ooo 1000+, where BMO wraps up the story. Shermy and Beth still have questions (just like the audience!) about ‘Phil’ and Jake, and Marceline and Bubblegum. BMO shrugs these questions off, saying, “You know, they kept living their lives.”

Shermy and Beth set out to find the “Ferntree” to verify BMO’s story; they eventually realize that the large tree reaching up to the heavens near their stomping grounds is almost certainly it.

We cut back to Finn and Jake, who are sitting around the Music Hole from the episode of the same name. The hole tells our heroes that she has a new song for them, and she begins to sing “Come Along with Me” (which every Adventure Time fan knows is the show’s closing number).

While the Music Hole sings, we see Shermy and Beth climb to the top of the tree. We are also greeted to a montage of what happened to all our friends in Ooo:

Lumpy Space Princess is crowned a bonafide princess (or perhaps even a queen)

Ice Thing and Turtle Princess get married

TV becomes a private detection (just like his grandparents!)

Sweet Pea graduates from school and eventually becomes a super-huge hero, who carries Finn's Nightosphere-sword

Aunt Lolly and Bubblegum seemingly make up and learn to love each other as family members

Lemongrab gets one of Jermaine’s paintings to hang above his bed, which brings him peace

BMO blasts Moe's harddrive into space with the help of Banana Man

Flame Princess and NETPR get popular and perform at Hamburger Hills Cemetery to a huge crowd

Magic Man is the happy King of Mars

Simon spends quality time with Marceline and Bubblegum, and seems to try and summon Betty back using Prismo’s wish magic (sadly, it doesn’t work)

Marceline and Bubblegum, meanwhile, are shown snuggling on the couch in the former’s house; it is implied that they are raising Peppermint Butler, who once again is showing an interest in the dark arts

Humans return to Ooo, and Finn is likely reunited with his (digital mother)

We also see what the Jiggler, Tiffany, the Crabbit, Susan Strong/Kara and Freida, the Candy Kingdom citizens, Tree Trunks and Lemonhope are up to

The episode ends with Shermy and Beth finding the Finnsword in the Ferntree. After Beth pulls the sword from the (metaphorical) stone, Shermy holds it up, just like the show’s title card.

So now let’s talk about what worked and what didn’t. The last half of the finale, if I do say so, was wonderful. Nothing to complain about here: we got arc resolutions, emotionally touching moments, and a nice sense of closure. In regards to this latter point, I specifically like how the show gave use an ending but emphasized that this finale was not really the full-stop end of the characters that we know and love—it was just the end of the story that we’re privy to. As BMO says, everyone kept living their lives and the world kept on spinning. That’s a very nice way to end a show like this, and it feeds into the existential ideals of Adventure Time: there is no grand, overarching story that has to have some big punctuation at the end. Finn and Jake are heroes, but long after they’re gone, the world will still be here, and there will be other great heroes to take their place.

With all this said, I must admit that the finale’s first half is something of a missed opportunity. Opening with Shermy and Beth was a totally inspired move (and the new intro is gorgeously animated, courtesy of Science SARU Studios), but I believe the show lingered on their introduction for just a little too long. Likewise, the weird trippy nightmare portion of the finale was about 15 minutes too long. We did not really need 1/4 of the episode to be devoted to wacky dream imagery that both “King Worm” and “Orb” did more effectively. And given that the show chose to linger on these sections—sections that, in the grand scheme of things, are not super essential—the final portions of the episode came across as a bit rushed. The storylines are all satisfying, but it would’ve been nice if we had gotten a little bit more focus on Betty, Simon, and Finn, or Simon and Marceline, rather than Bubblegum and Gumbald’s wacky nightmares.

And speaking of Gumbald, his ending was a total cop-out. I’m not too torn up about this, given that he was never the main baddie in this episode (that was Golb), but his deciding to make peace and then accidentally reverting to Punchy was contrived and anticlimactic. To go back to a criticism I had of “Gumbaldia”, if the show had been given just a little more time to flesh his character and motivations out, I think his role in the finale would’ve been much better served.

But like I said, I wasn’t too torn up about this, because the main focus of this episode was on Golb and the horrors that such a being could unleash upon Ooo. And the show did this wonderfully. Indeed, it was quite exciting that the show finally had a villain that Finn couldn’t just punch a lot until it died (remember, he beat the Lich this way). Golb was, arguably, invincible. It was only the extremely broken magic of the ice crown could do anything.

Speaking of satisfying, “Come Along With Me” also gives Fern an excellent conclusion. The poor grass-doppelgänger was never evil, just confused. By finally coming to terms with his existential crisis of a life, he and Finn were able to patch things up. Sadly, this came at the expense of his dying (the scene in which Finn and Fern kill the grass-curse spider was quite fun). But even in death, there is life, and Fern’s demise allows a new tree to replace the old tree fort. How sweet is that?

Finn coming to terms with his disability was also a nice touch. As I mentioned in my review of Islands, Adventure Time seems to have a somewhat pessimistic view of technology. With this episode, Finn loses his robot arm once and for all, and instead of having PB build him a new one or dabbling in arm-magicks, he decides to let it all be. This is a very important lesson for the show to emphasize. Finn is still Finn with or without his arm. By constantly trying to ‘fix’ himself, Finn was trying to fill a hole that didn’t need to be filled. After experiencing all this Golb biz, it seems that Finn has come to terms with his essence and who he is as a person. And arm or no arm, he is still Finn.

But as satisfying as I found the episode to be overall, I still have some lingering questions! What happened to the Candy Kingdom that resulted in it getting totally razed in the future? Why was the Prizeball Guardian built? What happened to Marceline and Bubblegum, given that they, in their own ways, can evade death in various ways? These of course are questions that will likely never be answered, and they certainly can be filled in in the minds of fans, but these quandaries are probably going to bother me for awhile! (Heck, I just want to know what Marceline and Bubblegum’s future looks like: I don’t really care too much about that other jazz!)

As I write this, I’m both happy and heartbroken: I’m happy because my favorite show of all time has just aired perhaps the most satisfying finale that I have ever seen. I’m heartbroken because the story is now over.

But hold on.

Like BMO and Co. sing in “Time Adventure”, just because the story is over from my point of view does not mean it has slipped away into the ether of oblivion.

It’s comforting to think that in the fourth-dimensional view of existence, I still am in that rec room with my friends, watching “Sons of Mars” for the first time. In a way, I’m eternally laughing and smiling at the jokes. I’m eternally still realizing what a wonderful program Adventure Time really is.

And in that way, it’s true what they say: the fun will never end.

Final Grade:

Season Grade: Were this a standard season, I would probably have been a little harder on it. The Gum War, having been developed two or so episodes, really came out of nowhere and needed more time to be properly developed. It also seems a little odd that the series finale is at least partially focused on an antagonist who was only introduced this season. But these issues were not the fault of the production staff; they were problems with the show being cancelled by the network and the staff having to tidy-up everything before it was all over. Muto et al. honestly did the best they can with the hands they were dealt. And make no mistake, the result is pretty good, even if things are rushed. Yes, there is a lot to love about season 10. It’s got humor and heart, action and adventure, and plenty of romance! It’s not my favorite season by any means (that’s a tie between season 4 and 7), but its episodes are definitely in the upper-tier of the series, as far as quality goes.

Series Grade: Do I even need to say this?

[betelgeusessonajblog]

Losing What Almost Was

OK so a few years back I did this story as a Birthday present for my best friend and big brother figure @badgerwolfuk and I’ve decided to share what I did. (plusiaminthemoodtoangst)

A black van drives through an empty parking lot, slowly circling the area before stopping. The doors on the van open up and a large bird-like monster with purple feathers steps out of the driver's side while a girl with three eyes and purple hair steps out of the passenger side. The bird monster walks around the back and opens the rear doors grabbing a rucksack out of the back and putting it on the girl, then slings a backpack over his shoulder. He gives a concerned look at the other as they started walking towards the entrance of the hardware store. "Alright Brock, do you remember why we're here? To grab supplies to make a fence," the girl asked. "Don't worry Claire I know we need hammers, nails, barbed wire and, saws so we can keep our new home safe. This'll be easy, there's no sign of anything in here" Brock replied with a big grin on his face. "Good let's get this done and get outta here," Claire responded with a faint smile. Brock pulls out a hammer from his backpack while Claire pulls a crowbar from her rucksack. Now armed, she quickly checks the door to make sure there’s no security system. When she's sure it's not alarmed she puts the curved end of the crowbar into the door and begins to pry it open while Brock keeps watch. Once the door is open the pair walks inside the hardware store and head towards the Tools & Hardware section to grab what they need. At one point while they were grabbing some tools a Walker silently came out from behind them and grabbed Claire, pinning her to the ground. Brock quickly grabs a nail gun, placing it on the back of the Walker's head and pulls the trigger, showering blood onto the ground and girl. Claire threw the body to one side and moved out the way, uselessly wiping at the blood staining her shirt. With a roll of her eyes, she gave him a quick thumbs up to let him know she was okay. Together they walked off and finished grabbing the last of the things they needed, placing them into a large duffle bag. "Alright that's just about everything we need, last thing is the barbed wire and then we're good to go," Brock said, wearing his typical big grin. "Great. Can't wait to get out of here," Claire mused, responding with a fleeting smile before she leaned close and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad we're back together Brock," she whispered as they wandered the aisles looking for barbed wire. "Heh, me too Claire. I missed being with you," the bird-like monster cooed. As they turned they turned down the next aisle, they spot a herd of walkers shambling about. "Uh-oh,” Brock whispered as they hid behind a shelf. "There's so many of them," Claire gasped, looking around the corner as the Walkers started moving towards them. "We need to get going," Brock replied. Claire nods in agreement before backing away slowly with Brock. As they started to move away from the Walkers Brock accidentally bumps his leg against a display of paint cans causing them to topple and fall over, making a large crash and alerting more Walkers to their presence. "Run like hell!”, Claire shouted grabbing Brock's hand as they started to run from the Walkers. While running away Brock accidentally drops the duffle bag, he stops in his tracks and turns to grab it. Claire turns her attention to Brock and she doesn't notice a Walker come around the corner. The dead grabs her, biting into her shoulder hard tearing a large chunk of flesh off it, causing her to scream out in pain. "Claire!”, Brock shouted running at the Walker and hitting it in the head repeatedly with his hammer. He picks up the wounded monster from the ground and carries her on his back. As the Walkers got closer to them he spots an upstairs office not far from them and makes a run for it, taking care not to drop Claire as he ran. Once up the stairs he opens the door and quickly runs inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He places Claire onto a nearby chair then drags a large desk towards the door, barricading them inside from the Walkers. "This is my entire fault, I fucked up big time," the bird monster squawked as he searched for a first-aid kit, tearing up the room until he found one. "It wasn't your fault Brock... you were just trying to get our tools back, I'm the one that wasn't paying attention," Claire groaned, holding her bleeding shoulder. "It is my fault, I should’ve been faster!", Brock crowed as a tear ran down his face. Claire sighed heavily looking at Brock who started to dry his eyes on his sleeve. He walked over to her with the first-aid kit in his hand and kneeled down. She moved her hand from the wound revealing how bad it was, blood began to run down her arm. Brock pulls out a length of bandage and begins to wrap up the wound, adding a safety pin on the end so it wouldn't unravel. "You know it's only a matter of time before I turn and attack you Brock. You really wasted your time fixing this bite," Claire sighed, staring at the bandage. "I don't care! I love you too much to give up on you!", Brock shouted. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Claire, holding her close to him. The bird-like monster rested his beak on top of her head. "I don't want to lose you," he cooed, tearing up again. Claire wrapped her arms around Brock. "I don't want to die Brock, but there's nothing I can do to prevent it," she whimpered as she began to cry, as helpless as a child. "Brock, promise me when you get out of here, you'll live for the both of us," she pleaded, looking up at her boyfriend. "Claire...please don't say goodbye," Brock said as he looked down at Claire. He then sighed with a nod, trying to fight back more tears, "I promise. I'll live for the both of us."

Claire smiled with relief. She notices a skylight with a ladder behind them on the ceiling. She let go of Brock and shuffled away from him. "There's a way up to the roof, you can get ou-“ Before she could finish there was a loud bang on the door. "It's gonna break!", Brock shouted as the door rattle and begin to move on its hinges. Walkers bashed their hands against the door trying to break inside the room. "Brock, get going I'll hold them off," Claire spat, pulling out a handgun. She checked to see how many bullets were in the clip "Fifteen bullets in this clip, counting the one in the chamber and an extra," she thought aloud while motioning for Brock to move. "No I'm not leaving without you Claire," Brock crowed, shaking his head. "I'm not giving you a choice here Brock!", Claire shouted, her hand was shaking as fear overcame her. "Go, get moving," she demanded. Brock looked away and noticed a large shelf in the office. "At least let me put this in front of you, it'll buy you enough time to...", he began. "To do what?! I'm dead Brock! This bite is a death sentence. Either move or...or I'll end it now," Claire hissed. She walked over to the door, ready to move the desk barricading them in. "No don't I'll go just...try and stay alive. I promise I'll come back and get you. You've got plenty time before you turn," Brock reassured Claire. Claire sighed heavily, "Fine. Put the shelf in front of me, but don't come back for me." She started moving to a corner in the office, silently. She was done discussing. Brock nodded and sighed, “Fine.” With Claire ready in the corner Brock begins to move the bookcase and place it in front of her. She smiled at him briefly as he began to climb the ladder, when he reaches the top he throws open the skylight and pulls himself up to the roof. Brock hardly had time to take a breath of fresh air before the door breaks open and Walkers pour into the office. Claire aims her gun at the Walkers and begins to take shots, splattering brain and gore onto the ground. It didn't take long for the first clip to run out of bullets, she quickly ejects the magazine from the gun and slides a new one in. She was ready. After less than a minute, she had gone through most of her clip leaving only one bullet. A small group of Walkers got close to the shelf she was barricaded behind, clawing for her. Claire decided to take them out by toppling the shelf on top of them, crushing them immediately. She vaulted over the shelf and across the room to a supply closet where she locked herself inside. Brock stood on the roof of hardware store listening to the gunshots, he wanted to jump down to help Claire but there were too many Walkers inside. Eventually the gunshots seemed to end and Brock looked down into the office. He only saw a small group of Walkers that remained then heard one last shot go off. Brock decided to make his way to the edge of the building and climb down onto a fire escape. Once down in the empty parking lot he immediately ran back inside to get Claire, despite it going against her last request. He bashed any Walker that he came across in the skull before running upstairs to the office where he spoted a couple of Walkers trying to get into a closet. Brock effortlessly kills them before breaking the door open. Claire is lying on the ground with her eyes shut and Brock picks her up, carrying her out of the supply closet. "C'mon Claire, wake up," Brock said trying to wake her up, he even shakes her a little. "We need to get outta here. Claire, come on! Get up, we have to go! Why aren't you waking up?!", he squawked. Brock began tearing up as he stared at Claire’s body. He moved his hand away when he felt something on his fingertips. Brock glanced at his hand and gasps realizing that it was blood. "No, no, no, no! Claire! Why did you do it?", Brock shouted, crying uncontrollably at the loss of his girlfriend. The bird-like monster shuddered with each sob. Brock began to walk down the stairs of the office carrying Claire's lifeless body out to the van, tears still streaming down his face. When he arrives at the van he opens the door taking care not to drop Claire, then carefully lays her body on a sheet in the back and pulls it over her. Brock makes his way to the driver’s side of the van quickly drying his eyes. He buckles his seat belt and starts the engine before driving off, heading back to the camp. After an hour of driving he pulls over at a wide empty field. Brock climbs out the driver’s side and opens the back of van, carefully removing Claire's body and grabbing a shovel. He takes the body to the middle of the field and places her down. Brock began the long, sombre process of digging a grave. He placed her body in the ground and shovels dirt back into the hole over the body. To finish he grabs a couple of sticks and some rope to make a small cross to mark where she is buried. He pulls out something from his pocket staring at it, it was a small ring. Brock places it on the grave sighing heavily as he stares at it. "I was gonna propose to you tonight, once we had gotten back from the store. I was going to take you out front, get down on one knee. I had this whole big speech worked out too," he chuckled at the thought before the harsh reality settled again. "I'm going to miss you so much Claire. I hope you're with all our friends we lost. I'll always love you. Goodbye Claire Wheeler," he said sombrely before making his way back to the van. Brock pulls out his gun and aims it at the side of his head. The monster hesitates before dropping it onto the passenger's seat, crying. "No I won't do that...I made a promise. I'm going to do the living for the both of us," he crowed, nodding a little before starting the van back up and driving off to the camp.

[lesbrarians]

GenFic:: A Proposition

Title: A Proposition 

Pairing: (Sort of?? Vaguely mentioned) Ai/Javik

Characters:  Ai Shepard, Javik, Grist (cameos by K. Shepard, Sam Shepard, and Tiffany Shepard bc MultiShep verse)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ai and Javik spend their shore leave examining the ship, when they find an unwelcome visitor in their private hideaway. Warnings for dead bodies and general unsanitariness 

--- 

"Okay, I'm not saying I'm gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo… but I'm gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo," K said. After a particularly taxing mission chasing down mercs on Omega, the Normandy crew was gearing up to enjoy some well-earned shore leave, and K had her heart set on visiting the Castle Arcade.  "C'mon, look at me." She flexed her biceps. "I'm a Bruiser, you really think I'm gonna lose at a punching game?"

"First of all," Tiffany began. "It's an arcade game. Your muscles mean nothing here. Secondly, you've never seen me play. I'm good. You don't stand a chance."

K laughed. "Them's fighting words, Tiff."

"Loser buys the drinks!" Sam chimed in as the three of them exited the Port Observation Room lounge.

"What-- you're not even playing!" Tiffany exclaimed.

"I mean, I'm game," K said. "Win, lose, I get alcohol either way, so really, it's a win-win--"

They rounded the corner and ran squarely into Ai and Javik, who were leaving the mess hall.

"Hey guys!" Sam said brightly. Tiffany was diplomatic in her hello, while K just mumbled something under her breath that could have been what's up, or it could have been oh god.

"Samantha," Javik said, nodding at her. Ai lifted her chin slightly in acknowledgment. "We were just discussing shore leave plans."

K had been pregaming in the lounge, and what little self-restraint she possessed was completely out the window. "Oh, no you don't," she said, pointing at Javik before swinging her finger over to Sam. "You chose them over us last time. The three of us are going out, I'm beating Tiffany at Shattered Eezo, then we're getting shitfaced at some expensive bar somewhere, because I won't be the one paying for it."

"Wow, K," Tiffany said, shaking her head at her.  

Sam grimaced apologetically at Ai and Javik. "Yeah, sorry…"

They both stared at her in response, as if hoping she would come to her senses.

The five of them stood at an impasse outside the elevators, the seconds dragging out interminably.

Sam clapped her hands to break the tension. It wasn't entirely successful. "Okay! Okay, I'll catch up with you guys later, I promise. We can do our plans then!"

Ai stared at her unflinchingly, tilting her head slightly.

Sam sighed. "The neutral face of displeasure. Alright, I'll just be a few hours, then I'll find you guys, I swear!"

Tiffany called for the elevator. K whistled to fill the awkward silence as they waited for it to arrive.

Sam’s perky voice floated through the elevator doors as they slid shut behind the trio. "See, everyone's happy!"

"I'm not," Javik said, his voice dark with displeasure.

Ai said nothing, but she privately agreed.. She couldn’t understand what Samantha saw in Tiffany and K -- Tiffany was a goody two-shoes with all kinds of disgusting traits like proper morals and honor and loyalty. K was more unscrupulous, but she was obnoxious and had no filter to speak of.

"A poor decision on Samantha's part," Javik continued.

"She will regret it." Her flat tone made it impossible to tell whether it was a threat or simply a statement of fact.

"I suppose we'll wait for her, although she doesn't deserve our magnanimity."

Ai nodded once. She didn't particularly care for visiting the Citadel during the day anyway, and despite Javik's insult, Sam's presence was desirable, especially when they went ashore.

Javik locked eyes with her, and Ai returned the stare, stoic and unblinking, an unspoken challenge.

Javik's lower two eyes remained fixed on her, but the other two wandered up to linger on her hair in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I suppose we'll just have to find an… alternative way to entertain ourselves."

"You are revolting," Ai informed him. They both knew this didn't necessarily constitute a "no," but she wasn't feeling charitable today.

Her eyes flicked over to Life Support. She'd broken the standoff between them, but she couldn't stand looking at his disgusting face for even a second longer. She consoled herself with the fact that this one loss meant nothing; she was still the superior one and had prevailed countless other times.

Ai stared at her quarters for a fraction of a second, then glanced back at Javik, who had an insufferable expression on his face.

She turned on her heel and called for the elevator.

It was a scathing rejection, refusing to invite him to her room that was barely ten feet away from where they stood. Life Support was where they had most of their… encounters, for lack of a better word. It gave her the most control over the situation. Pointedly denying Javik access to that space shut down any possibility of anything happening between them that day.

Ai could feel Javik's eyes boring holes into the back of her head as they boarded the elevator, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into the faintest hint of a schadenfreudian smile.

"We may as well take advantage of the empty ship. Inspect it top to bottom." She needed to make sure everything was in proper working condition, and she couldn't be thorough when there were eyes everywhere.

The elevator rumbled to a halt on the fourth deck of the ship, where the port side cargo room served as Javik's quarters and the bowels of the ship as their lair.

They exited the elevator and resumed walking, hands clasped behind their backs and a Sam-sized space between them so that there was no possibility of accidental contact. They didn't need to speak to know exactly where they were going.

They descended the stairs to the engineering sub-deck.

At the bottom of the steps, Javik stopped so suddenly that Ai nearly ran into him.

"Something is not right," he said.

The spike of irritation she'd felt dissipated. She still didn't trust Javik fully (for all his talk of loyalty, she wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't stab her in the back), but she did trust his ability to read people and the environment, as disturbingly creepy as it was.

Her gaze swept the space, searching for anything out of the ordinary. "Elaborate."  

Javik took a few cautious steps forward and bent down, fingers grazing against the metal floor.

“Death," he said, straightening out. "The DNA of a… human male. A gifted biotic. Did a member of your crew die here?”

Ai could think of one or two former crew members who matched that description. “Regrettably, no.”

"The residue is strong. Recent. He was not honored in death."

Ai was not often made to feel ill at ease, but a strange apprehension stirred in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but she was beginning to think she smelled the stench of decay, and if it was Javik just getting into her head, she didn't appreciate it. She called up her omni-tool and scanned the ground. She trusted her technology more than she trusted Javik's psychometry.

The scanner chirped in response to organic matter. Imperceptible specks of skin and hair lit up on the orange holo-display of her omni-tool with the readings: "Data: 100% Human."

Ai lifted the scanner. The flakes of rotting organic matter continued in a meandering trail, as if the corpse had shuffled around aimlessly.

Death did not faze Ai. She didn't bat an eye at a bloated corpse or decomposing remains. But she preferred it to be at her own hands. Her germophobia went strangely quiet when she knew that she was the cause of the gore -- she could revel in the blood that she'd spilled.  

But when it was of someone else's doing, there was no triumph or pride attached, and while there was small comfort in feeling superior to the dead, regardless of whether or not she'd killed them, her aversion to uncleanliness won out over her egotism.

So when the path ended at the panel in the floor that led to the hidden room where she, Sam, and Javik so often convened, her mouth went dry. She did not invite anyone into her personal space, she did not invite disease into her personal space, and if someone had stuffed a dead body--

A loud clang rang out from below. The panel that led to their secret hideaway thumped rhythmically as whatever was inside struggled to get out.

If Ai had a heart, it would have been in her throat. As it was, she was only mildly alarmed. For one brief, ludicrous moment, the part of her that watched far too many East Asian horror vids stupidly thought "kyonshī."

The next moment, her rational side wanted to shoot herself.

The panel gave way. Something burst out with an unholy screech, its gaunt face twisted like a grotesque Halloween mask, with too many teeth and a flattened snout of a nose.

Ai fired an explosive round from her omni-tool at precisely the same time as Javik biotically yanked the thing in the air and slammed it to the floor. Ai hissed out a curse as the incineration blast clipped its target on the arm.

The creature howled, clutching its arm and retreating to the shadows the second it wrangled free from the glowing green aura of Javik's biotics. In the low, red light of the ship's underbelly, it was hard to tell what it was at first, little more than a dark silhouette of something spiny and vaguely human shaped skulking in the corner. Only when it turned its attention on her and attacked again did she realize what it was -- a charcoal-colored vorcha with sickly green, mottled markings and lurid red eyes to rival her own.

Javik didn't interfere when the vorcha pounced this time, allowing her to fend for herself. She lashed out at the vorcha with an incendiary backfist, causing it to recoil.

It dropped something. Ever the tactician, Ai quickly looked down to assess it before snapping her attention back up to her target. A human ear.

Rage flared up in Ai, a sudden spike of violent emotion at the knowledge that her sanctuary -- their sanctuary -- had been violated. Every warning bell in her head was clanging, counting off everything that made this such an egregious offense: invasion of her privacy, by an alien, bearing a scavenged corpse and filth. Contamination.

"Kill it!" she barked. She switched gears on her omni-tool, transforming it into a forked blade.

With a great, rippling shockwave, Javik bodily threw the vorcha against the wall. Ai had the impression that he was doing his best to put as much distance between them as possible. She couldn't fault him for the tactic, given that her preferred battlefield combat style consisted of sentry turrets, drones, and her trusty sniper rifle.

Ai couldn't figure out whether the vorcha was resilient, or just too stupid and stubborn to know when to give up. He picked himself back up, shook his head violently, and dodged Javik's next biotic attack by leaping onto a support beam. The sub-deck was too small a space for a full blown fight, and the vorcha quickly sealed the distance between them.

All four of Javik's eyes widened as the vorcha sprang at him, feral and bloodthirsty.

Javik snagged him in self-defense, just as the vorcha latched onto his arm.

He froze.

---

His sensory ability was a gift. A single touch could transmit a lifetime of memories, experiences, ideas at a speed that would liquefy the brains of inferior species. As he read the vorcha, he was hurled into several simultaneous memories, with the most recent standing out in his consciousness.

The gritty streets of Omega. Fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the vorcha scurried through the lowermost alleys of the Kenzo district. A wasted human in the throes of a creeper high, mumbling to himself about all the colors he could see. The vorcha's interest was piqued by the latter, but he kept going. He hopped over a barrier and rounded a corner to find a nest of vorcha. The space was teeming with dozens of vorcha, a tight-knit mass that he had to pick his way through.

He didn't make it very far.

A larger, older vorcha stood up from where he was squatting and conversing with other members of their clan.

He pushed the vorcha, a direct challenge, and a full-out brawl ensued that ended with the vorcha flat on his back and gasping for air.

"No more room!" the other vorcha hissed. "We no space for you. You start own clan!"

Physically subjugated, he ducked deferentially as he climbed to his feet. “O-kay. I leave. I leave now.”

He slunk away from the nest, away from his home. Javik could feel the emotions roiling in him. Just simple anger and sadness; he was too dim for a very nuanced outlook on the sudden rejection.

"Poor, poor me," the vorcha muttered. "All alone…"

Javik had heard that language before. The same primitive tongue. His brain leapt unbidden to past memories, neurons firing rapidly and sewing together connections as he cycled through the Echo Shards he had had the privilege of experiencing. He had been born in the heart of war, long after the fall of the great Prothean Empire. Most of his knowledge of his people and their subordinate races came from the memory shards passed between Protheans. The shards he'd received from his fellow warriors, then passed on, let him live the glory of the empire that he'd never experienced. They let him see old triumphs and conquests and joy in the days of a happy people, before the Reapers came -- and they gave him an intimate knowledge of other species: the races they had dominated and assimilated into their empire, the primitives they'd studied, and the lesser species that were good for nothing but food. Their memories became his, then he passed the torch to another warrior.

He'd heard that language before. A vision of the Prothean scientist who had visited the uninhabitable planet of Heshtok to observe its sapient life, discovering the vorcha.

Fifty thousand years.

He had witnessed the demise of his people, risen from their ashes, walked amongst races thousands of times more advanced than their ancestors, the ones he had grown to know from Echo shards of old.

Fifty thousand years, and the vorcha hadn't changed one bit.

---

He hesitated for the briefest of seconds.

Needle-sharp teeth sank into his arm.

The noise Javik made upon returning to the present was undignified and entirely unbefitting of a Prothean. He threw off the vorcha with a bright green biotic blast.

"Pitiful," Ai spat in his direction. She wasn't sure who she was more disgusted with: Javik for freezing in the face of an enemy, herself for going soft and trusting someone else, or the vermin they needed to exterminate.

She should have known better than to trust someone else to do the job. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, and Ai always had to do everything herself.

She jammed her forked omni-blade against the vorcha's throat, pinning him against the wall. With a guttural, horrific gagging sound that made Ai's ears bleed, the vorcha thrashed about, sharp claws scrabbling at her arm.

She stood her ground and sent a jolt of electrical energy surging through the omni-blade -- unfortunately, it wasn't powerful enough to roast the vorcha alive, but it was enough to stun him.  

All Ai needed to do was drive the blade through his trachea before he bounced back from the shock to his system, but she was so consumed by rage that it was becoming very difficult to concentrate on the target before her. Javik’s incompetence was blinding her. This was why she didn’t get involved with people. Social connections were so tiring. They kept you from focusing on what was really important.

Senseless violence and the eradication of useless alien scum.

In one swift motion, she pulled back and summoned up a combat drone to take her place. The vorcha lunged for the tech drone, only to howl and retreat as he was zapped. He hunched over in the corner to lick his wounds.

Ai rounded on Javik. Her tech drone was equipped with mass effect fields that allowed it to levitate safely out of the vorcha's grasp, and it was trained to open fire at the slightest movement from its target, which bought her enough time to yell at her companion.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," she snarled. "You could have compromised everything, you useless idiot!"

"I was studying the enemy," Javik answered by way of explanation, his voice even. "And I had the situation under control, that was just a minor setback."

Ai sneered. "You lost control of the situation the moment that hideous piece of vermin bit you. Studying the enemy. An involuntary reading, then. Those garbage powers make you a liability on the battlefield."

Javik bristled. "False. If anything, they are an asset, not a liability. When I choose to use them--" Perhaps anticipating Ai's reaction, he raised his voice and soldiered on to explain, "--In the sense that I ordinarily choose long-range biotics to avoid triggering them -- I can read my enemies in an instant, witness their last memories, discover their battle strategies--"

"--become incapacitated and attacked--"

"For a split second, and I retaliated!" Javik retorted.

They stared each other down, both simmering with barely restrained anger.

Javik took a deep breath and continued. "Regardless, my momentary lapse of attention was due to a… revelation."

Ai was at odds with herself. Her fury at what she perceived to be weakness on Javik's part conflicted with her drive to know everything and thirst for knowledge.

Curiosity won out. "Explain," she said.

"Vorcha. They... haven't evolved."

She was seized by a sudden desire to roll her eyes, smack Javik, or both. She settled for a derisive scoff and folded her hands behind her back. She'd already lost control of herself today; she needed to rein herself back in. "I could have told you that," she said. "They don't evolve."

She turned her head to look at the vorcha. He hadn't learned his lesson and was still attempting to attack the drone, with disastrous results.

Javik did not look thrilled to learn that his epiphany meant nothing to Ai, but he continued his train of thought regardless. "I can see how all the species in this cycle have evolved, except for them. Before the war, my people studied primitive species. Groomed them. Before offering them the... choice of joining the empire."

Her face remained as blank a mask as ever, but Ai exhaled through her nose, a faint huff that was the closest she ever came to a laugh. A "choice." Amusing.

"We were in the midst of studying this cycle's species when the Reapers arrived. Humans. Asari. Krogan. Never the vorcha." He paused. "Not the lizard people, either. I still don't know how they managed to evolve."

"You failed to account for their freakish metabolism." She allowed herself a faint smirk. She didn't care for salarians, to say the least, but it was entertaining to see just how badly the Protheans had misjudged a race known for its intelligence. "A grotesque miscalculation on your part. Embarrassing."

"The point," Javik said, "is that the vorcha were primitive then and they are primitive compared to your allegedly advanced species now."

The vorcha squatted on his haunches and sprang upright, hands scrabbling over his head in a desperate bid to reach the drone.

They watched him in silence for a few seconds, neither of them able to come up with an appropriately scathing comment for the spectacle in front of them.

"What is their purpose in this cycle?" Javik finally asked.

"Cannon fodder." Ai did not mince words.

Javik gave an appreciative hum. "The strong dominate the weak. The weak become a tool for the strong, then perish. The Cosmic Imperative. Perhaps you humans share more similarities with Protheans than I thought."

"Other humans, maybe. I am without equal." She flicked her eyes down the length of Javik's body, then back up to meet his gaze. "An alien could never compare. No matter their ideals."

"Our strategies are the same. You use vorcha as 'cannon fodder.' Their species is not strong enough to thrive alone. They are expendable. In my cycle, weak links became resources. When the Reapers were busy conquering the weak, they were not watching us. It was the logical tactic."

"That does not make us equals. I am still superior."

"You are a fool," Javik said, and Ai was struck with another twinge of irritation. "No, we are not equals. You're still a primitive. If my warriors survived the cull, we would have reclaimed the galaxy. You would be under my command right now."

"I would sooner kill myself than be under your control," Ai said, and she meant every word of it. "I am not one of your weaklings to conquer and discard. I am above that."

There was a clattering noise, and both of them sharply turned their heads to look at the vorcha, having gotten so wrapped up in their disagreement that they'd nearly forgotten about its catalyst.

The vorcha had sat down, beaten into submission and drained of its bloodlust.

"This is not finished," Javik said.

Ai inclined her chin in agreement. It was a temporary peace treaty, she supposed. Neither one of them would forget the argument until it reached its bitter end.

"The question now is: what do we do with this… thing?" Contempt dripped from his voice.

It was a valid question. "We could still kill it." It wouldn't be quite as satisfying as killing it in the heat of battle, but it was still an option -- and given the vorcha's aggression, she suspected it would put up a fight even if they had subdued it for now.

"We could," Javik agreed, his voice as casual as if the two of them were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Or--"

She paused, noting how the vorcha's eyes slid over to the two of them. His gaze was sharp, focused, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his intelligence, limited as it was. She'd grown careless with her words, having already dismissed the vorcha as a mindless, savage creature.

She did a quick visual scan of her drone and, satisfied that it would keep the vorcha in line if he got unruly again, she shifted to face Javik. "We need to speak privately." She held up her hand. "Keep it brief, I don't want to touch you any longer than absolutely necessary."

Javik ignored the jibe. Ai was still irritated with him, not to mention uncomfortable with the very concept of linking minds. Her mind belonged to her, and welcoming another person into her innermost thoughts was deeply disconcerting. It wasn't just invasive, it was intimate, and Ai had no experience with intimacy. It was unnatural to her.

Javik touched the pads of her fingers with his own three fingertips.

Ai closed her eyes as she entered the dreamlike state of mind she had, on more than one occasion, shared with Javik and Sam.

What did you want to tell me? Javik's voice sounded in her head.

She did her best to carefully wipe her mind of all thoughts, save for the words she wanted to share with him. There's another option besides killing it. It is beyond idiotic, but it was a worthy adversary. We could bend it to our will.

Use it as cannon fodder.

Exactly.

It could prove useful. It may even be agreeable to being a pawn. Allow me to share with you one of its memories.

He transmitted the vorcha's last memory, and Ai watched as the vorcha was rejected from his clan. A pitiful display. Agreed, a new start may make it more amenable to our cause.  

Indeed.

Enough talk. Get out of my head.

Ai pulled her fingers away, severing the connection between her and Javik. She had all the information she needed, and she didn't need to linger. For some reason, the encounters were more bearable with Sam involved.

She motioned at Javik, who stepped forward. "You, vorcha--"

"Grist!" the vorcha hissed. He might have been docile, but he was no less terrifying.

Javik and Ai looked at each other. Ai was not the type of person who asked questions. If she asked a question, it was a demand for information, never an admission of ignorance -- she hated looking like she didn't know everything all of the time. She was supposed to be flawless, not some simpleton who was easily puzzled or thrown off guard.

So she was pleased when Javik asked the question: "Is that… a word?" It was difficult to tell whether he was communicating with them, or if the sound was another one of his primal noises.

The vorcha thumped his chest with one clawed hand. "My name Grist."

Javik’s lip curled. “The primitive speaks at last.”

The harsh cry that Grist emitted in response made Ai grind her teeth. "Why use words when teeth?" He bared his teeth at them to demonstrate how useful they were in combat. Unnaturally long and spiny, they were crusted with blood.

Repulsive, Ai thought.

"Too many words." Grist clutched his head and shook it vigorously.

Ai suspected that combat was his preferred communication style simply because his grasp of language was not nuanced enough. Javik was right, as loathe as she was to admit it; vorcha were primitive.

Regardless, she needed words from him. "I do not care." She took a step towards him.

Perhaps it was her generally menacing presence, or the fact that he overheard them discussing the possibility of killing him, but Grist did not react well. "Back!" he snarled, hackles raised. "Back! You no come closer! I kill you!"

As if you would succeed, Ai thought to herself, but she kept silent and retreated. Grist settled down, apparently reassured, if still wary of her motives. "Tell me why you are on my ship," she said, attempting to regain control of the situation.

"Grist clan too big," he said morosely. "No room on Omega. Find ship, sneaky sneaky, hide away. Then go to new planet, make new clan!"

Ai was not going to question the logistics of this plan. The thought of vorcha breeding -- anyone breeding, really -- revolted her. "That doesn't explain the corpse."

Grist gave her a toothy grin. "Food," he said. "Me hungry."

Of course. She didn't know why she even asked. Of course the scavenger brought a dead human on board the ship as sustenance. Or part of a human, at any rate; Ai couldn't imagine him sneaking on board with a full corpse, and oh, she would have words with whoever had been guarding the ship while they were on Omega. She was not looking forward to seeing how, exactly, he had besmirched her hideaway.

Grist reached into a pouch on his hip and pulled out a severed human finger. Ai sharply inhaled, the closest she came to a gasp or exclamation of moral outrage.

He nibbled on it until he noticed Ai staring at him with murder in her eyes. He looked down at the half-chewed finger. Looked back at Ai. Extended the dessicated finger bone out to her.

Some people would have viewed it as a proverbial olive branch, and an unusually civilized gesture for a vorcha. Ai viewed it as a heinous insult to everything she held dear: cleanliness, logic, not sharing food with an alien.

"I am going to kill it," she announced, calling up her omni-tool. Grist was too busy sucking the last meat off the bone to notice her threat.

"Don't," Javik warned her.

Ai fixed him with a look. She was seized with the urge to ignore him and kill the vorcha anyway purely to spite Javik. She did not like being ordered about and actively disobeyed any direct orders she received.

But logic was stronger than rage, in this particular instance, and she deactivated her omni-tool. "I am not doing this because you told me to," she informed Javik. "I am doing this because I have reassessed the situation and come to the same conclusion."

"If that helps you sleep at night," Javik said, and, not for the first time, Ai questioned why she chose the company of such a smug bastard.

They looked down at Grist. He was chewing on his arm, his burn wounds already blistering.

Javik turned back to Ai, his jaw set. There was only one thing they could do. "Get Samantha."

[tricksters-captain]

Negan imagines - The Blame Part 17

AN: I love this chapter. I hope you do too. 

Catch up here: (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)(Part 11)(Part 12)(Part 13)(Part 14)(Part 15)(Part 16)

Overall Summary: You’re the one who accidentally led the Saviours to the group cause Negan has an interest in you. Rick’s daughter.

In this chapter: You’re stuck with Negan and Gabe, will the truth come out?

Pairing: Negan x reader, Father!Rick x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3,990

Warnings: Strong language and violence, smut, shower-sex. 

You were wrapping your arm with ripped t-shirt when you heard the door open and close again, emerging you in darkness. 

“I hope you got your shittin’ pants on.” Negan smiled as he had saw who entered. 

“What?” His voice was instantly recognisable to you and you stopped wrapping your arm to look over at the figure. 

“Your shittin’ pants, I hope you’re wearing them right now ‘cause you are about to shit your pants.” Negan rose and walked towards Gabriel. 

You could sense what was about to happen and as soon as Negan lunged towards Gabriel, tackling him to the ground to strip him of his weapons, you jumped to your feet. 

“Well, that's handy.” You heard Negan say as he examined a gun that you couldn’t see from where you were stood. “This one still has a full clip.”

“There wasn't any point in firing it. I didn't have enough.” Gabriel explained, glowering past Negan’s head. 

“Yeah, but you could've gone down fighting, you big baby.” You watched Negan aim the gun at Gabriel’s head before chuckling wickedly. “I'm just pulling your dick, breakin' your balls a little bit. You done good. Smart play.” Negan stood, with a struggle, and held out his hand. “Let's get you properly on your ass.”

Gabriel took it with hesitation and Negan helped him sit up before Negan took a seat on the floor on the opposite wall. You joined him on the floor, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes. 

“Shhhh.” Negan hushed the whole room, bringing his leather clad finger to his smirk. 

And so you sat in silence. 

You had been in the caravan long enough to doze off with your head on Negan’s lap but you started to stir when you heard voices.

“Your friend Rick is an asshole.” Negan told Gabriel, his hand slowly stroking through your hair as he thought you were asleep. 

“You're an asshole.” Gabriel responded, looking over at the older man. 

“Yeah. I am.” Negan laughed at that, “But he's gonna get people killed.” 

“By you.” Gabriel retaliated, defending Rick as you couldn’t. 

“See, I killed the widow's husband and the ginger. But I didn't get them killed. That was your boy Rick. Big difference.” Negan argued with the priest, “You know, I saw you stop for that Gregory idiot. You were there. You saw the whole thing. You heard his little speech. Why would you stop for that bearded prick?” 

“What I fear is a fruitless death.” Gabriel admitted, turning his face away from Negan’s look of amusement. 

“Jesus Christ. You got to be kiddin' me. He split on your creepy little ass. The point of your life would be saving that dickhead? That wouldn't be it.” Negan held the smile on his face which he could tell was agitating the priest. 

“There had to be some reason I did what I did.” Gabriel sighed, “Maybe this is the reason.”

“What?” Negan frowned, 

 “I think I'm here to take your confession.” Gabriel admitted. The words sent a coolness down your spine and you tried not to move under Negan’s now still hand. 

“We can wait it out a little bit, see if my people can figure something out. One thing that is sure as ass if my people think I'm dead a lot of folks are gonna die in there.” Negan chose to ignore Gabriel’s remark and focus on something else. 

“Why?” Gabriel asked, 

“Listen to me. I don't have shit to confess.” Negan paused for a moment. “Let me ask you something. Why'd you become a priest?” 

“I love God, and I love people. I wanted to bring them together. To help people through their difficult times. To help them through their weaknesses.” Gabriel said very honestly, 

“Well, look at that. That's my thing. I like to help people through their weaknesses, too. Been doing it one way or another my whole life.” Negan pointed his index finger at the man and Gabriel just furrowed his eyebrows, immediately questioning him back. 

“How do you help people?”

“You want to know why people are gonna start dying in there? Because I'm not there to stop it.” Negan spoke over the man, looking towards the door and dropping his hand. 

There was a brief silence where all you could hear was the scratching and groaning from outside and you were pretty sure your heartbeat was loud enough to hear also, before Negan started to whistle his saviours signal. 

“So right now, let's deal with the other part. Someone in here made everything out there happen. We're having our little crisis-management meeting about the rebellion in Alexandria, us three outpost heads, and that's when they pile this crap on us? That's when they cut us off? Come on. They knows all and sees all. Sometimes it doesn't take a gun. The right kind of rat can kill plenty of people with just some talk.” Gavin spoke up, bringing the real issue to the table that there was in fact a rat in their midst. 

“But it's not gonna be us, and it doesn't have to be the workers.” Dwight argued, 

“You’re right, it’s not us because it’s Negan’s new bitch that obviously ratted us out. She is Rick’s daughter after all.” Regina leant forward, not holding herself back at all. 

“It wasn’t (y/n). Negan’s had eyes on her at all times since she first arrived here and you know that.” Dwight challenged Regina with his glare. 

“Dwight, you got to face reality here.” Simon called out. 

“No, Simon, (Y/n) had nothing to do with it and all of you know that deep down. Now I say we keep what's ours, and we don't give up a damn thing. We get out. And I don't want to hear backbiting or pissing or moaning from you two. You got a problem with that, come at me.  Hmm? You can't lead the Saviors out of here, I will.” Dwight fought back, taking control of the situation.

“Yes, my boy. Yes! And we're gonna find that subhuman coward that did this to us, and we're gonna kill him very slowly in front of everyone here over the course of a few very long days. “ Simon sighed, hovering over Dwight. “Good meeting, people. Now let's make today the best today it can be.” 

“You helped the weak before this?” Gabriel questions, hanging onto what Negan had said a few moments earlier.

“Kids.You don't show them the way, well, they turn out like garbage. Little assholes become great big ones, so you show them the way.” Negan began to explain, “Adults, they need it, too. The government, laws, religion, guilt. People are weak.” 

“Everyone?” Gabriel seemed surprised that Negan was telling him all of this but he figured it was one step closer to confession. 

“Everyone.” Negan confirmed. 

“You're weak. Killing the innocent.” Gabriel brought his hands into his lap, lifting his head to Negan with a newfound confidence. 

“Right and goddamn wrong. I'm weak, but me ‘killing the innocent’? That ain't why, Gabey.” Negan stopped as the groaning and growling grew louder, “We'll wait a little bit longer, see if my people can pull it together.” Negan stood to move away from the growling and gently lifted your head before placing it down so you remained asleep. You fidgeted in your ‘sleep’ so that your back was to the men so that you didn’t have to try so hard to keep your eyes closed. 

“Why are you weak?” Gabriel questioned, 

“That's the wrong question. It is how I am weak.” Negan leant against the opposite wall, watching your peaceful sleeping form. “You see, the thing is, I am also strong. Everyone is a mix. You can use your weaknesses to drive your strength, and obviously, I am strong as shit. I took this place, and it was a damn free-for-all –– a loose confederation of assholes, an army made up of gangs of animals, and I brought it all together. The last guy that was in charge, he wasn't in charge of shit. He allowed people to be weak. I don't. I make them strong, which makes this world strong. You're gonna see, Gabey. See, I'm gonna make you my new special project.” Negan drew his eyes from you to face the priest with a cunning smile on his lips. The next question that left Gabriel’s mouth took Negan back for a split-second. 

“Is she one of your projects?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to you with a nod. 

“Nah, that sweet piece of ass is strong as shit! But unfortunately she’s weak because of dear ol’daddy Rick. Hell, she’s the first person I’ve met since this whole goddamn mess started that’s damn near perfection.” Negan said all this without even thinking twice, he truly adored you. “But don’t you worry, Gabey. We’re gonna make you nice and strong, too. We're gonna find your special purpose. Hell yes, we are.” 

“I'm strong. I've killed. I was at the Satellite Station. I was a part of that.” Gabriel tried to defend himself. 

“Oh. Then you killed my people while they were sleeping. Well, look at you, swinging your dick. Sure, Gabe. That's strong. But that's not what I'm talking about.” Negan slowly approached Gabriel, lingering over him. 

“Tell me how you're weak. We might be dead soon. You may be dead. Wouldn't you want to confess before all that happens? Wouldn't you want absolution before that? Forgiveness? Costs you nothing more than saying the truth aloud. You don't think you have anything to confess? People you've killed?” Gabriel could see through the darkness that Negan was being affected at the thought of his sins. Or, his one true sin. 

“I haven't killed anyone that didn't need it.” Negan defended himself. 

“The workers you treat like slaves?” Gabriel rose his eyebrows, suggesting another. 

“It's an economy. Some people win, some people lose, but no one's a slave, no one's going hungry, and you couldn't say that before all this.” Negan argued, defending himself once again with his excuses. 

“Carl told us about your wives. The women you pressure into marrying you?” Gabriel brought up a touchy subject on both of yours and Negan’s front. 

“Every one of those ladies made a choice.” Negan said through tight teeth, 

“(Y/n) was pressured into marrying you. However, I can admit the way she looks at you is beyond a curiosity, you’re her entire world, she’d do anything for you even if it meant betraying her father.” Gabriel stated, and it pained your chest to think that it was true. “ Was there a first? One before all of this? A wife you promised to have and to hold, forsaking all others? One you told that lie to?” 

“Lucille, give me strength.” Negan whispers just before he felt Gabriel’s hand grasp hold of the gun that Negan had tucked in his pants. Negan shoved Gabriel far away from him and Gabriel retreated behind another door, taking cover in another room. 

You lurched upwards due to the behaviour and tucked yourself in a corner to scramble away from the claws of the dead that had managed to break through the wood of the caravan. 

“All right, Gabe! No one's coming for us. You took your shot –– shots. It's time to go.” Negan yelled through the closed door. You rose to your feet and neared the door, yourself, directly opposite the man. “We have Lucille to help us get to the Sanctuary. We have that gun. We should use it. Most importantly, Gabriel, we have each other. People are a resource. We make it inside, we live. We can take a chance, we can ‘gut up’, play dead ones across the courtyard. Or... Or I can just kill you, but that is not what I want. What I want is for you to work with me. That is all I ever want.” Negan began to spill as he dragged a dead walker across the room; you watched him do so with your ear close to the door so that you could hear Gabe’s heavy breaths. 

“I've killed before, but that's not my greatest sin.” Gabriel splutters out. “I locked my congregation out of my church when this all just started. I listened to them die as I cowered. I failed them. I failed God. And every day, I work to lessen that failure, to be of service and purpose. Now I offer you the assurance of a pardon, penance, and absolution. I will go with you. I will show you that working together as equals is the only true way to grace, to a future. I will do this if you confess.” Gabriel offered a deal. 

”Negan.” You gave him the ‘we don’t need him’ look but in reality you knew that you needed Gabriel’s gun and Negan would want all the extra protection for you as possible even if you could handle yourself. 

“Jesus, Gabe. What you did, that is some horrible, cowardly, spineless shit. But I guess that's what a confession's supposed to be, right?” Negan averted his eyes from your own but you held your eyes on his face with such intent as he carefully opened his mouth to speak again, “My first wife was a real wife. Till death did us part. It was before this. I lied to her, I screwed around on her. And she was sick. And when she went...When she went, it was during this. I couldn't put her down. That is how I was weak. That is what I will confess.” Negan finally looked at you and you could see the glassiness of tears. “Because, yeah, maybe we do bite the big one here.”

You leaned forward, pushing up onto your tiptoes and gently kissed the older man. His scuff scratching your face whilst you held onto his neck.

The door opened and you pulled away. “You're forgiven.” Gabriel informed Negan. 

Negan greeted Gabriel with his fist before thanking him rather insincerely. 

“Thanks. You can keep your gun.” Negan opened up the dead and you knew immediately what you were going to have to do to get out of there. “Sucks but it looks like we got to risk eating it by eating it.” 

“I don't understand.” Gabriel openly said, 

“You ever done this trick with the guts before?” Negan’s question was directed to the both of you. 

“Too many times to count.” You liked to think you were immune to the smell of walking dead but when it was all up over you, it really made you feel nauseous.  

“These are putrid, decaying organs, dead blood, piss, and shit that have been cooking all day in the Virginian sun. None of your people ever gotten sick from this?” Negan asked, 

“We're from Georgia.” Gabriel answered that. 

“Look at you lucky shits.” Negan chuckled, starting to cover himself in the guts. 

You did the same. 

“You ready?” Negan placed his hand on the side of your neck, looking down at you. You nodded, unable to open your mouth due to the vile smell. 

“Let’s make some noise.” Negan started hitting the metal door, Gabriel starting yelling and you kicked the wooden floor beneath you. 

The noise attracted most of the walkers inside as you opened the door and tried slipping out past them.

“Hold onto me.” Negan said lowly, gripping hold of your hand as you trailed behind him. 

You only had a piece of broken metal as a weapon whilst Negan wielded Lucille and Gabriel had his gun so you felt more than underprepared for this trek. 

You had almost made it when Gabriel tripped and attracted the attention of the walkers, and that’s when you had to fight your way through instead of using stealth.

With a couple close calls, you managed to get inside but inside the lower floor was abandoned and the whole area was eerily quiet. 

Everyone seemed to have retreated upstairs, a place that even you knew the workers weren’t authorised to be. 

As you neared where the noise seemed to be coming from, you could hear yells and then several gun shots which didn’t phase you. 

Negan still had hold of your hand, he had let go during the chaos outside to fight off the walkers but as soon as you made it into the building, he took it and hadn’t let go since. 

His whistle rang through the halls as you rounded the corner and all of the saviours fell to their knees. 

“Oh, Regina. Now, why'd you have to go and do that?” Negan referred to the dead man on the floor to which Regina had killed a few minutes earlier. “I am guessing that a lot of you fine folks thought I was dead, chewed up, never to be crapped out again. Well, here's a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, and my nutsack is made of steel. I am not dying until I am damn good and ready. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I am in deep need of a sandwich, a shower, and some of that, uh, wilting lion orchid deep-tissue shit that Frankie learned in San Francisco. Hell, I might do it all at once. But after that, we have some serious business to attend to. Like talking to my right-hand man.” Negan aimed the end of Lucille directly at Simon.  “You see, we got to figure out how all this could've happened like it happened. And then Well, and then we're gonna get back doing what we have always done. We will save people.” 

“Thank you, Negan. Thank God for you!” A woman cried out and you had to resist shaking your head when Negan looked back at Gabriel and smirked widely. 

“And that is why I am here. Gentlemen, gently take him to number 2. Gently.” Negan commanded before ushering you towards your bedroom.

You stood underneath the shower head, letting the water cascade over you. Your arms wrapped around yourself and your eyes squeezed shut. 

You had only been in there a few minutes before you felt Negan’s large presence behind you. 

He ran his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, releasing them from their fold as you leant back into his touch. 

Negan kissed your head and you turned around to face him. 

“Negan?” You asked, your voice sounding much smaller than you thought. 

“Yes, baby?” Negan rested his hands on your hips but you didn’t react. 

“About what you said earlier. About your wife.” You saw Negan visibly tense as he inhaled deeply, awaiting your next words. “I want to be real. I want to be real for you.” You admitted, 

Negan waited a short moment before answering. He studied your face and then gently brushed the water droplets from your eyelashes. 

“God, I love you.” Negan said it softly almost like a sigh, but as soon as he said it, you felt your heart stop. Your lungs pause and your whole self froze. 

You snapped out of the trance quickly and wrapped your arms around Negan, kissing him hungrily. 

Negan backed you up against the tiled wall and his hand greedily grasped hold of one of your breasts. You gasped into his mouth as his other hand cupped between your legs and you let your head loll back against the wall. 

Negan grew hard at the sight and pressed his large body against yours, picking you up and hitching your legs upon his waist. 

One of your hands reached up and held onto the metal pole that held up the shower curtain whilst your other dug into Negan’s shoulder. 

Negan’s lips attacked along your collar bones and the scruff on his face and neck caused goosebumps along your skin and your nipples to erect. 

“Negan.” You breathed out, but you refused to beg at this early stage. 

However, for once, Negan didn’t want you to beg. 

He filled you and you squeezed your eyes shut as he gave you barely any time to adjust to his size. 

Your hand switched from his shoulder to pull on the back of his back which rose a chuckle from within the man. 

He started to rock his hips as the water fell on the both of you, picking up the pace when he felt you trying to do just that. 

You were just out from under the water so your skin started to cool but Negan’s breath and body burned against you. 

As his thrusts made him wobble on the slippy surface of the shower, Negan pulled you tight against him and stepped out of the shower. Placing you on the counter top where the sink sat and resumed his fucking. 

You held onto him with a fierce grip and he chuckled at that, only tempting him to hit you harder and faster to bring you to a climax. 

You nipped on his collarbone as you felt yourself edge closer and closer. Your soaked hair covered your face as you squeezed your eyes shut in bliss. 

Your white knuckles and throbbing core brought Negan to his own orgasm and you two stood there, panting as you rested against each other. 

You laughed quietly against the bare man and he leant back, using his fingers to move your hair from your face. Your smile as you bit down on your lower lip made him feel less shitty about revealing his past to you in the way he did and then he helped you down and slapped your ass as you reached for a towel. 

Negan had to attend a meeting now that you all were trapped in the sanctuary surrounded by the dead and you no longer wanted to sit around moping like a child. You weren’t going to be the damsel stuck in a tower. 

To your surprise, after the steamy shower, Negan didn’t force you into your dress. You were allowed some skinny jeans and one of his shirts and you were suddenly feeling more like yourself. 

“I gotta admit, you may have looked Mr and Mrs. Smith kinda hot with a little black dress and your guns but damn does this take me back.”  Negan was referring to the first time he met you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel better in this get up. 

Negan lead you to the usual meeting room and you ignored the eyes burning into your back from 

Negan had you on his lap and he sure as hell weren’t letting go. 

“Good news is, I figured out where that asshole's gun came from.” Laura, one o the saviour women, tossed the bag down on the table in front of Negan. 

“And the bad news?” Negan asked, 

“They're ours.” Gary informed Negan. “Stolen from the armoury. A worker couldn't have gotten this many guns without us knowing about it.” 

“They couldn't have got one.” Laura argued. 

“No, one of our own did this –– is doing this, right now.” Simon looked as pissed off as Negan felt. 

“Tell me how we find him, Simon.” Negan asked. 

"We find when the munitions went missing. Through that, we get an idea of the how, which hopefully leads us right to who. But we start with when.” Simon explained. Negan smirked just ever so slightly and sat up, squeezing you with his arm as he did. 

“Well, you better get on it then.” Negan nudged you a little, silently asking you to stand so Negan could and then the rest of the room followed. Exiting when asked. 

“Yo. Dr. Smartypants.” Negan called back Eugene, and you contemplated staying but instead squeezed Negan’s hand and left Negan to it. 

You were going to have to cooperate from now on. Times are gonna be tough. You were gonna have to be tougher. 

Part 18

Tags below

@sonyajade @imfuckin-gcrazy @painting-flowers-in-wonderland @colt67chevy @tonictransistor @bands-messed-me-up @lokis-sassy-ass @fieldofsage @the-garbage-pail-cousin @hungryandwild @nikki082489 @agespenst @monstershade @totallysupernaturaloneshots @hellonheel @queenlikethoughts @isaxbella749 @mx-gicx @g0back2bed @the-shameless-trickster @hewasmyfriend @95cliffords @philosophynerd2 @poodilywoots @laaadygisbooornex3 @cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale @bookchic20 @papa-death @thenerdinyourclass @marvel-imagines-16 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @summer-binging-spn @yellowtheremarvelfan @toxic-ink @dreamincolor1216 @xmaspumpkin  @streetwalkerkid @laureng-99 @gabethelobster @hellainternet @romans-babe @dream-equine @bookishdorito @starkatie16 @7minutes-tomidnight @adoredbucky @nicholeex @tolieboy @rosebunnies @suileidead @mivlartina @angelicdestieldemon @oxararfoss @buckybarnesisalittleshit @cloudroomblog @kkella  @hey-im-jamie @frandalf @into-the-fire5 @spn-dean-sam-cas-spn @magical-spit @nat-nat-83 @brooklinf @osweetdevilo @and-how-about-that-airplane-food @hayleighloatx @h0rn-d0g76-my0vari3s @superheavymetalunicorn @sariaisawinchester @myrabbitholetoneverland @negandaddyjdm @Artemisxeros @thegoddesscalliah @genevievedarcygranger @arwa-alii @attentionseekingprincess @super-ernova @yallatthetopofyourlungs @kingbouji3 @bloody-jinxx @to-pick-ourselves-up-7  @nicholeh7 @rose4958 @thetiniest-witchfrozenhuntress67 @umdaryl @dollycrybaby @depressed-teenagekids @beahippie23 @vegans-girl @hcrleysqninn @saved-by-fiction @thedeadwalks @catlovescats

[jazzmckay]

@teenwolfexchange gift for @liveandletrain who asked for something braeden-centric

words: ~2600 tags/warnings: mild violence (aftermath of her injury in 3a), brief braeden/derek

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you to do something you think is wrong,” mama tells her. “Call your own shots.”

Braeden is young at the time, young enough that the message behind the words doesn’t entirely sink in. Instead, she remembers the intensity in her mama’s face, an expression that’s reserved for important things. She remembers a creased brow and an unwavering gaze, and the memory stays with her until she can properly understand it.

Eventually, she puts the pieces together. She connects mama’s words with the timely move she and her parents made to a new town only a week later, with how she never saw her mama’s side of the family again, after that.

‘Call your own shots,’ she thinks to herself, years later, ‘no matter the cost.’

*

“How did you meet?” Braeden asks her parents one night over dinner. From what little she knows about the kind of upbringing they both had, she can’t imagine how they ended up married.

“Not how you’re expecting,” mom says. “It had nothing to do with werewolves.”

Her mom isn’t wrong - she had anticipated a story about them being on opposite sides of a fight, one of them hunting a pack and the other advising it, until they’d somehow gotten a chance to meet each other properly.

“Really?” she asks.

“Really,” mom says, grinning. “We never even crossed paths as a hunter and an emissary, we were both surprised when we found out about each other.”

Mama chuckles. “I thought your mom would break up with me on the spot if I tried to convince her werewolves really existed, not realising I had nothing to worry about.”

“You were acting so strange,” mom says, looking gleeful at the memory. “Then when you started telling me, and I just said, ‘oh, I know about werewolves’... your face. I’ll never forget.”

Mama turns to look at Braeden with an exasperated expression. “And she’ll never let me forget it, either.”

Braeden laughs. “What happened?”

“By that point we already knew each other fairly well,” mama says. “We trusted each other, and had no problem talking it out.”

“Packs with an emissary are rarely a problem for hunters,” mom continues. “The pack I advised was longstanding and stable. I had a good relationship with them and any hunter who followed a code wouldn’t have bothered them.”

She glances over at mama and Braeden watches the two of them share a look. Mama reaches a hand across the table and mom takes it, threading their fingers together.

“So, how did you meet, then? You still haven’t said,” Braeden asks.

“Oh, I accidentally knocked over a paper towel display at the grocery store,” mom says. “Your mama made sure I was okay and helped me put everything back.”

“What? That’s it?” Braeden asks incredulously.

“Not every story gets to have werewolves in it, no matter how much you wish they did,” mom teases.

*

For Braeden’s sixteenth birthday, her mama takes her to a shooting range and teaches her how to handle a pistol.

When the gun is in her hands, she’s holding her body steady, and she has her eyes trained on the target, an energy courses through her. The first few shots rock through her like a shockwave and the bullets hit off center, but she gets into the swing of it quickly.

Mama whistles in appreciation when they bring the target forward and see how close she got to bullseye.

“You’re a natural, hon,” mama says as she helps Braeden load a second clip, and Braeden beams.

*

Braeden sits in the passenger seat while her partner drives them through the city on their patrol route. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to a beat that’s only in his head, eyes focused on the road.

It has been a slow day. A slow week, really. This city isn’t exactly a crime hotspot, and for awhile now she’s felt like she could do more good elsewhere. She’s thought about it a lot, and has even started preparing for it, which is as good as making the decision already, she figures.

“Hey, McKenzie.”

McKenzie makes a noise of acknowledgement but doesn’t look away from the road.

“I’m going to apply for the U.S. Marshals.”

That gets her partner’s attention. He looks over at her, like he’s gauging whether or not she’s serious, before turning back to the road. “Yeah?” he prompts.

“Yeah,” Braeden says, nodding. “Thought I’d give you a heads up. I’m going to talk to the Captain when we get back.”

“Wow,” McKenzie says lightly, suspiciously casual.

Braeden has spent enough time weaseling confessions out of suspects to know when someone is holding something back. It’s obvious McKenzie is stunned and skeptical, but just doesn’t want to say so outright. McKenzie’s not a bad guy, they’ve worked together just fine for awhile now, but Braeden sure wouldn’t call them friends. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t know what she knows about the world, doesn’t know what she’s been taught on the side.

“Don’t think I can make it, huh?” she says, because for some reason she has trouble letting sleeping dogs lie. McKenzie’s opinion doesn’t matter and she’ll show him wrong eventually, but she pokes anyway.

McKenzie sighs. “Only a small percentage of people get accepted to the program.”

“Not a problem,” Braeden says.

“Okay. Just, don’t get your hopes up too much, you know? If you make it, that would be great, but keep the odds in mind, just in case.”

Braeden knows her odds better than McKenzie does. “Thanks for the counsel,” she says sarcastically.

“Look, it’s badass that you’re even going to give it a try. It’s good to stay realistic, though.”

Gritting her teeth, Braeden manages to stop herself before she snaps at him, not for his sake but for her own. They still have an hour of patrol left and she isn’t going to spend it with McKenzie doubting her strengths and trying to talk her down from a decision she’s made for herself after considerable thought.

“Well, we’ll find out just how realistic my expectations are,” she says with a tone of finality.

McKenzie gets the message and doesn’t bring it up again.

A month later she’s shaking her Captain’s hand as she’s saying goodbye, preparing to make the move to a new office and take on the title of U.S. Marshal.

On her way out, she passes McKenzie’s desk. “Good luck with your new partner,” she says, and then keeps walking.

*

Being a U.S. Marshal is fulfilling and satisfying, until it isn’t. Braeden enjoys staying busy and solving mysteries and catching bad guys, and for a year, it’s just that simple. All the people she investigates are human, her coworkers are human, and her department’s protocols are written with humans in mind. She almost forgets about the supernatural world, until she’s given the assignment to bring down a particularly elusive assassin.

‘The Desert Wolf’ as a moniker is a bit on the nose, for a werecreature, but after tracking the assassin for months and gathering enough information to notice patterns and connect pieces that other people wouldn’t notice, Braeden is certain of her theory.

The Desert Wolf is smart, fast, rarely spotted, and has even shrugged off being shot two times. Braeden almost never has to put a bullet into someone to catch them, but with the Desert Wolf, she’s had resort to it twice without result.

And, once they have enough on her to figure out her identity, Braeden finds out that the Desert Wolf used to live in Beacon Hills.

She knows, as soon as she’s convinced herself that the Desert Wolf is a werecreature, that she’s never going to catch her if she has to stick to the rules of her station. If she has to go through official channels, if she has to set up task forces full of people who can’t be fully briefed, if she has to do things the safe and sure way, the Desert Wolf is going to continue killing people, unimpeded.

Braeden likes her job, and she worked for it.

But the Desert Wolf is dangerous and Braeden is growing tired of the hunt. She’s tired of filing reports stating that she let the assassin get away, that despite her otherwise impressive ledger, she just can’t seem to get the better of the Desert Wolf.

‘No matter the cost,’ she reminds herself.

*

‘Don’t you dare die.’

She’s on the floor of the locker room, slumped back against the cold, tiled wall. Blood oozes down her throat from three long claw slashes that run deep, deeper than any wound she’s received before. She’s been injured a lot over the years, come face to face with a lot of dangerous people, but she’s never felt quite so close to death’s door.

The clacking sound of Deucalion’s cane and Kali’s sharp toenails slowly fades as the alpha pack disappears as quickly as they’d appeared. Braeden’s heart pounds on rhythm with their departure.

It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. Her body is somehow both on fire and stone cold. She thinks she might be going into shock.

Instinct leads her to pat a hand down on her pocket in search of a phone to call for help, but there’s no phone there. It had been taken off her at the hospital, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to gather her personal effects before sneaking out. It hadn’t been the priority at the time.

She supposes it’s ironic that only an hour after escaping the hospital, she’s wishing she could get back in. If she doesn’t get medical treatment, she’s going to die.

Braeden doesn’t want to die, especially not at the age of twenty-six on the floor of a high school locker room. ‘Stay conscious,’ she tells herself. ‘Deucalion doesn’t get to tell you when it’s time to check out.’

Years ago, her mom had tried to teach her some basic things like how to use mountain ash, how to cure aconite poisoning, and how to make natural remedies infused with healing power. She hadn’t taken to it the way she’d taken to her mama’s hunting lessons, but she certainly remembers it well enough that she can recall it even while on the verge of passing out.

Moving her hand over to her opposite forearm, she draws her finger across her skin in the shape of a rune, and thinks of her mom, teaching her symbols for health, safety, strength. She doesn’t have the same raw power or years of intense training, but just thinking of her mom bolsters her. Braeden hasn’t seen her, hasn’t seen either of them, since she traded in being a Marshal for being a gun for hire.

“Not going to die here,” Braeden rasps out loud. She can’t leave things the way they are.

The alphas will be long gone, thinking she’s no longer a threat to be dealt with. All she needs to do is get up on her feet and make it far enough for someone to help her.

Ignoring the pain that flares through her entire body, Braeden plants her shaking palms against the wall at her back and pushes.

*

The motel room is sweltering. The AC is busted, summer seems unwilling to break into fall, and Derek is like a space heater in the bed next to her.

Braeden slips out of the bed and walks over to the window, pressing her forehead down onto the glass in hopes that it’s at least a little bit cool compared to the rest of the room. For a minute, as she leans there and looks out at the night sky, the window does provide some relief until it warms up from her body heat.

She hears the shifting of bedsheets behind her, the creaking of the thin mattress as Derek moves.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

“Too hot,” she answers, with her head still pressed against the glass pane.

The bed creaks again as Derek stands up and comes up behind her. He gathers her long hair in his hands, sweeping the strands away from her neck, which both makes her feel slightly cooler and sends a pleasant tingle over her scalp.

“Want to leave?” Derek asks. “If neither of us are sleeping anyway, we don’t have to wait until morning.”

The thought of rolling down the car window and feeling wind on her face as they speed out of town on empty, dark streets is compelling. The problem is where they should be headed.

They’re only in this small, humid town because it’s the site of the Desert Wolf’s latest crime scene, and the more Braeden thinks about it, the more she thinks she knows where the Desert Wolf will be next. They’re not too far from Beacon Hills, again, closer than they’ve been since leaving a few months prior, and the full moon is quickly approaching.

“Derek,” she says. “I know you don’t want to go back to Beacon Hills. I get it, I really do.”

“But you have to go back,” Derek finishes. “I know.”

“Just to see this through.”

She knows her hunt for the Desert Wolf has become more than just a job, it has become personal. Putting away her badge so she could pursue the people that the U.S. government just isn’t equipped to pursue was the right choice and she doesn’t regret it, and she knows her pursuit could be considered obsessive, but she doesn’t regret that either. She’s going to win, and then she’s going to move on and there will be one less harmful person in the world. The Desert Wolf is a threat to the Tates, a threat to the pack Derek might be able to call his own, someday.

“I get it,” Derek says, repeating her own words back to her.

Braeden exhales a long breath, and makes up her mind.

*

Years have passed since she last stood in front of this door, since she last spoke to the people living in the house behind it. The longer she stayed away, the more impossible it felt to go back, and the wider she let the breach become.

Braeden rings the doorbell and then awkwardly takes a step back on the porch, turning to look at the neighbour’s yard as she waits, feeling like an intruder.

After a few seconds, she hears footsteps and then the door clicks open.

“Braeden,” her mom breathes in surprise. She’s out on the porch in an instant, wrapping her arms around Braeden tightly. Her fingertips dig into Braeden’s back as she holds her close.

The plan had been to not get emotional but that goes out the window as soon as Braeden relaxes into her mom’s hug. She missed her parents, plain and simple.

Her mama appears in the doorway a moment later, and Braeden sees her expression switch from curiosity to pure happiness so fast, as soon as she sees that it’s Braeden at the door. Braeden’s heart clenches.

They both look older than when Braeden last saw them, but still healthy and happy.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Braeden says quietly into her mom’s shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay,” mama says softly as she joins into the hug, one arm around her wife and the other around her daughter.

Years ago, Braeden had worried that they’d be disappointed in her for the sharp turn she’d taken on her career path and she’d cut ties rather than face their reaction. There aren’t many things Braeden would choose to do over in life, but that is one of them. It had been their lessons that motivated her, and she should have known better.

“Come inside, hon,” mama says.

Braeden does. She’s going to tell them about the choices she’s made, the choices that she thought were right even if most people would have disagreed, and she’s going to tell them where those choices have led her - to Beacon Hills, and the McCall pack.

She knows, now, that they’ll be proud of her.

[dracota]

Ok, this is chock full of crack!theories on Voltron. Probably a touch on the fanfiction side as well.

No I haven't watch any more of it then the few clips from my dash and reading all the spoilers. Not quite in my budget yet but soon.

Also a lot of potential spoilers will be mentioned/referenced in this crack!theory. Read at your own risk.

Right, so Lotor. 

I'm going to start with him because of all the potential. Parent problems, onion quips, friends and loosing absolutely everything with one stroke of his sword. Or, ya know, not.

Say the paladins take him in. He will immediately be scoping things out. He will also immediately see that they are kids. He would probably be thinking wtf how did these kids survive this long. So there will probably be three things to jump out at him. How the group works, Coran& Allura and the Shiro-clone thing.

This is a guy that is used to having his trusted generals knowing everything he wants them to know about him and vise versa so they can work smoothly. They would have worked through all the early group stages.

Not team Voltron. Lotor will probably be feeling All The Feels because there would probably be lots of reminders of what he doesn't have anymore. And he knows that no one trusts him to help them. Which is a horrible type of funny because he is probably used to being able to casually help his generals.

Lance would probably be the first to pick up on all the little things Lotor is trying to hide/help only because they are probably simaler to his own actions. Any Lance arch that would happen could have a lot of pokes at him. But I could see Lotor being more supportive of Lance in general and standing up for/with him. As well as dealing with his jokes better then the others.

He would probably talk to Hunk next, what with him being an engineer and all because that has no relevance to Lotors interests at all. Nope, not like Lotor has shown any interest in wanting to surround himself with the best and brightest people he knows.

The mice would be next with Allura in the background.

He would notice their connection right away. But they are cute little mice that would probably be the first ones to befriend him. I could see there being a fuckit moment with him telling the mice a lot of things. He would probably talk to them about their connection to Allura and how simaler it was to Nattaries and his mothers cat Maybe little clips of a little Lotor hug/dragging the cat with him while playing and it just going with it. Because cats taking care of their tiny people is cute.

I would go with Allura getting angry only briefly and then tamping it down. There is also the fact that because she knows what it's like to loose her parents, she would probably not mention his parents. Possibly also nipping anyone elses questions because it's a sensitive subject with Allura. No comments about them being alive ect. Maybe a group talk when they all agree not to bring it up because very obvious reason and them not knowing that the mice got Lotor to listen in so he knows that they won't be asking? A little trust building.

Then there is Corran. He would be all over Corran simply because he is the only other adult present. I can also see Lotor being a secret fan of his when he was little. Look at the dramatic flourish and tell me he wouldn't at least know about Corans persona.

I also feel Coran would be the first to reconise him if there had been past interactions with a Allura and Lotor as kids. I really think that he is older then her. The helmet would make more sense if it was because it didn't fit him anymore and was traditionally passed on to the next child not first born.

Maybe Corran even did little shows for them when they were kids because it got smiles from a little Lotor that was dealing with family stuff. I could also see a tiny Allura getting into all kinds of stuff because he doesn't stop her but helps her in his little kid way. I wonder if he saw her get a little girls don't speech that rubbed him the wrong way...

Then there is the Shiro-clone thing going around.and I am taking this and running with it like a flame thrower.

Lets say Shiro is a clone.

Lets also say that Lotor realizes this the moment he steps foot into the castel.

Lets jump out on a limb and say Matt is also a clone. Because why would you slip an experimental clone into an important situation with out testing it first to see how the alien DNA reacts to Galra technology.

Now... Lotor just killed one of his generals, a trusted friend, and yes I am theorizing that Natri was the test clone. If they could fool him then they could fool anyone. Everything has been hitting back at him and now when he sees not one, but two clones? I think that this time he isn't going to strike first.

Nope.

He can't. He had to before because everyone was in danger but then he couldn't tell them that they were in danger. He screwed up. Epic-ly. He can't risk that here. Not for their feelings, but because they keep asking if given the chance, was possible his friends would join them. I could see Lance being the first to ask because he probably saw that there was something very wrong for Lotor to have killed one of his friends.

I could also see Lance taking it up about Lotors friends to get the ball moving. I could also see the Voltron group doing a big group hug on Lotor. There could be talk of them wanting him to be happy and that they trust him. This is were I could see Allura whispering about knowing what it is like to loose everything and asking him to let them help him.

Now he would have to confront someone about the clones and why he killed Natri.

I would bet he would talk to the potential Matt clone. Because Matt is just a touch more of a sensitive topic. Because I would bet that the real Matt did die. He would probably have asked the clone to be there for his little sister. Too keep her safe. Probably telling him everything he could about her.

Lets say Lotor noticed there was a small shift with Matt and that he was trying to spend as much time with Pidge as possible while trying to avoid Lotor. Lotor corners him and finds out everything. Maybe going so far as to do a secret test to see if there is any danger and just finding that his is only a clone with no hidden agenda. I could see this as a secret that Lotor would take to the grave if needed.

This would be the point Lotor could tell him about the Shiro clone. Matt might talk about others that were tested on and being kept someplace near the druids. Lotor would look into what the real Shiro was like. How he talked, what he talked about how he fought and  more.

Lotor would probably notice the black swirl of energy that jailbrakes the real Shiros weaponized arm. (i still think it's the Black Lion who is doing that.) He would probably use this as proof that was not the real Shiro. But only once he knows where the real Shiro is.

And you know who would have probably been brought into more secrets in an effort to find out just wtf Lotor was thinking?

His generals. His friends. Because there is no way they would have just been sitting around plotting revenge. They know him and they know he always has a reason for ever single one of his actions. They would probably be the ones to find out little things that are the missing pieces to everything.

Lets say Ezor starts asking Lance about Lotor at the same time he starts telling her that Lotor needs them. Like, mid-battel and she 'accidentally' covers his ass and then drags him to the side because Lotor updates would be more important then fighting. Cue tide turning and all of them & the ships backing up team Voltron. That would be an even bigger blow to the Galra war. A traitor is one thing, but a traitor and his trusted generals? Big flags for all of the Galra people.

We then get a very awkward stairdown. Because he would be pissed at them because he left to keep them safe. They would probably not ask him why he killed Natri right then because it would be too painful for all of them still. But they would rip into him for doing epic stupid shit. Like pulling out things from when they were little because seriously, that would be the best way to drag out all the little things.

I think any background story that would happen at this point wouldn't have his parents in it at all. Mentions yes, but not visuals.

Happy Team Lotor training the paladins. Both teams learning to work together, building ships and such. Blah, blah, blah.

Eventually somehow the clone gets mentioned and then for one reason or another, the clone would have tried to attack Lotor. Tried because Keith has his blade to the clones neck and they already knew because Matt told them after his conversation with Lotor and asked them to wait because he knew that Lotor was trying to help. They would have seen that when the clone activated his hand-weapon that there was no swirl of black energy.

Chaos would ensue.

Lets says Acxa puts it together were Matt had been trapped and there had been a retrieved subjects at the same place. She tells Lotor and he comes up with a plan. There would be a battle and then they make a bargain. Their name cleared for turning over the princess ect. So simple.

They get the real Shiro. There is a another battle. As they are getting away Allura gets separated and trails behind. Zarkon makes a speech about how she'll die like her father and stabs Allura.

But the rest of the team gets away.

Lets say before the attack, before they even left the castle, Lotor spills to Allura that he can do the same shape shifting that she can. They switched forms and the only way you can tell is their hair.

So after He gets stabbed and changes back, Lotor gets to get closure that no, his parents are long dead and Zarkon & Hagger do not care. They leave him there alone to die.

Just before his eyes close he sees the cat and a pair of feet. The real Natri rescues Lotor.

The cat was changed long before Lotor was born. It's possible that the cat was there for him more then anyone and that being with Narti had made Lotor happy. Lets go with the cat staying with the clone as its own way to keep Narti safe so Lotor is happy. Haggar being prevented from killing Narti because the cat would have been a dead give away if it wasn't there.

No more clone ment it could go find the real Natri again. Because I could see Honerva/Haggar telling the cat all the time to keep a baby Lotor safe. Or to keep an eye on him.

She gets to the team in time to save him.

Lotor getting yelled at by everyone while in the healing pod and he very obviously presses a mute button so he can't hear them and gives them a smirk. They promptly group hugged him when he gets out and start lecturing him because nope, he's theirs and he will listen to them. They tell Keith that hes next.

Shiro being all kinds of confused. They would also have the Clone to deal with. With both teams have their lost members back, That opens up a whole new slew of ways they can fight.

But that's all I’ve got for now.

[mighty-mighty-titans-blog]

Beruani Month - Day 9

Hey there. My blog says ship neutral, but that was a lie. Just a tiny bit. It’ll be under a cut so just scroll right on past if it’s not your thing. I don’t have much to contribute this month because I’m studying abroad and don’t have much time, but a couple of prompts jumped out and I figured I would add just a few more drops to the bucket. This is the first of about five.

In battle, side by side

Bertolt sweat bullets, but he made no noise. His hands were clenched to bone-whiteness on his padded knees, but he didn’t move. Break the position, let loose a squeak, and the facade would crack completely. He would break down, and then he would be punished. As long as he could hold it in, keeping his focus on the roar of the engines and the milling of much larger bodies around him, his resolve could not be questioned.

“T-Minus ten to drop zone!” hollered a loud voice over the noise of the zeppelin. Bertolt’s stomach heaved. Hold it in. Hold it in. He could not fail. That was unacceptable. It was what he’d always been told; by his handlers, by his commanders, by his own birth even. To be a warrior was the reason his mother and father had born him in the first place, and what little he remembered of them was written over with that lesson, repeated again and again and again. “You cannot fail, Bertolt. You exist to serve this cause, to free all Eldians from the chains our ancestors forged. You have to succeed.”

He had, so far. But learning to shoot guns, fight hand-to-hand, and even become a titan were very different things in training as opposed to using them on the battlefield waiting below them. It was to be their proving ground. “We’re true warriors now,” Zeke had told them all. “The war in the south is almost over. We just need a decisive blow against them to end this and clear a path to Paradis. We will be that decisive blow, and we’ll prove our aptitude at the same time. Get ready to show them what we can do!”

The older boy had sounded so assured (as Zeke always was), so much so that Bertolt had believed it wholeheartedly. Now, though, all that empty courage was draining. Tentatively, he cast his eyes around seeking for a new source. No good. He couldn’t spot Pieck, Marcel was pacing like a caged hound, and Reiner… Reiner was sitting hunched on the bench across the aisle, hands clasped, knee bouncing. Determined to be perfect, Bertolt knew, determined to show he was worthy of the titan he had been so sure he wouldn’t get. Bertolt lowered his eyes again. He couldn’t bring his fears to Reiner. It would only send the both of them further into panic.

He started when someone sat next to him, someone tiny and pale. Annie. He squirmed when her large blue eyes fixed on him.

She stared for second before uttering a muted, “You’re shaking.”

Bertolt shoved his hands into his armpits and tried to hold still.

Annie only blinked before swiveling her back toward him. “Check that my chute’s done.” Her voice was clipped and clear, not a hint of a tremble in it.

Bertolt, helpless in the face of what was more an imperious command than a request, pulled his hands free and set to checking straps and buckles. His fingers were untrustworthy, and he bit his lower lip. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Don’t think about it.”

He twitched again.

“Don’t think about anything. Just focus on getting it done,” she bit out. He got the feeling she wasn’t just talking about chute security.

Simple words, but not a simple feat. In fact, he only seemed to shake harder. “How?” he whispered as he double-checked the last strap. “How are you not scared?”

“Turn around. Let me do yours.”

He obeyed, ashamed of his quaking back, fearing that someone else would see.

Bertolt flinched when Annie’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck accidentally. They were ice cold. He hadn’t expected an answer, and he almost missed it over the sound of the engines.

“It’s not about not being afraid. It’s about doing what you need to stay alive.”

“T-MINUS FIVE MINUTES TO DROP ZONE!”

“We could be begging for blood or pissing ourselves. They would drop us down there either way. We’re warriors now; it’s not an option.” She tightened his chest straps, yanking hard and wringing a pained gasp from him. “All we can do is follow what we’ve been taught moment to moment until it’s over.”

“How?” Bertolt pleaded again. He was glad his back was turned to her. That way she couldn’t see the desperation he was sure was written large on his face.

She was silent for a moment before continuing. “The same way you fight when you’re outmatched. Just concentrate on the next blow and countering it. Don’t think too far ahead. Don’t think about what you’re doing, just do it. And do what you can to end it quickly. You’re done,” she declared, turning away.

Bertolt straightened up and sat forward again, his slamming heart beat racing up his throat. He snuck a sideways glance at Annie. She really was pale, and her already wide eyes seemed almost like cold moons now with how large they were. So even she…

No. Don’t think. That’s what she said. If Annie’s the only one I can turn to, I have to follow her lead. Otherwise, I’ll crack. He thought back to training, and Annie especially. Always in control. Efficient. Deadly. Even with her first transformation, she had held up best of all, only behind Zeke. So she was afraid. What did it matter? What did it matter if she scared him sometimes? She was still in control. So what if he was still shaking? What did it matter if a war zone was waiting hundreds of feet below? She was right. There was no choice. It was sink or swim, and sinking wasn’t really an option either. It was bleak and he knew it, but looking around him at the other warriors, at Marcel’s restlessness and Reiner’s tenuous hold on composure, Bertolt knew it was the best he would get.

“Open the bomb bay doors!”

With a shriek of metal and an ear-popping thud of released air, the loading doors of the zeppelin slid open, one going up and the other descending into a ramp. Blinding light washed over them all.

A black-clad figure loomed over Bertolt, a big hand with a vice grip clamping on his skinny shoulder. “You’re up, Colossal.”

The iron hold pulled him up roughly and shoved him toward that gaping mouth into the sky. For a terrifying instant his booted feet slid on the ramp, and he thought he would go hurtling out uncontrolled before the grips caught. He stood on the edge of oblivion, icy wind tugging at his black hair. He would be the first one down, triggering his titan right above the enemy base, a crushing strike from above. For just a little while, he would be alone on the battlefield.

“On the signal!” bellowed the officer behind him.

Knees locked, heart feeling about to give out on him, Bertolt spun his head around. Marcel and Reiner were watching him, all clenched fists and wide, glassy eyes. Terror was creeping into Reiner’s.

Then he saw Annie. She was leaning back against the wall of the zeppelin, arms crossed and face shadowed by her bangs. She wasn’t even looking at him. She seemed as disinterested as ever. And strangely enough, it was there he found some strength.

Don’t think ahead, he repeated in his mind as he turned back to the empty air. No helping it. Just attack and defend. Just live. And if…if you waver, just look for her. Annie knows what to do.

A klaxon blare ripped through the air. If he hesitated, an officer was waiting to give him a helping boot off the ramp. It wasn’t necessary. As he tipped out into the sky, Bertolt thought that terror was somehow more tolerable once he resigned to bear it. It was just his lot, so best to learn to live with it.

He plunged downward. He pulled the chute at some point, but he didn’t really register that. All he remembered was the fall, then the cold bite of a knife sliding across his palm.

Explosions were ripping the air, and guns were rattling away. It was chaos unlike anything Annie had ever experienced before. Screams, sirens, the roars of her fellow titans. But she couldn’t think about any of that now. She couldn’t think about the others. She couldn’t think about Bertolt, his babyish face frightened and begging for something she couldn’t really give him. She couldn’t think about what this meant: their first battle, the fact that their commanders would be judging their performance, the fact that any one of them could die here. Only her goal mattered, to survive and go home. Whatever it took to achieve that, that’s where her energy would go. She sped up, her titan’s legs eating earth, faster and faster.

Pincer the base, they had been ordered. Beast, Jaws, Armored, Female, and Quad will wipe out the outlying defenses. Colossal will smash their base from within. Faster still.

Annie was no fool. Being a titan was a curse, no matter what drivel poured from the commanders’ mouths, no matter what her father said. But this was one thing she loved. The power and, at least, the illusion of freedom. As long as she didn’t look down to see what her feet were treading on. Her eyes found another dug-out. Don’t think. Just act. Her foot crashed down into it, smashing through the fragile roof of dirt and wood. Don’t think. I’m only crushing insects. Just keep going.

A sudden trumpeting roar, too big and powerful to be anything other than the Colossal Titan, bellowed across the dusty battle ground. Annie only just managed to whirl around when a huge piece of rubble came hurtling toward her. Her eyes flew wide, crystalized arms shooting up to guard.

It crashed down a small ways from her. Beneath its bulk, the crushed barrel of mounted anti-tank gun could be seen sticking out. It had been hidden behind a hillock. Something like that could have ripped through her titan’s flesh easily, especially with her back turned.

Annie had no time to stop, not for retroactive fear, not for relief, and not even for a spark of gratitude. But she afforded a small nod toward the mountainous figure looming over the field. Then it was back into the fray. It wasn’t until later reflection that she realized that after that point, her focus had widened just a bit, enough to include the great red titan on the hill.

Sometimes, in the deepest, most unspoken places of his mind, Bertolt hated his titan. It was so big and took such energy to control, that it almost felt as if it could wrest power from him and become its own beast, leaving him to suffocate in the tendrils of its boiling hot flesh. But in other, equally unspoken places, he craved the opportunity to transform. In here, it felt like the terrifying world outside couldn’t reach him. When he stood straight and tall, the ground and everything that crawled on it became insignificant. It was just him, and the sun and the stars and the wind.

Today, even as pain ripped up his arms and legs like splitting muscles as he swung his huge limbs and dragged destruction in their wake, he found another reason to appreciate this massive form. Looming so much taller than everything else, it was easy to spot the swift, deadly figure cutting swathes through the enemy lines below him, pale blonde hair flying in the wind. Even when he diverted his gaze to ensure Reiner and Marcel and Pieck were all well, it was simple to find her again. His heart was still thundering, but watching Annie, he learned how to channel the fear into powerful strikes; and when a blast of artillery flew toward them, he turned a scream of fright into a roar that shook the earth. Watching her, he even spotted the threat of the anti-tank gun in her blind spot. He crushed it with little effort. Even up so high, he could feel her eyes on him, spotted the smallest nod she paid him.

From that point on, Bertolt felt they were watching each other, through all the smoke and noise and carnage, all the way up until the end.  

The battle was won. They made it out alive.

Annie saw him again at the forward base, cooped in the canvas tent reserved for all the recuperating warriors. She had been ushered inside by a guard, but though she knew their keepers would be waiting just outside, it at least felt like they had a few moments of privacy. Pieck was completely slumped over and snoring, and Marcel wasn’t far behind her, eyelids drooping. Reiner was sitting cross-legged and picking at his shoe laces, a dumb little smile spread on his face. The perfect little warrior, finally got to prove his mettle. Zeke wasn’t there, probably reporting to a superior.

Bertolt was folded up in the far corner. His shifter marks had yet to fade, turning his long face into something skeletal and grotesque. She trotted over and sat down a few paces from him. He peeked up at her, deep-set eyes seeming to gleam against his stripped, hollowed cheeks.

“You did it,” she said simply.

He merely bobbed his head. “Thanks. I…I did what you told me.”

“Then just keep doing it. It gets easier every time.”

They languished in silence for a moment. Annie’s eyes scanned the tent, and her ears scanned beyond it. Shouted commands, rumbling trucks, the shrieks of the wounded. The background noise of the life that had been chosen for her.

“I’m glad you made it out okay,” Bertolt whispered shyly. He curled tighter into himself, and lowered his eyes back to the floor.

Annie didn’t reply for a while, wondering if she should even bother with a reply. She could say the same, but truthfully it wouldn’t have made much difference to her. She had made an effort to hold her fellow warriors at a distance. Not a difficult task, but one that was essential. Why reach out when death could be around any corner? Besides, she had only one goal in mind, and no room left over for anything else.

And yet, after a silent minute, she nodded. “Same.”

She didn’t feel much for Bertolt one way or the other, but somehow knowing he had been watching her back, seeing him, this non-aggressive whimpering little boy, come out of that battlefield all right using what she’d taught him, gave her something to cling to. If he could make it, so could she. In that way, she really was glad he was okay. Hopefully, in the end, they would be okay together.

[chapitre7]

I’ll Be Here, To Shelter You

Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo [달의 연인-보보경심 려] fanfiction

Modern Setting AU

Age Difference AU

Wang So/Hae Soo

Soundtrack

I can’t deny it’s gorgeous that a brain sees what its experience has trained it to see. If you’ve never known love it’s clear you’d mistake it for something else. Loneliness perhaps. Greed. — Lindsay Hunter

   Life used to be a blur of reactions. The reaction of tears when his mother yelled at him. The reaction of her tears at his tears, her body never moving from its spot by the front door, waiting for a man that was never coming back. The reaction of punches, deflections and advances, the fights almost a dance behind the old school building. Eating when he felt hungry. Sleeping when he felt tired. He used to feel tired a lot. There were reactions in his dreams, too, running, always running, and falling and drowning. He won all of his fights in real life but in his dreams, he never won. He wanted to win, but he always seemed to forget he was dreaming, there was always the anticipation, the longing, the hope. But father never showed up in his dreams. Father never showed up again.

There had been a new man. There had been a new brother. His mom gave up screaming at him to focus on the new brother, to coddle him up, to hug him and sing at him. It was back then that he discovered that his hands, hands that always hit the target and had made many bleed, could hold something — someone — so gently. He only held his brother once before his mother forbade him, lest he contaminated the child, dropped him or killed him. He would never do that. Never wanted to. He wanted to be called brother, to be called anything, and to have someone wait for him when he came home. His mother kicked him out when he graduated. With his grades, he would never find a good job and would never provide the family with anything, he was one more mouth to feed, one more burden. His brother watched him go and he could hear him wailing for what seemed like miles. He never understood why he cried. A reaction. Everything had been reactions.

He didn’t go to college, his mother was right about that. He worked many jobs, the hands that used to punch teeth now carried boxes, organized shelves, gave customers their change. He cooked for himself when he felt hungry. Slept when he felt tired. He felt livelier those days, wasn’t tired from nothing at all but from the strain of work. Food had taste, especially when he accidentally used too much seasoning, when he accidentally burned his dinner. His hands had calluses on them. The days felt shorter.

The boy spent the years towards adulthood wanting more than reactions. He would avoid the dark alleys where gangs planned to take him in. He would avoid bumping into people on the street, twisting and turning and avoiding eye contact. You’re a rotten apple, his mother used to tell him, but he wasn’t, he had never done anything to anyone. He knew people better than her, had spent nothing but years of looking at people, of knowing them, of understanding their violence and indifference. He didn’t bring the worst in people, some people just lived in their worst, the absolute worst they could be, and he didn’t want to get caught up in it. He just wanted not to fall in his dreams. Not to bleed. Not to die.

Sometimes he dreamed about his brother’s tears when he left, and he woke up thinking about how he would look like as a grade school student. The tiny hand he had touched would fit better in his own hand. Mother would never say he was a rotten apple. If she did, she would be wrong. But she wouldn’t.

As he worked in a convenience store, he met not only the worst, but also the better people. Elderly people who said he should get a haircut. Students who sat with a bowl of instant noodles and fell asleep on their books during his graveyard shifts. Girls who smiled and spoke softly. Children who carried nothing but change. Men who smiled at their partner’s texts and forgot they were standing in line for a second or two or five. He saw them all, just like he saw the shadows out the corner of his eyes and the items pushed off the shelves and onto the floor, laughter ringing in his ears along with the broken glass of beers. The better. The worst. They walked in and out of his life and he watched them go. He watched them all go.

Jung would be ten soon. He sometimes scribbled what he thought Jung would look like in a small notepad he kept by the register. There were several other sketches along with Jung’s, of the many people he had encountered. He held the pencil firmly and most of the time his sketches were filled with heavy strokes. The lead dirtied the back of his hand and sometimes the sleeve of his shirt. The birth of every character on the notepad was no reaction.

When he saw the ad for an art class, he wondered if it was too late. If he was too old. If it was even worth it. But it was something different, something new, and he wanted to get rid of the voice in the back of his mind that was sure his life would never amount to anything. Maybe it wouldn’t. He enrolled anyway.

There were many girls, most of which quickly began to chatter amongst themselves. He tried to tune them out as he always did, tried to focus on his assignments. He liked shading, enjoyed sitting at different spots of the room and drawing from different perspectives. It was silent when everyone worked and for the first time he was somewhere he liked.

He noticed her as the weeks passed. He always seemed to find her, even when they were on opposite sides of the room. She would stick her tongue out sometimes as she worked, or she would bite her lower lip. When her long bangs fell closer to her eyes, she would shake her head or blow them away and once, just once, she tucked them behind her ear and accidentally smudged her cheek with charcoal. He was sitting across from her and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Everyone heard him and he tried to disguise it, cleared his throat, and looked away on the same instant she looked at him. He worked and counted the seconds before he looked at her again and she looked puzzled, head titled to the side, black smudge still on her cheek. She always seemed to concentrate so hard on her drawing and she smiled big at the end of every class. He had never interacted with anyone in any class he had ever taken, had never had the opportunity or the subject or the context, but as he passed behind her and saw her drawing that day, he said,

“It looks good.”

He walked away before she turned or replied. He knew kind words could brighten anyone’s day, he had enjoyed the concern of strangers before, although rare, especially if rare, but he didn’t think much of it until the next class, when she sat down just beside him and gave him a big grin.

“I’m Hae Soo. What’s your name?”

He stared at her for a couple of seconds.

“...Wang So.”

Her mouth formed an “oh” before she repeated it. Tilting her head to the side, she said, “It sounds like royalty.”

She was wearing her school uniform that day, her hair tied back with a clip, her bangs cut neatly along the line of her eyebrows. Facing her smile, he didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t even thank her, so quickly she turned back to their instructor when he entered. On that day, he drew inanimate objects in class but at home, he drew the red of her tie and her hair framing her face. Another face for the notepad, another page turned, covered, forgotten.

He thought so.

The next time, Hae Soo said, “I can’t wait until we get to life drawing classes.” Her cheeks were rosy, in a perfect balance with her skin tone. In his mind, he browsed through his colored pencils for the perfect color to match, and the gloss on her lips. He discovered Hae Soo liked eyeliner and used a different color every day that she spoke to him. Sometimes she wore her uniform, sometimes she talked to the other girls. Sometimes she just sat and drew, and true to her word, she focused best during life drawing classes. He didn’t get to glimpse her work again, but he hoped she was thriving. She was friendly and subdued and had a beautiful smile; he hoped she was doing well.

She let out a cheerful “Ah!” when she stopped by his convenience store. He had never seen her around before and he wondered if the store was even in her usual route. He gave her a small smile in return for her grin and he knew she was going to talk by the way she balanced herself between her heels and the balls of her feet.

“So, do you want to do art for a living?”

He looked up at her eyes, big, round and eager, and then looked down to tell her the price of her items.

“I don’t know,” he answered, slowly packing her purchase. After he handed it to her, he could have leaned back in his chair but he leaned forward, in her direction. “Do you?”

“I’m not sure, myself,” she replied, letting out a laugh that felt less sincere than her usual actions. “But I wanted to do something with colors, you know? I figured I’d learn from the basics but...” She shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

“What about college?”

Everyone talked about college. He should have figured it was a subject that brought anxiety and restlessness but he, himself, had never fretted over it. He missed it entirely, sometimes. The different ways people reacted.

Hae Soo waved her hand dismissively and he could tell the second her eyes looked away, looked smaller and darker, and then back at him, her usual smile on her face, the subject forgotten entirely.

“Will you let me see your drawings?”

Instinctively, he gently pushed his notepad farther away from view. She never caught it, she just waited there, hands clasped together, no other person in the store but the two of them. It was already dark outside. Hae Soo should have been home.

“Now?”

The corners of her lips turned upwards.

“Do you have a sketchbook with you?”

“...No, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Can I see them in our next class?”

“If you show me yours.”

Hae Soo tapped her lips in deep thought for a second or two before nodding.

“Deal.”

She seemed awed when she saw them, especially the monochrome drawings. He didn’t think he fared well with colors, not yet, but he liked his sketches, and so did Soo, from the looks of it. “It’s so sharp,” she commented, and he didn’t know if it was a compliment or just an observation, so he just let her look. In return, he browsed through her sketchbook and found that she did much better with colors than him, her drawings never outlined with darker colors when she could help, the precise force applied on her wrist and movements, never exaggerated. Maybe he was being overly self-critical. Soo’s monochrome sketches looked clumsy, shy, as if she wasn’t sure it was being done right. Maybe that’s why she smudged her face with charcoal. He chuckled at the memory. Hae Soo looked up at him expectantly and he could only think of saying,

“You can do something with colors.”

Her black eyeliner turned the corners of her eyes upwards that day. Nothing too sharp — just like her drawings — but he could see the elegant line when she closed her eyes briefly and bowed to him in thanks. He drew it that night, the schoolgirl with a bow at the end of her braid and eyes of a cat.

One rainy day, when they both didn’t bring an umbrella and had to wait before they could make a run for the bus stop, Hae Soo threw to the wind,

“Maybe I’ll drop out of the art class.”

He snapped his head in her direction, the sudden admission almost drowned out amidst the sound of the falling rain. Hae Soo brought her open palm forward, drenching it, drenching the sleeve of her school jacket, but unmoving. She wasn’t wearing any make-up. Her eyes were small and downcast.

“Why?”

He kept his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, sealing their movement, sealing the impulse to reach out and bring her hand — her — away from the raindrops. While he waited for her answer, he felt a warmth he thought he had forgotten, a long, long time ago. Amongst his chaos, there had been Jung. Amongst the rain, there was Hae Soo.

“My cousin thinks I should focus on my studies.”

“Your cousin?”

She took her hand out of the rain, shaking the drops away.

“She’s my guardian.”

He nodded. There was silence between them but he didn’t like the look on her face. Was it a reaction, then? He spoke.

“And have you figured out what you want to do?”

Hae Soo looked at her hand, and then she answered.

“Do you think it’s okay for me to not go to college?”

“I didn’t.”

When she looked up at him with wide eyes, it was much more familiar than the downcast look. He couldn’t help giving her a lopsided smile.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She gave him she same awed interjection she directed at his name. It made him feel strangely proud of himself. He wondered if she did it on purpose.

“And you live by yourself? Fend for yourself?”

“Ever since I graduated.”

“You’re impressive, Wang So.”

He shook his head. His eyes looked at the rain but he saw the door shutting in his face.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, back then.” He looked back at her. “Your cousin seems to care for you. You should consider carefully.”

Her smile and awe faded away like she had been scolded. He thought the conversation had ended for the day, maybe forever, if she did leave, but she spoke again.

“I really wanted to sing.”

He blinked.

“Sing?”

“My cousin never even considered it. She said it was dangerous, to live like that.”

He was thinking about her voice, about her singing, when she suddenly waved and ran away in the rain. Hae Soo, the schoolgirl, who had a loving family but was still as lost as he was in regards to the future. When he sketched, he caught himself thinking of her, of her hands flipping through his sketchbook, of his drawings coloring the tip of her fingers black. He drew her looking at the rain, hand outstretched, choices and chances at the horizon.

She did drop out, but he still saw her. She’d stop by with friends, chatting and giggling and they didn’t talk. She’d stop by herself and tell him how much she missed drawing, how she would study and study and still her grades were average and then ask what his favorite subjects in school were. He told her that sometimes he slept through class like some kind of misunderstood, dormant artist and she rolled her eyes, not knowing it was because his mother was up all night thrashing the house. She’d buy instant noodles and sit down to study, just like every other student he had seen, but he kept an eye out so no one would disturb her, the schoolgirl studying after dark. Sometimes she would stick out her tongue out, deep in thought. He still laughed to himself.

“Do you have siblings?” She asked when he gave her a protein bar after she started stretching, tired from all the reading and writing.

“Me?” There was no other person she could have asked. She raised one eyebrow to show she thought so. “I have a younger brother.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s ten.”

She beamed at him.

“You must be a doting brother.”

He blinked.

“What makes you think that?”

She twirled her finger in his general direction.

“You’re quiet and all but you look after people in your own way, instead of just brooding in your leather jacket.”

“Thank you for validating my personality, Miss Hae.” He smiled despite himself. “Is that what you were expecting?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t really know what I was expecting.” She laughed and scratched her head before bowing back into her exercises. He leaned against one of the shelves and watched her for a few minutes.

“You should go home, Hae Soo, it’s getting late.”

Soo looked at her wristwatch and let out a little shriek. She picked up her phone and whispered something before typing out a message.

“My cousin is going to kill me.” She started collecting her things. “Do you think she’ll believe me if I tell her I was studying?”

“Do you ever lie to her?”

She looked offended. “No!”

“Then she should. Don’t freak out, just be careful on your way back.”

She held her notebook to her chest and pointed at him, grinning.

“Aha! See?”

Wang So rolled his eyes.

“Get out of my store, Hae Soo.”

“As far as I know, you don’t own it— I’m going, please don’t threaten me with physical violence!” She let out a little fake scream before storming out the door and he put the bag of chips back in its place.

On the week before Hae Soo’s exams, she came up to him and gave him a drawing. It wasn’t her style — a sketch done in charcoal, monochrome, serious. You could see the man from the chest up, long hair half-covering the left eye, his mouth a line — not menacing, not smiling, just a line, waiting for something to happen, for someone to talk to him. Intricate designs adorning his robes, jewels adorning his hair. Royalty.

It was him.

“It’s a thank you gift,” she said. She wore peach lipstick that day. He thought he had a pencil to match the color.

“What are you thanking me for?”

Hae Soo tilted her head. “For the company, of course. And for encouraging me. And for being my friend.”

“I didn’t know people got thanked for being someone’s friend,” he said, and he meant it to be a joke but a fragment of genuine surprise slipped past his defenses.

“They should be. It’s something worth celebrating.” She clasped her hands together and looked between him and the drawing. “What do you think?”

He looked down at the drawing that was very similar to his style, but still had her own touch; the shading was softer than he would have made, the movement on the hair making it blend with the background, fading away, just like her figure, retreating into the falling rain.

“It looks like a character from a historical drama.” He raised his eyebrows at her, his smile amused. “I thought you’ve been studying.”

“Don’t judge people’s hobbies, Wang So, it’s very impolite.” She blew her bangs away from her eyes. “I wanted him to look like a prince.”

“Why?”

She was not wearing her uniform that day. Soo color-coordinated her entire wardrobe, from her shoes to her nails, and it was pleasing to the eyes, soothing — cute, he thought, when she shrugged and played with her sleeves.

“It fits.”

He smiled at her.

“Thank you. It looks great.”

“Really?” Soo looked down at her own drawing with wide eyes and grinned. “I—”

Her phone started ringing. Soo looked at the caller’s ID and sighed.

“It’s my cousin. I need to go. I’ll see you after my exams!” She said, waving, and was already answering the call, her hand on the door handle, when he called out,

“Don’t forget to get plenty of sleep! Good luck!”

She stopped and turned to him. He noted down the shape of her eyes when she smiled the widest.

“Aha! See?”

She didn’t stop by the entire week. In class, no one was interested in communicating with words, just the pencil, just the brush, and he was used to it. He was supposed to be. But the silence felt heavy after an abundance of chatter, an abundance of her. He reminisced about her, and it was different from thinking about Jung, whom he still thought about, whom he still dreamed about. Jung was wishes and ideals and hopes and the far past. Soo was just yesterday, the condensed breath on the window on cold days, present, the present, he could perfectly envision her hairband and the many colors of her nails. I really wanted to sing. He wished her wishes could come true.

He was leaving his shift, one foot out the door, when she came back. He thought she really ought to stop walking around town after dark.

“Hey,” he greeted. She waved, a subdued smile on her lips. She must have been tired.

“Are you going home?” She asked. After he nodded, she moved swiftly, almost hopped to his side. “I’ll walk you.”

He scoffed.

“You’re walking me home?” Soo nodded and he clicked his tongue. “This girl... I’ll walk you to your neighborhood. You shouldn’t make your cousin worry.”

She didn’t argue or complain, she just nodded and they started walking, So following her lead at street signs and corners. She was unusually quiet.

“How did it go?”

Soo clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head to the side. She was wearing a red beret that day, no bangs to fall into her eyes.

“It went well. No outstanding grades, but enough.”

He hummed and nodded, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. For a while they just walked, until they had to wait for the red sign to turn green and Soo spoke again.

“I’m going to become a make-up artist.”

He looked at her; she looked at the street sign.

“It’s what I’ve decided to do.” She smiled and he thought it looked shy. “I think I want to help bring something to people. The colors they want to see. The person they want to be. Do you think it’s silly?” She looked up at him and he had never seen her anxious before.

“I think it’s a goal. It’s better to have a goal than aimlessly move forward.”

Before his eyes, he saw the woman sitting in front of the door. The days that turned into months. The wait.

Living is better.

He looked down at her and saw that she was smiling more than before and he smiled back, a weight lifted off their shoulders. He liked it, taking care of her weight. Taking care. He sparsely cooked for himself those days, and so many nights were spent awake, in tosses and turns, but taking care of others was easy. It was so easy.

The weight he carried was harder to come to terms with. There was the concept of it, a concept so widespread, so universal, so simple, the simplicity behind her smile, the admiration in his chest at every new discovery about her, and yet. And yet...

He saw the light had turned green and was ready to cross when Soo took hold of his arm and pulled him back to the sidewalk. A car sped past them, horn deafening, a sound only obscured by the beats of his own heart in his ears.

“That was close!” She frowned at him. “You should be careful! What if I hadn’t been here? Are you okay?”

He brought a hand to his eyes, the arm not in Soo’s grasp, the cars’ lights still flashing before him.

“Yeah, I was just... Sorry. We should go.”

Soo didn’t let go of his arm, not while they crossed, not on the other side. She kept her arm around his and he didn’t think of asking her not to.

“What about you?”

He looked down at her.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your goal? Have you finished your portfolio yet?”

“Well...”

Soo sighed dramatically.

“No one’s going to hire you if you don’t try, you know?”

“Yes, Soo, I do actually know that.”

“Don’t use the condescending tone if you’re at fault, Wang So.”

“All right, I’m sorry, okay?”

She stopped when they reached the next crossroad, under the streetlight. She let go and turned to him and he knew the walk was over. He felt it had been short.

“You’re tired, aren’t you? You’re dozing off and snappier than usual.”

“I’m not snappy.”

“Argumentative, then, is that better?”

She brushed his bangs away and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. It felt cold. Her body, from that distance, from that proximity, felt warm.

“You don’t seem sick... You should rest today, okay?” She took a step back and smiled. “I can walk from here, my house is just around the corner. Oh, and don’t skip dinner!”

“Yes, mom.”

She laughed.

“Funny, that’s what I always tell my cousin and now I know how she feels.”

“She’ll come around, Soo.”

Soo blinked. So almost took a step in her direction.

“Your cousin. Don’t worry too much. She seems to care about you, so she’ll accept your decision if you put your heart into it.”

Color-coordinating Soo and her beret matching her lip-gloss, smiling and waving and walking away. Walking home, he thought he should get her something on her graduation day, but not flowers. It couldn’t be flowers. Or it could? It could.

There was a light in her eyes when he gave her the flowers. Flowers the color of the sky, the color of the rain, hydrangeas; flowers of her favorite colors, the colors of the eye shadow she wore the most, the ribbon of her uniform. He chose every color carefully, hoping he could emulate a fragment of her love for colors. He learned a little bit that day, all by himself, just trying to please her. There is always learning when you think about someone. When you do something for them. There is always something more to know. Like her gesture, holding the paper to her chest, her bow, and how it almost hurt to smile too much.

“Don’t slack off, now,” he pointed, just to say it, just for the sake of normalcy, but she took it well, she shook her fists and declared she was going to do her best.

He knew he would see her less now that she had different classes to attend, new things to learn, and money to earn to make everything possible. And he only had so many hours, he had so many boxes to carry. There was a used book store that he helped with because the owner was a nice old lady with back problems, the place always smelling of tea and time, old, old time, and the convenience store and the graveyard shifts and the portfolio he perfected and gathered up the courage to present, to show off, his work. It was baring. It was hard. No one’s going to hire you if you don’t try. He wondered if she was doing well. If she would stop by.

She did.

Barging through the door, a force of nature, a force in her steps. It was always night. Only the artificial light shone on her braid, on her smile. She wandered around the store and he watched her, she watched him, her fingers browsing through the shelves he arranged meticulously, heels clicking against the floor he had cleaned earlier, as if he had been waiting for her, as if he had known. She came up to him with a couple of items and he was about to say something after she paid, the words were already on their way out when she asked,

“Can I try something?”

He blinked and agreed and she made her way behind the counter, taking something out of her purse — a pencil, held it in her hand, and she was standing in front of him and looking down at him with a wicked smile on her lips.

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’ll only take a couple of minutes! Hold still.”

“Soo, I’m working! You can’t—”

“No one will come, now be quiet.”

“Lots of people come here regularly, actually!”

“Close your eyes, Wang So.”

He knew at the moment she said it that only physical force would make her back down and he wasn’t keen on it, the thought of potentially harming her scared him, and so he did the only thing he could do: he stood still. He could feel her breath on his face as she worked on his eyes, and he only hoped that she hadn’t been practicing theater make-up. However, Soo wasn’t really a prankster, she liked beauty, she had a particular aesthetic, so he only hoped his boss didn’t check the security feed, not in that moment. Perhaps, not ever.

Soo was right when she said it’d only take a few minutes. She asked him to open his eyes but she didn’t back away, she didn’t put the pencil away. She applied only a soft pressure and he felt like she was bringing life into him. He felt like her character, her creation. One that she knew well, knew his corners, his edges, his triggers. A character with a better past. An even better future. He wasn’t. He was just himself, one breath away from her.

“I kept thinking about this during my make-up classes. Maybe I do watch too many historical dramas.” She giggled. “It’s something so simple but outlining your eyes really brings them into focus...”

No one came in. It was just them, and her words trailing off. Her hands stopped moving and just lied there, against his face. The laughter that had been in her, disappeared. He usually saw this Soo when she worked, when she was drawing, but even then she had her quirks. She looked into his eyes and he wasn’t sure if she was looking at the make-up anymore. His mind drew a blank in the silence.

“I’ve missed you.”

His eyes widened at her bluntness, at her honesty. The clock didn’t have the chance to click more than one second before she closed the distance between them. In his shock, he didn’t close his eyes, he saw a blur of her eyelashes, her perfume surrounding and surrendering his senses when he inhaled. His instinct would have made him back away, as if her kiss was a punch, the violence he was used to, but she held his face and he couldn’t escape. One. Two. Three. When she backed away, he could feel her lip-gloss sticky on his lips.

She waited. She definitely waited, her hands hanging in the air, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. But his eyes were still wide, his heart still beating fast, a hundred things going through his mind. He didn’t speak, didn’t stand, didn’t move. The clock ticked. One. Two. Three. Hae Soo blew air through her nose and stepped away from him, backwards, not breaking eye contact, until she was on the other side of the counter and grabbing her shopping bag and running through the door, as swiftly as she had come in.

When the door fell back into place, he knew he had made a mistake.

Looking into his mirror at home, he saw that she made him look like some kind of music star. What had she been thinking in her classes?

I wanted him to look like a prince.

What did she see?

He thought about her on windy days. On rainy days. On days when the sun dried the rain on the asphalt. He thought about seeing her in that sunlight, when it was warmer, brighter, vivid. She was just starting what he had started so long ago, it was just the beginning, still no sleepless nights, still no sore muscles or waiting for potential employers to call back. If he were her age, if they had attended school together, she probably wouldn’t get involved with him, not with the kid who fought, the kid who fought back, who talked back, who slept through classes, not him, not the...

You’re a rotten apple.

His breath felt heavy in the darkness of his room. He dreamed of her. The only woman he had known. He fought the thought of her with thoughts of Soo and it was better and worse at the same time, the loneliness engulfing him, the longing, wanting to hold her in his arms. He missed her presence walking through the aisles, her hand waving at him through the glass door. Always by herself. It had been a while since he saw her with school friends. Where did they all go?

What do you know, Wang So?

As the days passed, he thought about things he didn’t know about her and that he wanted to know. What kind of people she knew. What kind of food she liked. What kind of voice she had when she sang. Above all, he wanted to see if she was improving her skills, if she was as content with her classes as she was before she started taking them. He wanted to see her happy. She was crying when she left.

She was crying when she came back.

It looked like she had been waiting outside until his shift ended; her cheeks were flushed and she ran her hands up and down her arms.

“Soo...”

“I’m sorry,” she said, directed at him but looking at the sidewalk. “You can forget it all, I’ll just— I want to be friends. I don’t want to not see you.”

He touched her arms, felt the cold fabric and saw the tears in her eyes before he pulled her into his embrace. He felt her tense up immediately.

“No!” She pushed him but he held her tightly, he had gone for so long without her, it was all he could think about. “Stop, I don’t want your pity!” She kept struggling and crying and he let her go, there were so many things he was doing wrong, but he didn’t step back. She wiped away her tears. “Don’t, I just... Can we go back to how we were, or did I ruin everything?’

“Soo.”

She sniffed and looked up at him.

“I’ve missed you.”

Hae Soo crouched on the sidewalk, her hands covering her face, something akin to a whimper coming out of her. He heard her muttering under her breath but he couldn’t make out what it was, and he refrained from laughing or chuckling, as much as he wanted to. Soo’s honesty had always made him feel good, and he discovered that being honest had the same effect. It was unexpected, overwhelming, looking at the other person and knowing that what they were saying was true. He was always holding everything back so he never knew. What do you know?

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Soo got up, her cheeks red, and she nodded and started walking. So would look at her but she kept looking forward. It took him a few minutes, some time between being absorbed in her presence and shyness and actually looking, to realize something was different about her. Her hair, long and wavy and usually pretty in a sideways braid, was short, brushing against the collar of her jacket.

“You got a haircut.”

Soo flinched visibly.

“I did it on a whim. I’m still not used to styling it.”

She touched the ends of her hair, a pout on her lips. He kept his hands inside his pockets so he wouldn’t touch it himself.

“It looks good. It makes you look less like a highschooler.”

“I graduated a while ago!”

“You still looked 16.”

She pushed him and he laughed.

“So how’s the make-up artist plan going?”

She perked up.

“I’m learning a lot of things! The models that stop by so we can practice are so pretty. Our instructor even praised me this week, I think she’s going to recommend me for a job position. Something simple, but I’m still excited.”

She hopped and waved her arms around and she poked him on the shoulder.

“What about you?”

“I finished my portfolio,” he said, smiling and a little proud. “I’m still unsure on where to begin.”

Soo tapped her chin.

“My cousin’s husband is an academic and he’s published papers... I can ask him if he knows anyone in the publishing scene that might need an illustrator.”

“Ah, you don’t need to do that, Soo.”

She shrugged, her smile back to the way it was.

“But I want to. And he’s really nice and a little bit like my father so I think he’ll find something if I ask him.”

“You’re sly, Hae Soo. I’m actually a bit frightened.”

“Don’t give me that tone when I’m helping you.”

He walked her to the crossroad where they usually parted, and he saw, under the streetlight, that her eyes were no longer red; they just turned small, pretty, with the smile on her lips.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Or you can text me.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp.

“You’ll actually answer?”

“You speak as though I’ve never answered you.”

“Two days later doesn’t count, So.”

“...One time I fell asleep.”

She giggled.

“Really?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed and Soo laughed. She was already several steps away from him when he shouted.

“Hey, Soo!”

He liked the way her new, short hair flipped around when she turned.

“You look beautiful.”

Her mouth fell open and she ran away. Honesty, he thought, really did make him feel whole again.

He took up messaging her like he said he would. Sometimes he fell asleep and woke up the next morning to her messages, full of amusement, “Did you fall asleep on me again?”, emojis and wishes of a good night full of sweet dreams. They relied on them once he quit his job at the convenience store and got a job as an illustrator. It didn’t pay well and the deadlines were strict but he enjoyed it, liked helping bringing a story to life, something exciting, something he thought maybe Jung would like reading, adventures, heroes, princes. Soo insisted on seeing his on-going work and he refused, he had already planned to give her a copy of the book once it got out, the first person to see and the only opinion he wanted to hear. She would pout and sulk and he bought her ice cream to compensate. She let herself be bought and excitedly talked about her own job.

Soo always kept two steps between them. He took two steps forward whenever he could. Not boldly but carefully, words said in the early hours of the morning, I want to see you tomorrow. A gift, hairclips for the short hair she learned to style, details. Taking her hand when crossing the street. He could see the seriousness blossoming in her chest, in her expressions, in her eyes. It was time that passed, the months that added to her growth, and also the wound he inflicted. It was her self-defense, an attempt to protect her heart, even if she didn’t leave him, she never left, and he was glad she didn’t. She probably should have. It would have been better for her. But she stayed and he couldn’t lie to himself forever. Honesty. Two steps forward.

She told him she would be by the beach on that cloudy day and she was. The canvas sitting before her as she drew the sea. He had never seen her paint before. The colors were her own, mixed, blended expertly, soft. Her sky was gray but her sea was the blue of life. He liked the speckles of paint of her fingers, and the beret sitting on her head would have looked pretentious on anyone but her. It was just her style. Pastels and dresses and the red of her lips. She paused and smiled when she saw him. He offered his hand to take her to the sand, to the water, to the sea breeze. They sat together, the only people around, listening to the sounds of the beach.

“Soo,” he called, and she looked at him, smiling, unguarded. “What did you see in me?”

The smile faded.

“What?”

“What makes you want to be with me? Do I look lonely?” His words were brought softly, like shells with the waves. “You’re my first friend. I was just wondering.”

Soo held her knees to her chest but her usual nervous quirks weren’t present; there was no biting of lips or fidgeting with her sleeves. She looked away from him, the wind blowing her hair, messing it up.

“I feel comfortable with you,” she said. “It’s like you... actually pay attention. All the time. To what I do. What I say. And it makes me want to share more.” She laughed. There were no more steps between them. “I think that’s why I talk too much.”

“You don’t.”

He liked the white of her teeth and the pink of her cheeks.

“I felt... you understood.” Her fingers buried into the sand between them. “I felt you were good to me because you understood.”

“What?”

“That something was missing.”

So leaned back on his hands, spotting the seagulls in the distance.

“I haven’t seen my brother since he was three years old.”

When Soo looked at him, it wasn’t pity in her eyes as he had feared for as long as he had known her. She stretched her legs and bumped her feet together, leaning back on her hands, just like him.

“My parents are still alive. They’re just somewhere I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in eight years.”

A chuckle bubbled up in his chest and Soo smiled, falling on her back.

“Do you miss your brother?”

“Yes. Do you miss your parents?”

She shook her head.

“I love my cousin and her husband. I wouldn’t want to leave them. You know she asks me to do her make-up now?”

So moved closer to her, blocking the light from her eyes.

“She does?”

“Mmhmm. Oh! What if your brother reads the book you’re working on? I bet he’d be proud of you.”

“He doesn’t remember me, Soo.”

“But he could recognize your name. I bet he will.”

It’s like you know and understand everything.

He placed one hand on each side of her head. Her eyes went wide and barely blinked. She looked beautiful in daylight, like he expected. She always looked beautiful.

I want to know, too. You said I do but it’s not nearly enough.

Her lip-gloss was sweet. He could feel her hand on his shoulders but she didn’t push him away. Tilting his head, adjusting the angle, she responded. Neither were in any rush, in any desperate need. There was the tentative brush of lips, the ways they could come together, the sand on his hands, in her hair. The comfortable breeze. Her eyes, fluttering open, looking between his, searching, apprehensive.

“Do you believe me?” His fingers caressed her temple.

“You’re not going to... change your mind and leave me later, are you?”

“I don’t plan to. But you might.”

He loved her laughter up close.

“I don’t want to.”

He decided he liked her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her fingers playing in his hair. And how she laughed, delighted, into the kiss. That she could be delighted with him was beyond his expectations, his dreams. She was at the beginning and he was in the middle, but they were both searching, searching for their place, and he was glad their paths crossed together, like some last-minute plan, an unexpected left turn. He didn’t want to let go of that hand. He hoped to bring her happiness like she brought him peace.

You understand.

He wanted to hear her sing.

  “So.”

He looked up from his tablet, setting his glasses down, watching as a grin broke out in her beautiful features. She still wore her work uniform, and he believed she had run to his study by the movements in her chest, even if she hadn’t barged in like she used to. Soo’s hands and gestures were gentle now, like her heart.

“There’s someone here to see you.”

He walked to their porch, running a hand through his hair, hoping to set it into some kind of acceptable look. It probably wouldn’t work well, he still looked tired, but he approached the person with a welcoming smile on his lips. The one Soo liked. The one that drew people to him.

The young man of fifteen turned to him. There was a nervousness in him, in the way he shifted the weight between one foot and the other. So’s smile faltered, and he searched for Soo behind him, felt her fingers touch his, lace with his.

“Hello, can I help—”

“...Brother?”

So’s heart skipped a beat.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Jung had their mother’s lips. His nose looked like So’s. “When I read your name for the first time, years ago, I knew it was you.”

So’s tears started to fall down at the same time as Jung’s.

“You’ve been... so close, all this time.”

Soo let go of his hand and he walked towards his little brother. He hugged him, carefully, like the first time. Jung cried against his chest, still a child. So was willing to hear everything. The years, the joys, the thoughts on his older brother, however mean and hurtful they were. The loneliness. Their paths coming together, like a crossroad.

Later, when they talked, he could always feel Soo. Her presence. Her eyes on him. Her hand in his hand. Her ring touching his, sharing his happiness. The one who always seemed to know.

“I felt you were good to me because you understood.”

“What?”

“That something was missing.”

The one who felt complete with him.

[inkwatch-blog]

Twilight Princess: A Game Stuck in Time

(AN: The following is an unproduced script for a proposed video series called BKLG (pronounced Backlog), which I unfortunately had to put on hold for the time being. It has been slightly modified to read as an article, but the writing below is perhaps a bit more conversational than it otherwise would be.)

Allow me a bold statement upfront: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess would not exist as it does today without a demo reel shown at Nintendo’s defunct trade show Spaceworld. At Spaceworld 2000, a demo reel for the upcoming Gamecube was shown to attendees to represent the graphical power of Nintendo’s new console. Twelve seconds of an unannounced Zelda game were shown and the fanbase lost it’s collective mind. IGN wrote a five paragraph essay about the clip, writing, “There's far too much detail to believe that Nintendo would scrap the models and make new ones. So, we think it's safe to say the new Link will look a lot like this. Overall, we're very happy with his new immaculate hero look.” Right.

IGN might’ve lost their minds, but behind the scenes, director Eiji Aonuma wasn’t pleased; in fact, he actually hated the design. A decade later, he told IGN it wasn’t the game he wanted to make at all. To him, it wasn’t Zelda.

So a year later, at Spaceworld 2001, Nintendo announced The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. The internet revolted. This wasn’t their Zelda, they said. This was Cel-da. This was kid stuff. Where was their mature, grounded take on the series? I do wonder if that sounds like any other fanbase out there today.

Wind Waker was released in North America in 2003 to critical praise. Wikipedia has it listed on twenty-three separate Best Of lists. The HD re-release on the Wii U only gained the game further acclaim. The visuals have stood the test of the time, aging far better than similar games released around the same era.

But all of that didn’t matter. To fans, the cartoonish visuals meant the game was meant for children. As a follow up to Ocarina, its sales were disappointing, selling less than half of what the first 3D Zelda had sold. Nintendo directly attributed this slump to the reaction of fans in North America after the graphics were first shown in 2001. So, despite accidentally announcing in 2004 that an upcoming GameCube Zelda game had the working title of The Wind Waker 2, Aonuma became concerned that the game wouldn’t sell well in North America. After the game was announced at E3 2004, Shigeru Miyamoto told IGN that the art style of the new Zelda adventure was created to fulfill that customer demand created six years before Twilight Princess was even released.

So why spend a massive amount of time detailing the history of a decade old game? Because in a lot of ways, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess and its HD remake, feel beholden to the demand of its fan base in a way not a lot of Zelda games are. Despite the preceding two games in the series, Wind Waker and Majora’s Mask, featuring spectacularly different play styles, Twilight Princess feels like a reimagining of 1998’s Ocarina of Time, and while this doesn’t make Twilight Princess a bad game by any means, it certainly makes it feel more derivative than any adventure game starring the Hero of Time deserves to feel.

So, in the honor of Zelda, let’s divide this into two needlessly convoluted timelines. There’s also one where I die while writing this, and it never comes out, so if you’re reading this now, please assume you aren’t in this timeline.

One.

Twilight Princess is a good game doing weird things.

Yeah, really, it is. All the fun of Zelda, right there, baked into it. It’s got some dark, goofy undertones and the game is weird as hell. The wolf segments are mostly fun, especially once you gain the freedom to turn into a wolf whenever you please. The characters are all really memorable in a way that I think is underplayed when people talk about Zelda. The Snow Yeti couple who are secretly possessed. Zant is a weird Twilight villain who is being played by Ganondorf. Colin’s storyline of overcoming the bullying and taunting of the rest of his friends makes him my favorite of the four children by far. And Midna is the best - the best - Zelda assistant ever. That’s a really low bar to clear, sorry Navi and Fi, and Tatl. Y’all can buzz off, because Midna has you beat for days. She is excellent, and never really a bother, even when she tells you something you already know.

The swordfighting in this game, particularly when fighting the Darknuts throughout the last chunk of the game, feels spectacular. I’m assuming this is less true with waggle controls on the Wii, but playing through the HD remake felt pretty spectacular. Some of the dungeon design is the best in the series - Snowpeak, for all its flaws and played out ice block puzzles, is perfectly built, and the Temple of Time’s reversal after the miniboss felt really refreshing. It also, and I cannot overstate this enough, had my favorite minigame in all of Zelda: snowboarding.

That’s not to say Twilight Princess is a perfect game. There’s plenty to nitpick - the puzzles don’t feel like puzzles! Why are half of the puzzles just shooting objects on a wall with an item! Why aren’t there more snowboarding levels! Why do half the items have almost no use outside the dungeon! Why aren’t there more snowboarding levels! Why can’t I ride the Spinner everywhere! Why aren’t there more snowboarding levels!

So instead of nitpicking on small things like, why aren’t there more snowboarding levels, let me go ahead and lay out the biggest flaw in this game, the one that everyone probably saw coming before you even clicked on this article: the opening.

Here’s how the opening tutorial for 1992’s The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past plays out: There’s a short cutscene before you gain control of Link. You leave bed and you grab the Lamp from the nearby chest. The guards don’t let you into the castle, so you head around to the right and you move a bush to let yourself into the dungeon of the castle. Your uncle, who has been defeated, gives you a sword and shield. Then you begin your journey through the first dungeon of the game, Hyrule Castle.

Cool. Easy. Done. Now here’s the opening tutorial for Twilight Princess: You talk to Rusl, you watch a cutscene, you run to the Ordon Spring, you talk to Ilia, you get Epona, you run through Ordon, you get to the ranch, you herd some goats in what is one of my least favorite mini-games in all of Zelda, you run back to Ordon, you talk to the kids, you talk to Uli, who can’t give you the fishing rod because she lost her cradle, then you talk to Jaggle, you summon a hawk, you shoot the hawk at a monkey, you bring the cradle back to Uli, and you get the fishing rod. From there, you go fishing, you catch a fish for the cat, you watch the cat run around town and back into the shop, where you can now get a free bottle. If you haven’t already, you run around collecting rupees until you reach the magical number of 30, in which you buy the slingshot and you show the children that you’ve bought it. Now you can re-enter your house and, would you look at that, the sword is there. The kids teach you how to use a sword. Then the kids chase a monkey into the woods. So, you summon Epona, you get the lantern, and you enter the North Faron woods on your quest to find Talo. You make your way through the woods in what is sort of similar to a dungeon, you free Talo and the monkey using your sword, and Rusl thanks you for saving Talo. Then you herd more goats - 20 this time, thanks Fado. Ilia claims that you hurt Epona or something, and she steals your horse. She’s also locked you out of the spring where she’s hidden Epona, so you sneak into the spring in a crawlspace, which triggers a cutscene, and boom, you’re a wolf stuck in prison.Technically, the wolf section is also a bit of a tutorial, but I think the point’s been made.

The opening of this game is terrible. It slows progress in the game down to a crawl right when the game should be trying to get you to sink yourself in. It takes hours to complete, and even longer if you haven’t played the game before and don’t know what you’re doing. And, in some ways, it’s indicative of a larger problem in the more modern era of Zelda games - not trusting the player to figure the game out on their own.

A quick note on the other divisive aspect of this game: tear collecting. I won’t comment much on it because it’s been talked to death and, to me, the tutorial is far more problematic in terms of game structure, but the tears fetch quest isn’t a whole lot of fun. At best, it’s inoffensive; at worst, it’s boring and yet another way to get players to put the controller down before the game reaches its second half. The HD remaster fixes the quest somewhat, lowering the required tear count from 16 to 12. It’s still cumbersome, but ending 25 percent sooner helps alleviate the negative feeling each section leaves on the player.

Two.

Twilight Princess is a good game unable to move beyond its past and its fanbase.

Majora’s Mask was released to critical acclaim, but it sold about half of Ocarina’s numbers two years earlier. Perhaps, Nintendo probably thought at the time, this had to do not with the quality of the game or what the fanbase wanted, but the required usage of the Expansion Pak and the impending launch of the GameCube.

As mentioned earlier, it was Wind Waker’s sales that scared the creative team into redirecting their efforts from a sequel to Wind Waker to an entirely new game with a new, more realistic design.

But Wind Waker’s struggles didn’t just change the art design of the new game. It ensured that the next Zelda game would be more like Ocarina of Time than both Wind Waker and Majora’s Mask, a direct sequel, ever would.

And they did it. Twilight Princess, more than any other game in the series, plays like a reimagining of a former game, in this case, Ocarina of Time. Especially in the first half of the game, both play out in incredibly similar ways, from your humble beginnings in a small village to your travels to Hyrule Castle, to the similarly themed opening dungeons, to your new companion following you around, offering advice. Majora’s Mask was a game that took chances, shook the Zelda formula up in ways no one had seen since Zelda II. Wind Waker stayed more true to the classic Zelda road, while still thinking up new ideas, from its presentation to its high seas setting. Twilight Princess is a good, safe game, seemingly designed to make sure that everyone who owned a copy of Ocarina of Time and had seen the Spaceworld 2000 demo would no longer feel disappointed about the cartoon stylings of Wind Waker.

And it worked. That feeling of nostalgia for Ocarina, combined with the success of the Wii, ensured the game would become the best-selling title in Zelda’s history, assuming you don’t include the 3DS remake of Ocarina into Ocarina’s N64 sales.

Of course, unlike Ocarina, nostalgia for Twilight Princess hasn’t fared quite as well. The game received an HD remaster in 2016, both as a 30th anniversary celebration of the series and as a pseudo-apology from Nintendo for delaying Breath of the Wild to 2017 in order to simultaneously release on the Wii U and the Switch. The HD remaster of Twilight Princess sold a little more than a million copies globally, a similar number to 2015’s forgotten spin-off, TriForce Heroes.

It took nearly another decade to get Nintendo to take more chances on changing up the Zelda formula. Ignoring the portable titles for a moment, 2011’s Twilight Princess follow up, Skyward Sword, was critically acclaimed at launch, but has, for the most part, been largely forgotten about in the five-plus years since its release. Skyward Sword often appears near the bottom of best-Zelda lists, and often doesn’t appear at all when the list is limited to ten games. That game has similar flaws to Twilight Princess, with a drawn out opening section and frustrating collect-a-thons like the music note section late into the game.

All of this is to say, I think we’re about to entire a new era of Zelda, or at least, a return to classic, pre-Ocarina of Time adventuring. Next week’s Breath of the Wild promises an open world with plenty to explore. The opening of the game seems to draw from the original and from Link to the Past far more than from Twilight Princess or Skyward Sword. What we’re looking at isn’t the end of Zelda, but the first of a new chapter.