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weelittleweasley · 5 years ago

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Amnesia (p2) | Draco x Reader

If you have not read part one, you can find it here!!

Prompt: After proper diagnosis and treatment, your Healer informs you that your amnesia has effected your most recent memories. These memories include your life as a upperclassman at Hogwarts, your knowledge and skills, and arguable the most important thing to you: your relationship with Draco. When Draco hears of your condition, he is overwhelmed and scared to say the least. You two are now strangers. What happens in Part Two of this multipart series?

Warnings: memory loss, nightmares, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: This part is a slow burn, but just trust me. Shit will hit the fan soon.

This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love. Thank you for coming back for part two :)

Flashbacks told in italics!

Draco watched you from the window that saw into your hospital room, his nerves and terror eating away inside of him. How was he supposed to keep calm when the love of his life almost died days ago and now does not remember a single detail of their relationship? He ran his hands through his matted platinum blonde hair before covering his face and letting out a sigh that was full of mixed emotions. He was going to fall apart in seconds if it were for your Healer passing by, so he could ask him questions about your recovery.

“So her memory is gone?” he frantically asks, pleading that the answer is no. That would just mean so much time and love and energy that you both had put into this relationship was being washed down the drain.

The Healer places a firm, yet reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Not gone,” he speaks as Draco lets out a breath he was holding. “Temporarily lost you can say. Her memories can come back to her in random spurts or all at once. The brain is very complicated and everyone reacts differently. It could take anywhere from two days to two weeks for her to remember. There are rare cases, but it is possible, that it could be a few months for her to recover,” the Healer tells Draco as Draco swallows hard.

If it was going to take you months to remember your relationship with Draco, the boy would go mad. He needed you to remember who he was and what your relationship was like so you could both move on and live the life you had planned when you were students at Hogwarts weeks before. Draco dreamt of what it would be like when you two finally got away from the chaos. He pictured you two settling down somewhere remote, in a cottage somewhere in the countryside, maybe out of England. He pictured you having a lot of land, somewhere you could both enjoy nature and its scenic views. He imagined you with your beaming smile in one of your favorite sundresses, laying in the grass, reading a book whilst you laid your head in his lap. He would stroke your hair and watching you crinkle your nose as you laughed at something he said, him relishing in the regality of your beauty. He felt unworthy to look at something so rare and so beautifully genuine.

Draco snaps back into reality from his daydream and speaks, “Are you sure there isn’t a charm or spell of some sort that you could use to jog her memory? Do muggles have something that you could possibly use?” Draco was desperate for an answer, a sign, a solution, something.

The Healer just smiles lightly and shakes his head. “If there was, my boy, we would have used it,” he tells him. “I’m sorry you two are going through this. I can imagine it is hard for you, but just imagine how difficult it is for her. The best thing you can do for her right now is be there for her. When she remembers, I have no doubt that your relationship will be stronger than ever.”

-------

And so Draco was there for you. Even though visitor’s hours were over, Draco stayed in the waiting room in case anything happened. Not even your parents did this. Your parents went home and told you they would be back in the morning, confident that you were in good hands with the Healers. Draco could never be too sure. You could remember him overnight and desperately need him. You could remember something about Hogwarts and need answers, to which he would be right at your side. So in the waiting room he stayed, waiting in case you needed anything.

The ex-Slytherin prince was exhausted to say the least. He hadn’t slept since the battle, too afraid to close his eyes and see what his mind conjured. He feared he would see the eyes of his father, burning into him full of anger and disgust; his only child, his only son, betraying the family to run off with some girl. Draco feared he would see the eyes of the Dark Lord although he was dead, he feared he would find his way into Draco’s mind and into his dreams. Draco didn’t even want to think about if he saw his mother in his dreams. How he abandoned her, leaving her alone to her own devices. Worst of all, Draco knew that in his nightmares he would see you, getting hurt, pulled away from him as he clawed at his father to let him go. Draco knew he would see your limp body, bloody and frail as they carried you away to a medic. He couldn’t face his dreams; they were far too scarier than his reality.

Exhaustion pulsated throughout your body before your heavy eyelids fell, you immediately falling asleep with the help of the pain potion given to you. Today was overwhelming for you; too much has happened for your brain to process adequately. You were relieved to see your parents and Ron and Hermione, but now your diagnosis and this whole Draco situation just made things worse than you had expected. How could you just forget a whole relationship with someone that had lasted almost two years? It just didn’t seem or feel real.

You were peacefully asleep, but that’s when your dreams started for the night. Although your body was at peace, your mind raced. In your dreams, you saw flashes of fire, the screams of people echoing in the halls. Stones and rubble were all around you, bodies, dead and alive, all around. Panic entered your veins as you felt your heart sink. You’re running as fast as your legs can allow you. The taste of iron is in your mouth as you scream, your lungs burning and hot tears running down your face. You’re screaming for someone, but the words don’t come out. It’s just a scream. Chaos is growing around you as see people who you once knew die before you in the matter of seconds. Somehow you cannot control yourself in your dream as you try to run over to your friends in need, but your legs are planted. You have become stone. You see Ron from across the hall and you want to run to him, knowing that he’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from whatever was happening.

But before you can run to Ron, your body pulls you in the opposite direction. You want to call out for Ron, but his name doesn’t come out. Instead, your screaming something else, but you can’t make out what. Before you can even register where you are going, you look above you and see a large boulder, making its way down to crash down on you.

And that’s when you scream. The sound is rippling through your body as you sit up straight in your bed, eyes darting open. You stop screaming when you realize it was all a dream, a nightmare rather. Why did it all feel real? The pain in your head is creeping back up as your brain throbs as you catch your breath. Your heart is beating through your chest as sweat slowly drips down your temples. Hot and cold flashes ripple through your body as you clinch onto the white hospital sheets for dear life. Frantically, you look around the room to see if anyone was around you to come to your rescue. Were your parents still here? Ron? Anyone?

In that instant, the door flings open and there was the boy you were supposed to be in love with, his blonde hair pushed in front of his face, a panicked look in his eyes.

When Draco heard the scream, he knew it was you in an instant. He could recognize your voice easily, whether it was in joy or in pain. Draco knew you better than he knew himself. His heart sunk to his stomach at your cry and he leaped to his feet. The worst thoughts came to his mind, thinking that something awful had happened to you. Did someone come into your room and try to attack you? Was he not dead? Was it his father?

Before he could answer any of these questions, he had practically knocked the door down just to see you sitting up straight in bed, your face covered in panic, horror, and sadness. The sight was gut wrenching. Draco wanted to run to your side, pepper your face in kisses, stroke your hair with his fingers, and tell you that he was right beside you and going nowhere; he would be there to protect you. But instead of doing so, in fear of frightening you more in your vulnerable moment, he just makes his presence known.

“Are you alright?” he asks, gently and slowly, still half standing in the doorway, half in the room in case you asked him to leave.

You take a look at the boy in front of you and wondered why he was still here in the first place. It was the middle of the night; not even your parents were here. Why did a boy you barely knew decide to stay here overnight? You don’t entertain the thought any further. “Bad dream,” you simply tell him, rubbing your eyes.

Draco understood, there was no need to ask you any further questions. He knew that you needed time and space. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you further.

Out of curiosity, you ask him, “What are you still doing here? It’s late.”

Draco sighs, “Uh, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. That if you needed anything someone would be here for you. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to go...” he trails off the last sentence sadly. He ran away from his mother, there was no home for Draco right now. He was alone. And without you? He was more alone than ever before.

You both look at each other for a few moments, breathing the moment in through your nose and out of your mouths. You took the time to really take a good look at Draco. He looked exhausted; heavy bags under his eyes that pulled all the way down to the tops of his cheekbones. His hair flopped lazily in front of his face. As sad as he looked, there was something almost angelic about him in this moment. The medic lights that flickered over his head dully almost made a halo above his head as he stared upon you with the most loving, sad expression you have ever seen. You could see how a previous version of yourself fell in love. He was undeniably handsome and there was something that was absolutely magnetic about him. You wanted to be around him for some reason.

Draco interrupts your thoughts, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

He tries to slither out of the door before you stop him, not even register what you are saying until the words fall out of your mouth.

“Stay with me,” you call to him, rather than asking him like you would have preferred.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, a confused expression on his face. Did you remember him? Was this your way of telling him?

You inhale, “I just don’t want to be alone.” It was true, you didn’t want to be alone again with you and your nightmares in fear it would attack again when you closed your eyes. “My dreams are scary,” you confess. “They seem real.”

In that moment Draco knew that the dreams you were having weren’t really dreams; they were flashbacks. He had them too when he closed his eyes. Draco knew exactly what you saw and there was no need to explain. He was just happy that you asked him to stay with you. “Of course,” he gives you a small smile, preventing a larger one from appearing on his tired face.

Draco slowly closes the door behind him before making his way to the chair near your bedside. He sits in the chair slowly and offers you a small smile. You return one to him with a small sigh. You wanted to go to sleep, but also were afraid of what you would see again. Would you dream of the same thing again? Or something worse? Would this happen all the time?

You watch the ceiling for a few moments before speaking to Draco, “I’m afraid of closing my eyes.” You turn to him to watch his reaction and he gives you a sympathetic look.

“I am, too,” he confesses. “I see old memories that replay in my head. Horrible things. Things I did, things I bore witness to, things I tried to stop...” he looks at you sadly. It was like you both understood where the other came from. There was an unspeakable understanding that just reassured the other that they were not alone. Although you don’t remember much of Malfoy besides the limited encounters with him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. He had obviously been fighting something and you wished that it would leave him alone. “Did you want to talk about what you saw?” he asked you. You shook your head and he gave you a smile. “That’s alright. You should try and fall asleep at least. You are in recovery from a nasty injury, let’s not forget that,” he teases as you smile. He loved your smile.

You lay back a little further in your bed relaxing. “Malfoy?” you ask as Draco’s ears perk up to his name being dropped from your lips. “Were we in love?” you ask, surprising him and yourself. But if you were going to remember the boy, you had to know if you loved him.

Draco thought to himself, Were we in love? As much as I breathe. But he doesn’t say that. “We were,” he smiles lightly at the memory when you would look at him with love glistening in your eyes, brushing his hair with your fingers as he would pull you in close by your hips, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. The boy loved you with every fiber in his being. “Madly,” he adds with a laugh.

As he says that, your curiosity peaks. You two must have had a beautiful relationship if he claimed you were madly in love. That was not a light statement. Without further consideration, you ask him, “Can you tell me the story? Of how we fell in love?” Draco’s eyes widen when he looks at you. “It’ll help jog my memory...I also just want to know,” you tease, making him laugh. His laugh made goosebumps appear on your forearms.

Where to start, Draco thinks. He could tell you about the story of the moment he knew that he wanted to make you his, your first date, when he asked you to be his girlfriend, the moment he told you that he loved you for the first time. There were so many good memories that he had of the two of you, it was hard to choose just one. “How about this,” he proposes, “I’ll start wherever you don’t remember. With each day, I’ll tell you a new story.”

His proposition made you smile. It seemed promising. “How do I know I’ll see you every day for a new story?” you ask, raising your brows.

Your expression made Draco smile. That teasing little smile that played on your lips was one he was so fond of. “I’ll make sure of it. That’s a promise,” he tells you. “Pinky promise.” He sticks out his left pinky finger as you loop yours with his, squeezing it. Instinctively, you kiss your thumb and Draco does the same. Your eyes widen, shocked that he did the same thing as you. You would kiss your thumb after a pinky promise ever since you were a child with your mum. As if he read your thoughts, Draco said, “I remember a lot of things, (Y/N). We also used to do that a lot.”

His words bring a smile to your face as you let go and giggle at the boy in the chair. “Alright, let me think,” you state. You scan your memory for what you remember of Draco. You remember meeting him that first night you arrived to Hogwarts when he made fun of you of being friends with Ron, you remember him teasing you in your charms class because you came to class with bedhead, running late, you remember sitting next to him at the Triwizard Tournament and stomping on his foot when he said he wished the dragon got Harry, you remember when Umbridge busted you and your friends for learning defensive magic and Draco being the first person you saw when you exited the room of requirement. “The last thing I remember was when Umbridge busted Harry and all of us for learning defensive magic behind her back. You were there and you made a comment at me. I remember being mad about it and you stood a smirked at me,” you push his arm.

Draco laughs, “Sounds about right.” You roll your eyes, turning your body gently to face Draco before he began the story. Draco had to stop himself from getting distracted at the way you looked at him, excitement in your eyes as he started his story. Your wispy pieces of hair floated over your head like a fuzzy halo, his heart fluttered at the sight. Merlin, I love you, he thought to himself. “Alright, let’s see,” he starts.

After being busted by Umbridge, you were under high surveillance. Not much to do for fun around Hogwarts anymore. No more gatherings after a certain time, no common room study sessions, the library closed after a particular hour, and not to mention boys and girls had to be separated by 8 feet. How was anyone supposed to have fun outside of academia anymore? Even Hermione belly ached about how bored she was.

You should have expected your secret meetings to have been busted. When you heard that Umbridge had rodeoed a select few students to be on a watch patrol, you knew that their leader, Draco Malfoy, would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant busting Harry Potter. You wondered if the boy really found joy in being a dickhead to people. Although the conversations you had with Draco were limited, you could tell that some of it was a show that he put on for his other Slytherin friends. It’s like they expected him to be an arse before they even met him. Regardless, the point was that Draco was always blunt and rude around you and his company was not your preferred company.

In the library, there you were, sat at a small table during your off period, scribbling some answers down to some last minute Potions homework that you knew if you didn’t get done, Snape would have your head on a silver plate. As you scribble down your answers in a frantic fury, you don’t even notice Malfoy enter the library, his sightline going straight to you. He smiled when he saw you sitting at the table, immersed in your work, hands pulling at your own hair gently. You were a sight for sore eyes. Draco always took notice of you at Hogwarts, he just never made a move because you never left the damned Gryffindor common room.

You didn’t even notice Draco in front of you until he hovered above you, startling you. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you jump. “What do you want? And stay eight feet away, you git. I don’t need to get into more trouble with Umbridge. You have already done enough damage,” you sneer at him.

Draco thought it was adorable when you were cross. “I came to ask you out,” he simply states. He doesn’t explain himself further. He just sits beside you at the table in the library, a smug grin on his face like you said yes to his proposition.

“What makes you think that I would want to go out with someone like you,” venom drips from your cherry flavored lips as Draco smirks. Your words did nothing to him. Oh, how that would change very quickly. “You’ve been nothing but cruel to me and my friends and now, all of a sudden you want to ask me on a date? You’re out of your bloody mind.” You continue to finish your Potions homework before Draco plucks the textbook from underneath you.

Before you can protest to his actions, he speaks, “Someone like me? And what would that be? Handsome, charming, intelligent, and funny? Sounds like a real bore,” he jokes. Merlin, he had a big head. “Not to mention, this hasn’t come all of a sudden. I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, (Y/L/N). I just haven’t mustered up the courage to ask you out properly. So here I am,” he leans on his elbow on the table, a shit eating grin on his face that you would love to smack off. “I need an answer, darling. Or else Professor Snape’s homework will just have to wait...”

You roll your eyes, “The answer you’re looking for is not the one you desire. Besides, even if I said yes, what would we even do? It’s not like we have any freedom here. We’re under constant watch.”

Draco laughs at your naiveté. “I thought you were brighter than this, (Y/L/N). I have my tricks. You can get away with a lot when you’re a Malfoy,” he pushes a strand of hair out of your face as he said this, you slapping it away as he does so. “Play nice,” he teases. “Your homework is on the line.”

Anger bubbled in your stomach, but for some reason his argument seemed to be compelling. What did he have planned? “What exactly are you thinking of doing, Malfoy?” you lean in, teasing him further as he smiles, thinking he’s won. Instead, you just pluck your textbook back from his hands, smiling as you do so. You beat him at his own game. This just made the boy more enthralled with you.

“Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, darling,” he speaks. “So, I take it you’re interested?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

You really hated to admit that you were interested in his offer, curiosity getting the best of you, as it usually did. You huff, brush your hair to one side. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you admit, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. This was so unlike you.

Draco let a chuckle escape from his lips. “Brilliant. 7pm. Stay in the Gryffindor common room. I’ll come to you. I’ll see you then, kitten,” he purrs, leaving just as quickly as he came.

As Draco wraps up the story, you stare in disbelief. “There was no way I fell for that line,” you tell him, sitting up from your position in your hospital bed. “I really said yes to that cheese ball line?”

“How could you not?” he retorts. “I’m suave,” he jokes, making you laugh as you threw your head back. The sight of you laughing was enough to melt every single one of Draco’s fears. The way your nose crinkled as you laugh, your eyes squeezed shut, melodious laughter falling from your parted lips. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he tells you, unable to hold back his thoughts. That was Draco’s weakness. He could never lie to you. He always told you what he was thinking. It was his best quality and yet his downfall.

His compliment makes you blush and look away from him. You weren’t uncomfortable from the comment, but you were just taken aback. Draco was someone who you barely remembered, yet you had such visceral reactions when you were with him. He brought you confusion and comfort that was oddly satisfying. You decide to change the subject. “So tell me about our first date. What did you end up doing that was so spectacular that make me stay?” you ask through a large yawn.

Draco smiles as you cover your mouth, you were obviously exhausted. “I said one story a day, you sneak,” he smiles at you. “Besides, I don’t think you would be awake for the most of it. You look exhausted. I think you should get some rest,” he rises from the chair. He was right. You were even more exhausted than you were before. You pull the covers back over your body, cuddling into the thin sheets. Draco watches as you get settled in your bed, gently smiling at how you pulled the sheet all the way up to your chin like you always did before bed. He remembers how you would always sneak into his bed at Hogwarts; you always preferred his silk sheets to your cotton ones. “Sweet dreams, (Y/N).”

The platinum blonde boy walks to the door before a thought intrudes your mind. What was the harm in speaking it? “Draco?” you call his name cautiously. He turns around to face you, eyebrows raised. You slowly pull the sheets open. “Do you wanna sleep next to me?” you ask slowly, treading lightly. You gave him the offer mostly because you felt bad about him having to sleep in a hospital waiting room until morning. Those chairs were wildly uncomfortable and no one should be forced to sleep there by themselves. But there was part of you that wanted Draco with you. There was an aura about him that reminded you of home. The way he could make you smile with just a dumb sentence was comforting. He felt familiar; like you could remember some pieces of him. Maybe if he stayed with you tonight, all the memories would come back. Maybe his touch would awaken something in you.

At the offer, Draco wanted to scream yes and climb into bed with you, snuggled next to your side, breathing in your all too familiar scent. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you. He had to tread lightly, make sure that you were comfortable. “Are you sure?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if that was alright. “I can just stay in the waiting room, it really is no problem.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive...I want you to stay with me,” you tell him. “I could be rushing it or I could be crazy, but I think that maybe you staying with me might be helpful...for my memory.”

How could Draco argue with that logic? He smiled and closed the door, trying to hide his excitement. He took off his patent leather shoes and peeling off his blazer, getting himself comfortable before climbing next to you in bed. The hospital bed was arguable just as uncomfortable as the waiting room chairs in Draco’s opinion, but you in bed with him made it all better. Draco slid one arm carefully around your shoulder as to not disturb any painful areas. Although the gesture should have been romantic or comforting, it just felt awkward.

You both just laid there for a moment, awkwardly laying before you give in to his touch, resting your head on his chest. Within an instant, the two of you let out a breath that you were holding in, melting into each other’s touch. This position of you resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat made something inside you click. It did feel familiar. Something about it was familiar.

The two of you don’t speak any words to each other. You both lay there, waiting for the other to say something. But no one says anything. What is there to be said? You allow yourself to slowly fall asleep to the slow drum of Draco’s heartbeat in your ear through his chest as Draco follows only after you are sound asleep. He knew that he could sleep once you were.

-----

As you drift back off into sleep, another dream kicks back in. This one not nearly as horrifying as the last. In fact, it was quite endearing. You aren’t at Hogwarts. You’re somewhere else. Someone’s home. It’s not yours, that’s for sure. The house was smaller, but had a large winding staircase. It isn’t until you hear multiple voices in your head that you instantly recognize where you are. It was undeniably the Burrow. Weasley’s. A smile forms on your face when you recognize your surroundings.

In this dream of a memory, it’s Christmas time. Molly Weasley in the kitchen, cooking, something delicious smelling of sage and rosemary. Fred and George are in the backyard, building what looks like a fort of some kind, their efforts failing miserably when Ginny runs into the fort, causing it to fall down. A giggle escapes your lips.

You walk further around the house and recognize it more and more with every step. The Weasley home felt like a second home to you. So much so that Molly knew how to cook your eggs and knew the difference between yours and Ginny’s uniforms and Arthur had put a coat hanger in the side hall for you when you were over. You were here almost as often as your own childhood home. Your parents travelled a lot for work and you spent Christmas at Burrow maybe two or three times. This year was undeniably when you were in year four with Ron. You know it to be so because of Ron’s horrid haircut that you teased him about that whole year.

As if one cue, Ron appears and pulls you to the other room and suddenly you are on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. Ron is telling you about a prank that George had planted in Percy’s room for when he came home. You have the feeling of undeniable joy in your chest and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Have you ever had this feeling before? The two of you were laughing at the other and expressing your joy and excitement for the holiday, focusing on the company of the other. You loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys because you knew that you would have more time to bond with Ron. Ron was your first friend at Hogwarts and he was the one who introduced you to Hermione and Harry. Ron was the one to push you to go after what you wanted. Ron was your best friend and other half. Undeniably.

In this dream, Ron looks at you in your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face and says, “I am so glad you’re here for Christmas. It makes things so much better.” He pulls you into a tight hug and kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

Before you can process the words, you speak out, “I love you more, Weasley.”

Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. You were all kinds of confused. Ron Weasley? He was your best friend, sure, but the feeling you got during the dream was not one that a best friend should have. Your face was flushed, cheeks a bright shade of red. Were you blushing? Your heart beat was racing and your mouth was dry. The image of Ron smiling at you, his arm around your shoulder sticks out in your mind. Him saying I love you plays on repeat like a broken record. What was happening? This went against everything you knew and what people told you you were supposed to feel? Ron wasn’t your boyfriend; Draco was.

Draco.

You look next to you to see Draco still peacefully asleep, lips parting that allowed light snores to escape. His arm was still draped around your figure which you once found comforting, but now you found alarming. Careful not to wake him up, you peel his arm from around you and onto his lap. His touch now was now foreign. How did this all take a 360 within a few hours?

Casting the thoughts out of your brain, you turn over to the other side of the small bed, back to Draco, trying to fall back asleep, hoping that Draco didn’t notice the change of position. You let your heavy eyelids bring you to sleep, but unbeknownst to you, Draco does notice that you are no longer peacefully asleep on his chest. But he doesn’t say anything. Disappointed, he just takes note of it and closes his eyes, but he can’t fall asleep.

-------

The morning light streams in just as quickly as it left and gently wakes you up. The light hurts your head and makes you wince in pain, softly clutching your head. You sit up slowly and rub your eyes with the heel of your free hand, trying to rid the sleep from your eyes. As you let your eyes focus again, you see Draco is sitting in the chair beside your bed like he was like night, trying his shoes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles at you. You let out a groggy morning. “The Healer left you another pain potion for this morning. He said to take it as soon as you wake up and then you are good to be discharged and go home,” Draco reports.

The thought of going home made you excited, but nervous. Home was always nice and being your parents at a time like this was definitely something you needed. However, your childhood home didn’t feel like much of a home after your time at Hogwarts, especially since your parents were always traveling and were rarely home even on holidays. If anything, home meant going back to Hogwarts or alternatively going back to the Burrow with the Weasleys...

Shaking your head, you return yourself to the current conversation. “Sounds great,” you smile and take the pain potion from off the nightstand, drinking from the small vile, contorting your face in disgust after, the fowl taste lingering on your tongue. Draco laughs as you do so. “I hate the taste,” you blush, wiping your mouth. “Are my parents here to pick me up?” you ask Draco.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I can check with the Healer and see if your parents called or not. If not, I can always take you home. I have no problem seeing that you get back safely,” he offers with a gentle smile as you nod. “Great,” he breathes out. “Let me check for you.”

Draco moves to the door and opens it up only to reveal Ron Weasley standing there, fresh eyed and with a small smile on his face that fades when his eyes land on Draco’s. “Weasley,” Draco greets. “I was just going to grab the Healer. (Y/N)’s been discharged.”

Ron shakes his head, “I know. I’m here to pick her up.” Ron glances to you and smiles before sending you a wink. Your heart stops in your chest and your eyes widen. Something that was a friendly gesture between you and Ron now has new meaning after last night’s dream/memory. What was going on?

Interrupting your thoughts, Draco looks to Ron and says, “You’re picking up, (Y/N)? Where are her parents?”

“Is there a problem with me picking (Y/N) up? I’m her best mate after all. Plus, her parents asked me if I could whilst they dealt with preparing her room and treatments for her arrival home,” Ron pushes past Draco and straight to you. “Morning, darling. I have fresh clothes for you and your mum is making breakfast for you back at your house. Ready?”

You look back and forth between Ron and Draco and the tension between the two is palpable. You thought that Draco and Harry had problems? This was another level. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” you reply to Ron while looking at Draco who shakes his head, understanding completely. Your parents had sent Ron for you. You didn’t need Draco. Draco just gives you a small smile before walking to the door. “Wait, Draco,” you call for him like you did last night. “I’ll see you again, right? You owe me a story,” you gently smile.

Draco lets a pink hue reach his cheeks. “You’ll see me again, darling. I promise,” he tells you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, this directed toward Ron this time. “Until then, love,” he winks at you before walking out of the room and down the hospital corridor.

Of course, Draco wished he could be the one taking you home from the hospital. He wanted to be with you every step of the way on your recovery. Draco wanted to hold your hand and guide you through every bump in the road. But if this is what you wanted, he had to respect that. He would have his time. He was sure of it. You would come around.

Meanwhile, you changed in the bathroom into the fresh clothes Ron had brought with him. The soft cotton of your clothes made you sigh in relief, it was so much better than that itchy hospital gown. You emerge from the bathroom, straightening out your hoodie before breathing out, “Let’s go home.”

“Brilliant,” Ron beams, guiding you out of the room, his hand on the small of your back. The action makes you gasp a little bit, but you eventually relax and calm yourself down. It’s a friendly thing, (Y/N). Merlin.

The two of you exit in the hospital, leaving behind all of your fears and worries, ready to face whatever obstacle with a newfound confidence. As you climb into the car, Ron starts it and drives away from the hospital, the radio playing whatever muggle music the channel had to offer. The car ride is mostly quiet except for a few exchanges, but that’s when you notice Ron isn’t taking you back to your childhood home. Rather, you are going somewhere else.

“Ronald Weasley,” you furrow your brows. “This isn’t the way home to my parent’s house...where are you taking me?”

Ron doesn’t hide the cheeky grin from his face. “We’re going home alright,” he laughs. “Just my house.”

The Burrow. Merlin, help you.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Small Things

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Gordon, Virgil

More self indulgent Scott&Gordon fluff because I can and because this scene’s been living in my head rent-free for the past week or so. Might be the last thing I write for a while, because uni’s just decided to let me know I need to do 390 hours of independent study for a single module with the deadline in eight weeks, and if you’re any good at maths you’ll realise there’s a problem there (alternatively, stress might drive me to writing loads like January; we’ll see). There are implications of some level of depression in here, so watch out for that.

When an injury leaves Scott unable to do even the most simple things for himself and accordingly frustrated, it takes a brother who understands what it’s like to halt the slippery slope.

Scott was no stranger to injuries, or the frustration of the recovery period. He’d broken bones, torn open skin, and endured worse still, but that never made it easier – and definitely not this time. This time, he was arguably mostly intact, and yet found himself helpless nonetheless.

Burnt palms – both of them, and fingers to boot – meant he couldn’t do even the simplest of tasks by himself. Couldn’t dress himself, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything except wait for them to heal as he watched his brothers keep going out on rescues without him.

His family did what they could, Virgil in particular weathering the storm of his frustrations when they spilled over, but no matter how many little gadgets Brains designed to try and give him at least some independence, the fact still remained that he was useless and helpless.

Virgil was conked out on the couch, dead to the world despite his attempts to stave off exhaustion with caffeine in order to keep Scott company as he watched yet another movie – the only activity he seemed to be able to do without help. He’d wake up later, apologetic for passing out as though he hadn’t been on back-to-back rescues with any downtime swallowed up by fussing over his currently-helpless big brother, but for the moment, Scott was more than happy to let him sleep.

Not only did he need it, but the constant smothering was wearing thin. Scott was active, self-reliant and tireless. Even the most well-meaning assistance from Virgil – the one that helped him dress, cut his food, and all the other mundane tasks suddenly beyond his capabilities – was grating. He’d already snapped at him a few times, the most recent of which had been in response to a suggestion he did his hair, moments before John had called in another rescue and Virgil had had to leave before Scott could swallow down the ire, leaving him wallowing in guilt for several hours until he’d returned, dirty and exhausted but still patiently trying to help.

It was an honest relief to see his brother sleeping, even if it left Scott balled up on his own couch, trying to ignore the bandages wrapped around his hands and focus on the movie. He was failing miserably, all too aware that the healing process was still in the early stages and that it would be several more days before he could even think of using his hands. Even with the regularly-applied gel, they still hurt.

The movie was, in theory, one of his favourites. Virgil’s choice, after he’d huffed when asked if he wanted to choose. Right then, he just wanted to turn it off and-

The holoprojection paused, right in the middle of one of his normally-favourite scenes, and he blinked. That hadn’t been his doing. Despite Brains’ best efforts, telekinesis was still eluding him.

“Hey, Scott.” He turned his head to see Gordon jump down into the den. “Reckon you can do something for me?”

Scott held up his hands, in case Gordon had somehow forgotten. “No. Get Alan to help you with whatever it is.”

“Gotta be you, bro,” Gordon insisted, catching his wrists and tugging insistently. “You don’t need your hands for this.”

Despite himself, Scott found that he was intrigued. The promise of being able to do something was a powerful allure. “What is it?”

“C’mon,” Gordon insisted in leu of answering, and warning bells rang even as his younger brother successfully pulled him to his feet. Agreeing to help before hearing the details was always a no with this particular brother. His appetite for pranks was insatiable, and sometimes his timing left something to be desired. Scott couldn’t handle a prank. Not right now.

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

“Trust me,” his brother replied. Two words that often came with warning bells. Scott knew Gordon, though. Knew when trust me meant imminent pranking and warned that he should be running, and when he could genuinely trust whatever plan his brother had concocted. This was the latter, full sincerity with a hint of a plea behind it.

Trust was important in their family. It had to be, for International Rescue to work. Gordon knew that as well as any of them, and when he used that voice, it was always true. Whatever he had planned, he believed it wouldn’t negatively impact Scott.

He sighed, and let his shoulders sag, feeling the tension start to seep away. “Where are we going?”

Gordon’s hand was steady at the small of his back, guiding him gently through the house. Towards the bedrooms, and Scott stumbled to a halt when Gordon stopped outside his room. Of all the places he expected, his own bedroom was near the bottom of the list. “Gordon?”

“Come on, bro,” Gordon coaxed, opening the door and nudging him through it. Scott let him, still confused, and found himself guided to his bed. “Sit.”

Eyeing his brother, and still completely lost as to what he was planning, Scott obeyed. His bandaged, useless, hands rested in his lap, and he glared down at them before glancing back up to see that Gordon had left his side and was rummaging around in his bathroom.

“Hey!” What was he doing?

“Easy, Scott,” Gordon called back, turning around and returning. In his hands were Scott’s comb and hair gel, two items that hadn’t seen the light of day since his hands got burnt so badly they couldn’t hold either.

Scott didn’t appreciate the reminder that, despite Virgil’s pleading, his hair was a sorry mess.

“What are you doing with those?” he demanded, starting to stand. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he found himself looking up into compassionate amber eyes. Gordon gave him a small smile, barely a twitch of his lips but in that moment, it hit harder than his usual exaggerated expressions.

“Relax,” he said, clambering onto the bed and settling somewhere behind Scott. Attempts to turn his head were prevented by gentle hands, keeping him facing forwards. “I’ve got you.”

Scott’s mind was scrambling to work out what his brother had planned, and how this came into him doing anything for Gordon, but before he could finish putting the facts together there were gentle fingers in his hair, carding through softly and pulling wayward strands back from his face.

His immediate instinct was to pull away – he let his brothers do a lot, but his hair had always been off-limits, in no small part because it was an obvious target for Gordon and dye, but also just because it was. Even now, he’d refused to let Virgil touch it.

“Gordon-” he started, and the fingers retreated, only for arms to wrap around his shoulders from behind. Soft, comforting, and a far cry from the crushing squid hugs his water-loving brother loved to dish out. A weight against his back, and then a cheek pressed against his. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw strawberry blond hair, and amber eyes looking at him.

“Let me do this?” his brother asked, in that exact same tone he’d used earlier for trust me. Sincere, but a little pleading.

“Why?” His voice cracked, an unexpected show of weakness, and he flinched. Gordon didn’t acknowledge it, seemingly content to let him pretend it didn’t happen.

“I think it’ll help,” he murmured instead. “Please?”

Help who?

Scott didn’t see how letting Gordon do his hair would help anyone. It wouldn’t heal the burns any faster, wouldn’t give him back his independence any sooner.

But he’d never been able to say no to a brother when they asked like that, all quiet and sincere.

“Don’t mess it up,” he caved, looking away. He felt Gordon’s smile against his cheek anyway.

“Thanks, Scott.”

The arms retracted slowly, the cheek also leaving his, and he felt the mattress dip as Gordon shuffled back into position behind him.

Then the fingers were back in his hair, teasing out the tangles and knots that had formed with infinite patience and care. The motions were soothing in their repetitiveness, Gordon’s fingers dexterous and nimble as they preened out the worst of the mess, and despite himself Scott felt a little more tension bleed away.

Fingertips found his scalp and dragged across lightly, almost a massage, for a few brief moments, before retreating entirely.

Then it was the teeth of his comb, running through strands slowly but steadily and pausing whenever they nudged a tangle Gordon’s fingers hadn’t completely erased. Those, the comb bit into lightly, coaxing and cajoling the strands and never once tugging at his scalp.

Scott had no idea where Gordon had learnt to be so gentle with hair.

There was no mirror in view from where he was sat, but Scott didn’t need one to feel the weight of his hair slowly shifting, leaving its unkempt and chaotic tragedy and falling into the familiar style he favoured. Without gel, the strands at the front attempted to flop forwards, over his forehead, and he resisted the instinct to swipe them back.

His hands wouldn’t thank him, and the hair would inevitably get tangled in the bandages, but what actually stopped him was the sensation of Gordon interchanging comb with fingers as he continued to smooth the hair back until it fell just right. Gordon had asked to do this, and despite his initial misgivings, Scott found he was enjoying it. No-one had done his hair for him since he was a kid, Mom fussing and asserting her right as his mother to do so. Not like this.

Distracted by sudden memories, he missed the moment the comb left his hair for good, and startled slightly when the cool sensation of gel seeped through his hair. Gordon had returned to using his fingers, smoothing his hair into position with a precision no doubt born of seeing it so many times, and Scott closed his eyes.

The touches steadily grew lighter, lingering for longer and ghosting over what were presumably stray strands that needed a little more gel to keep in place, until they left all together.

He opened his eyes as the mattress shifted, turning his head to see Gordon slipping off the bed, rubbing his hands with a towel to get the gel off his fingers. Amber eyes surveyed his hair sharply, before Gordon gave another small, tender smile.

“Come on, bro.” Hands cradled his wrists, carefully away from the bandages, and drew him to his feet. “Now you get to judge my work.”

Scott let Gordon lead him to his bathroom, where the mirror hung above the sink. It was something he’d avoided looking at for the past few days, aware of his deteriorating hair yet unable to fix it and unwilling to let anyone else until Gordon wormed his way in with softly pleading sincerity, but a light nudge over the threshold had him reluctantly facing his reflection.

He looked like himself.

There were still bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights, and his skin was still pale and a little haunted, but his hair was gelled back just the way he liked it – the way he laboured over it every day even when he forwent other aspects of self-care because he didn’t have time – and while it was only one thing, it was enough to banish the unkempt shadow he’d become and replace it with something blessedly familiar. Blessedly normal.

Unconsciously, his back straightened, leaving him standing tall once again.

Gordon’s reflection joined his, standing alongside him as a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Any better?” his brother asked, worry in his eyes. Scott tore himself away from his reflection to look down at the flesh-and-blood young man next to him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Gords- what-?”

“When everything goes to hell, it’s the small things that make the difference,” Gordon said. The reminder was bittersweet – Gordon, too, had once been unable to do even the most basic of tasks unaided. “It helped me. I thought it was worth a try for you.”

A sense of normality amongst an ocean of uncertainty. Something to hold onto when he had nothing else.

Scott raised his arm, resting it lightly around Gordon’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking back at the mirror where the man that looked much more like himself stood, arm around his little brother. In hindsight, it was obvious; a lack of self-care was a slippery slope – one he’d seen Gordon fight before.

“I know you’d rather do it yourself,” Gordon continued. “But remember, we’re here to help you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed for a brief moment. “You just have to let us.”

Gordon looked relieved, Scott realised. He hadn’t noticed how worried his younger brother had been until it was gone, but the story was there, behind smiling eyes and a steadily growing grin on his face.

“Thanks,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say. Nothing that properly appreciated what his brother had done for him. Was offering to keep doing, if Scott was reading him right.

He was usually pretty accurate when it came to reading his brothers.

“Could-” he started, mouth ahead of his brain. “Could you-” He couldn’t quite get the words out, instincts still rebelling against asking for help – asking for this – despite it being freely offered.

“Keep doing it for you until you can do it yourself again?” Luckily – in this particular instance – Gordon could read him, too. Scott nodded jerkily. “Of course.”

The hand on his shoulder moved, arm reaching around him until Gordon had him in a half-embrace.

“Welcome back, big bro.”

If Virgil had any thoughts about Scott letting Gordon help when he’d been refused at every offer, he kept them firmly to himself when he was woken by the pair of them returning to finish the movie. Scott did, however, find himself subject to a bear hug, and relieved brown eyes looking him over.

In hindsight, it was obvious Virgil had seen what was happening all along, and Scott regretted getting snappy with him about it. Virgil waved off his apologies, but did consent to go and get some proper sleep in his bed as long as Gordon promised not to leave him alone while he did.

The insinuation that he needed a minder should have grated. Would have grated, half an hour before, when he was still a miserable mess curled up in the corner of a couch. But as Gordon promised, solemn sincerity that Virgil could trust, and settled more comfortably on the couch with his arm around his shoulders, Scott just found himself thankful for how much his brothers cared.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderfluff #thunderangst #small things

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nelllraiser · 5 years ago

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seal you later | lucky & nell

LOCATION: al’s diner. PARTIES: @lvcky-charms and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: lucky is on the lookout for a tracker that can find his selkie skin, and is led to nell. she knows we all get by with a little help from our (black market) friends.

Al’s Diner had always been a staple for Nell. Growing up this had been the place she’d always come whenever she had a burger or milkshake craving, and that happened more often than not with the appetite and sweet tooth that she had. Tonight was no exception as she settled into a booth, having no need for a menu. She waited impatiently for the waitress to arrive to take her order, foot jiggling in place as her stomach let out a low grumble. Was it possible to die of starvation in the span of a half hour? Of course not. But that didn’t keep the witch from pondering the dramatization of how she was wasting away in this booth, wishing for nothing more than for food to magically appear in front of her. Finally, it seemed that a man was approaching her table, and she waved eagerly before realizing she didn’t recognize this face. Had Al’s gotten a new hire? “Are you new here?” she asked with her head tilted to the side, harmlessly intrigued. Maybe this was Celeste’s replacement. After all, hadn’t Ariana said that she used to work here? It was grim to think about how easily a person could be replenished when it came to things like this. The Hunter might be gone and dead, but the world still moved on, and Al’s kept hiring new people.

Tracking someone or something down in this town was no easy feat. Lucky had been snooping around for the greater part of a week when someone had offered up a name that might provide more leads. Penelope Vural. Thankfully, after popping into most food establishments around meal times, he spotted someone that fit her admittedly vague description inside a diner. The anxiety of walking up to a total stranger had his palms clammy with...whatever selkies secreted (honestly, that one was a mystery to him still). Wiping his hands on his pants, he froze at the table when the woman there looked at him. Shit that’s right, pay attention. “You Penelope?” he mumbled, brow creasing as he concentrated on her lips for a reply. This would be painfully awkward if this wasn’t her.

Nell’s innocent curiosity morphed into a slight frown when the man asked for her by name. Had the workers at Al already been gossiping? Maybe they’d inducted him by running the names of regular customers past him. No...that wasn’t right. Everyone here just called her Nell. Instinctively her shoulders squared, and then tensed as paranoia set in. Ever since Montgomery had hunted her down, those that looked for her and she didn’t know posed possible threats, people that might also want to hunt her. “Who’s asking?” she replied defensively, giving the man a cursory once over to take in whatever information she could about him. He looked to be about her oldest sister, Bea’s age. Or maybe somewhere in between Bea and the middle sister, Luce. His lack of eye contact while she readied her reply was also baffling, though she wasn’t sure what to make of it quite yet.

Lucky mentally noted the shift in posture. That was never a particularly good sign in his experience. Usually, someone was upset, but he hadn’t set anything in particular that would be upsetting. Pushing that aside, he slid into the booth across from her, propping his elbows on the table and offering a tight lipped smile. Humans liked smiles, and Lucky wasn’t exactly sure if she was human or not, so it was worth a try. “I’m Lucky,” he mumbled, nodding. “I lost my--...a thing. You track things? Yeah?” He sniffed the air with an attempt at subtlety. He could smell a lot of things, sure, but none of them were very alarming. It was mostly food and grease; diner smells. Maybe Penelope was human? Difficult to say.

He just sat in the booth as if he belonged there, and Nell was slightly taken aback by the sheer audacity the movement required. Again she watched him carefully, wondering who the hell this guy was. By now she was positive he didn’t work here, which confirmed that he was looking for her, specifically. “You lost something?” she echoed, realization beginning to dawn. He was here for a job, wasn’t he? Or maybe someone else she’d helped had passed the word along, and he was hoping she might be able to help him, as well. “I’m Nell- but I guess you already knew that,” she said before extending her hand in an offer for a shake. “But yeah- I usually track people. Or....” She darted her head around to make sure there was no one within earshot of them. “Ah- other people-like things?” That was as delicate and vague a way to put supernatural creatures as she could manage. “What were you looking for?”

Nell, Lucky mouthed, straining to try to get the mouth-feel right. “Nell?” he questioned, aloud this time. Nodding along, he watched her lips intently, then her hand was out and distracting him. His palms were still slimy at best, so he carefully regarded the extended hand and wiped his palms on his jeans again before accepting the handshake. “Nice to meet,” he mumbled and ducked his head a little in efforts to keep his sharp teeth concealed. That was all he needed, to look like a real threat in the middle of a diner during a dinner rush. His head was still down when Nell began speaking again, so he caught just part of it. People or people-like things. Yeah, he supposed he counted as a people-like thing. Lucky’s leg began to bounce under the table and he slouched a little further down in the booth as he considered how to best answer. If he came right out and said I’m a selkie and I need my skin back, it could end badly for him. Best to ease into it. “I...had a something stolen from me. A people-like something.” Gritting his teeth, he awaited a negative response or some kind of attack, mentally preparing his best escape route. The way his body felt, Lucky was in no condition to fight back.

The more time Nell spent sat across from this man— the more puzzling he became. “Are you...alright?” she asked reflexively, not knowing how else to figure out what piece she was missing here. Nevertheless, she nodded as he said her name, providing another example. “Like Bell but with an ‘N’.” It wasn’t the most straightforward nickname, and she’d had to use the comparison more than once in her life. “Nice to meet you, too.” It was a quick handshake and then she was back to resting her arms across her chest, her confusion only growing by the minute the more Lucky spoke. For a moment he seemed to cave in on himself, growing smaller in his seat while he thought up an answer. It certainly wasn’t all that like her usual clientele. “A...people-like something that was stolen?” she echoed, trying to make sense of what he might mean. “Like...a special...pet?” If it was a supernatural creature that belonged to him, that would make sense, right? “You know we can go somewhere else to talk about this if that makes it easier,” she offered, knowing a place as public as this might not be the best venue.

Lucky leaned back against the booth, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table when no attack came. “I’m fine, just deaf,” he mumbled dismissively with a vague gesture of his hand. “Nell. Bell. Okay.” Abruptly, he leaned in closer again. How else could he get her to understand without just outright saying it? If she was afraid of talking about this in public, she wouldn’t attack him; it was the thought of what could happen outside of the restaurant that gave him pause. “Public’s fine,” he said, feeling the anxiety swelling again. He folded his hands beneath the table, wringing them as best he could while they were slick. Here goes nothing. “Looking for...my skin. My seal skin,” he clarified and grimaced, letting his teeth show as he did so.

“Oh,” Nell said without thinking, her gut reaction of embarrassment at having not noticed quickly replacing the confusion that had been dominating her expression. “Ah- I mean- sorry- I didn’t mean to-” Perhaps it was best to let that die on her lips for fear of accidentally putting her foot in her mouth. “Right. Alright. I’m glad you’re fine.” That counted as a recovery, right? His swift and unexpected movement forward, and her subsequent reflexive jerk backwards was a welcome distraction, and she found her hand gripping the outline of one her hidden knives out of instinct. Again her mind pestered her about whether or not he was actually here looking for something, the vigilant beating of her heart in her throat putting her on high alert. It wasn’t fear, but self-preservation that made her wonder. First it was the mention of his seal skin that sparked a flicker of recognition, another soft “oh” falling from her, though it hadn’t completely processed until he revealed his teeth. “Oh,” she repeated a little louder this time, understanding flooding Nell while her eyes widened ever so slightly. “Right, right your-” she cut the sentence off with another glance around them, figuring there was no need to repeat what Lucky truly was for anyone that might be able to overhear it. “It’s lost?” she asked with renewed concern as the cogs began to turn in her mind. “Someone took it?” Wasn’t there only so long that a selkie could go without their pelt before… “Shit,” she cursed aloud. “Yes. Yeah, I’ll look for that. Do you have any leads or anything? Where was it taken? How long ago?” Hunters that took from selkies were the worst sort. Of all the supernatural creatures in the world, the seal-people were arguably the least harmful. Quite literally nothing more than...seals.

Lucky slowly backed up again as Nell recoiled and made a mental note to slow his movements. Thankfully he’d stopped biting things as a casual test of danger. That would’ve gone over much, much worse. He straightened up in his seat and cocked his head, considering Nell silently for a moment. He let his lips fall back down over his teeth. If Nell posed any danger, certainly his teeth were threat enough, though she didn’t seem to want to fight him at all. He felt a sense of relief wash over him at that realization. Nell seemed intimidated--no, maybe it was an overt sense of caution. That he could respect and relate to. Lucky nodded again as Nell connected the dots aloud. “Been tracking it. Five years. Led me here, so I’m looking for more local leads. Got your name looking for a tracker. My skin might be…” he paused, slowly leaning forward again, letting the stiffness in his shoulders ebb away. “Black market?” he mumbled, more of a question than a statement. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to get connected to that particular part of town. If there was really a skin trade operation, he had to find it as soon as possible. Lucky’s stream of income was running out slowly the less he found himself able to work, and the hotel he was staying at didn’t seem like the kind to accept credit and a promise. Then again...promises seemed to go pretty far around here. “You’ll help?” Lucky perked up, suppressing a pleased wiggle, and grinned at Nell, teeth showing again. This was the closest he’d felt to finding his skin in a long while and he couldn’t help the flutter of excitement that bubbled up in his chest.

“Tracking it how?” Nell asked, wanting to know just how far Lucky had gotten. The more information she had, the easier this would be, and the higher chance of success they’d have. “What led you here? If I know where it was taken from- I could maybe go check it out even if it was five years ago.” She nodded at the mention of her being a tracker, but quickly amended the statement for him. “To be fair- I usually look for people. They’re easier to find than things.” Plus the usual spells she used didn’t find objects. Maybe she could somehow tweak it? But a skin wasn’t like any normal item. Surely it was bound closer to Lucky’s essence than a misplaced book or jacket might be. Right? She’d have to look into it. Probably experiment a little, and maybe get a little invasive with the man sitting before her. That could wait, though. For now she needed to learn the basics, the rest would come after. “But I can find your pelt,” she said fiercely, as if she could will the possibility into existence. They’d find it one way or another. Nell nodded at the mention of the black market, already knowing how to break into that. “For sure- that’d be a good place to look. I can ask a couple of people I know if they might be able to help with that part.” Felix would surely know his way around it. Maybe even Erin with all the organ trading she’d done. “Of course I’ll help!” she answered with a passion that matched the bright fire in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let the man before her just...waste away into nothingness if there was something she could do about it. “We can start right away.”

“Got a few tips on where it might be, if it was trading hands, that sort of thing. Followed it from California to here, trying to make black market connections on the way.” Lucky’s brow creased and he looked at the table for a moment, the excitement dwindling. He hadn’t been led here with much more than a comment that this was the biggest hub for supernatural activity on the eastern seaboard. White Crest, of all places, wasn’t a massive city by any means, but it was certainly an odd beacon for the strange and unusual. “Came here on a tip that the trade is good. Skins come through here often. You know about that?” Lucky looked back up at her, his eyes pained. The confidence in her voice, in her expression, was something Lucky didn’t know if he could trust. Sighing, he steeled himself again. He didn’t have any other option as he saw it, and Nell was willing to fight for him. That was something he was desperate for; someone who was in his corner. He gritted his teeth and nodded firmly, eyes matching the passion in hers. “Where do we start?”

Again Nell nodded along as Lucky spoke, mind running a mile a minute as she began to plan— trying to choose the best route that would lead to Lucky’s missing skin. It didn’t seem that Lucky’s information was all that specific, but it was still something. She’d find a way to work with it. The corners of her mouth tightened as he mentioned White Crest’s seemingly flourishing selkie skin trade, not exactly surprised to hear such a thing, but also not pleased. A memory flashed through her mind’s eye, going back to the pile of selkie pelts he and Luce had liberated from Montgomery’s disgusting trophy den. She’d known there were more out there that hunted selkies, but the undeniable proof of it sitting in front of her only made her stomach churn uncomfortably. “I’ve seen some pelts here before. They weren’t in the trade, though. And one of the friends I’m thinking might be able to help dealt a lot in selling body parts and stuff- so maybe that includes pelts.” The way he looked at her while he spoke tugged at something in her, a need to help this poor man gain back what had been wrongfully taken quickly finding a home in her. She’d seen it before in the people she’d helped while on her travels, and Nell was eager to get back on track with helping people. So much of what she’d done in the past few months had been harm, and though she didn’t regret any of it...it would be nice to bring about something good via a path that wasn’t blazed by destruction. “Why don’t you come over to my greenhouse later on? We can start ironing things out there. And I can get in contact with my friends, and then I’ll point them to you.”

Hearing that Nell had seen other pelts around town filled Lucky with conflicting emotions. On one hand, the possibility that his skin could be here had him bordering on happy; but on the other hand, the thought that other selkies could be missing such an essential part of themselves was heartbreaking to hear. It was a void not easily mended, and one that grew harder to ignore every day. What pulled him out of that train of thought was the casual mention of dealing in body parts without a moment’s pause. The learning curve of White Crest really was a sharp one. Mimes, invasive postal workers, organ trade… No time for that specific spiral. Nell mentioned a greenhouse and Lucky nodded along. “What time?” he asked, already digging around in his jacket pocket for a pen and paper. He produced both and started scrawling while looking at Nell’s lips expectantly.

Nell checked the clock on her phone before answering, trying to figure out how long it would take her to be ready to see Lucky again. Finally she settled on a time. “7:30 PM.” That would give her a bit of a window to get ready. It was a little close to a standard dinner time, though. The realization came a bit belatedly, and she quickly made Lucky an offer. “I can make us something to eat too, if you’ll be hungry. I’m assuming most any meat is a good bet, right?” she asked with the beginnings of a grin. Most selkies thrived off a protein rich diet. “You can meet me at this address,” she said before rattling off the location of Bea’s house. “The greenhouse is around back, and it’s kinda in the middle of nowhere so just text me if you get lost.” Then she was giving him her phone number as well. “We’re gonna get it back,” she affirmed once more, iron determination in her voice. “You just wait and see. Soon enough you’ll be back in the ocean before you know it.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:lucky #seal you later

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sasskarian · 5 years ago

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I know you're not exactly a DA blog anymore... But... I just finished DA2 for the very first time and, and. I got myself Inquisition with all DLCs. I need to know what happens. I want the poor baby Cullen to be happy :(

Nonnie, I am still at my heart very much a DA blog (and Mass Effect; I just tend to smear new obsessions everywhere. Like finger painting). I curate my experience as much as I can due to the fandom being shit, but my love for DA is strong and steady.

The best thing I can say is, play through the game and DLCs. (Tho suggested order is Jaws > Descent > Trespasser) I promise you, Cullen has the option of being happy. I wouldn’t write about it if I didn’t see those paths, and at least some of them are canon.

I know what you mean, tho. Cullen is, to some of my friends’ dismay, near and dear to my heart. He’s my canon quiz’s romance, for many reasons. The truth is, I struggle with the fandoms’ interpretations of him and was just talking about this with my DA/FO/ME bestie @asaara-writes the other day. I think a lot of Cullen’s trauma is easily missed or overlooked in favor of louder plots (like Fenris’s, who doesn’t get hated on nearly so much for his hatred and distrust of mages, or Anders who hates Templars and is lauded for it. If I see another ANDERS WAS RIGHT banner, I’m gonna overclock somebody’s capacitors)

(Pardon me, I’ll throw this under a cut because wall of text, but I have some got-damn Opinions on Cullen and how the fandom treats him)

But for me, I’m neither in the “Cullen is poor bab who never did anything wrong uwu” or the “Cullen is a horrible bastard and should be set afire” camp. I walk a more moderate line, and here’s why:

I have a Cullen.

My fiance, he’s... so much like Cullen that it breaks my heart. Military vet, disillusioned with his desire to do good in the world and the realities of corruption and power abuse. Substance abuse issues, and recovery from addiction. Said some bad things/had bad opinions when he was younger due to abuse by certain groups of people, and has since reformed and is trying to continue changing. Abuse survivor. Blood on his hands from his career. Trying his best to find his way in a world that he doesn’t understand. So I see the similarities, and I live with the reality of what that kind of history and life is like.

Cullen was a fresh-faced 18 year old in the Kinloch Circle (however old his in-game image looks, he was canon 18-20). Which, by canon, was one of the less problematic, more lenient Circles (though you have to have Mage origin to find that stuff out). I don’t think he’d been a Templar long at that point. And he joined the Templars out of a desire to do good in the world. His examples of Templar behavior were those stationed in a small village, who had more leniency and less lawkeeping duties. Honnleath was tiny, and quiet. I’m going on assumption here, on my own history of small towns vs larger cities, that there wasn’t much evidence of power hunger and abuse an eight year old would notice.

Note that he remains kind and even remorseful at some of his duties (for instance, having to attend Harrowings) even under a hateful man like Greagoir.

When Uldred takes over the Circle and kills everyone, Cullen is the last left. He watches possessed mages and demons run wild in his home, killing and torturing his friends. If you’re a mage origin, he talks about how the demons used his feelings and affection for you, inappropriate though they were, to torment him. It’s implied through dialogue that at least some of those demons sexually abused him.

Yes, in his panic and fresh trauma, he begs the Warden to kill any mages found left in the Circle. I wonder why. Tumblr at large acts like the only way for PTSD and trauma to be exhibited is through cowering and nightmares, but it’s well known among people who have PTSD (including myself) that outrage, hair trigger tempers, and anger issues are as common as crying jags and insomnia.

After the resolution of Broken Circle, Cullen is reassigned to Kirkwall. Arguably, this is the worst possible Circle he could have been sent to in the entirety of the goddamn world. Not only is Kirkwall famous for increased blood mage activity (both due to history and also due to Templar behavior), which is one of his trauma-groups, but Meredith hates mages, and rules over them with an iron fist. She is fucking crazy, and whether her past makes her a sympathetic villain or not (ymmv), she downright encouraged the abuse of mages and as she loses her mind, we see her start accusing everyone of blood magic.

Canon states that there are Templars in Kirkwall who sexually abuse mages, who torture them, and who kill them at will, and these are never dealt with. Meredith has no desire to change the way the Gallows is run, and it’s said or implied that before her reign as the overseer, the Gallows-- while still not great-- was not this bad.

So, freshly traumatized and young Templar is sent to the worst possible place in Thedas, under the command of a crazed mage hater, surrounded by the very thing that will trigger him nigh constantly. I see a lot of the fandom say “well why didn’t he quit/leave?” And I wonder if those fans understand what indoctrination can do. Specifically, military indoctrination. You’re told that the ranks are your home, your family, the only ones who can or will ever understand you. You’re told this for so long that it becomes a life raft. It becomes your world truth. That’s the nature of emotional abuse that fosters codependency: it literally reshapes your world.

Added to that, Templars are controlled by the Chantry through lyrium, an addictive drug that quitting is difficult and surviving the withdrawal of is often fatal. (that’s another rant entirely that can be summed up as tl;dr fuck the fucking Chantry)

The Templars were the only thing he knew. After that kind of soul-shaking trauma, do you leave behind everything you ever knew? (Remember, he was 13 when he joined into this kind of brainwashing.) No. You cleave to what you can, to what keeps you getting through the day.

Cullen spent a further ten years in Kirkwall, watching the city fall apart under Qunari, blood magic, and Meredith’s increasing insanity. There was no reprieve for his PTSD: everywhere he turned, there was Something. And yet, we hear in Inquisition (depending on player choices, ofc) Samson say that Cullen tried to continue to be kind. He didn’t abuse mages, he tried to protect them where and how he could.

[Samson: He arrived after the trouble at the ferelden circle. Cullen jumped at his shadow in those days, always on the watch for abominations and demons. Did right by the mages, though, never played rough with them. Not like Meredith.]

Was it limited? Yes. Was it hampered by circumstance? Yes. Should he have tried harder? Yes.

But he still tried.

Does he say regrettable things? Yes. Does he regret those things later? Yes.

I had a friend, who I am no longer friends with for various reasons, tell me that “If Cullen was a good person, he wouldn’t need a redemption arc.” And... no, No, that’s not how redemption arcs work. Everyone does problematic things. Everyone who grows up brainwashed has to unlearn shit, and atone for shit.

Cullen still struggles with mages. He still has a deep fear of them. Partly this is the Templar in him talking, partly this is trauma. And, here’s where we break from canon and go deep into psychology land: I think partly because he’s projecting. Cullen cannot imagine forgiveness for what he’s done. I wonder if part of him fears mages because he expects-- perhaps even some part of him desires-- retribution from them for his actions and past.

And there’s things that have been retconned or that were misleading in previous games. For example, the rumor that Cullen escaped after Broken Circle and went on a mage murdering spree. That was nothing but a rumor, but the fandom levies it against him as if it happened.

But if Cullen “hated” mages, you wouldn’t be able to romance him as a mage. And honestly, that mage romance in DAI? Is one of the sweetest, most tender things I’ve seen in DA. As a mage, you can choose to help him past his fears, help him with his lyrium addiction. Help him grow as a person, and watch as he becomes a better person. As he learns that mages are more than their magic, and that Templars are so often wrong and awful in their treatment of them.

I find Cullen to be well written. And believable as hell. The portrayal of him-- from the mood swings, to the trauma, to the shaky but steadying growth-- feels real, and I can back that up with my fiance’s own similar path.

So. To wrap up because hoooooo, Opinions, play through the game. There’s a lot of gems there. <3

#cullen rutherford #fandom critical #dragon age #anti-cullen #cullen critical #i have a lot of Opinions on this #also no i'm not taking opinions on this #my real life experience applied to fandom is more important to me than being yelled at for liking a character i find relatable af #Anonymous #food for thought #food for thot

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 4 years ago

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Dancing With The Devil Part 4 Thoughts:

(As per always, I will put this under a read more but it will talk about the pandemic, drug use and mental illness/health so count this as your trigger warning)

General Thoughts:

This episode felt a little weird for me because while it felt very genuine in a lot of ways, it also felt very PR in a more obvious way than part 3 did and in a way parts 1 and 2 did not at all. On the most part, I think this came down to having other celebrities come in that didn’t really feel like they added much or said anything that Demi’s loved ones hadn’t already said. Likewise, there were little moments like the ‘team’ question (over just say asking about loved ones more generally) and Scooter talking about putting everything off after the Grammys that also came off very PR and unneeded. There were also a few moments I wish they went more in depth with which I will talk about throughout this piece. In saying all of that, overall it was a good concluding piece for the documentary and I enjoyed it for the most part.

Pandemic Effects:

I don’t have much to say here past I related heavily to both the guilt and relief of Matt and Demi saying that Demi had a really good year and was able to do a lot of healing because of the time off with the pandemic. While I obviously didn’t have the money and resources Demi did for that process, I lived in an city that was barely touched by the pandemic and had a government that, while they have taken it away now, strongly financially supported people on government payments like myself. So much like Demi, I did what I could to make the best of that but much like Matt, I feel a lot of survivor’s guilt about saying that because that wasn’t most people’s experience.

I also agree with Elton that isolation is the worst thing you can do to someone who needs support, and though I’m glad they didn’t focus too deeply on Max, I’m glad that that was explored through that relationship in the documentary, even if it was heart breaking (and concerning considering I thought she was going to say she relapsed for a moment when she started crying) to see Demi cry over him. Likewise, while it was a more general note, I’m glad that they pushed the idea of getting help when symptoms start as opposed to when you spiral out because I imagine a lot of people needed to hear that, now more than ever.

Being California Sober:

This is one of the areas that I wished they had questioned Demi on more. Specifically, I feel like a question should have been asked regarding drinking being the start of the spiral and what’s changed. Arguably the answer is the same as the ‘the drugs I would want would kill me and that freaks me out’ answer she gave for the lying question, but I still would have liked a bit more exploration of how that connection and/or her attitude to alcohol with drugs has changed. I’m especially curious on a self centred level because a lot of what she said about realising that heroine wasn’t enough for her and that freaking her out is how I felt about realising my own connection between alcohol and drugs was stronger than I realised, even when I’m in a good mood. So yeah, I would have liked to hear more about that.

I also find it very interesting that on the most part, they put opinions that disagree with moderation forward, Like the case worker seemed to be the only one that was fully on board with the idea of moderation for Demi. Granted Sirah gave an on the fence answer of “I don’t know either way” but it felt unconvincing that she felt this was best and then Elton and even Scooter being like “I don’t agree with it at all” seemed like interesting choices to put in. And you can argue that it was to balance the conversation, but it didn’t feel balanced at all to me. Not that that’s a bad thing, just an interesting choice that most documentaries don’t make.

I won’t go too far into my opinion here because I recently went into it in this ask, but tldr: while I know some recovering addicts who can have a big night out and not touch stuff for years, I personally could never see moderation working. I also agree heavily with Elton that you can live just as an amazing life completely sober comparatively to when you’re drinking/drugging and most of my best moments have happened sober. However, in a “Tragic. The worst person you know made a good point” moment, I do agree with Scooter that trying to control Demi has not worked in the past and unless major red flags come up, it is best to trust her and pray that she knows what she is doing.

Honestly? I feel a little mixed about pushing the idea of having to be sober for yourself and not pushing people who aren’t ready for sobriety to get clean. Like yes, in a perfect would everybody would do it for themselves and I agree that you’re more likely to stay sober if you’re doing it for yourself. But it is not a perfect world, and even now, going on nine years being sober of drugs, I still have days where I can’t do it for myself and use things like “I don’t want to disappoint my mum” or “It would make my friends worry” or even “hey I won’t be able to see the new episode of this show if something happens” to keep clean. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing, just like I don’t think Demi getting clean the first time for the sake of her relationship with her sister was a bad thing. Again, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.

Other Mental Illnesses.

This isn’t to do with Demi personally, but I do find it interesting that she was misdiagnosed with Manic Depressive Disorder given what I learned in my psychology undergraduate degree. In general, if a woman is misdiagnosed, typically she is diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder when she really has Manic Depressive Disorder. Alternatively, males who are misdiagnosed are typically diagnosed with Manic Depressive Disorder when they really have a Personality Disorder. Again, this isn’t about Demi specifically, but I just found that interesting when she said about the misdiagnosis.

I also found it interesting that they flat out asked her about her past compulsive lying. One area I wish had been questioned more on that front was when she mentioned about cutting her hair being a liberating thing. Like I find it interesting that she brought up thinking people would hate it and make comments out of malice, but nobody brought up about when she said she changes her hair when she feels out of control. Again, much like the alcohol/drug connection situation, I feel like it would have been a good way to compare and contrast the difference in her mindset now compared to then and lowkey reassure loved ones that this isn’t something they need to question anymore.

All up, Dancing With The Devil is a decent documentary. Though I wished they focused on some parts more and others less, it came off as an authentic look into the struggles of Demi and her loved ones as she rebuilt her life post overdose. While I’m hoping we never get another documentary of this nature from her again, I would not be opposed to another documentary in general years down the line to show the (hopefully positive) contrast of her life when the actions she’s spoken about taking now take full effect. Until then, all I can really do is hope she continues her recovery and growth into who she wants to be.

#demi lovato #dancing with the devil

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zen3to5 · 5 years ago

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So I’ve finished Season 7 of That 70s Show.

...It’s better than Season 6.

I mean that sincerely. Like with Season 5, I find myself out of step with a fair amount of commentary that I’ve read about T7S when it comes to the penultimate season. For how bad Season 6 was - and it’s still shocking to me how steep a fall the back half of that season was from a consistent five-year high, and how demoralizing it was for my interest in finishing the rewatch and this rewrite project - I really do think Season 7 was something of a recovery. The damage done couldn’t be wholly ignored, and this year more than any before it was sloppy and airheaded about the show’s (admittedly always somewhat loose) continuity. But I do think this season’s writing was - for the most - part improved. And whether they intended it this way or not, I find that it tries to make lemonade out of a few of the lemons left by Season 6.

The best example of that is Eric. Season 7 continues its predecessor’s trend of treating Eric as the group loser, with “Angie” probably being the absolute worst example of this. His interest in roller disco in the first place, and his dabbling in such left-field hobbies as butterfly hunting, aren’t a great fit for his character either. And his going off to Africa by the end smacks of desperation on the part of writers looking to give their main character a big and permanent exit from the series in the face of Fox’s last-minute, ill-conceived renewal. But this season also attempts to work with what’s happened to Eric up to this point. It acknowledges the fact that he used to be a more driven and ambitious character, tries to retroactively create a story wherein Eric’s changes come from a fear and uncertainty over his future, and gets him to a career path that - if not the first (or second) thing that comes to mind for him - isn’t unfeasible either. The execution of all of this is hit and miss, and there are arguably more misses (though none as bad as his decision on his wedding last season) - but I applaud the staff for trying.

I also applaud them landing on a better less bad way of writing Red and Kitty. They’re a long way from the healthy couple and responsible parents we saw in the show’s early years, or the motivated conflict of Season 5. But - and this may be a case of perception more than raw facts - things seem less negative here than in Season 6. At least there isn’t a mini-arc of Red lusting after another woman. And the bickering and resigned attitude towards marriage seem lessened, if not lost. There’s even a new (if grossly neglected) angle for Red this season as he goes into business for himself, something I enjoyed. On the other hand, having Red blow Eric’s college money on that business is ridiculous... but stinkers like that litter the last few episodes of this season, and we’ll get into another shortly.

Sticking to the positives for now - after having almost no growth whatsoever (but little derailment) in Season 6, Hyde now has an arc. His having a secret, rich real dad is a soap-opera contrivance that I go back and forth on - it’s either dumb but effective, or effective but dumb. It’s also rather redundant; for an orphan, Hyde never lacked for father figures in the show, Red more than anyone else, and I don’t think WB brings a lot new out of Hyde as a father. But as a charismatic businessman who brings Hyde into the corporate world (and then running a record store), he does a lot for Hyde, and makes for a charming character in his own right (something I can’t say for Angie; I find her to be Brooke 2.0, and without any chemistry with either her half-brother or her boyfriend.) Hyde’s whole arc in the front half of the season - entering into a professional world he’s never wanted anything to do with, finding a more suitable job at the record store, but ending up unnerved by impending adulthood and regressing in his personal relationships - not only puts him into new situations and draws out fresh but believable reactions from him, it nicely parallels Eric’s arc. Hyde being a more reserved character, it’s only ever directly stated by Donna, and one could argue the transition needed to be stretched out and in more direct focus. But one can at least see an arc here, and I think it’s reasonably well-executed - on a back-half T7S scale, but even without that caveat, it’s decently done.

Of course, Hyde’s arc runs him into conflict with Jackie, and it’s depressing to think that she has more development this season than the previous one - y’know, the one where the mother who abandoned her rolled back into town. Jackie’s arc is a variation on a theme we’ve seen from her before - rushing to maturity. But while in earlier seasons that manifested as Jackie childishly playing at “adult” things like fancy dinner parties, here she really is more mature, and more honestly longing for commitment from Hyde and a future beyond the Formans’ basement. But with Jackie, I think the lack of build-up is a serious problem. While she gets excited by Hyde’s new job, there really isn’t any clear sign of how ready she is for life after high school until “Winter.” There’s certainly not enough build-up to her wanting a promise for (eventual) marriage, though I can believe Jackie would want that. And while Jackie’s interest in working in local news television was mentioned here and there throughout the show, her actually getting her own program comes out of nowhere and gets hardly any development - a shame, because I think that’s a believable career for her.

As for her and Hyde’s relationship... I don’t hate what’s done here. For all the negative commentary I’ve read about it, I don’t find “Winter” that bad an episode. It’s not great, and one could argue Hyde should be past the stage where he pulls something that childish with his significant other, but that’s part of Hyde’s whole arc. And I think their break-up this season comes from a convincing conflict. The episodes they spend apart - “Street Fighting Man” in particular - have some of the most heartfelt expressions of feeling from either character, even without the other seeing it. But the way they get back together is just awful. It’s sloppier than their first make-up at the beginning of Season 6, and even by this season’s standards, it makes a mess of continuity. And, after getting them back together, the show takes a few episodes to present them as a strong couple, a few to tread water, and then goes into the ultimatum, a mini-arc just as contrived as Eric’s going to Africa, and almost certainly a victim of hasty rewrites after the renewal. The contrivance of Jackie not having a car so that Kelso can get involved and revive the love triangle is all sorts of nonsense from these characters at this point, and it’s such a lousy way to effectively end - even without Season 8 - what was the emotional highlight of the show from Season 5 onward.

Speaking of Kelso - there’s not much to say about him in this season. Continuing on from a trend in Season 6 I didn’t fully realize until now, he’s less broad and wild than in earlier seasons. He’s still cartoonishly dim, but a more mellow dim. The birth of his daughter, and his earning the right to have her on weekends, gives him a bit of development at the beginning and end of the season (until it’s derailed in the final episode.) That leaves a long stretch in the middle where there’s nothing but Kelso’s Greatest Hits - a retread of his womanizing with Angie, a retread of the “dumb guy, brainy gal” dynamic with Angie, some funny bromance with Fez, some generic stupidity - nothing we haven’t seen before, and none of it carried off with the same gusto and energy as before.

Donna doesn’t have much going on either. She has less going on than Kelso, really. After dying her hair and rededicating herself to feminism, that’s pretty much it. Almost nothing of note happens for her as an individual, and she and Eric tread water in their relationship until he announces his trip to Africa. One could argue that her static status as an individual makes some sense; she had declared in Season 6 that she didn’t see the need to go to college since she had the sort of job she was going to college for; if you buy that (and I don’t, but it happened) then you could reasonably say she’s settled into life, for now anyway. And there is an attempt to have her and Eric sort out what happened at the end of Season 6 that is somewhat convincing. But not wholly. And after Season 6 - and with how rote and, frankly, in the background their relationship is for most of this season - it’s hard to root for Eric and Donna at this point. The only reason their relationship still holds up is the goodwill built up over the first five seasons, and it’s a miracle Season 6 left any of that for Season 7 to tread with.

And then there’s Fez, who I’ve really come to hate in these later seasons. I can appreciate that the shy, naive, and malleable foreign kid from the beginning of the season couldn’t (and shouldn’t) have lasted forever, and Seasons 3 through 5 did a decent job expanding on his character. But Season 6 took an element that had, frankly, always been there to some degree - perverted voyeurism - injected a lot of selfish bratiness, and made a mess of the character. Season 7, where Fez is concerned, makes things even worse by adding a really disturbing confidence and comfortability to Fez with just how much of a pervert he is. His attempts to coerce some action from both Donna and Jackie go well past what I can buy those girls putting up with from him, and his “dark room switch” proposal is absolutely terrible. A good portion of this show’s humor about sex hasn’t aged well, but Fez more than any other character has been cast in a bad light because of that, and I’m happy to cut my rewatch off at Season 7 just so I don’t need to see more of him.

To continue on the negatives, the whole show at this point has a listlessness to it that wasn’t present even in Season 6. I’m not surprised this was once intended as the last season, because it’s hard not to get the feeling that everyone was done. This may be another case of perception outweighing the facts, but the impression I have of Season 7 is that, compared to earlier seasons, there are a greater number of scenes, scenes are more fast-paced, and consequently, very few things can build the way they used to. That takes away from earnest and dramatic moments the most, but it hurts the comedy as well. And it also means that, for the first time, the season finale doesn’t even feel like a finale. It feels like just another episode that happens to end on a stupid cliffhanger. And that’s just lame.

The most frustrating thing is that the pieces in the last few episodes - Eric deciding to be a teacher, Jackie’s job offer and her ultimatum to Hyde, Kelso and Fez getting an apartment - could have added up to an effective series finale if the show had more energy left in it, and if Fox hadn’t renewed them. And I’ll certainly try to prove that with this rewrite....

#z's crits #that 70s show #critique #commentary

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bykryschi · 5 years ago

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Notes to Myself of 2017

Edit: Oops, this is krys of May 2020. I found this entry of my personal life sitting in drafts and thought I would... very lately post it since why not?

The year didn’t end on a happy note for me, and the trending theme of 2017 being a shite year has somewhat rang true, albeit, there has been a lot of good to come of it.

I continued to work at my sales position with Anthropologie, which I really enjoyed: the team, my managers, and customers were great. I started working for Anthropologie in September 2016 when my health and energy seemed to allow me the opportunity. The business really kept me on my toes. There were hectic days, and there were stressful moments but all in all, I enjoyed the work, the varied style and art driven aesthetics, and the admirable teamwork and care that went into pleasing our customers. Can’t forget the fashion as well--Anthropologie continues to be one of my favourite places to indulge in unique, high-quality pieces.

I left in August to take on a position at the Canadian company Simons that benefitted me in being much closer to home, saving me from the 2 hour commute that it took to work at Anthro, on top of other benefits such as a higher income and a chance to be a part of a grand opening of a department store location.

Opening a store was really interesting. Behind-the-scenes training included presentations on fashion, going over the history of the company(established in 1840), meeting the Simons family, learning about the fashion industry and the process of how fashions and trend ‘trickle down’ to retailers, and of course, the less interesting but necessary: sales. There were also presentations from brand ambassadors a few times each month that gave employees a more rounded scope of their products (and freebies-yay!).

Anyway, my personal life was a bit of a mess and arguably is still a bit of a mess. After attending my first LCS event in Vancouver, I made the decision to give up a friendship that was causing me a lot of grief and unnecessary stress early on in the year. I struggled with loneliness following. I hadn’t realized just how dependent I was on this one particular individual and how alienated and cut-off I found myself from the rest of the world.

I think I am in a much better place right now, and the void that manifested itself following this event dissipated over the course of the year. Family, my neighbours, and my friends, new and old, are all to thank as they’ve continually given me so much to cherish. I’ve reconnected with various friends from my high school life--enjoying fire pit and BBQ sessions, dancing, catching up over drinks, and texts. I also made a handful of friends through League and work who I’ve enjoyed the company of daily and who I sincerely appreciate and adore (if any of you Simons peeps are reading, I mean you!). And in the summer, I went back-country camping (another first!) with my wonderful neighbour, who’s a sister to me, and who’s family is family.

I did however resort to dating apps (and another first...) for a short period, which, although I didn’t go on very many dates, I think I could safely say I’ve been on possibly the worst date of my life, and the most ideally romantic. I don’t think I’ll experience anything like that again but in short, the worst involved an angry, super-obnoxious boy in a man’s shell, and the best being a highly enjoyable evening involving wine, a classy home-cooked meal, and an uber ride home at the end of the night.

I’ll be amazed if anyone actually reads this through, hah. Not much more to say now though.

Anyway, art has been an on and off activity this year due to various reasons: work, health, distractions, etc. In any case, the always and forever goal of the next year and the years following will be to do more, do better, develop further...

Most recently, I ended a relationship that I hastily (and without much thought) engaged in. It was over sooner than it started and I’m not sure it is even worth mentioning, although it was a factor that made the end of this last year a bit hellish, and infuriating and filled with regret; all the humbug. In addition, I decided to resign from work due to health reasons. I very much wanted to continue with work but recovery is slow, and I needed over a month or several. Thankfully, I’m on the mend and things are improving more speedily than previous. So much love in my heart for my family and their unyielding support.

With that, there’s a lot to look forward to in this new year. We welcomed a new family member in 2017. I was amazed just how much in love with them I fell and just how excited I am to see growth, and the bringing together of family. I also expect to reunite with far-a-way friends, and loved ones soon. I will be making the move to Japan late February and living there for a year. I don’t have too much to say on that right now except that I’m full of nervous excitement.

-krys

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generallynerdy · 6 years ago

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Our Little Secret Part 14/Finale (Merlin & Child!Reader, Mordred X Reader)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13

Summary: (Y/N) and Merlin have to come to terms with their little secret being revealed. Everyone else has to adjust to the fact that they’ve been lied to for years by the two people they trusted most.

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: eMoTiONs, mentions of injuries, mentions of near death, recovery, magic-phobia?, u can’t prove that it’s an author insert fuck u

Word Count: 4,236

Note: is it,,,is it over yet? am i free,,,? extra long final (except the epilogue) part bc i love u

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” (Y/N) muttered, legs hanging over the edge of the mountain.

“Really?” Beside her, Merlin snorted. “This isn’t even the worst it could be.”

She looked over at him with wide eyes. “What’s the worst it could be?”

“Uther could still be alive.”

“Touché.”

The pair rested in silence, watching the sun slowly crawl up the sky. Dawn had come a while ago, but they had yet to leave Camlann. Arthur wanted to scour the battlefield for their men, dead and wounded. They gathered all the dead and were giving them proper funerals or packing up their bodies to take back to family, if they had any. The wounded were taken care of by Gaius, but many of them didn’t survive.

(Y/N) had not entered the medic tent again, instead spending her time with Merlin and giving Arthur a few hours time before she dared show her face. It killed her to stay away from Mordred, but she felt it was best.

“I’m sorry for everything,” (Y/N) said suddenly, breaking the silence. “For not talking to you, for not listening to you, either.”

“No, you were right not to,” Merlin admitted, not looking away from the view in front of them. “I was being ridiculous. I was so worried about Mordred being the druid to kill Arthur that I didn’t consider that my decisions might push him to that.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t your fault, Merlin. Morgana controlled him.”

“The only reason he didn’t choose it on his own was because of you,” Merlin said, finally turning to her. “If Arthur had made a decision against magic or someone doing magic, Mordred might have turned. You being here stopped him and I should’ve seen that.”

“So…” She grinned. “Are you sorry for being a clotpole?”

Merlin sighed and put an arm around her, drawing her into a hug. “I’m sorry for being a clotpole.”

It took (Y/N) a while to get the courage to go into the medic tent again. When she did, she saw Leon lingering by Mordred’s cot. Gwen and Arthur were nowhere in sight, nor was Gaius, but he was rather busy as it was.

She wandered over to the cot, pulling up a chair and sitting on the opposite side that Leon did. She didn’t meet his gaze at first, just taking Mordred’s hand and remaining silent.

“(Y/N)?” Leon started.

It took everything in her to ignore him, to look down at her hands and refuse to make eye contact. Though he couldn’t get her complete attention, she was still listening and he knew it.

“I don’t hate you.”

(Y/N)’s head shot up against her own intuition. She didn’t speak, eyebrows lowered and searching his face to see if he was lying.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again, a little louder. “I could never.”

He’d heard what she said to Gaius about being worried that everyone would hate her. What (Y/N) didn’t understand was how he didn’t hate her.

“I’ve been lying to you since I’ve known you,” she said. “How are you not upset?”

Leon sighed. “I’m...upset you didn’t feel like you could trust me with your little secret, but nothing else.”

“You--” (Y/N) tilted her head. “You don’t think magic is evil?”

“Druids saved my life, remember?” He smiled fondly. “Since then, I’ve known magic isn’t innately evil. And neither are you. You’re my friend, my sister. The most evil thing you’ve done to me is have Spot wake me up in the morning.”

(Y/N) laughed shakily, remembering it fondly. She did it a little too often, more than Leon would like, but it was entertaining.

“The others don’t hate you, either,” Leon said.

She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m sure of it. If they really love and care about you, then this won’t change anything,” he told her. “It hasn’t for me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, moving her hand from Mordred’s to his, making him smile.

There was a pause before he squeezed her hand and stood, letting go. “I’ll check on the others. Take care of him.”

“I will,” (Y/N) muttered as he left.

For a good while, (Y/N) was left alone. She dozed off a few times, trying to get much needed rest. Gaius dropped by and checked on her wounds, which were luckily minor. She never left Mordred’s side, constantly making sure he was alright. It took him a few hours, just as Merlin predicted, before he began to stir.

“(Y/N)?” He croaked out, opening his eyes slowly.

She snapped to attention and smiled, holding his hand. When he started to sit up, she stopped him. “Careful, careful. Merlin said you’d be sore.”

“Ow,” he muttered, but froze. He smiled slightly. “The spell worked.”

In his moment of awe, (Y/N) leaned forward and took him in her arms. She held him tightly and felt his arms wrap around her lovingly.

“I was terrified,” she whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Mordred let her go for just a second, drawing closer to her face and caressing her cheek. “It was you that brought me back,” he muttered. “Seeing you broke the spell.”

“I love you, too,” she said, echoing some of his dying words. She kissed him softly, hand buried in his messy curls.

After that, they spoke in hushed tones. (Y/N) updated Mordred on what had happened. They held a brief moment of silence for Morgana, remembering the woman she had once been. She told him about what Leon said to her and he celebrated with her, but then the conversation was drawn to the topic of their magic.

“They all know about my little secret now, too,” Mordred muttered. “The rumours can’t have passed by them.”

(Y/N) took his hand. “We’ll be okay.”

“You really believe that?”

“We’ve been through so much worse, Mordred,” she said firmly.

He laughed a little. “Fair enough. I have almost died twice-- and that’s not counting my childhood.”

They shared a laugh that was interrupted by a dog’s yip. Spot raced in from out of nowhere, trying to jump on Mordred’s bed and smother him. (Y/N) reprimanded him and he soon calmed down, but neither of them knew where he came from.

Unbeknownst to them, Gwen and Gaius had kept him in the medic tent the whole time, keeping the loyal dog from harm.

There were many bridges to cross on the way home, but at least they had each other.

Back in Camelot, rumours flew left and right. The majority of the population was aware of Mordred’s presence in the city and were furious, confused as to why Arthur would harbour an enemy. He planned to speak on his behalf, but he wanted answers from Merlin and (Y/N) first.

Meanwhile, the animosity, or at least tension, between (Y/N) and the other knights did not go unnoticed. Merlin’s temporary absence from his master’s side was noticed, too, as was Mordred’s stay in the court physician’s quarters rather than his own in the knights’ quarters. The entire tightly knit group of Arthur’s closest friends seemed to be falling apart, for reasons unknown to everyone.

One day, (Y/N) was summoned to the throne room, though Mordred, Merlin, and Gaius were told to remain behind.

When she arrived there, after nonstop reassurances from the Merlin to the young knight, she found that it was not the council gathered, but instead her friends. Gwen and Arthur sat on their thrones, while the knights stood dutifully about the room. (Y/N) had a distinct feeling that this was not a purely social audience.

Arthur began to question her, as if she was a suspect in a crime. Leon shot her uncomfortable glances, wishing he could make it stop.

“How long has Merlin been teaching you?”

Merlin had already had a long discussion with Arthur, giving him practically his whole life story, from his father, to his mother, to his powers, to the dragon he freed from under Camelot. Arthur knew almost everything about him. Now, it was (Y/N)’s turn.

“Since a few years after I met you, my lord,” she said.

His expression showed no change. “Who knew about your...little secret?”

“Merlin, Gaius, Mordred-- ever since we were little.” She began to list them off, remembering each fondly. She paused, saying the next name too quietly for him to hear.

“Speak up.”

(Y/N) sighed. “Lancelot.”

Leon shot her a sympathetic glance and Gwen looked absolutely decimated by this fact. A few sombered, but the expressions were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

“Morgana knew, too,” (Y/N) muttered.

Arthur lowered his eyebrows. “You told her?”

“No, sire,” she stammered. “She, uh, had me followed and I didn’t realize. It was a while before Ismere-- just after we buried Lancelot.”

Suddenly, Arthur asked a question that left her dumbfounded.

“Have you ever used magic against someone? Or to get what you wanted?” He asked stiffly.

Her jaw dropped as she looked up at him, appalled that he could even ask her such a question. She glanced around at the others, as if asking whether they believed she could be capable of that, but most of them didn’t make eye contact. Elyan just looked away, perhaps ashamed at the question. Gwaine stared right through her, which was arguably more chilling. Percival was the only one to meet her eye. She couldn’t read him, though. (Y/N) didn’t know what he meant, looking at her like that.

“No, sir,” she said firmly, teeth clenched. “The worst I’ve done is defend myself.”

“And the second part?” He questioned further.

She paused. “One thing.” They all looked terrified, but she smiled. “I used my magic to help a little druid boy escape the castle, a long time ago. Morgana, Merlin, and my lady were there. You were, too.”

She spoke bravely and Arthur went silent after that, his eyes darkened with reminiscence. They had saved Mordred long ago, even though he was a druid. (Y/N) was trying to remind her king of this.

“I asked Merlin to take me as an apprentice the day I met him,” she said, taking her turn to give a speech. She was young, but she had so much to say. “I started a few years later and I-- I didn’t realise what I was getting myself into. I didn’t understand the secret I had to keep, the people I had to keep it from. I didn’t understand the consequences. But I did later. And I could’ve easily given up then, but I didn’t. My magic is part of who I am, it has been for a long time. Just because you know about it now doesn’t change me. But I am sorry, deeply sorry, that I’ve hurt you-- all of you.”

As (Y/N) was leaving the throne room, she did not see Leon go to follow her.

“Leon--” Elyan started, grabbing his arm to stop him.

The senior knight turned to him with a frown. He looked at all of them gathered, who were staring at him, waiting for his move. He scoffed a little and pulled away from Elyan’s grip, shaking his head at them.

“I can’t believe you,” he said to them as a friend, rather than a knight. “It’s (Y/N).”

With that said, he was met with silence. He shook his head again and rushed out of the throne room, catching up to (Y/N). He took her arm and they started toward god knows where.

As soon as he left, Percival took a second to think before following him. No one dared stop the giant, nor did they dare even try. He caught up to Leon and (Y/N). They didn’t make him say a thing, simply letting him join them. That was enough of an apology-- and a reassurance.

Later, when (Y/N) returned to check on Mordred, she was accompanied by Percival. Leon had to abandon them earlier for work purposes.

Entering Gaius’ chambers, they found Mordred asleep in his bed, but he was not alone. Sitting in a chair pulled up beside him was Queen Guinevere, who looked up as they walked in. (Y/N) froze up and turned to Percival, but wasn’t sure what to say.

“(Y/N),” Gwen said. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, my lady--” She began.

Gwen interrupted her with a shake of her head. “Just as friends,” she smiled.

Percival cleared his throat and nodded at both of them. “I’ll just--” he started, backing away from the room. “Goodnight.”

(Y/N) closed the door behind him as he left. When she and the queen were left alone, there was silence. The young knight crossed the room to Mordred’s bed, checking on him as he snored lightly. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at his peaceful slumber, but let the smile fall when she noticed Gwen staring.

Trying to avoid conversation, (Y/N) lifted her hand and began a spell, gesturing to the pitcher of water on the table. She stopped instantly when she saw Gwen’s eyes widen, the yellow glow in her own eyes fading.

She started to walk toward the pitcher, but Gwen spoke, stopping her.

“You shouldn’t have to hide it,” she said.

(Y/N) reeled. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide it now,” Gwen repeated. “Why avoid using it if there’s no consequence anymore?”

“I--” (Y/N) sighed. “I don’t know if Arthur would like that.”

The queen smiled. “Well, he’s not here now, is he?”

She was shaken by the queen’s easy going reply. Unsure, she lifted her hand again. She finished the enchantment this time and the pitcher went flying into her hand, spilling just a little bit of water. Two cups flew over from the table at her command as well and soon she was pouring the liquid into them. (Y/N) passed one to Gwen and kept one for herself, pulling up another chair beside her.

“Did you know?” (Y/N) asked her suddenly.

“About your little secret?” Gwen laughed. “No, of course not.”

The younger one tilted her head. “Then how are you so...unbothered by this?”

“I just think it explains a lot,” she admitted. “Besides, I’ve suspected Merlin for a long time.”

“You’re kidding,” (Y/N) gaped.

“He’s not exactly conspicuous,” Gwen laughed.

She shrugged with a fond smile. “Well, he’s kept it hidden for this long.”

“Fair enough.”

“What made you think he had magic? When were you really sure he was hiding something?” (Y/N) asked out of pure curiosity.

Gwen sighed. “You were so angry with him after Mordred came back with that spear injury, the one that almost killed him. I didn’t understand until I considered that he might have magic. You were upset because he wouldn’t heal him, weren’t you?”

“He refused,” (Y/N) confirmed, nodding solemnly. “I stopped talking to him after that.”

“I don’t blame you. If someone did the same to Arthur…” She trailed off, not even wanting to think about it.

It was beginning to get dark, so (Y/N) lit a few candles, requiring just a simple spell. Gwen almost awed at it, which made the young knight flustered. No one had ever taken this much of an interest in her magic, not since Lancelot.

“It really doesn’t bother you?”

“Absolutely not,” Gwen reassured her. “It explains so much and-- and it sounds silly, but I feel like I know you better now.”

(Y/N) could not help hugging her friend, burying her head in her shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It means so much to me.”

A soft knocking came from the door and both women turned their attention to a short figure entering the room. It was Elyan, who seemed to have been there for a good while. He had heard at least the last part of their conversation, which (Y/N) felt red in the face about. Gwen looked rather pleased with herself, though.

The queen stood and crossed the room, taking her brother’s wrist and dragging him back over to (Y/N). The young knight stood from her chair to meet them, remaining silently confused by whatever was happening.

“Tell her,” Gwen said firmly to her brother.

Elyan took a deep breath. “(Y/N), I--” He glanced at Gwen, who nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been treating you terribly. To be honest, I was...not happy when I found out about your little secret. Magic killed our father and since then--”

“I understand,” (Y/N) said quickly.

“No, wait,” Elyan stammered. “Just because one sorcerer killed my father doesn’t mean every sorcerer will be just as bad and you certainly won’t. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

Before she could say a word, he hugged her tightly, almost cutting off her airflow. She laughed, telling him it was okay and hugging him back. Gwen stared on proudly at her work, as it had taken hours to convince her brother to speak to (Y/N). Though she still could not convince Arthur to work out these things, at least she could get Elyan to do so.

“I love both of you so much,” (Y/N) said softly, dragging Gwen into the hug. “You’re like the siblings I never had.”

As Arthur had yet to speak about the rumours going around that (Y/N) and Merlin were sorcerers, the former was loathe to go outside. However, when she heard that Gwaine had left the castle and run off without any sign of where he went, she knew she had to do something. She had a feeling she knew where he was-- and a feeling that he was waiting for her.

She found him in the clearing outside the city, just where she thought he would be. It was here the old Lancelot had been put the rest, because it was such a perfect place for him. It was here Gwaine had trained (Y/N), because she thought Lancelot being there would help her. It was here Morgana had discovered her little secret.

“Gwaine?” (Y/N) asked quietly.

He was standing above the stone, holding the hilt of his sword so firmly that it looked as if it might shatter like glass. “I knew I could never replace him,” he said without turning around. “I knew I could never be as perfect as he was. I knew I couldn’t be him.”

“Gwaine--” She tried to say.

“But to not tell me about this?” His voice betrayed him as he turned, eyes wet with tears. “To know that I was nothing compared to Gaius, to Merlin, to Lancelot, to Mordred? To find out I was nothing in your heart? Why, (Y/N)?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” she sobbed. Her heart was already broken at his words. “I wanted to-- I planned to after Ismere, but-- but--”

She took a deep breath, trying to shove away the memories. She didn’t want to remember Ismere, much less what Morgana had done to her there. However, she needed to tell Gwaine what had kept her from telling him everything. He had to know that he was just as important to her as the others, that she meant so much to him that she would rather have died than have him hate her for this.

“Morgana found out about my magic, like I said. But she knew I had to be taught by someone. She used you-- you and Percival against me,” (Y/N) said, shuddering as she did. “To find out who taught me. She needed to know who Emrys was, the one destined to destroy her-- that was Merlin. I almost told her. I would have told her, given time. After we got out, I knew I couldn’t tell any of you. If you knew about Merlin, who he was to Morgana, then she could have tortured you, pulled it from you and I-- I would’ve been to blame.”

“I wouldn’t have told her,” Gwaine hissed. “Do you trust me so little?”

(Y/N) leapt at him and wrapped him in her embrace. “I know you wouldn’t have. I just didn’t want her to have any reason to torture you like she did with me. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” She kissed his cheek, still shaking. “You mean so much to me. You’re not New Lancelot-- you haven’t been for a long time. You’re Gwaine.”

Arthur was the last one left.

Everyone else had approached, apologised, and asked more about (Y/N) and Merlin’s magic. In fact, many of them were rather curious about the whole thing. They were amazed by the range of bullshit the two could get up to with the assistance of their magic alone.

Meanwhile, the king refused to talk to either of them. He had shut himself off from the world, from everyone, even Gwen. She was scared for him and begged (Y/N) to step in. Perhaps she could appear unthreatening to him, unlike Merlin. Perhaps she could get through to the man.

She caught him alone in the throne room one morning, a place where he was cornered. He sat upon his throne and watched her with curious eyes. Then, he stood, leaning over the back of the chair and sighing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He asked.

“I wanted to more than anything,” she said in almost a whisper. “But I was just a child. I was so scared. I was terrified of Uther, of Agravaine, of someone discovering me and-- and what you might do if you found out.”

She noticed his face flash in betrayal and sadness for a second, but it disappeared in an instant.

“I didn’t want you to have to decide between saving me or following the law. It wasn’t fair,” she muttered. “And I didn’t want--”

She stopped.

“Didn’t want what? To die?” He laughed coldly. “Can’t blame you there.”

“Every day of my life was a risk. I could’ve died any day, but I didn’t want to die at your hand.” She took a deep breath. “But more than anything, I-- Arthur, you have every reason to hate magic. You have every reason to hate it for what it’s done to you, for what people have done to you using it.”

It was true, every word that she spoke. Magic had killed Arthur’s family; corrupted them, tortured them. Arthur had every reason to despise magic and neither Merlin nor (Y/N) could deny that.

“I was terrified that hate would translate to me,” she admitted.

His eyes softened and he looked upon her with wonder. “You thought I would hate you? Why?”

“Because--” She scoffed. “Because I chose to practice something that had done such harm to you, to all of us. I just didn’t want you to hate me and-- and I still don’t.”

Suddenly, the king crossed the room. He paused, standing there in front of her. That little girl who had stood up to him about punishing Merlin unjustly was gone. She was a woman now, a powerful sorceress that Arthur owed for a great many things. Part of him was still upset, both at her and himself for the fact that she hadn’t told him, that she felt she couldn’t trust him enough to tell him about her magic. But the other part held nothing but love for her.

It was this part of him that took over when he hugged her, shocking her to the point where she froze.

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered. “I’m upset you didn’t tell me and I don’t know how long it will be before we can fully trust each other again, but I don’t-- and I will never-- hate you, (Y/N).”

The young knight sniffed heavily and hugged her king, who was more like her brother at this moment. She took in a deep breath and almost laughed out of relief.

“You’ll talk to Merlin, won’t you? Tell him the same thing?”

“I don’t know. I look at him and I want to punch his teeth out.”

“Call me crazy, Arthur, but that sounds about normal.”

Elsewhere…

A small hut in the woods was practically invisible to those who did not seek it out directly.

Inside this hut, a girl in a dark cloak pulled its hood over her face. She mixed herbs and vials together in a small bowl. It produced a blood red liquid, which she gathered in a tiny bottle, shaking it about. She turned to face a long wooden table that held a great weight on its ancient legs.

A dead man lied upon it, his dark hair and beard ratted. He was dressed in rugged peasants’ clothing, an outfit unfitting for a knight of his standing.

The witch-- ahem, sorceress-- took the bottle carefully and poured it into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it. After a moment of unresponsiveness, the dead man gasped into his lungs his second breath of first life. He looked around wildly, but was tied to the table as a precaution.

Meanwhile, the girl turned and smiled at him. “Alright, you handsome bastard. Up and at ‘em. I didn’t murder a man for nothing. Time to send you back to Camelot before my readers murder me.”

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09

Masterlist

110 notes · View notes

eggoreviews · 6 years ago

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Persona 5 Palaces RANKED

After recently finishing up Persona 5, I'm sort of aching a bit for more content but not quite enough to splash on Dancing in Starlight. So, to sate my cravings for more of the phantom bois, here's my personal ranking of the main palaces you traverse through in the game. This list is based on how fun and consistently interesting each palace is in terms of gameplay, puzzles, soundtrack, character, aesthetic and overall relevance to the story. Hope u enjoy/agree! Kinda goes without saying, but MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD for the whole ass game

8. Okumura’s Spaceport of Greed

Who saw this coming? Probably everyone! Because Okumura's palace is pretty much consistently ranked at the bottom of every ranking I've seen. But before I go all negative, let's start with what I actually liked. First off, I ADORED the spaceport motif and the whole theme/aesthetic of this palace was amazing. Alongside that, the music, while probably not the strongest in the game, was still mega catchy and fit the palace perfectly (it's still a banger, even if it isn't Whims of Fate level banger). So yeah, this palace's rock bottom ranking is nothing to do with its look or its soundtrack, because they're both pretty tasty. It was everything else I had a slight problem with. Now this isn't to say I disliked this palace, I just felt that it was the weakest part of an absolutely stellar game. While the majority of the puzzles weren't terrible, the infamous airlock puzzle definitely got in my bad books, as I'm pretty firmly in the 'this puzzle is weird luck-based bollocks' camp on this one, with it being the only puzzle in the game I had to look up the solution for. The constant back-and-forthing to different points of the palace to pick up keycards from the stupid robots became unfortunately very repetitive, especially with Morgana constantly screaming at me that the treasure was real close but (spoiler alert) it totally wasn't. And to top all that off, I felt this palace brought with it the weakest characters arcs in the whole game. I really struggled to become attached to Haru, the last true member of the thieves. While she was an okay character and I sympathised with her plight of being sold off to that one arsehole, I felt she wasn't written to be particularly interesting and her introduction to the thieves felt really shoehorned in compared to the natural-feeling transitions of all the other characters. She didn't quite feel as if she belonged there as much as the others (big sorry to all the Haru stans). And echoing this, the character of Okumura himself also felt incredibly bland and he was without a doubt the least interesting villain of the bunch. Oh, and his boss fight? Objectively the worst in the game. You fight the same robots you've been fighting the whole palace, with a timer, and then you kill him in one hit. Yeah, so the tea is, palace looks and sounds great, but that's really it.

7. Mementos Depths / Prison of Sloth

From this point on, I had very few problems with any of the palaces. As the final dungeon of the game, I felt that this one had definitely had adequate build-up but, as many others seem to say, didn't quite live up to the other palaces. For one, the design and soundtrack was much less interesting (though I guess this can be forgiven, as it's Mementos) and it was over pretty quickly in the end. But I really did enjoy those pressure plate puzzles for some reason and it was pretty cool to go around the velvet room and save all your pals before the final fight, so I just kind of liked this one. Not much to say here other than that it was really good, but the others were better.

6. Kaneshiro’s Bank of Gluttony

While it was fairly difficult to rank Kaneshiro's palace this low, considering it has the awakening of my favourite character, thinking about the palace as a whole compared to the others is what did it. The bank motif? Really cool! Seems inevitable for what is fundamentally a heist game and pulls it off really well. And that soundtrack is easily one of the best tracks in the game. The palace itself is split vaguely into two main sections, the main bank and the vault. The bank section is mostly pretty fun and well-paced, but the palace starts to get just a little bit iffy when the vault section kicks off. The idea is cool, but most of the second half of the palace feels a bit like padding, which becomes a little repetitive overtime. These really are minor gripes though, I gotta stress that, because I genuinely enjoyed this palace for the most part. Something else I enjoyed was Kaneshiro himself and his role in the story. Out of all the palace owners in the game, Kaneshiro felt the most like a true archetypal Bond villain and it does feel awesome to take him on as the phantom thieves are finally starting to get their feet off the ground. On top of that, you've got Makoto joining the team, which makes this one a real treat character-wise. In conclusion, I want Makoto to step on me.

5. Madarame’s Museum of Vanity

This one really did have a tough act to follow. Being the second palace you take on (as well as the awakening of my ,,,, second favourite character), I remember how impressed I was the first time around with how cool the visuals are in this palace. The soundtrack to the palace is generally fairly unremarkable, but very calming and surreal which definitely fit the setting. This palace definitely feels the most trippy out of the bunch, placing you in odd gold-plated mazes and endless corridors plastered with distorted paintings and tripwires to constantly make sure you're paying attention. This palace really does feel like you’ve been placed inside the mind of a deluded artist, even if the game’s attempts to make Madarame seem despicable only really serve to highlight how awful the previous palace owner, Kamoshida, is in comparison. This isn’t to say Madarame isn’t a trashbag, it just becomes obvious that the game is trying hard to make you hate him. That aside, Madarame’s palace provides a welcome challenge and effectively build upon what you learned in the first palace without overwhelming the player, all the while not compromising on the creative, stunning visuals. The ending pay-off with Madarame’s showdown, while a satisfying conclusion to Yusuke’s main character arc, provides a boss fight that is over a little too quickly, though that’s kind of just nitpicking at that point. All in all, a solid dungeon from start to finish.

4. Futaba’s Tomb of Wrath

Without a doubt the most emotionally charged palace in the game, this dungeon is a unique experience unlike anything else you’ll find in the game. Instead of taking down a despicable villain or giving a certain prosecutor a push in the right direction, you’re instead helping to heal the heart of a traumatised girl, who requested herself for her heart to be stolen. You’re reaching the halfway point during this palace, so it’s a brilliant change of pace from the dickholes you’ve been stealing the hearts of up to this point. The game truly makes you feel genuine sympathy for Futaba and seeing her recovery slowly but steadily take place over the game really tugs on the heartstrings. As for the palace itself, the game takes its love of ambiguous metaphors and cranks up the dial, giving the player an interesting but oddly melancholy setting in the form of an Egyptian pyramid. The background music for this palace is perfect to help accentuate this, as the soundtrack works with the visuals to make you just feel a bit sad. The puzzles are well thought out and never overstay their welcome, the layout of the palace is consistently unique and fun to traverse and the ending boss is one of the most creative, high-stakes battles in Persona 5. And while Futaba’s awakening wasn’t my favourite, it’s great to see her finally face her demons and accept that her mother’s death wasn’t her fault. But most of all, this palace reminds you that you should never get too comfortable when playing Persona 5, as the tables could turn at any minute and suddenly make you care about the person you’re changing the heart of.

3. Kamoshida’s Castle of Lust

Kamoshida is arguably the biggest scumbag you take on in Persona 5, so it makes a lot of sense that his palace is one of the most satisfying to undertake. The castle acts as the perfect starting dungeon, teaching you the ropes without too much hand-holding and providing you with simple but visually interesting palace to boot. Before the game drags you into its grandiose main plot, you start with a much smaller scale, but equally despicable villain that you immediately know you have to deal with. And on top of that, each character introduction is seamless and fits perfectly in with the narrative. The puzzles here are simple enough to be basically harmless and each area of the castle you navigate changes things up to keep it unique while teaching you the inner workings of the palaces you’ll be taking down for the rest of the game. As for the first boss, the build-up feels perfect as the tension amps up and reaches boiling point as you send your first calling card. Oh, and Kamoshida’s boss design himself as this horrifying, weird lust demon definitely sets you up for what’s ahead. Great as a beginning act, but also a heckin solid dungeon in its own right. Plus, I’m a sucker for castles, so I might be a little biased here.

2. Niijima’s Casino of Jealousy

I’ll be honest with you, I think a casino is one of the most awesome ideas for a dungeon I’ve ever heard of in a JRPG. And everything about this one is near enough perfect. The reveal that you’ll be targeting the person who’s been interrogating you for the whole game, the link back to the very starting cutscene, the tension mounting as you desperately try to work out who the traitor is, Makoto’s emotional turmoil as she wrestles with the ethics of targeting her own sister. Story-wise, this is totally perfect. And the dungeon itself? Definitely the most consistently unique in the whole game. Each floor you traverse in the casino offers something new and interesting for you to work around, from the rigged dice games to the dark labyrinth and the battle arena trial (not to mention the whole ‘collect enough coins to proceed’ thing reminded me way too much of Sonic Adventure and for some reason, I’m putting that down as a good thing). Whims of Fate is a perfect soundtrack, because it totally fits the atmosphere and also it’s a bop and I love it to pieces. And the palace wraps itself up neatly in a little bow with a boss fight that totally kicks arse. Sae Niijima starts the battle by, of course, rigging the game against you. But once her cheating facade falls away, the true battle begins and she morphs into a weird, distorted mech thing that takes heavy inspiration from Makoto’s persona too. Basically, it’s cool. And I love it.

1. Shido’s Cruiser of Pride

This is likely to be a controversial choice for the best palace in the game, as it’s generally agreed among most fans that Shido’s palace was a bit slightly rubbish. But really, I couldn’t disagree more. Yes, Sae’s palace was the definition of awesome, but something about Shido’s just one-upped it somehow. Of course, your character’s personal connection with this mission that was absent from the other previous palaces gives this one a much more dramatic feel, as you finally get to take on the guy orchestrating everyone’s suffering (if you don’t count good ol’ Optimus Prime from the final palace) and it’s as satisfying as it needs to be. The soundtrack is suitably epic and lends itself well as a precursor to the finale and exploring the cruiser is both intriguing and enjoyable throughout, as you navigate each section of this bloated paradise filled with rich arseholes. But at the same time, the whole Noah’s Ark thing with Shido only saving those willing to submit to him makes this palace as chilling as it is visually stunning. For me, this was a brilliant dungeon beginning to end, as collecting ‘letters of recommendation’ from each of Shido’s cognitive allies allows for a deeper insight into Shido as a character, but also builds you up nicely to the palace’s climax. Plenty of nice character moments and the boss fight, while not the best in the game, was still a strong point. Oh and yeah, I actually really liked the rat puzzles. The puzzles everyone seems to hate? Thought they provided a nice amount of challenge and never really felt like they were dragging on for hugely long. But what really peaked this palace on top of all the others was the encounter with Mr. Pancakes towards the end. Akechi was a brilliantly crafted character throughout his stint in the game and his arc had a fitting conclusion before you finally take on Shido. I was mega happy with this palace and honestly, it was the one cemented this game as one of my big faves.

Got a palace ranking of your own? Or even just one that stood out as your personal favourite? Let me know down below!

#persona 5 #p5 #persona #shin megami tensei #ps4 #ren amamiya #gaming #games #akira kusuru #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #persona 5 yusuke #makoto niijima #morgana #futaba #haru okumura

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