#i intend to expand on explaining this process at some point; but every time i start going beyond the above it Balloons Out

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

'moogle, how do you write your first drafts?' i write them on evil mode: every current prose draft in the same document at once

[wirewitchviolet]

When I said the “AI” projects grifters are pushing were search engines, THIS WAS NOT THE INTENDED TAKEAWAY.

I wrote a blog post a bit ago trying to explain what the things people are presently trying to call “AI” really are, and how the whole thing is a big ol’ grift you shouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole... and I don’t think anyone actually really read that, but since I’ve written it, there sure has been a sharp uptick in stories about people you’d really hope would know better treating them like Ask Jeeves and expecting to get accurate answers to random questions. So... let me try this again.

So first let’s just cover how a search engine actually works. Or at least a simplified version of my personal understanding which is probably a bit out of date so you know, grain of salt.

While we’re used to accessing the internet through handy little URLs like, say, https://www.tumblr.com, those are just sort of handy aliases managed by this whole database setup (domain name servers) which browsers are set up to check if there’s text in there, basically, and what those match them to is numerical addresses. It’s a bit like every website has a phone number. Just as an example, open another tab and just type in oh... 74.114.154.18 and watch it bring you somewhere. They expand things a bit now and then, but basically, much like when a video game has a safe with a 3 digit combination and you don’t feel like solving a puzzle, you can totally just sit there, punch in every possible number, and doing so you’ll eventually see every website there is. It’s only what like 1,000,000,000,000 possible combinations? People who are actually serious about running a search engine will just set up a script that does that, throwing some real processing power at it, locally save every thing that comes up, and also search all those files for every file they point at, links, images, databases, whatever, and save those locally to. A whole lot of computing and a whole lot of storage later, and you literally have a local mirror of the entire internet saved to a huge pile of hard drives. Really this is such a costly endeavor it’s honestly just a handful of people who really do it and everyone else just... quietly passes your searches on to them like some kinda middleman.

Anyway, once you have your local copy of the entire internet, and entirely too much processing power to hit it with, you can do things like... look at every individual page on the entire internet and count how many times every given word appears on them, and if you’re feeling real bold, phrases, getting nice little running tallies to jam into your huge database. Then when a request comes in to give you a web page about seagull poop, you just figure well, there’s this one page that says “seagull” 49 times, “poop” 37 times, and specifically says “seagull poop” 35 times. That seems pretty on-point so you search that up as result number one.

You’ll notice there’s no thinking anywhere in here, just saving files, counting words in them, and doing some data processing on those counts. There IS a bit more to everything of course, like giving extra relevance points if something is in a title or header tag, or how somewhere along the line we all agreed to add these meta tags where people can just say outright what sort of information is on a page on the honor system (extra relevance points if people actually click links too), and someone just deciding wikipedia articles are always good so if there’s a wikipedia article, that gets a ton of bonus relevance points. Having the search string in the URL of the site of course also helps, and somewhere along the line things got gummed up with people abusing the hell out meta tags and also just giving major search engines money in exchange for bonus relevance points. Then much more recently you’ve got software engineers and suckers trying and utterly failing to “improve” results by doing dumb things, like Street Fighter 6 is out, and there’s lots of people looking for info on that, so if someone types like, “Street Fighter 3rd Strike Remy move list” into a query, well, part of that string says “Street Fighter” so let’s give all the results people searching for just that are enjoying lately, and forget the other terms.

Anyway, that’s your standard search engine. People with these sorts of “AI” projects do not, in fact, generally have a local copy of the entire internet saved. Some would like to, but you need a LOT of storage, and also there’s quite a lot of laws and security measures specifically to prevent people from doing that, and even preventing the people we as a society generally agree should be mirroring the whole internet have to leave certain parts out. Now partly they get around that by just completely ignoring that those laws exist and banking on nobody actually enforcing them in any meaningful way. Largely though they want to either avoid blatantly breaking those laws/circumventing security, so they buy “training data” from whoever’s willing to sell it, and also taking measures to obfuscate that it’s all stolen.

Anyway, you know about Markov chains? The basic idea is you have a large body of text you’ve done some statistical analysis on like we have when we archive the whole internet or what chunks we can get our hands on, and we break down the percentages of how likely every word is to come after a given word we’re looking at. Doesn’t have to be words either, you can do it with whatever. But the basic idea is, let’s say your data set is a bunch of tedious nerd posts from the year Portal came out. Now if I start off giving you the word “The” there’s all sorts of things that could come next. “The end” “the next” “the only” or maybe “the cake.” This is totally how that predicted next word thing on your phone works by the way. Anyway to really do this properly you like map out the entire web of phrases you can end up with, but for now let’s just look at that pretty popular combo of “the cake” and keep looking that way, and huh, people sure do follow “cake” with “is” these days, and especially “the cake,” I can look this up in my database easy. So you just keep hitting that next suggested word on your phone, we’re probably getting “The cake is a lie!” out of it. Someone I know loves doing stupid little things with these if you want an example.

This is totally how these “AI” things do the natural speech things, plus maybe some hard rules like “when the prompt is a single word pre-prep the chain by putting “[whatever term] is” into a standard search engine routine and just wholesale life the first sentence you can find that starts with that at the top of a block of text, then Markov chain from there.”

And we want to obscure that we’re doing this so let’s also have a rule like “OK you can go with the best match for the best work so many times in a row, but after that you have to mix it up by taking the second best word. So again, still at the height of Portal fever, we start off seeing this common word sequence, but OK let’s switch it up after “the cake is” and not go with “a” what else do we have? Well, there’s no “the” at the start, but “cake is so delicious and moist” is also real common. That’s another long string of direct quotes though, so again, let’s flag it after so many top matches and use a slightly less common one. And you end up spitting out like, “The cake is so delicious and nutritious.” Hey, that sounds like natural language, AND it’s variations on commonly said things, so it’ll probably read as legit. We’re done here, ship it.

Of course cake ISN’T nutritious, it’s like, pure sugar and gluten. But we don’t have any capacity to think or understand we’re just stringing words together based on how commonly they follow each other. Because again, there is no actual intelligence, creativity, or understanding in here, just data sets and strict procedures on how to pop words from them.

One amusing thing about this is that basically by design, it’s practically guaranteed that this is going to spit out any block of text you can imagine at you, except for the ones that are completely true and coherent. It’s intentionally avoiding ever doing that because you’d spot the plagiarizing immediately.

Oh and the whole “AI generated art” scene is doing this exact same thing. Only difference is there’s an extra step where after they download literally every image ever posted on DeviantArt, they have sweatshops full of people where for like one shiny penny a day, destitiute people pour over things, hacking them up with lasso tools and painstakingly adding meta tags for every possible thing you could for every single image they have, so the program can pull up a bunch of images that all have all the search text and then go like “OK start with this as a base, this has the 20x10 pixel blue right eye tag, does anything else in the batch have that exame tag? Cool, let’s select one of those and paste it over this eye, now, how are we on 30x40 slightly reddish upturned nose tags?” etc. etc. etc. More impressive parlor trick to pull off, but it’s still prettty plainly theft.

Anyway, this is all a thing, as I think I said, because all the people left holding the bag when everyone realized crypto/NFTs/the metaverse/etc. was a gigantic pyramid scheme have absurd amounts of processing power in big warehouses and it’s all going faulty and looking bad from being under too much heat and running too long so it’s hard to sell on eBay, so, what other scam can we do with it? Aha, fake AI.

And all the people who continue to fall for that hook line and sinker should not have the jobs they do because that level of being a gigantic mark proves them unfit to do really anything that involves any sort of decision making, do what you can to have them removed.

Also maybe give me money? I’m at risk of death otherwise.

[thetoxicgamer]

Diablo 4 wants to avoid the ‘Destiny loot cave’ problem

The Blizzard RPG game Diablo 4 has been available for a few weeks, and we've already seen some significant changes, with more to come. Classes in Diablo 4 have received specific attention, but the development team hasn't forgotten about overall balance. Blizzard has now explained how it intends Diablo 4 to avoid the loot cave issue that plagued Destiny. Talk of buffs, nerfs, and balancing in Diablo 4 came from the recent campfire chat livestream, and we’ll be focusing on words from both Diablo general manager Rod Fergusson and Diablo 4 game director Joe Shely. “I wanted to create this meme that was like ‘We want a balanced game where there’s no meta and every build is viable’,” Fergusson says. “We have a philosophy that as part of balancing the game, that be the world or the classes, there will be pluses and minuses that have to be applied to the game,” Fergusson explains. Much like with Diablo 4’s best XP farm spot, Blizzard wants to make changes to ensure you play the game in a broader, more balanced fashion. Fergusson then compares Diablo 4’s own balance to the ‘Destiny loot cave’, where you would find a spot in Bungie’s game and farm loot like it’s “Christmas morning all day long. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PO9OY7AIs4 “For the good of the game that has to not exist at some point,” Fergusson adds. “That’s a problem that fixed, and you understand eventually why they did that.” Fergusson goes on to discuss how Diablo 4 wants to do a similar thing and make sure that the class and character progression is done in a fun way instead of being focused on key areas like ‘loot caves’. Starting with the original Destiny back in 2014, the ‘loot cave’ was an easy way to farm rewards and feel good doing it, but it ended up taking away from getting loot by other means, and in the end, it wasn’t actually the best way to get loot, it turns out. Shely expands, talking about how Blizzard wants to make sure you always have lots of choices in how you level up and acquire loot. “Sometimes people will say, ‘Well, anytime something is too strong can’t you just buff everyone else?’ And while in theory, you can do that when you have many classes and builds and one thing that’s too strong, the process of buffing everything else is likely to result in more balance issues, and you can very quickly end up in a place where you have 65,000% on whirlwind or something. “Our philosophy is to prioritize improving choice by looking at things that are not working and making them better,” Shely adds, saying it’s “time for the buffs” in Diablo 4 after weeks of nerfs. The Diablo 4 campfire chat was filled to the brim with useful information and changes from Blizzard, ranging from nerfs to those frustrating ground effects, a change to gems taking up your inventory space, and a concentrated effort from Blizzard to cut back on the amount of Diablo 4 seasonal busywork you’ll be doing between new characters as well. With Diablo 4 season 1 on the horizon, you’ll want to make sure you’re up to speed with all the best Diablo 4 builds from both us and Blizzard, to help make sure you’re completely prepared for when the world of Sanctuary kicks itself into overdrive. You should also catch up on any missed Diablo 4 dungeons too, as we have a round-up of every single one in the game right now. Read the full article

[brokenangelwings22]

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family V

Part Five: Some Things Never Change

A/N: I’ve reread and rewrote and finally wrapped this up! It got really long because I didn’t want to drag it into another part, but I did include an epilogue--I couldn’t help myself. Hope it lives up to the expectations! And thank you x100000 again for reading along <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

---------------

The next morning, we sit down together and soothe Charlie's worries. Harry holds my hand at one point and we play the best acting gig either of us have ever played as we pretend there's not a ginormous unspoken trilogy between us. Charlie's tentative at first, but when Harry pulls her onto his knee and whispers something to her. She breaks into a giggle and hugs him. At least that was patched over, I think. But when Harry meets my eyes over her head, I look away. Some things might never be patched over.

I’d set up a play date this morning, thinking Charlie might have needed a distraction. It also gave me time to pack our things without her to distract me or feel the emotional baggage I was packing up too.

I had planned to find an air bnb, waking up at 7am to start searching. But when I updated Marc after he asked what I was doing that evening, he insisted we stayed with him. We’d lived together before, and he was almost always at work, so it gave us enough space.The best part was he lived in the same building as Harry; it was almost too perfect, and when I’d asked Charlie she was totally on board. Spending time with Marc while being able to take the elevator to see her dad sounded just sounded like her play place had expanded.

After Charlie leaves, and I’m almost done packing, I look for Harry to talk. I find him toweling his hair after his shower. He had to head out for shooting today so I needed to speak to him before he left or else he would think I slighted him. He notices me in the foggy mirror and turns, and I try not to find the towel tied around his waist distracting.

“Hey, so...I’ll be out of your hair today...no pun intended.” I laugh lamely after he continues to stare at me blankly. Okay, maybe his towel was more distracting than I’d like to admit. And this was an awkward conversation when we had so many unspoken things between us. “Um, so I found other accommodations finally. So we’ll move out and it’ll be like we planned initially?”

“Huh?” Harry freezes, arms in midair.

“I don’t know why it took me this long to find another place,” I blabber on. “But I think yesterday was kind of a wake up call? I shouldn’t have stayed this long anyway and-”

“Wait, Y/N, stop. You’re leaving?”

“Just the flat,” I finally look at him, he looks stony. “We’ll actually just be a few floors down staying with Marc, so it’s kind of perfect.”

“Marc?” A flame lights itself in his eyes, usually the colour of a spring field, they’ve now turned into a field of ashes as he realises what I’m saying. “You’re moving out? To Marc’s? Because of yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” I try to remain calm, but it’s hard when he’s acting like this. “Harry, yesterday just made me realise I’d lost sight of the horizon or whatever. We were never supposed to live with you for this reason! We knew when we planned this that it would complicate things. I was just so obsessed with making Charlie’s birthday perfect I didn’t look for anywhere else, and her birthday was basically disastrous so that was useless. Now you can live freely, Miranda can come and go-”

“Oh and living with Marc won’t confuse Charlie?” Harry demands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what that mean Y/N. You’re being a bloody hypocrite-”

“What?!” I can’t keep the calm anymore. “I’m a hypocrite?”

“Yes! You! You think Charlie seeing Miranda and me together would confuse her yet you’re taking her to your boyfriend’s house-”

“Who said anything about my boyfriend--and how dare you sound so judgemental about that! Sorry I didn’t get the memo; Harry can have a girlfriend but Y/N can’t! She’s got to be the single virgin mother all by herself!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“No, I think it’s what you were trying to say! Being so fucking judgemental about my love life. This isn’t my fault! I’m not asking you shit, Harry!”

“What the fuck Y/N!” Harry whips the towel he was using for his hair onto the ground. My heart beats erratically in my chest; the last time we fought like this it was because I’d told him I was pregnant and it had ended really ugly. But the way he got under my skin, as hard as I wanted to be the mature one, I couldn’t. “You don’t have to be so bloody sarcastic all the time! I just don’t understand how living with Marc will be any better!”

“Marc’s barely every home, and he’s lived with us before, it’s worked out fine. Charlie adores him-”

“Oh yeah I bet she does! You would’ve loved it if Marc was her father yeah? He’s always had a thing for you, even when we were together. Now’s your chance to be a perfect little family with Marc!”

“I did not say that, don’t put words in my mouth-”

“Oh, but I think that’s what you were trying to say,” Harry mocks me. He’s a ball of rage as he stalks towards me. “I don’t understand your obsession with this guy and why he’s so close to Charlie!”

“You know Marc! We’ve been friends with him for-wait why am I defending myself? This isn’t about that!”

“Well I think it should be!”

“Where are you going with this Harry?!” I shout, putting my hands out to his chest as he continues walking towards me, as if maybe I could shield myself from his growing fury. “I don’t want to fight! I’m just trying to do what’s best for Charlie. And for us.” 

We stare at each other, uncomfortably close, chests heaving as the fire crackles low.

“Well, too late for that.” He says, but the snark is gone. “I’ve finally got Charlie living with me and you’re taking her away.”

“I-I’m not taking her away.” My voice rises immediately. “Don’t you dare say I’m taking her away!”

“You are!” He says stubbornly.

“What the fuck do you expect? You want me to stick around so it’s you, me, and Charlie? You want me to stay here and be miserable, have our kid be confused about what’s going on with who?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable, I just want us in one place!”

“We’re not this perfect little nuclear family you have in your head! We can’t be!”

“Not when you’re bringing the nuclear into the family,” Harry mutters immaturely.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?!” I want to pull my hair out.

“What’s wrong with me is you’re taking away my daughter from me!”

My blood was just boiling now. I get in his face, “Harry, do you not remember that you never wanted us? You had the option to stay with me, while I was pregnant with Charlie. You had the option to hold your daughter the day she was born. You could’ve had all of it. Every step of the way! You chose not to, you let me go, you-you told me I could go...” I break off suddenly, so I didn’t sob as the memories rush back. I told everyone I was over it, I had processed it. But when Harry rejected me, he also rejected Charlie and I never got over that.

Harry hears my breath hitch, he backs away from my outstretched hands and I let them drop.

After a heavy silence, Harry speaks up: “Y/N I’m sorry. I heard what you said yesterday. I was up all night just thinking about it...”

“Well that’s wonderful for me,” I retreat into the comfort of sarcasm.

“No--you were right, I didn’t want commitment. I was bloody afraid of it. I was listening to everyone who said if I had a kid, my career would be over. I wanted to stay young, and I just let you deal with it by yourself. I was selfish and I wish I could go back and change everything.”

“Well that’s not much help now; you never once said any of this to me! You moved on--don’t deny it. I saw you in the tabloids, the media. You don’t think I kept track of you? I loved you! You’re the father of my kid, and while I was up on less than an hour of sleep trying to get your 2 month old to stop crying at 3am, you were out partying with models and getting smashed.”

“I couldn’t-I just spiraled-”

“Well it’s nice that your spiraling looks so much like partyingl” I roll my eyes. “Mine looked like crying in the bathtub with my ears ringing, and covered in baby vomit.” I cross my arms. I had held it in for four long years, it was about time I snapped, and I guess this was it.

“Y/N.” he turns away from me, rubbing his face. When he turns around, his heart is on his sleeve. “There were so many times I would pick up my phone and type in your number, just to hear your voice. Just to ask you about Charlie--it ripped me apart that I wasn’t there. That you weren’t here, with Charlie. You’d send me pictures of her and I would get so excited to see what she was up to, what new thing she learned...”

He breaks off, his face now shining with tears. He walks up to me and holds my hands, my heart tugs and I know I’m crying too. “Y/N when I held her for the first time when she was a few months old, and she looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t even know I could love like that. So I changed Y/N--tell me you saw me doing anything reckless after that first visit. I made sure I grew up so I could always be there for her. And you. But you never talked to me. You were always so cold to me and I was scared to break the ice. So I just let you raise her without me, not realising what I was missing out on. I fucking missed all of it because I was just trying find the perfect words to get this off my chest and I never found them.”

“Harry-” I sigh. “You could’ve tried. But...you moved on though. You have a girlfriend-”

“I had to try to move on,” he explains urgently. “You barely spoke to me. I’d ask how you are and you wouldn’t always reply, our texts were only about Charlie. You never invited me over when I was in LA. I thought you didn’t care about me so I had to move on, and the way we ended things I didn’t blame you! I let you know I would be there for Charlie--but I had to move on because I didn’t think we would ever have another shot.”

“I didn’t know what to say to you when you came over Harry. The way we left things before I moved back home, It was awful.” I whisper. The words he’d said, the things I said, the broken glass and just hours of fighting. Then the panic attacks and crippling fear of not knowing what I was doing with my life. It was easy to let it harden you, rather than invite it back in.

“The way I let you leave...was awful.” He agrees. “So I’m asking you now to stay Y/N.”

“And do what?” I ask, didn’t he get it? “Sit around while your girlfriend is over all the time, have her pop in with her own key while I’m only just woken up looking like a troll? Let you kiss me in the dark when she’s not around? Have her ignore me like I’m not even there?”

Harry has the decency to look embarrassed, dropping my arms. He sighs, and looks at me with regret. “This is balls up.”

“Yeah, I know Harry. That’s why I’m finding other accommodations.”

“I don’t like it’s with Marc.”

“I don’t care Harry, you don’t have any say over who I stay with.”

“But Charlie-”

“She can stay with you when she wants,” I agree. “I know you’ve got a shoot all week so it’s a good week to be out.”

“I like coming home to you two.”

“Harry,” I warn him. He couldn’t afford to speak like this when he had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to fall for him again. He made it hard not to.

“I don’t like it but I can’t stop you.” He concedes, arms crossed over his chest. I skim over the bare flesh, taking in the ink that Charlie loved to ask a million questions about. He notices me looking and I catch the cocky grin on his face.

“I’m looking at the ink,” I say, even though I didn’t have to defend myself.

“I know,” he shrugs but the grin stays on his face. I roll my eyes and head back to finish packing but he pulls me back to him and suffocates me against his bare chest. “I’m sorry, for then. For now. Forever.”

He lets me go but he keeps his arms around my waist. I look up at him and for the first time in a long time, I see my old Styles. Confident, determined, and a little cocky. The one I fell hard for.

“Noted,” I say, not giving in this easily, I still had to process this whole conversation and figure out what this thing between Harry and I meant.

A low chuckle bursts out from him as he stares down at me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I’m right here,” I say, stepping back so he lets me go. I leave him with a smile on his face, not ignoring the way he said he misses me. Without even realising it, my feelings of resentment had begun to slip away. But I still knew space would be best for both of us.

***

It’s Thursday evening, Charlie was with Harry having dinner at his mum’s place. Marc’s edition is officially in printing and he’s home at a decent enough hour that I put aside my work and share a glass of wine with him.

“Sounds intense,” Marc says to me after I give him the details of mine and Harry’s fight. Since then, we’d have breakfast as a family once but I did text him beyond just talking about Charlie. Pictures, memes, old memories, the occasional pointless text. It was sort of nice having him in my life again.

Charlie was going to work with him tomorrow, and she was so excited about that. It gave me time for alone time, and to catch up with Marc.

“It was intense, it felt like the old Y/N and Harry.”

“Uh oh. I don’t miss them,” Marc huffs. “You’re a lot nicer now, and he’s not as much of a cocky bastard anymore.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I tease. But he was right, back then I was young and sassy and I wasn’t afraid to let the world know. Marc and I had met when he reached out to me to write an article for his magazine and it was a coincidence that Marc and Harry knew each other from cover shoots. Marc used to be a photographer.

“I like this Y/N better,” Marc leans into me, his voice deepening. “She’s kind and strong and gorgeous, and the best part is she lets me kiss her.”

He pauses in front of my face and I lean the rest of the way in to let him know he could. That’s all the signal he needs. Our drinks abandoned, we quickly move into the bedroom and I can’t believe I forgot how good it felt to be wanted like this.

***

The next time I’m in Harry’s flat, I’m picking Charlie up. She stayed with him, but Miranda had surprised him by showing up early right after her flight landed. His short text made me get up there right away, after what happened the last time Charlie saw Harry and Miranda together, I wasn’t sure if she would misbehave.

But oddly, she’s mostly quiet.

“Did you have fun?” I ask Charlie, as she eats her cereal slowly. Her back is to the hall Harry stands in and it was a good thing as Miranda drapes herself across him. Unfortunately, I had to see it; I guess she got the memo that Charlie knew what was going on, and she was okay with it--or as okay as a four year old could be.

“It was so cool mom,” Charlie says. “There was so many rooms and one was space! It had the moon and there was a castle and they made the explosion sound and...” Charlie explains in no sensible order everything she saw at the studio, and I listen to her spill out her excitement but every so often my eyes drift to where Miranda shamelessly reunites with Harry. It makes my stomach turn. Especially after the conversation we had. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew Harry wasn’t going to rearrange his whole life because we’d finally had the Talk about what happened between us all those years ago. It was just watching them, and knowing that that was Harry moving on. From me...when I never fully moved on from him. It was pathetic, I know.

“Have you had coffee yet?” Harry asks a little while later after he’s unhooked Miranda’s claws from him and made his way to the kitchen. Charlie is slowing down her speech but when Harry appears she launches into more questions about set and when his “movie” would come out (it was a music video).

“No, I saw your text as soon as I woke up.” I say, between Charlie’s breaths. IT seemed she was going to be a while. “I could use a cup.”

“I heard you’re staying with Marc,” Miranda suddenly comes up and sits at the table, addressing me. “He’s a nice guy, I’ve worked with him in the past. Easy on the eyes too.”

“I’m right here,” Harry holds up my empty cup and looks pointedly at her. She winks and I nearly vomit.

I smile instead, “Yeah. He’s a really good friend, and Charlie loves him. And he lives downstairs so it worked out really well.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. This was the most she’s said to me since she got here. I watch as she glances at Harry who’s making my coffee the way I like it. “I heard you two are really good friends.”

Yeah...” I didn’t like what she was insinuating. I look up at Harry but he’s suddenly very interested in the sugar. “I can do that.” I grab it from him and make sure to glare at him as he passes it to me.

“We should do like, a double date.” She suggests. “Harry, don’t you think that would be fun? You and me, Y/N and Marc?”

“What about me?” Charlie pouts.

“You and Gemma!” Harry looks at me. “I forgot to mention, Gemma wanted to take Charlie out, spend some time with her while she was in London.”

“Perfect!” Miranda sounds almost too excited. It makes me suspicious.

***

When I tell Marc about the double date, he’s more than eager to attend. I know he just wanted to annoy Harry. I was nervous what this all meant.

But somehow I find myself standing with Marc in front of the restaurant while I try to prepare myself for whatever the evening held for us. Marc eventually just grabs my hand, winks, and pulls me in even though I wanted to just stay outside for a bit longer. Maybe a lot longer. Maybe just never go in.

As dinner goes on, things grow more and more awkward. Miranda is chatting up Marc about their old shoots, Harry grows more irritated as Marc receives all the attention, and his eyes track Marc’s hand any time it’s near me. I knock back my wine, as does Harry. Miranda continues to chat up Marc, and I inhale the food when it finally comes simply because the whole situation was stressful.

“The food’s good here,” I comment but only Harry hears me over the other conversation at the table.

“I always wanted to take you here,” Harry comments. “It has the best victoria sponge I’ve ever had.”

“You know I hate victoria sponge,” I scrunch my nose.

“I know!” Harry laughs which seems to get the table’s attention. His laugh usually did, as I’ve said. “That’s why you have to try it, you’ll finally like it.”

“Like what?” Marc asks.

“Victoria sponge,” I cringe visibly which makes him laugh.

“I think she loves cheesecake too much, right?” I know Marc is remembering the night I came to his house after a big fight with Harry, he’d bought a cheesecake for his then-girlfriend but I’d cried into it and finished the whole thing in one sitting. He’d had to improvise with cupcakes the next day. I still feel bad about that.

“Y/N is a cheesecake fanatic,” Harry says a little aggressively.

“Cheesecake’s way too fattening,” Miranda says absentmindedly, not realising what she was implying.

When the table grows awkwardly silent, Harry tries to come to her rescue. “That’s when you know it’s good food.”

“Touche,” I tip my glass just to have an excuse to have something to do and...well, drink.

At the end of the night, Harry asks if we want to go back to his place. I say no as Marc says yes and because he had the louder voice that’s what we do. I shoot him a dirty look but he only winks at me. He was having way too much fun.

Harry excuses himself and joins us in the Uber late. In his hands is a box with victoria sponge.

***

“Do you think he knows I’m not your boyfriend?” Marc asks later that night. We’d drank another bottle of wine and everyone was a bit more...vocal than before. What started out as fun stories from our younger days, quickly turns into passive aggressive comments as Harry stared a hole at Marc’s hand on my thigh, and Miranda stared at Harry staring at Marc’s hand on my thigh. She’d asked to speak to him midway through and now they were arguing in another room where every so often we caught some of their argument.

“You can’t even take your eyes off..............a bloody cake? You didn’t even think to.........I don’t get it!” That was Miranda.

“Thinking too much..........stop........of course I love you.......Charlie’s mom!” and that was Harry.

“I just knew this dinner would go like this,” Miranda says loudly.

“So you’re testing me now?” 

“Yes Harry, that’s obvious isn’t it Y/N?” Marc comments beside me.

“You’re having too much fun,” I lean my head back and sigh against the headrest.

“I have a stressful job, I don’t go out often. Can you blame me for being mildly entertained here?”

“Ugh...yeah okay me too.” I look over at him and he laughs. I hated the tension it was causing between Harry and I but I couldn’t help the small petty satisfaction of showing Miranda up after she tried to steal the show at dinner tonight. “What happened to the flight attendant you were seeing?”

“She took a flight out of London and never called me back?”

“Poor you,” I pat his shoulder. “We’re just not cut out for relationships are we?”

Marc shakes his head solemnly. I sigh, the alcohol making me more melodramatic than I was. “We’re finding my ex and his girlfriend arguing, entertaining. Who am I?”

“This is why we get along,” Marc leans into me, he smelled good. “Two boring people, getting our petty kicks with other people’s drama.”

“I think this is kind of my drama too,” I groan.

"Then I guess it’s kind of my drama too,” Marc says happily.

“You’re serious,” I say, leaning my head back against the sofa again, too tired to say anything else.

“I always have your back,” Marc says and I open my eyes just as he nuzzles a kiss against my exposed neck, and Harry walks into view.

“Harry,” I sit up and Marc jolts up as I nearly knock my head into his. Harry looks roughened up, his hair lays every which way as if he ran a rake through it. His face is flushed yet he stares at Marc like he wants to pop his head off.

“I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to call it a night. Miranda is...we have to talk and-”

“Yep, yep, we’re out.” I don’t need to be asked twice. Neither does Marc. Marc heads immediately to the door but I pause by Harry.

“Sorry...” he apologizes again. He looks like a lost puppy which is what makes me press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Gemma is dropping Charlie off around noon.”

“Okay,” Harry looks over my head to Marc, who is opening the door to give us some privacy. He looks back at me, searching my face for something. “I didn’t want the evening to end like this, it’s just...complicated.”

“I get it,” I cut him off, and more gently say again, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes please,” he mumbles. Even though Harrys’ done this to himself, I can’t help but feel a little bad. I pat his arm and turn to head out with Marc. Harry could get himself out of the mess if he wanted.

***

I don’t hear from Harry the next morning, before I pick up Charlie, he leaves me a cryptic text that we should probably not go over today. Charlie and I spend the day exploring London some more instead, although she’s tired in a few hours so we end up picking up Marc after work and enjoying dessert by the river.

I still hear nothing on Saturday morning, Charlie asks about Harry and I lie saying he way busy. It’s only around noon that a haggard Harry shows up at Marc’s door. I was helping load the dishwasher so Marc answers the door. It’s the loud shout from Charlie that alerts me to the guest.

I pass Marc on my way to the door, he just raises his eyebrows to say yikes and it’s an understatement when I see him. Messy hair, a five ‘o clock shadow, and he looks like he hadn’t slept.

“You look...rough.” I say while Charlie sits on his back. I almost want to tell her to be fragile with him with the way he looked.

“It’s been a rough couple days.” He comments, his voice scratchy. “I need to talk to you.”

“Charlie, love, go inside for a bit? I’ve got to speak with your dad.”

“Aww,” she moans as Harry helps her dismount.

“I’ll play with you later little monkey,” Harry tickles her and she squeals as she runs away. His eyes follow her with a smile.

“So...” I step into the hall, tilting the door behind me.

“I think Miranda and I broke up.”

“Ah,” that made sense. “What happened?”

“She...it’s so complicated. Why are women so complicated?”

“Woman here,” I point to myself and raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Apparently she...set up that double date so I could see you’d moved on. Except, according to her, the way I was acting made her realise she was never going to measure up to you. She...she wanted me to choose between you and her, I told her...” he gulps, leaning against the opposite wall for some support. “It wasn’t the same. You were Charlie’s mum, we would always be in each other’s lives. She made her peace with it but this morning when I woke up I don’t know...I don’t know what I said. She was just gone. She isn’t answering her phone. I thought we were okay, we made up yesterday but today...I don’t know.”

“Wow,” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think she would actually ask him to choose. And now she went AWOL. “Do you know where she might be?”

“I went to her place, her roommate said she thought she was with me. I just don’t want her to do anything rash.”

“Sorry, Harry.” I look him over, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Before I could say anything more, Charlie zips outside with the drawings she had done at the museum. She just wanted his attention, and as he takes them from her he smooths his face over and gives her all the excited feedback she wanted. I slip inside and tell Marc we might head up for a bit.

Harry hesitates before letting us in. The place was a mess. Things are strewn about everywhere. A broken lamp sits near the entrance.

“Woah,” I say.

“Woah” Charlie echoes me with more emphasis.

“Ehm,” Harry scratches his head. “I...was trying to find something.”

“You shouldn’t be so messy dad,” Charlie immediately begins walking to her room, like she always belonged here. A small part of me is already sad for when we had to leave.

“Sorry love,” Harry cracks a grin and we exchange a glance.

“D’you need help...?”

“No, come sit. I’ll pour us a drink.”

We sit in the kitchen, sipping our wine in silence. Charlie plays with her toys in the back, a comforting background noise.

I reach my hand out eventually and brush Harry’s hand on the countertop. He looks over at me, zoning back into the present. His smile is small and sad, dimmed and broken like his lamp. I thread my fingers through his and squeeze for comfort. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it and I try not to look as affected by it as I feel. He lets go after he kisses it.

“Thanks for being cool about this, I didn’t know who to go to.”

He looks so lost, and upset. I want to comfort him but there are no words I can say to do that. I open my mouth to try to say something anyway, but the familiar sound of his front door opening interrupts me before I can.

“Harry?” Miranda’s distinct voice carries over. Harry shoots out of his chair and goes to meet her. I watch on, out of view as she hugs him and apologises. “I just needed to clear my head. Then I got a taxi and ended up near my mum’s. I think I drank too many mimosas. I don’t know Harry, I brought an apology drink...”

She trails off as she spots Charlie laying down with her toys. She looks towards the kitchen and I look away quick enough to not see if she’d seen me or not.;

“I didn’t realise you had...guests.” She says slowly, slower, I can tell her words slur together. She really did have too much to drink.

“My...Charlie came up, her mum’s just in the kitchen.” Harry says, his words loaded with unspoken meaning.

“Oh. So I leave for a few hours and you invite them back.” My eyes bug out as I realise Miranda was planning on rehashing it right here. I get up and move towards Charlie but unfortunately I have to pass by them to get there.

“I was supposed to see Charlie yesterday, I didn’t know where you went! You weren’t picking up I just invited them up-”

“My phone died!” Miranda pushes Harry away and I move quicker towards Charlie, urging her to go play in her room but she stays on the floor stubbornly.

“Miranda please love, let’s not start this here again. Charlie-”

“What about me Harry? I haven’t gotten any attention from you for weeks! I thought we agreed yesterday-”

“They’re just here for the month! I never get to see her Miranda stop being unreasonable.”

“I don’t know why I thought coming back here was a good idea!” Miranda shouts. I pull Charlie up but even she’s frozen in spot watching Miranda. “You’re just never going to love me the way I want to are you? I’m never going to compare against...her. Them. Whatever!”

Harry tries to soothe her but she throws him off again, dropping her bottle to the floor with a thud. She turns to me while I back away to the bedroom with Charlie. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? Him all to yourself? This is why you came here all along? I bet your air bnb didn’t even have a bloody issue! He never wanted you in the first place! Newsflash: he has a girlfriend! Me! Not you-”

“Miranda! Enough.” Harry says and she shuts up. I scoop Charlie up and take her to the room but she starts crying because she dropped Oreo in the living room. I go back for it and Miranda is shouting at Harry, either she was too drunk to care or she was at the end of her stick. Or both. But when she starts to swear Harry tries to move her outside.

“It’s not like she can hear over how loud she’s fucking crying!” Miranda shouts. She really was having this breakdown here, but I pause. I wasn’t okay with her talking about Charlie like that, and I watch as Harry freezes over as he feels the same way.

“Miranda. That’s enough.” He says seriously.

“I’ve had enough Harry,” she’s on the verge of tears. I shuffle back to the bedroom and quiet Charlie down but as soon as she does the shouting gets loud enough that we can hear.

“Why is she yelling at dad?” Charlie asks, her nose red from crying.

“She’s...upset.” I say lamely.

“She shouldn’t yell at him,” she says quietly.

“Sometimes, when you’re that upset it just feels like you have to yell. But you’re right, we shouldn’t yell at each other. They’ll be okay.”

Eventually they quiet down and I feel like a prisoner stuck in the room, wondering when it was okay to leave. Charlie feels the same way because she eventually opens the door when I’m distracted and heads out.

“Charlie,” I whisper from the room but she doesn’t come back. It’s oddly quiet out and when I peep through there’s nobody actually there. I strain my ears and maybe hear them in the bedroom. I guess he’d convinced her to move location.

There’s a feeling in my stomach, like a hard seed rooting in place and pulling up the dirt as it sprouts up into my chest. I suddenly just wanted to go home, back to LA. It felt so complicated here, and I know Charlie felt at home with her dad but I was just a traveler passing through here. London, felt like a home, but it wasn’t my home. And the feeling forces me to sit down on the edge of the couch. Charlie notices my expression and hovers nearby, eventually climbing up beside me and leaning her head on me. I pull her into me and try to work my way out of the funk I found myself in, turning on the TV just so I didn’t have to suffer in silence.

When Harry eventually comes out with Miranda, I’m making a snack for Charlie who stays seated in front of the TV, eyes glued to whatever was on. I try not to think too hard about why they both looked freshly showered, about what this meant for us all. Miranda sits on the couch and Harry hovers over them all watching. From my view in the kitchen, the feeling from before creeps back. Harry catches my eye just then and raises his chin, is everything okay. I smile reassuringly, it takes everything in me to fake it, before resuming my slicing.

I had to get over Harry, I think. On some level, I was still holding onto him and not dating anyone because I continued to compare everyone to how he made me feel. I was vulnerable living with him, I’d made up some version in my head of a family while I lived here and I watched Harry in his fatherly role. Some part of me hoped it would come true. But watching him with Miranda and Charlie like this, he didn’t need me. I was just a past dream, one that felt good to indulge in. Miranda was clearly his future.

“Charlie,” I call her name once I’ve cut up her snack. I stay in the kitchen, where I watch Harry touch Miranda’s shoulder reassuringly. I watch them make up and then watch as she leaves. Harry doesn’t once come into the kitchen, and I try not to show how gutted I feel.

***

I don’t hear from Harry for a few days. Charlie decided to sleep over for a few days, and I’m more than fine with it as I work to meet some upcoming deadlines. Marc pops in and out of his apartment, we have a few meals together but mostly I let myself get lost in my work. Charlie comes up every so often, but she spends most of her time with her dad. With only one week left here, I understand. I didn’t want to be around him, and make it harder for me to move on.

With less than a week to stay, Charlie asks me curiously as I put her to bed,

“Is Uncle Marc your boyfriend?”

“What?” I stare at her, where was that question coming from? Marc and I made sure to keep our distance whenever she was here. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I dunno. Dad said you cared about Marc.”

“Dad said what?” I breath deeply. For someone who was calling me a hypocrite he outright told Charlie Marc was my boyfriend? “Marc and I are just good friends honey, like you and Carrie. I don’t know why your dad said that.”

“I like Uncle Marc,” Charlie says as she grows sleepy. “He’s nice.”

I grind my teeth, why would Harry say something like that?

I go back to the living room where I was working on an article, Marc sits opposite me working late too. But no matter how many times I read what I wrote, I can’t focus. My mind spins asking why Harry would tell Charlie something like that.

“Where are you going?” Marc asks as I get up suddenly.

“I’m leaving Charlie asleep here,” I pick my sweater off the couch and slip it on. “I need to talk to Harry.”

“It’s 12am,” Marc puts his laptop to the side. “Ohh I see. You don’t have to use code with me love.”

“What?” I’m confused but it clicks a moment later. “Marc don’t be so immature I just need to talk to him about something he said to Charlie.”

“I won’t wait up, don’t worry. Charlie’s fine here.” He resumes working on his laptop and I don’t even bother correcting him. I fly out of the apartment and up to Harry’s. I didn’t care if he was sleeping, I needed to speak to him. I do a quick knock before fiddling with my key, entering the space just as Harry comes into view.

“Y/N?” Harry’s sleepy face stares at me for a beat, his eyebrows furrowed. And suddenly faced with a shirtless Harry, I realise I could have walked in on him doing anything. I didn’t really think this through--Miranda could be over. Shit.

“We needed to talk,” I close the door behind me and stand up straight, ready to lay into him.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. It couldn’t wait.”

“Come in, I guess.” He steps back and I walk into a brighter space, he follows behind.

“Why would you tell Charlie that Marc was my boyfriend? Or we were seeing each other?” I jump right in.

Harry must still be sleep-confused because he sits down on an armchair and stares up at me trying to piece my sentence in his head. My hands on my hips are fists as I wait impatiently.

“I didn’t tell her he was your boyfriend.” He starts slowly. “She just asked why we weren’t hanging out like before and all these questions about--well you know Charlie. So I said it was complicated; we cared about each other but you cared about other people too like Marc.”

“Why bring Marc into this? She doesn’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry gets defensive. “I was just trying to break it down to her.”

“So you brought Marc and me into her mind as someone I’m with--the reason why we weren’t hanging out like before? As if Miranda and you isn’t excuse enough?”

“Well, not anymore?” He squints up at me.

“Well...why not anymore?” I didn’t follow.

“Y/N...” He stares at me, searching my face as if I was lying but I don’t even know what I would be lying about. I raise an eyebrow. “Miranda and I broke up--that day you were here and she came in, we broke up, I thought you knew that. That’s why Charlie was staying with me for so long, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Y-you broke up?” I was stunned, the way it looked to me, they had made up. “Charlie knew?”

“I don’t know. She just thought Miranda wasn’t coming around. I don’t know if it was worth explaining to her.”

“Oh. Wow,” I sit down on the couch, digesting that Harry and Miranda actually broke up that day. All this time I thought he was quiet because they were back together, but he must have been getting over the breakup. And I didn’t even ask him how he was--he must think I was- “Harry I had no idea, I would’ve....done-or said something. If I knew. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were just staying out of it,” Harry chuckles to himself. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

“The breakup was so...civil. I couldn’t tell! Can you imagine if we broke up like that all those years ago?”

That makes Harry laugh. “Maybe we would have made up quicker.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, playing with the ring on my finger. My mind races as the last few days make a lot more sense. But the only question that lingers on my mind was, why Harry didn’t try to make his move. If all those words he said over the last few weeks were true--why didn’t he try to talk to me? The only thing I can come up with was that he wanted to stay friends. It would get too complicated. “Well, now that that’s cleared I should probably go.”

I stand up as Harry does. He clears his throat, looks up at me like he wants to say something. I wait a moment, and when he doesn’t the awkward starts to settle.

“Sorry for waking you,” I say, trying to signal that I was now leaving.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off. “But...aren’t you mad that I told Charlie?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of,” I try to figure out where he’s going with this. “But, given your circumstances, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Oh c’mon Y/N,” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your pity-forgiveness.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms playing along. “If that’s what you want, I don’t forgive you.”

“Good. I want to earn my forgiveness.” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s saying one thing but meaning another.

“Okay well, I’ll think of something.”

“I can think of a few things,” he says with a twinkle. I can’t help the laugh that bursts out; he was making me nervous.

“Like what?” I impulsively ask, fuck it I tell myself. If I couldn’t flirt with my daughter’s single dad what was the point, right?

“Hm,” he takes the few steps between us and flashes me a charming smile. “I could get on my hands and knees and beg, or” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his finger traces the curve of my ear down to my neck, his movements slow and his finger dipping borderline dangerous. “I hear jewellery can work.” he taps my chest but just as quickly his hand moves up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my lips, “or I can cook you your favourite meal and watch you enjoy it or...” I keep my eyes on him, trying not to give in, but as soon as he moves his hand up into my hair, I close my eyes without meaning to. He knew my favourite feeling was his fingers in my hair and even now, it was no different.

“Or what?” I whisper, eyes still closed, too afraid of what I’ll see if I open them.

“Look at me,” He whispers. I swallow, he says it again and I finally open my eyes. He’s not even hiding what he wants, but he is holding back. “I don’t want to force you into anything, I want you Y/N...but I know you’re with Marc so if you want me to stop I-”

“Harry,” I cut him off. Marc was right, he really didn’t know--that must be why he left me alone. And now in the midst of this heat, I had to tell him--I’d only played myself: “Marc and I aren’t together. We got together a few times but we were never actually...together.”

“Wait.” his hand leaves my hair and I want to snatch it back. He takes a step away, his eyes flitting at he thinks. “So this whole time?”

I shrug.

“This whole time, you just let me believe you and him...”

I try not to look too guilty as realization dawns on him. When he steps towards me again, his mouth is curved into a smile. And one might think it’s a nice smile, but the look in his eyes, I knew he was gearing up for something, because now he knows I let him believe Marc and I were going out on purpose. And I was going to pay.

“Okay, okay so I can explain,” I hold my hand out but he just keeps walking until I stumble back into the couch I just got up from. He leans over me, and a giggle bursts out from nervousness. “Harry really, I-”

“You let me believe,” he grabs the hand I have raised and envelops it in his, taking away my only defense. “That you were going out with Marc? just to bother me?”

“Well,” I’m at a loss for words as I look everywhere but at his face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“A little too well,” he murmurs. When I give in and look at him, I'm a goner.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Really I-”

“You’re not getting away with it that easily.”

“What happened to forgiveness? We can mutually forgive!”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he says. Before I can respond he’s somehow managed to lift me up and sling me over his shoulder.

“This-Harry!” I try to wriggle out but his hands are iron clad on my legs. His apartment floats upside down as he carries me. “I’m sorry! C’mon! This is cruel and unusual punishment! I-”

The breath is knocked out of me as he lays me down on the bed, we look at each other for a moment and then his face cracks into a grin, “Last time I checked, you were into cruel and unusual punishment.”

I laugh, “That was four years ago love, a lot can change in 4 years.”

“Hm,” he leans over me and I crawl up the bed until my head hits the pillow, as he follows. “But some things never change, do they?”

“No,” I stare into his green eyes. They shine with unadulterated joy and adoration. My stomach swarms with butterflies like I’m a teenage girl, like I was Y/N so long ago, excited the hot guy from the party took me home. I hold his face in mine and kiss him with the same joy and adoration. “Some things never change.”

“I love you Y/N,” he says into my neck. I push him up to look at him, he says it again and I can’t stop grinning.

“Are you going to make me wait?” he raises an eyebrow. “Is that my punishment.”

I shake my head, “I think we punished each other enough the last few years.”

He nods in agreement, “That’s deep.”

“So’s my love,” I push the cheesiness which always got him to laugh. He laughs now too, and I feel the small thrill of being the one to do that. “I love you”

“Phew. Now let me kiss you,” he pulls my shirt off effortlessly and our lips meet in the middle, missing each other already.

And as we press into each other, relearning every inch of the other, catching up for all those silent years, we just fit together like we were absolutely made for each other. And truer words didn’t exist: some things never change.

Epilogue

[kindasadwriter]

This turned out to be way longer than I expected so I put a cut in.  Hope you like this anon! 

While he had no clue where you were he knew you were nearby thanks to Hattori’s absence.  The bird who had been loyal to him and only him for years developed a weakness for you at your first meeting, irksome at times but he had no right to judge considering his own feelings.  Though he couldn’t help but wonder if Hattori would be so enamored if you processed a different devil fruit power or none at all.  

He’d never get an absolute answer but he was fairly certain if you were anything other than a bird Hattori would be far less interested.  

Turning a corner to cut through a nearby alley Lucci’s frown deepened when he realized there was still no sign or trace of you.  If he was searching for anybody else he’d have more patience however this was you and it was very likely you were not only already aware of his presence but knew he was searching for you as well.  Which meant you were purposely avoiding him. 

Which was beyond infuriating.

Emotions aside, while the two of you have fought in the past he’d never managed to seriously injure you and during your more recent meetings he made no effort to do so.  If you noticed the change in nature you kept it to yourself, and if that was the case he was thankful for your silence as it kept his pride completely intact.  Regardless of what he told himself or how he looked at it, falling in love with an unaligned informant was embarrassing and dangerous considering his own occupation.  

There was nothing he could do though.  The government could try to send others but you were very particular with those you interacted with and rather than waste resources to find another lesion to work with you, it was easier to just send him.  

 Watching him from the sky you chuckled as Lucci continued to search for you.  You were well aware he knew you were here however revealing yourself like that was no fun.  Well that and it was strategic to remind the house cat that you couldn’t be found that easily, though you would admit thanks to his keen senses and Hattori’s infatuation he was the one that found you with the most ease.  Glancing at the bird that’d was peacefully perched on your shoulder, you could admit to yourself that you’d developed a sort of soft spot for the house cat over the past few years.  You had a hunch he’d developed something similar for you but he was a difficult man to read. 

Wings getting tired you glided down to a nearby building and transformed back to normal.  Wings turned back to arms and talons turned back to legs.  You’d consumed your devil fruit as a child and so your bird like abilities had become second nature.  Wanting to have some fun with him you found a nearby fire escape and stealthy made your way down to the ground.  Arguably you were putting yourself at a disadvantage considering Lucci’s power-both physical and devil fruit ability but the opportunity to sneak up on the man or at the very least surprise him was far too good to pass up. 

Spying on the spy, you followed him around careful not to make a sound.  Every so often Hattori would notice how close you were to Lucci and would try to fly back to the man but you made sure to keep the bird in place by using your left arm to anchor him down onto your shoulder.  If he were to return to Lucci no doubt he’d know just how close you were.  

Hattori really was a peculiar bird.  They had no devil fruit and yet they could find Lucci and yourself as if the two of you had trackers that led the bird to you.  At first you believed the bird to be a very realistic robot but an accident between you and Lucci proved otherwise.  You still felt a little guilty but time had healed the birds wounded wing and neither Lucci or Hattori seemed to hold a grudge over it.

As Lucci stepped out of an alley way and back into the public you let him get a little further before stepping out to continue your stalking.  Humming softly you had to wonder exactly what the man needed this time.  It hadn’t been all that long since you’d last met and it was rare for him to need more information so soon.  Had you unknowingly come across valuable information or had the house cat docked on the same island as you by chance? If it was the latter there was no guarantee he was actually searching for you right now and even if he was it was of his own will rather than orders.  

The possibility brought a small smile to your face.  So distracted by the thought your grip on the pigeon loosened and sensing the opportunity to return to Lucci and alert him to your presence Hattori launched himself off your shoulder and was back with Lucci in moments.  

“..Ah..” You observed as the man eyed the bird before turning his head slightly to look back and scan the area, “Not great.” You added as the two of you made eye contact.  

Well, this was fine too.  

Transforming back into your half bird form you gave the man a wink before taking off into the sky.  Regardless of where you went he’d be able to track you now so you might as well go somewhere more private to talk or fight.  Really you’d prefer the former but every so often he’d ask for information you weren’t willing to give the government and that’d result in a fight between the two of you.  Him trying to force the information out of you without killing you(because let’s face it you were a valuable resource) and you trying to push him back and look for a proper means of escape.  

Spotting a fairly secluded area you landed but didn’t bother transforming back.  It didn’t take much longer for Lucci to arrive.  

“Hey house cat.” You greeted with a smile.

His frown deepened at the nickname but he said nothing regarding it, “How long were you following me?”

Innocently humming you tilted your head to the side, “No idea what you’re talking about.” You replied, “I definitely didn’t follow you all the way from that restaurant, through the alley ways for a good hour or so and then through town for a little bit.”

Trying to keep his brow from twitching Lucci took a deep breath before letting out an exasperated sigh.  How was it one woman could be so irritating? Not wanting risk playing any of her games, both for professional and personal reasons Lucci cut straight to the point, “What do you know about the country of Dressrosa?”

Now that was a..complicated subject.  The country had changed drastically since Doflamingo took it over and getting information about what happened was..difficult if not confusing.  You’d visited it on several occasions but talking to people and some of the strange toys had only made things more confusing.  Stories seemed to contradict or end without reason.  Citizens had blank spaces in their memories, photos they couldn’t explain, and other odd occurrences.  

You’d wanted to go back to investigate more, simply to satisfy your own curiosity but the heavenly demon had sent you a very clear warning that if you returned to that country you wouldn’t leave it.  While you didn’t doubt your own strength you also weren’t foolish enough to put yourself in a situation where an entire island could be easily turned against you and so you’d taken his warning to heart and never returned.  

“Not that I doubt your strength but if you’re planning on taking a trip to Dressrosa I’d advice you to be more cautious than you were today.”

“Care to expand on that?” He questioned.

Not all that protective over Doflamingo or the country of Dressrossa you were happy to tell him a majority of what you knew, which unfortunately wasn’t nearly as much as you’d like.  The underground SMILES, green bit, Doflamingo’s odd rise to power, the human like toys, and the citizens odd behavior at times.  

Lucci wasn’t surprised by a majority of the information you gave as CP0 had already gathered the same though there were some loose ends that were tied up by what you said.  If he thought you were holding out on him he would’ve said something but by the time you finished talking you had an unsatisfied expression, it was the same look you had when he refused to tell you how he loss to straw hat.  Actually it was the same look you wore whenever you didn’t know as much as you wanted to, it was amusing and cute and at times it made him wonder if fate had originally intended for the both of you to consume the others devil fruit.  

“I thought you’d know more.” He finally said, earning himself a warning glare.  Shamefully and painfully aware that you’d probably been stalking him for quite some time before he found you he continued to push your buttons.  His words really weren’t all that insulting if you thought about it, the fact you knew anymore than CP0 was beyond amazing especially considering you worked alone for the most part(your only-ally other than himself to a degree-being the media that protected you and had far too much leverage over the government for anything to be done to you without facing a wave of backlash that), well you really were something else.  

“Well if it’s not good enough you can always go ask some other world class informant.” You snapped.

“I might have to.” He casually agreed.

Fingers involuntarily twitching, you took a step towards Lucci.  Jabbing your index finger directly into his chest you glared daggers as you spoke up, “I know for a fact there isn’t anybody else like me” You paused before adding, “Anywhere, Lucci.”

Were you defending your profession or simply stating a fact?  It was true for both but he wouldn’t admit it to you right now.  If he did your conversation would be over and the two of you would have to go your own ways.  It was impossible to avoid, the two of you really weren’t meant to be close or have any sort of relationship and yet you did.  Lucci still recalled the shocked looks and surprised tones when he returned from his first meeting with you.  He supposed he was lucky you took an interest in him because he’d gotten more information out of you than anybody else had and since then you’d become a part of his job to the government.  And what did you get in return? 

Looking up at the sky, or rather the news coo that had been circling above the two of you for some time he really couldn’t help but wonder.  He’d tried questioning you before but so far it had been the one thing you refused to answer him about.  Never the less, moments like this were more than enough for now.  This kept the two of you alive and allowed you to continue meeting and until he could find out exactly what your relationship to the media was, what you were getting and they had over you and you over them-there really was nothing more you could do.  

[rogueartistjyn]

I see a bunch of confusion over the fight Kara was describingto Zor-El. Here’s my take. It was a combination of bad editing, sloppy writing & a flubbed line. In the opening sequence when Kara’s eyes go white she is looking around and seeing all of her friends/loved ones dead. Normally, we would get an edit here of what she was seeing, but they just skipped over that. She says, “No, no, no, not again!” She is actually looking around as she speaks as if she is seeing bodies because the Phantoms are torturing her & making her see things over & over again. We aren’t being shown what she’s seeing & usually we would.

Zor-El mentions that Kara must be a mirage because the Phantoms have been torturing him to also see things that aren’t there.

Kara says, “This place is nothing like I remember. It’s worse.” That’s because she was safe in her pod the first time. Zor-El comes back with

“Indeed. From the safety of your pod, you never faced the Phantoms.”

Kara reacts by recoiling a bit thinking of the Phantoms. This made some think maybe they did get to her pod, but I do not think that is what the story intended. I think what they are actually trying to convey is that it IS worse because the Phantoms got to her THIS time. Zor-El’s dialogue in response to her reaction is,

“They got to you, didn’t they?” Now, that might make some think the Phantoms got to her in the pod, but clearly that is NOT what is being said because she responds with events that happened far after her pod time. He asks her, “What did you see.”

He is talking about what she saw before he reached her. We have no idea how long she was out there. Remember, it was supposed to be the finale when we left her trapped. A significant amount of time would’ve seemed to have passed if it had been the finale.

Her response goes along with what we saw her doing at the beginning of this episode.

“I was in a cavern, a fortress of one of my enemies. She was dead, but so was everyone I ever loved.”

It’s easy to see why many people thought she was talking about Reign, and she might be, because it is a memory, but a memory that the Phantoms took and expanded and made worse, not the actual memory as it happened in reality which is why she said, “Not again.”

She continues with, “Cut down, while they were trying to save the world, and I just stood there among their bodies...horrified.”

Now it sounds like Crisis. Most likely because the Phantoms combined the Reign memory and the Crisis memories into one terrible nightmare. If they had given use a visual in an edit, we’d have a better grasp, but no.

She continues with, “I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t wake up.” So we are supposed to understand it wasn’t real. She did save them in both instances. She then says, “I wanted to die there with them.” This is what makes me think she saw this more than once before Zor-El reached her. It was replaying. Each time she tried to save them & each time she failed. Part of her knew it wasn’t real, but another part kept buying into it because it was made up of things that have been real for her. Then she says, “But I couldn’t do that either.” Which is incredibly dark because it means she reached a point where she tried, but the Phantoms didn’t let her & instead started the mirage over.

All of this should have been shown. The torture, the hopelessness, the fear, the trauma, but in true CW fashion, we skipped the show for a tell.

Zor-El responds to her with, “A terrible vision.” She comes back with, “Not a vision. A memory. One that I thought had finally stopped haunting me.”

What I think they were trying to convey is that her memories of losing people, Alex in the plane, tank, VR, Lena multiple times, Mon-El in the pod, CRISIS, etc., etc. Those memories of (almost) losing people are still with her. She has mentioned on multiple occasions that losing the people she loves because of who she is, is her greatest fear. She’s dwelled on it. The Phantoms made it all real. And she thought she had moved past those traumatic events when in reality, they haunt her. Every moment. She just pushes them back & ignores them.

She then says, “But it was crystal clear. It felt like it would never end.” So this lets us know it WAS a mirage. It was the Phantoms. Not an event that has actually transpired.

She then mentions Fort Rozz. I saw some posts about this as well. Again, the writing here is a bit confusing, but I think we had a misread line as well. Kara says, “Mother once told me that Fort Rozz is rooted in space above the rocks by an anchor.” Now, I have hearing issues, so I use Closed Captions. The caption read “WAS rooted in space” which makes more sense with what she says after as well as the fact that we all know Fort Rozz broke free and crashed on Earth. Basically, Fort Rozz broke free FROM its anchor. The anchor is still there. Kara goes on to explain, “The guards come and go through a portal at the base. If we can find the anchor—“ Then Zor-El cuts her off. The anchor that was left behind after Fort Rozz broke free is still there as is the processing base and the portal the Kryptonian guards used to bring prisoners back and forth, to & from Fort Rozz.

I don’t know how they manage to convolute that scene so much, but they did and wow, these are professionals? Anyhoo, I hope I cleared that up for anyone that was confused.

[star-wars-scribbles-ff]

Clone Log Series | 1 | Trapper

(click for better quality 👀)

Note: This is the beginning of a new series I want to write that was inspired by a short scene from Star Wars: Tales from The Clone Wars Webcomic Collection Season 1 - Prelude: Cold Snap, you can find more about that HERE. 

The first Clone I’ve chosen for this series is Trapper! For those who aren’t familiar with this fellow, Trapper is an ARF Trooper with the 212th Recon Division and served at the Second Battle of Geonosis. He was the only survivor alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi when their LAAT/i crashed on Geonosis, en-route to RV Point Rain. 

Taglist: @divergent-llamas-03​ @remadster​ @tallyquark​ @thisistheendtimes​ (There was an update to the taglist options, so please feel free to revisit it HERE if you’d like to make changes to your form 💗 )

Note/Disclaimer: This fic contains both canon and fanon material. Trapper doesn’t have a canon CT number, so the one listed is entirely fanon and not official by any means. Lance is a clone OC of mine.

I’d heard stories about the Battle of Geonosis from veterans. It was the first time the Grand Army had seen combat, and apparently despite simulations training, nothing could quite prepare them for the hell that was Geonosis. I wasn’t there - wasn’t even a year out from graduating - but my former CO, Commander Ponds… he was there. Every clone knew- you didn’t inquire about previous campaigns unless it was logistically necessary, especially from a Commander, but on occasion he’d share bits and pieces. 

Following the GAR’s first sight of war, countless changes were made to the training that clones received on Kamino. Apparently there were things we just weren’t thoroughly being prepared for, but despite that fact, they were rushing us off the assembly line so fast most of us never really finished out training anyhow. Not completely at least. 

I still remember when we graduated, Lance. It all happened so quickly. We were on a cruiser heading for Coruscant before any of us really got to process the first accomplishment of our lives. 

I don’t know why I’m addressing this to you, Lance. I guess… It’s just been a while since we got to catch up. Before we even landed on Coruscant we all got word of our placement in the GAR. You were off to the 212th Attack Battalion, I was transferred to the 91st Reconnaissance Corps, and the rest of the squad stayed together under the 327th Star Corps. I never thought I’d hear from the others again, and I thought the same about you.

As long as I’m writing this to you, I might as well fill you in. Things were pretty slow in the 91st Recon Corps for the first month or two, that is, until we got deployed to Malastare. That was my first time seeing combat. I still remember staring down the Separatist line. They outnumbered us ten to one. I lost a lot of brothers in that massacre, despite not knowing any of them for very long.

Somewhere along the line, whispers began to spread. It was no secret we were losing the battle. The Separatists had launched a hefty operation to drain the Republic of its fuel supplies that were made available by the current treaty with the Dugs, and they were doing a hell of a job pushing us back to the Capital. 

I wasn’t in the know, but I’d overheard from a Sergeant that the Republic was issuing the use of a prototype bomb to be used as a last ditch effort to push the Separatist line back. Sounded like a long shot. Word spread fast and eventually all military forces on Malastare were debriefed on what was to happen. Commander Ponds issued a statement to the 91st Recon Corps forces, that we were to hold the line until the bomb’s drop. The bomb was said to produce an electro-magnetic field that would expand from the impact zone. It had to be a hell of a bomb to match the diameter of the Separatist line. 

When the bomb hit, the electro-magnetic pulse emitted from it knocked out the clankers, but did hell to the sound dampeners in our buckets. Few boys had their eardrums burst. I guess that wasn’t something they accounted for. 

Despite that fact though, the bomb did do its intended job, and wiped out ninety percent of the Separatist forces; I have to admit I was impressed and would have remained so… If not for what came after. While the electro-magnetic field resulted in the deactivation of all Separatist forces, the detonation of the bomb created a sinkhole bigger than the underworld portals on Coruscant. It swallowed what was left of the clankers along with countless men… too many to count. I was close to the sinkhole and managed to outrun its increasing diameter as it swallowed everything in its path… I can still hear the screams of those who weren’t so lucky.

Victory wasn’t a word any of us were able to consider. Not after that. For those few seconds before the crater began, a rush of relief washed over all of us; you could almost see it in the way our postures relaxed, and some of us even let out relieved chuckles or held breath. The Dugs were already celebrating the victory in the following seconds before it happened. It sounded like a crack of lightning coursed through my body; the ground jolted so hard some of us lost our footing. Seconds. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds between the bomb’s detonation and the crater’s formation, although it felt like so much longer.

For almost thirty minutes the crater was surrounded by a massive cloud of dust too thick to breathe. Most of us couldn’t speak in the time following the proton bomb’s encore. Talk about a slap in the face, Lance. Most of us thought it was a sick joke. Price of victory, eh?

Well apparently that wasn’t one of the outcomes the Republic accounted for either. Following the settling of the new geographic monument, I was chosen alongside a couple other troopers to investigate the crater. Word was that high command had lost contact with the rescue team, and General Windu accompanied us, as did Commander Ponds to look for the lost search party. 

Its all a bit blurry from there. We ended up finding the rescue party but… We didn’t end up getting any of those men out of there. It became apparent rather quickly that we were trespassing on a certain creature’s territory. It all happened so fast; the General had a few men stay behind with what was left of the rescue party while we searched the area. By the time it became evident of what we were dealing with, we were running towards the extraction point, and General Skywalker was distracting the creature with his starfighter… We left all those men behind. Granted it would have been close to impossible to extract them all without losing men, but… We didn’t even try. Aside from the General and the Commander, Hawkeye and I were the only ones to make it out. 

We all have those moments, when that guilt always rears its ugly head. I just wonder if the officers ever feel the same, or if its just us foot soldiers who feel it.

The creature we encountered was called a Zillo Beast. I’ve sure as hell never heard of it. No one else seemed to have prior to its unexpected appearance. We ended up taking the damn thing too; back to Coruscant no less. I’ll tell ya, Lance… Sometimes I question the sanity behind some of these decisions. It isn’t my place, but you can’t help but consider it. 

I don’t know where you were, but I was on Coruscant when the Beast got loose. I wish I could describe or explain the chaos that ensued, but we felt like a bunch of loth cats trying to wrangle a rancor; it just wasn’t plausible. 

Cleanup after the Zillo Beast incident was thankfully, not our job. It was within the week following that event that I got news of my transfer. Apparently something big was going down somewhere, and troopers were being shifted around to handle a coming campaign. 

While I wish I could say I felt something when I got the news, I’d lost so many comrades that there were few left that I was truly acquainted with in my company. Ninety percent of the company was made up of new batches coming in, so when i left, I admit I wasn’t completely against it. 

I was transferred to the 212th Attack Battalion’s Recon Division, under General Kenobi and Marshal Commander Cody. Gotta admit… I felt a bit hypocritical joining this Battalion. Everyone talked trash about other battalions, especially the 212th and even the 501st Legion. It was all in good fun, but they were pretty photogenic. They were the face of the Republic Military on the HoloNet news and saw some of the biggest battles of the war. 

Joining their ranks, I don’t know how I felt. Out of place was one word for it. Everyone was welcoming enough. Transfers happened all the time, it wasn’t customary to alienate other troopers just arriving, but it was always awkward. Every Battalion had its own way of doing things. 

I was on the Venator-class cruiser, The Negotiator, as soon as my transfer was put in and we were off to… somewhere. Arriving at the barracks, the last thing I honestly expected was seeing you across from my bunk, Lance. 

I wouldn’t have said it out loud, but I liked it better not knowing where you were and whether or not you were alive. Now I knew I’d either see you go down or you’d see me. You probably noticed my hesitation to be content to see you. Thankfully the arrival of the new armor sets prevented anything awkward, although now I would give anything to go back and have interaction, awkward or not. 

ARF armor… That was one way to tell someone they were receiving a promotion of sorts. Although I assume they just needed to outfit the foot soldiers in something that resembled the terrain we would encounter. Whispers were saying Geonosis, but I was one of the few that didn’t believe it. We’d conquered Geonosis, there was no reason to go back, right?

Heh, wrong. Commander Cody debriefed everyone in the hanger. We were heading to Geonosis. There we were briefed on the plan, and our teams. At the time, I was thankful we were both on a gunship together. I’d give anything to go back and have you put on a different transport. If we crash I’ll need someone to drag my body out of the mud. You have a really sick sense of humor y’know; always have, even during cadet training. I remember when you joked about getting a ninety-five percent on one of our firearms performance tests: Guess I’m getting terminated, you had joked. You di’kut… Can’t believe you made it to graduation considering how often you talked smack. 

Oh, di’kut… It means fool. Yeah, I learned that from this uh… Girl - a retired mercenary - working with the GAR. Apparently she’s held up with the 212th more often than not, so maybe you know who I’m talking about. 

Loading onto that gunship, I remember feeling surprised when General Obi-Wan Kenobi headed for our LAAT/i with Commander Cody at his side. You’d knocked my arm to get my attention, like I wasn’t already looking. 

When we’re on the ground you better watch my six, you’d said. I’d rolled my eyes. First time we’d seen each other in months and you were already back to your old games. I’m warning ya, Trapper, my aim has improved since cadet training. 

So I only have to carry half of your weight now- I’d countered.

When the General had climbed aboard the gunship, most chatter quieted but continued. After taking off, it got quiet. We knew the landing zone would be hot, and there was no doubt many of the shuttles would be downed on the initial assault. 

Despite the odds, you never think its going to be you. You can’t afford to think like that, so you don’t. That is, until your LAAT/i is hit, and you find yourself holding onto whatever you can as your gunship hurtles uncontrollably towards the ground. 

I remember hearing the General yelling out over the comms, getting word to the Marshal Commander.

We’re hit- We’re going down! It felt like an eternity as our shuttle crashed. It was probably the first time I was truly terrified. Everything was out of my control. At least when a creature the size of a large-class freighter is coming after you, you can run out of its way. This was different. I’d heard a horror story or two of troopers crashing in gunships. Details I couldn’t stop replaying in my head as we hurtled towards the ground.

You were next to me, I think. Somewhere along the line the stabilizers gave out, and the gunship went into a sort of barrel roll. I don’t remember the impact. 

The holovids always depict death, or even near-death experiences like this peaceful, dreamlike state. I thought that was bantha fodder, but it almost makes me laugh - because it actually was, Lance. It was just like that. 

I remember it only in simple terms, but for some reason, before waking up, I remember hearing General Shaak Ti’s graduation speech. Her words, as brief as they were, inspired us. We all felt like we were going out to make a difference, restore peace… be the good guys. 

The naivety of it makes me chuckle. 

Canon fire landing in the dirt a few meters from our downed LAAT/i was what interrupted that dream-like state. The pressure on my chest was the first prominent thing that invaded my mind; it was sharp and intense. Broken ribs most likely. It took a few struggling moments before I could recover a breath, and even longer before I was able to get my vision to focus. Concussion most likely. The Medic had told me my half-conscious state most likely kept me from going into shock, if I had, my broken ribs may have punctured a lung. 

When my eyes had finally focused, and I was able to loosely make out what was around me, it was dark. Slivers of light illuminated the space enough for me to know we were on the ground, but something wasn’t right because it was too quiet. My first thought was that they’d mistaken me as dead and moved out… I wish that was the reality of the situation. Maker knows I would give anything for that to have been the case.

By the time my HUD came back online, I was coming to terms with reality. I could see the troopers scattered about the gunship. With the blast doors closed, there weren’t many places to go. One trooper was draped partially over my legs, and others covered the ground of the ship. What startled me most was when I turned and saw General Kenobi seated next to me, head hung over. He was unconscious. 

At that point I was just surprised to be alive, and maybe even relieved… Then my HUD began reading vital signs. One by one all of the troopers came back negative. At first I couldn’t find you, Lance. Part of me didn’t want to, why would I? The odds weren’t great, so I may have avoided looking towards the other side of the LAAT/i for a while.

With a series of blinks, I accessed the Officer's frequency channel for communications. I don’t know how long I spent trying to contact someone, anyone. Priority was to inform the next in command that the General was incapacitated.

From the sounds of cannon fire, it seemed we were right in the thick of it. I could distinctly hear our AT-Te cannons, but I could also hear enemy munitions from behind us. We weren’t in a great spot, that was for sure. 

As the minutes passed, the pain became more prominent. My neck hurt, and the rest of my body was sluggish to respond. I could move my legs, thankfully, but a trooper pinning them prevented me from doing much. 

With little to do about the fact, I had no choice but to hold tight and keep trying to contact command. It felt like auto-pilot. Maybe it was just me trying to ignore the fact that I was surrounded by dead men… maybe something else. At that point I just couldn’t… I couldn’t consider you being dead too. I knew there was a good chance you were, but part of me continued to hold out hope that you went for help; maybe woke up before I did, realized comms were down before going to get the Commander for support.

By the time the General awoke, I had given up trying to get word out. He had begun to stir and I’d spoken up, inquiring if he was alright before his eyes had opened. 

A slight twitch in his expression and crinkle around one eye revealed he was in some sort of pain. Later it was obvious he had sustained similar injuries to myself, but in the moment I had no way of knowing how far off he was.

His gaze was alert rather quickly however, and he cleared his throat before confirming my question. I suppose I could be better, he had let out a strained chuckle. He craned his neck to look around before he looked at me. 

I have to admit it was odd, to have a General’s attention on me and me alone. Are you alright? He’d asked. I hadn’t spoken one-on-one with a General before. The most I could throw together was a nod before I finally got a hold of myself and confirmed I was fine. 

A cannon blast struck nearby, and the rumble of the ground shook the gunship, causing dust and sand to fall from nooks in the ceiling. 

It appears I’ve had a late start, The General had surveyed the area before he turned his attention towards me, and I prepared to tell him we were the only survivors.

Trapper isn’t it? The question had caught me off guard. I’d been a part of the battalion no longer than one standard rotation, and the General knew my name… Almost made me chuckle on the spot.

Yes sir, I’d said. Comms are down; something’s interfering. Sir, I can’t get word out to the Commander of our status. 

Well if I know Cody, he’ll be keeping an eye out for us. Not to worry. He was trying to reassure me, that was evident. We’re the only ones. It’d been a statement, and observation. The Jedi always had a way of knowing it seemed.

...Yes sir, I’d responded. 

I’ve yet to experience something quite like my time in that crashed LAAT/i; knowing the fight was raging around me, I had to be on my guard incase the fight came to the crashed gunship, but in the majority of those moments, the eerie silence of the enclosed space far surpassed that of the sounds of blaster and cannon fire outside. 

At that moment I’d tested moving my legs. I was able to, but I didn’t want to disturb the body of the soldier, my comrade and brother, just yet. Now that the General was awake however, the reality of the situation suddenly dawned on me in a different light.

With some effort, I sat forward and proceeded to move him to the side so he was lying on the ground near my legs. After making sure his body was settled, I rested back against the wall, letting out a controlled breath. I didn’t know his name. Part of me was glad that I didn’t.

Cannon fire continued to rage on both sides of the transport as the minutes passed, and one thing that was becoming clear, was that the enemy fire seemed to be coming closer. 

Sounds like the enemy is making headway, I tried to break the silence in the most respectful way possible. The General didn’t look to be in the best shape. The only plea I had was that the General not die before I do. I’d hoped the universe would spare me that much. The number one rule amongst us clones is to never let the General go down on your watch, I know you know that much, Lance. If you did leave to get help I sure as hell was hoping you’d get back before then. With how the General was looking, he was having difficulty remaining completely aware.

It appears so, Trapper, The General had responded, craning to listen for a time before he turned his gaze towards me. He looked weak. It was hard to witness a General, a Jedi, in such a position.

I knew I needed to get up and go get help. I knew no one had gone and I was the only remaining trooper from the transport capable of bringing help, as much as I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I was alone. It was just a matter of being able to support my own weight long enough to get the blast doors open.

I admire your determination, Trapper. The General’s words yet again caught me off guard. But you are in no condition to take such chances, just as I am. I believe our best chance is to wait a bit longer. 

I didn’t know if the General was right in the head, but Jedi had their ways. And safe to say- as much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going anywhere. Not on my own power alone at least.

If you say so, sir. I appeased him, but quietly questioned his clarity. He probably knew I was too, but he didn’t go to speak about it thankfully. 

I admit I was hesitantly surprised when the doors to our down gunship were pried open minutes later. Two troopers I didn’t recognize were responsible, not that I was complaining. 

Waxer, Boil, The General didn’t seem to need more than a moment to identify them. Another thing Jedi were good at. General Windu once told Hawkeye that our- what was the word- aura? Or maybe an impression? Yeah. Like all living things, we left an impression in the force that made it relatively easy for the Jedi to identify us. I guess that has a ring of bittersweet irony to it; we may all have the same face, but our Jedi generals don’t need physically distinguishable markings to identify us, because as he put it, through the force, we’re all rather different. 

Am I glad to see you. Trapper and I are the only ones still alive.

Good to see you, sir. 

I wish I could say I was paying attention when my two comrades hauled us up to our feet. But I knew in that moment that I was about to break my promise to you. Is it cliché to say I felt completely helpless? If not for my condition you know I’d have dragged whatever was left of you back to the RV point. 

Before we left that gunship, I saw you… Hunched over at the head of the transport space. I knew you were there the whole time; knew my HUD had identified you… I’d just hoped I wasn’t right in the head. But I knew I was the only trooper leaving the gunship alive. I just wish I had known when I got on that gunship, what was coming. 

Waxer was the trooper who got me back to Point Rain in one piece. I don’t know how we did it, but it felt like it took an hour to get back to the square. Thankfully we still had a hell of a fight ahead, and I didn’t have time to mull over my situation. When the reinforcements finally arrived at the last possible second, there was still a lot to do. It wasn’t until the Separatist energy shield was destroyed that they started rotating out spots of leave to us troopers, and I finally got the break I was dreading. 

I’m starting to feel stupid writing to you, Lance, I gotta admit. Its not like you missed much in that gunship but… Turns out the company I was assigned to was completely wiped out on Geonosis. Another gunship transporting a portion of the company crashed, killing everyone, and the rest died defending RV Point Rain. I had to report to the Marshal Commander for instruction on who to report to. I don’t wanna brag, but you know I’m gonna - he kept me pretty close for the remainder of the campaign; even brought me along on a lovely rescue mission of General Unduli that I’d rather not talk about. That’s a whole ‘nother story. 

Sitting alone in the mess on the cruiser after the battle came to a close, Commander Cody approached me… told me he was going to reassign me soon. Before leaving he told me writing is apparently a good way to speak what we can’t verbally put into words. I guess he knew I was… on my own. So you’re stuck listening to me ramble I guess. Serves you right for leaving me here along, mate. I know you’d hit me for feeling guilty about leaving you there… You know I’d have dragged you outta there if I had been able to hold my own weight, let alone yours… 

I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll keep you updated on things going forward. Commander Cody assigned me to Ghost Company, so I imagine I’ll be seeing some action. You’d be jealous beyond words, I know, so don’t worry - I’ll keep you posted.

CT-4473, Trapper 212th Attack Battalion, Ghost Company

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[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 22/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: Presumed Character Death, Violence Descriptions (In This Chapter) Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton,  Pretty Much Everyone (at points) Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes".

It was a simple affair that lacked the formality and solemnity that such a wedding might have had should it have been performed back home in London. Country weddings, especially elopements weren’t exactly known for their stark adherence to the religious doctrines.  The fact of the matter was that the men who performed such rites were hardly true clergy.

Penelope could hardly believe that this had become her life and that she was indeed marrying Colin. After everything they’d been through,  he had deemed her worthy to be his bride and the sentiment wasn’t lost on her.  She couldn’t but look back seeking the safety and approval of Anthony and Benedict as she uttered her vows though.

Hearing Colin say the words and knowing that he meant them had been everything that she’d ever wanted before he’d gone missing and when he’d come back she’d been so caught up that she’d failed to really take notice of the fact she wasn’t quite the same infatuated girl she’d been before. She had changed as a person.  She could hardly ignore the loudness of her thoughts against the quiet of his words and her own.

She certainly didn’t intend to regret this though, even if the whole thing felt a bit like an out of body experience.  She wasn’t unhappy but she had imagined that she would feel more joy flittering through her veins, excitement at spending the rest of her life with the man she’d deemed as her soul mate.  She felt something deep inside that she couldn’t quite explain though and she wasn’t quite willing to investigate.

To be perfectly honest she was terrified of what she might find if she did explore it.  She loved Colin. She always had.  God knew that she always would but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she hadn’t made the right choice. Maybe they should have taken it slower, maybe they both needed more time to grow before they had their happy ever after if it was meant for them.  It didn’t make sense to her when it felt so right though. She’d been so sure moment ago.

The smile she’d plastered on her face through the aftermath of the ceremony felt like a cover for the sheer and utter panic she was trying to keep down.   There was something she felt deep down inside that she couldn’t quite explain, some feeling like something had to go wrong. She’d felt like that most of her life whenever something was going right. It didn’t normally take hold of her quite so strongly. She could feel it wrapping around her life a vice.

They were all to walk together to the local inn to eat and celebrate the occasion.  Her arm was held steadfast by Colin and she was trying desperately not to have him catch on to the fact she was a bit shaky.

“It’s not like you to be so quiet,” Colin finally told her after a moment. His eyes gazed over her appraisingly from the side, his grip on her all the tighter.  His normal smile was still there, never ceasing but there was concern etched in the depths of his eyes.

“I was just thinking,” Penelope told him though she didn’t choose to expand upon it.  She nodded sympathetically, patting a hand on his arm to provide some sort of reassurance that she was okay but she wasn’t sure if it was believable or not.  “Perhaps, I’m just a bit hungry.”

“Well… we’re going to fix that,”  he insisted.  Whatever skepticism he had over her words didn’t seem to last as he went back to smiling, holding conversation with Anthony as they walked.  The words sort of managed to blur together until they’d found their way to their destination.

--

There had been food and dancing.  It was definitely not the kind of thing that would have gone over as a social event in London but it was comfortable and homey. Penelope did feel full and the dancing did happen to calm her nerves and as the sky began to transition from day to twilight, she felt sure that maybe she’d simply let her mind get the best of her.

When Colin excused himself to go ensure that they had a proper to sleep on their wedding night, she’d let herself be left amongst the mix of stranger and Bridgertons.  Anthony had certainly had allowed himself to partake of the libations to the point where he was a bit sloppy.  She couldn’t help but feel a bit like she was intruding on a bachelor’s night with the way he was carrying on with a random woman.

Benedict for his part was keeping a respectful distance though every so often she would feel his eye on her and know he was more concerned with her safety than finding someone to spend the evening with.  She was grateful for it honestly.

“You can actually converse with me, you know?” she told him, decisively moving so that she could sit across from him at a table.  “You don’t have to go back to ignoring me.”

The fact he couldn’t quite meet her eye told her that it might have actually been his plan.  He forced his gaze up after a minute though.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he lied.

She knew he was lying and she fully intended to call him out on it. She would have if she didn’t hear a crack of the door that pulled both of their focuses away.

A tall, broad shouldered man came barreling into the room.  There was something about the presence of him that commanded everyone’s attention.

“Clara?” he bellowed.

The woman that Anthony had been carrying on with pulled away from Anthony and seemed to practically disappear into the wood of the floors. She paled and it became quite clear who Clara was.

The man’s next actions were to move toward her and raise his fist to strike.  Anthony, for his part, attempted to stop it. His drinking had made him unsteady and he took the punch himself.  Like any man of honor, he decided it appropriate to strike back.

Goosebumps formed on Penelope’s skin as she watched in absolute horror at what was taking place, the world slipping away. Before she could try and stop Benedict, he was up moving to try and get the giant away from his brother.

Anthony was most definitely losing. It wasn’t an even or fair fight by any stretch and he was going to be bloodied and bruised come the next day.  Benedict simply wanted to stop it from being worse than all of that.

What she didn’t realize was the man was reaching for a knife and neither did Benedict until he was in the process of trying to get in the middle of them.  The whole thing happened so abruptly that there was little she could do to stop the blood curling screams that escaped her as Benedict’s eyes widened and he crumpled to the floor.

The man clearly realized his mistake as soon as it happened, taking off running just as he’d came leaving a bloody mess in his wake.  The woman who’d caused it all taking one look at everything before following after.

Penelope didn’t think, didn’t breath as she moved to try and see the extent of the damage.  Anthony was trying his best to get up and be helpful but he was in no condition to go get a doctor when he needed one himself.

His voice broke as she demanded someone go find a doctor before crumpling to her own knees, accessing the wound.  She ripped the fabric from her dress, trying to use it to compress the bleeding at his abdomen as if it might be enough to hold him until a physician could arrive.

“Hold on,” she demanded.

Benedict was still awake. His eyes were open and he was breathing.  Those were all things to be hopeful for. He opened his mouth to speak a few times but the words seemed to be a struggle for him, the fact he wasn’t speaking only alarmed her all the more.

His hand moved to rest on top of her own, becoming increasingly caked in his blood.  He didn’t have to utter the words for her to know what he was trying to say.  She knew that he wasn’t going to make it but it wasn’t something that she could stand for. She wasn’t sure if she could live with herself if that was the outcome of this.

“Please don’t,” she begged.

Word had apparently gotten back to Colin about there being a problem. She didn’t hear his footsteps but she did know when she heard his horrified voice and saw him there kneeling beside her.

There was so much blood, it wasn’t completely clear who was hurt now.

“Are you hurt?” Colin asked her.

“No, Ben – he was trying to protect Anthony,” she couldn’t even finish the words.  Colin tried to take over her task of holding the wound, trying to order her away with his hands.

“I have this,” he tried to tell her.

She didn’t move.

“I’m not leaving him,” she uttered. She was near hysterical anyways. She couldn’t unseen what she’d seen.  She’d never be able to get the imagery out of her head.

“Pen, you shouldn’t have to -  I’ll stay with him,”  Colin insisted, trying to keep a calm exterior but he was far from it.  The little cracks in the normally calm exterior were on full-display.

“No,” Benedict uttered, giving Colin a look that made him relent and completely give up on any ideas he might have had about sending Penelope away from the carnage.  The damage was already done.

--

By the time they’d actually managed to get a physician there,  Benedict was already beginning to fade.  He was going in and out of consciousness. Every time that he went there, it began to feel as though he might not come back.

Anthony had begun to sober up thanks to water and the horror around him.  If it was possible, he looked worse than Benedict. The guilt was clear on his face. He blamed himself for the whole damn thing.

“Not your fault,” Benedict had told him a few moments of alertness. “I’ve always had your back in a fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Anthony told him solidly as the physician attempted to examine the wound. The grim look on his face made it clear that Benedict wasn’t going to be okay.

“The wound penetrated the spleen,” the physician informed them,  cleaning the wound with liquor which caused Benedict to writhe in pain.  He was paler than usually the shirt that he’d been wearing long discarded to be used to help try and stop the bleeding.

Penelope had read enough books that she knew that the odds weren’t in favor of anything being able to be done here except provide comfort, drown out the suffering until the brutal end.   There was a choice to be made here. They could either selfishly keep him alert or allow the physician to allow him to sleep until the end.

One look at his face and she knew the path he wanted.

“We need to get him to a bed,” she uttered. Colin and Anthony could get it done, especially with a little assistance.  Benedict deserved a little dignity and not the floor of this place.

There was no argument from the two of them either, especially as they moved to help with Anthony taking the feet and Colin taking the torso. There was a room with a bed not far off from there so they made their way, physician in tow.

When they managed to get him there, she moved to help remove his boots and socks. She was trembling but there was a mission to be had here.  She’d spent most of the last year grieving in one way or another and she would spend more of it doing the same but for now she needed to keep it together.

“Help him with the rest of his clothes,” she ordered to her new husband, turning away to provide him a little modesty.

Colin did precisely as instructed, Anthony fetching extra blankets to keep their brother warm.   They were far too shell-shocked to offer much argument over what they should be doing.

When she turned around, the physician was mixing some ingredients in a mortar and then pouring it into a drink.

Benedict’s eyes were closed but the shift in the sound of her dress, made him open them again. He nodded through the pain, offering her a silent thank you for taking control of this.

“I want you all to leave me,” he said resolutely after a long moment.  It was the strongest his voice had been since this whole nightmare had began.  “He will let you know when it’s over.”

“I will not,” Penelope said firmly.

“We will not,” Colin chimed in.

“You will. You can’t deny a man’s last request,” he said trying to offer a weak smile.  The wince made it clear it was a struggle for him.  “Take her away from this.”

Colin and Anthony exchanged looks.  As men, they had no choice but to honor the request.

Penelope wasn’t going to go as easily.

“Your last request is denied,” she told him firmly.

“I’m going to miss that fire,” he murmured after the doctor gave him the concoction.  It was already starting to make him feel drowsy. Whatever words he had left would be slurred. His gaze moved between his brothers and then Penelope again. “I’ve loved you all.  Take care of each other and… the others. Go.”

Bridgeton men were not above overly sentimental moments but Anthony touched a hand to his shoulder and nodded as if to silently say he loved him too.  He then turned heel and left, following direction.

Colin followed suit, attempting to grab Penelope by hand at first but when she refused, he picked her up and outright carried her while she kicked and screamed to be allowed back down.  He didn’t put her down until they were all outside to where they could get fresh air.

While the men handled this with stoicism, she absolutely fell apart.  She crumbled into Colin’s arms, crying and screaming until her voice was gone.  She had known something bad was going to happen and now it had.

[poptimus-prime]

Here is what the kids call my highly disorganized, half-baked list of stuff that could have been done with Jack to make him a better character.

@yeetmetothehell I am sorry if you are disappointed by my ideas.

“Optimus was more like...Jack.” OK…so show us that.

In my opinion...Jack seems like he was intended to be written to be almost a parallel to Orion’s journey to becoming Optimus Prime, at least how he is used in the plot. Jack is described as “smart and responsible”, which can also be read as “hardworking and responsible” and really this can be achieved in narratively using a few points, IMO:

Long hours in his room/the library studying outside of work and school. 

Filling out the background of the garage more with sketches/print outs of motorcycle blueprints (to keep the idea that Jack really wants a motorcycle and show hints of extreme dedication, but they’re kept in the garage rather than his room to metaphorically show that distance he’s put between himself and what he wants)

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too fast” (This will be discussed more later but TL;DR “I’ll handle the electric bill this month, Mom”)

Somewhat fragile work/school/life balance that Jack somehow perfectly maintained before meeting the team

Orion was very physically passive. Jack seems to be intended to be written as passive but it comes off as an apathetic reluctance that Orion doesn’t possess (Orion may not believe in violence but he clearly wasn’t unwilling to communicate his thoughts; it’s how he got the title of Prime in the first place.) However, Orion had to learn to become more outspoken over time probably, so we can keep him as being aloof/reluctant at the start of the series.

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too Fast”

It’s no secret Jack came from a nonconventional home; June is very explicitly portrayed as a single mother with a dad nowhere in the picture. However the situation surrounding Mr. Darby is unknown. The way June talks about it makes me personally feel like Jack’s dad either ran out or divorced June and doesn’t bother with his kid. Dysfunction in the family really just goddamn changes you TBH. (can confirm bc hi, I come from a dysfunctional home) Sometimes you just grow up super fast. Jack probably spent his childhood missing his mom as she worked shifts at the hospital and seeing how lonely and hurt she was. He maybe went out and got a job the first day he could and helps with smaller bills (“I’ll handle the electric bill this month.”), or maybe other expenses like groceries and his own phone bill. June probably makes enough to comfortably support her and her son, especially given her job and the cost of living in rural ass desert Nevada. But Jack still does this anyways--it’s how he copes with his issues after what happened with his dad. Doubling down and trying to be what he thinks is the bigger man because his dad couldn’t be fucked. 

This would make the disruption him letting the bots into his life creates more staggering; June doesn’t expect her son to pay bills, but the sudden change in behavior (skipping out on work) would be a cause for concern because sudden shifts like that are Usually Signs that Something is Very Wrong. Especially because Jack is usually responsible and open with his mom; he would have told her if he was gonna cut hours at work, theoretically.

Jack feels like he has to constantly put his own wants aside to contribute to his household. Even if June doesn’t force this expectation upon him, it’s a feeling that he will have, especially if he watched his dad just abandon him and June. Maybe he has resentment towards his dad for this and that is causing some anger he’s keeping tightly under wraps? And maybe the bots give him an excuse to do something he actually wants to do for once or some excitement in his life and that’s why he goes along with it? Lots of options, people!

Clothing Choices: The Hoodie™

You are going to have to deal with me being a whore for costuming choices and what they can mean. The show has a problem with the humans wearing the same shit every time they’re on screen and I’d love to rant about all of them (yeah yeah I get it saving money) but I’m focusing on Jack right now. Give Jack a hoodie 2020. A grey one or some other dull and drab color. And make him actually always wear the hood (except like in scenes where he is working bc workplace dress codes obviously) As time progresses, the drab hoodie is changed to a more vibrant color, but he still always has the hood over his head. And then, at a pivotal moment, the boy takes the hood off. (You could even throw in Miko cracking a joke about Jack actually having hair if you really wanted TBH.) Why this? The narrative is that Jack is constantly holding himself under wraps because of his self-imposed responsibilities. As he starts to become more into his own, he decides to express himself more with brighter colors, but still has some reservations. When he takes the hoodie off, that’s when he’s fully realized himself in this process and thus completes the parallel.

Actually make him interact with Optimus in a meaningful manner.

Arcee can still be his guardian in the field and I think working on strengthening their relationship is vital. But also, if you’re gonna make Jack the confidante holding the key to Vector Sigma, there actually has to be...meaningful interaction. Optimus asking Jack what he’s so engrossed in reading and Jack explaining the book he’s got with passion before shutting himself up and saying “it’s kinda dumb though” or something. And Optimus just responds “I don’t think it’s dumb, tell me more.” Coaxing him towards more self-discovery and expression. Optimus maybe sees more of his old self in Jack and starts attempting to be a quasi-paternal figure without really thinking about it because he is, after all, Dadimus. Jack maybe lashes out about how he doesn’t need Optimus to be his dad and that makes the space between them tense for a while. Eventually Jack comes to apologize and maybe there’s an important Talk.. Just a few ideas I will expand on later. I feel like forgiveness and lack thereof is a good theme--I know I was held back for a long time because of how convoluted the concept of forgiveness is with family.

The Character Arc

 So, what would Jack’s character development throughout the events of season 1 be? My basic idea for a Jack arc that mirrors Orion’s self-realization and coming into Prime-hood without being a carbon copy is essentially: 

Jack is portrayed as a responsible, hardworking, studious teenager who constantly turns down chances for fun and excitement to handle his responsibilities. Has clear dreams for after high school and for his own personal life; but he’s constantly contemplating and changing his mind about whether he will or not because he’s extremely dedicated to helping his mom and all that. However, he still gets super curious about Arcee and gets swept up by her in the Vehicon chase, and he still has whispers of courage and protects Raf during the altercation. He first tries to ditch Team Prime because he’s concerned about his responsibilities, but eventually returns because he’s drawn to the opportunity to finally go buck wild for once in his life (even if he spends his time being hesitant about everything.) His hesitancy and dedication to severe self-imposed responsibility is a result of his inability to move on from what his dad did to him and his mom; he’s under the impression that he 1) Has to forgive someone to move on, and thus 2) He cannot move on because his dad isn’t there to bother to say sorry and take on his position as Dad. In essence, he becomes less the character telling Miko to stop and more the character being pushed by Miko to be more adventurous. In lulls in action, Optimus starts to take interest in him when he notices his constant hesitance to express himself and is just being dragged along rather than going willingly. Has a conversation with him about a book Jack’s reading, which Jack attempts to shut down because it’s “dumb and childish,” but Optimus urges him to continue. The idea that June knows about Arcee as a bike and Jack explaining that he bought a motorcycle as a fixer-upper for dirt cheap can stay. (He probably still is saving up for his motorcycle.)

The longest portion, after Optimus starts interacting with Jack on a level of bonding and gently coaxing him to be himself— Jack becomes more outspoken and he’s shown as curious, analytical, quick witted, and has a deep sense of justice. Being young and craving a childhood lost to his trauma and self-imposed obligations to help his mom with running the household, he suddenly starts spending more time at the base pursuing hobbies and going on missions rather than studying and work, which concerns June. She tries to press Jack, and is met with what can be described as typical teenage headbutting that gets progressively worse. She grounds Jack after the fight, MECH takes her, the rescue happens. (That makes sense to stay in this narrative IMO.) Around this time, Optimus has effectively started becoming Jack’s own Alpha Trion—teaching him things that he’s picked up that he may feel apply to Jack. Jack interprets one of these lessons as Optimus trying to be “dad” and he’s not having it. Makes it VERY clear that he does not need a dad (“didn’t need one before and sure as fuck don’t need one now”) and definitely snaps at Optimus, which then pushes his progress in the arc closer to the end. He eventually comes back to apologize, and Optimus forgives him. He and Optimus have a heart-to-heart about one of the hardest lessons Optimus has had to learn—how to let go of the past without forgiving those who have hurt you and refuse to make amends, so that you may determine your own future. It’s very clear he’s talking about Megatron, even though he never says his name. Jack takes this lesson to heart.

His final bit of development before the hood removal thing probably happens during the events of “Rock Bottom” and reinforces that hard lesson, right when he’s faced with the option to off Megatron. Maybe there’s some taunting about how Optimus preaches softness and forgiveness too much when Jack refuses to kill him. Jack gets angry, and he’s about to fucking do it. But then he stops, takes a breath, and says “Optimus doesn’t preach forgiveness, he preaches moving on from those who refuse to move on themselves. He will never forgive you, but he’s learned to live on despite what you’ve done.” Soon after this, when Megatron comes to the base, Jack takes off his hood, stares Megatron right in the face, and says “This is not forgiveness, Megatron. Don’t you forget that.” Later, when Optimus gives him the key, he tells him something along the lines of “you have grown since we’ve met, Jack, and even though there is still a long way for you to go...” he hands Jack the key. “...Remember that even I am a work in progress.”

Anyways this is again, half-baked. And needs lots of polishing. But it’s something.

[dansnaturepictures]

Quick note about a change of format to my end of year wildlife/photography highlights of the year blogs

People I have known for a long time on Twitter and Tumblr may recall that at the end of the year I always do a series of blogs exploring my highlights of the year and marking the year that has just unfolded in my wildlife and photography hobby. What many won’t know as much it that I write the blogs up over the course of the year, getting into a pattern year on year of starting as early as March/April and adding to the various highlights after each wildlife/photography trip from a certain point in the year onwards or this year with working from home and all the extra wildlife/photography trips on lunch breaks and in evenings making additions weekly on a weekend morning.

With the photos I produce on days going up and up and me branching out into other areas of wildlife a lot I have found over the past few months whilst laying the foundations for the 2021 edition of the highlights blogs, which I already expanded to fifteen themes from the usual ten based on working from home still and all the extra things to write about, this has taken up quite a bit of time and has started to feel a little chore like, and like I was repeating information already posted about to go out at a later date. Over the years whilst I have immensely enjoyed creating and sharing the highlights blogs, I do think they have got a bit long. So with whilst I don’t know how much or whether I will continue working from home going forward, signs that my high photo yields and multi bands of my interest being something that seems here to stay, I have decided to revamp the highlights blogs and make them a more reflective and concise exploration of the highlights and key points of my wildlife and photography year in December.

I shall detail the new format below, however since March this year I have spent considerable time writing up 12 so far of the intended highlights posts in the usual format for this December. I do not want these to go to waste and do want the format to have a swansong, but whilst I am still working from home daily the time it takes to contribute to the blogs on the days is heightened so I do need one less thing to do which not writing up and making notes to write up the bits each evening will allow for immediately. So in December and due to amount actually the tail end of November too this year is my plan it will be a hybrid highlights blogs, the 12 blogs (and some of them have part one and two so are the same theme) in the old format charting experiences in my year from January to early August, then (as I’ll still probably write up these new posts each November or bits of spare time from the summer onwards and time to go out) some of (eight maximum) the new format of things that happened August-November. There may be some currently shorter bogs where I combine the two a little. Plus the usual introduction blog on the first night which will also explain.

So in the new format I will strip it back to basics of what I wanted to do when I first had the idea to do blogs on my ten highlights of my wildlife and photography year in 2013. From next year, I will do ten blogs in which I will mention ten key moments of my year on a different theme. The themes will mostly be an area of my interest so birds, butterflies, mammals, flowers, etc. with also a summary of holidays that year and one for ten key day trips and there may be different themes year to year. Within the blogs it will just be a little bit of text about each highlight/moment, a picture I’ve taken in the photoset corresponding to it or for some a picture from the same day if more applicable (I may see a rare bird and have it as a moment and not photograph it for example), and also a link to the or a daily blog I did about the moment at the time. In addition, I will also have a summary/my wildlife and photography year in numbers type highlughts blog that may say some of the key themes etc. of the year and will definitely have summaries of how my bird and butterfly year lists went comparing to previous years, key themes and journeys and also the list of my key bird and butterfly species seen that year possibly mimicking the wildlife sightings summary in my daily blog more. I don’t want to make this too long and these are the main two year lists of mine so will spark most for me to talk about but there is potential for it branch into my other year lists. This is one of the bits I enjoy doing most in the highlight blogs each year and a bit I think I can keep concise.

These eleven posts will be alongside my end of year photo tweets on Dans_Pictures with four of my favourite photos across categories that I took that year which I do in December.

So like I said at the end of this year, it’ll be twelve with some quite long posts about different highlights of my year then eight with this new format, I shall just call them Wildlife/Photography highlights posts and not specify a number. But for the twelve original format ones I will call them The story of... and the other eight will say 10 key or 10 standout... to vary things maybe. 

This feels very much like when I ended the highlights blogs’ former Twitter partner my photo of the year and week choosing in 2017 in that it was becoming chore like and taking up a lot of time. However for these what is playing on my mind slightly is each December I am humbled by the interactions I get during these. So for the latter half of this year’s posts and going forward I will still call them my Wildlife/Photography highlights blogs of the year for those that may enjoy this and that’s why and with me being how I am too and liking to send the years out with a bang and reflect they had to stay in some format. I hope the new format allows me to be more considerate of my year to help me remember it even more rather than just chucking endless bits of text together late at night after a busy evening of processing and uploading photos. I am clear that working from home every day heightens what I have now, but prior to that the photo yields increasing and exploring other areas of nature were happening maybe just to a slower rate and I felt for years the highlights blogs were getting a bit long and repetitive to my daily blogs. So I think if in 2022 I was to be back in the office fully, this format change would still be useful. I think this move shall also make me able to perhaps pump more time into my daily blogs and consider different ways to write things or even on busy nights whether I need to do them the same night etc. as I still love and am inspired by doing this and can possibly free up time for more wildlife/photography posts on subjects other than what I saw on my day in bits of downtime.

Thanks once again for all your support for my posts, photos and tweets.

[paganinpurple]

A Feline’s Family - MariChat May 2019

Tired. So tired. It's only 10pm. Work is killing me, I'm sure of it. 

If I die, work sus.

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3

Chapters (If there’s no link, it’s not written yet)

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

Day 23 - Pillows and Blankets

Just because he wasn’t Chat Noir all the time didn’t mean he wasn’t Chat Noir all the time.

There were certain things about having spent so long as Chat before he had let Marinette and then her parents in on his secret that seemed to have skewed his appreciation for some of the same things that Plagg loved.

Soft pillows beneath his head, warm blankets around him. Cosy material against his skin and a delicious spot of sun shining down on his torso from the skylight above him.

Warmth.

The blessed warmth that had finally returned to him in full. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Marinette was the source of most of that warmth. He glanced over at her sleeping face –relaxed and gorgeous– despite the spot of drool currently threatening to drip from the corner of her mouth. He gave a soft chuckle and carefully wiped it away with his thumb, causing her to nuzzle her face further into the pink pillow they both shared. He carefully shifted a bit closer to her, gingerly reaching back out to stroke her arm as he considered how she would react if she woke up with him slinking into her snug little bubble.

He thought back to how timid she’d seemed last night when she’d first suggested they share the bed. Even though she had appeared more relaxed than he was when they had first gotten in, he wasn’t sure how much of her confidence was down to her delayed illness and the related lack of inhibitions. Maybe if she woke up feeling renewed, his presence would become a shock.

He balanced himself precariously between the pros and cons of her waking up in a marvellous cuddle-puddle with him. The pros involved the enchanting warmth, the scent of her hair and her supple slightness against his own body; the cons, his own deep-burrowing insecurities and possibly an outrageous physical reaction from the startled girl as she woke.

He was just recalling how much her embarrassed shoves and other attacks had been escalating lately when she surprised him with a violent shiver from beneath the duvet. His arm was wrapped around her with haste and he swore the movement of it blurred before his very eyes. Delicately, he cradled her against him, leaving plenty of space on her side of the bed. That way, he reasoned, she wouldn’t feel trapped if she woke up and instinctively tried to pull away from him in shock.

He felt a tug at his chest and glanced down at the small hand twisting into his shirt lightly, sincere affection once again melting through him as a wave of love with a slight hint of embarrassment flooded his mind. She continued her assault on the fabric, frowning slightly when she didn’t seem better able to grip the material to pull him closer. Instead, she slunk into the last available sliver of space between them, nuzzling his collar bone with her nose. Her only sound was a slight grumble when his sudden shaky breath disturbed the hair hanging against her face.

“M-Marinette?” he said breathily.

Another sharp shiver was his only answer and this time it was followed by a continuous shuddering as her body fought to warm off the invading chill seeping into her very bones.

He tried to reach above him to grab the huge cat pillow she kept on her bed, hoping to position it against her back like a second body to keep all of her heat from escaping, but her hold on his shirt tightened as if he were trying to desert her and she didn’t agree with his departure at all.

He quickly examined the death-grip of her fingers and made a half-hearted attempt to pry them away before the whine that left her throat had him abandoning that idea in an instant.

“Plagg!” he whisper-shouted with urgency.

“Hmm?” grumbled the familiar voice of his kwami sleepily from somewhere on the bookshelf above his head.

“I need to transform.”

“Wh-?” Plagg cut off with a yawn before popping his head over the edge of the shelf, “What time is it? I never heard the akuma alert go off.”

Adrien glared at the tiny creature. “It’s not an akuma and it’s not even that early!” he said in annoyance. His eyes widened and trailed the area around him for a beat before he added, “Probably.”

“Then why…?” Plagg said, trailing off with a grin as he noticed the way Marinette’s fingers were attempting to infuse themselves into the fibres of his clothing. “Oh, I see. Isn’t this the kind of thing you’d usually kill to have happening between you two?”

“Not when she’s freezing, and I can’t move to reach anything to help her!” he spluttered indignantly, averting his eyes from the smug little god.

With a brief shrug from the kwami in response, Adrien called for his transformation, the fabric Marinette was holding onto disappearing in the process of becoming Chat Noir and releasing him from her sleepy constraint.

She fumbled for him and in turn he moved quickly, pulling the duvet up to her chin and tucking it in beneath her back to trap in as much heat as he could. The cat pillow was snuggled in against her back as well, another defence against any pesky draughts that might try to attack with a chill.

He had barely finished his little nest when a small hand clutched at his bell and hauled him back down to the mattress. The high-pitched yelp that he expelled would have been hilarious if he’d heard it from anyone else, and he was extremely thankful that Plagg was vocally-challenged right now because of his transformation.

Refusing to give him an opportunity to remove himself from her clutches, Marinette unleashed another sleeping sneak attack and folded both of her arms around his middle. Her hands met somewhere around the small of his back and from the feel of it, she had interlocked them to keep him from pulling away again.

“Purr,” she sighed dreamily before a scowl slowly began to adorn her face instead. He smiled as she began to gently nudge his chest with her temple.

Taking his cue, he concentrated until he could feel his chest rumble and a gentle hum accompanying it. Relaxing himself once the purr had become instinctive, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed again, his lashes feathering against his cheeks, and found himself drifting off to sleep once more.

*

Eyelids flickered and twitched as a strange sound reached his ears.

Chat opened his heavy lids again to the sight of dark raven locks and caught the overpowering scent of flour in the air, but he was no closer to understanding why he had woken this time. With a smile, he buried his nose in Marinette’s dark hair and that strange sound from before repeated again.

With a wrinkled brow he slowly dragged his head from the pillow to see if he could spy a source and whipped round when he saw someone from the corner of his eye.

At the foot of the bed sat Marinette’s mother, her eyes dewed, hands clasped over her heart against her floury apron. Her lips were turned up in an amused smirk and when she saw him staring at her in horror, Chat heard the sound again, as yet another muffled chuckle escaped her.

“Sabine!” he wobbled, “I can explain! I-”

“Shush! My goodness, don’t wake her!” she said, palms out towards him in an attempt to calm him down.

“Huh?,” he whispered, perplexed, “I don’t understand. Aren’t you mad?”

…

Well, he’d never been on the receiving end of that look before.

Sabine often used a unique way of alerting Marinette or Tom to the fact that they were being ridiculous over something trivial that they had managed to build up in their head, and it was unbelievably simple. She would simply give them the most deadpan look she could muster, face still and unimpressed. Then, after she had held it for several seconds to make her point, her left eyebrow would raise the most miniscule amount, like a non-verbal version of a sarcastic, “Really?”

That exact eyebrow ascension was being directed at him right now and Chat had never felt quite this stupid before – though for what, he wasn’t entirely sure. It was also kind of amazing how Sabine could make him feel that way, yet never once make him doubt that she loved him as if he were her own son. His own father had often made him doubt his love for him, even back before his mother had gone missing. Back when everything had been “good” at home and magic jewellery was but a twinkle in his imagination.

“Uh, sorry?” he told the woman, feeling like he needed to explain his reasoning, regardless of how sketchy it might seem, “I’m in her bed. We’re not even supposed to be sharing a room anymore, and we’re sharing a bed right now.”

The look never faltered as she continued to silently question his intelligence.

“Not that I want you to be angry, but isn’t that how a mom is meant to be when she finds out something like this?”

Her facial wargame was interrupted when Marinette shivered suddenly and cuddled in tighter to Chat’s loosened embrace to rebalance her dropping temperature. The action reminded him that he still hadn’t explained the reason behind the situation, something he intended to rectify immediately.

“We caught colds,” he summed up, “It’s warmest up here so we decided to share the heat. It’s never happened before, and it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Sabine snorted in a very Marinette-ish way, before a smirk appeared on her face. “Never?” she asked.

Chat felt his face redden more steadily with every second. “We’ve never shared a bed before,” he said, voice tremulous and weak.

”Well, that’s a surprise,” she answered, her eyes at once expanding in shock, “Tom and I were sure the two of you must have been, given how comfortable you are with sharing your personal space during battles and patrols.”

“What?”

“In particular, that picture Nadja’s network got during that little heatwave we had made me think cuddle naps were a normal thing.”

“That was before we knew our identities!” he squeaked, remembering how much Ladybug had lamented dozing off against his chest after a reporter had snapped them in the couple-y position. The questions hadn’t stopped for months.

“Oh? And has something changed since then? …Really?”

Glancing down at the sleeping enchantress next to him, Chat wondered if Sabine might have a point. Had things changed? Part of him hoped so. After all, Ladybug had claimed not to have any feelings beyond friendship for him back then.

Buy Me A Coffee?

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 20

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

Sam moved you to the south tower. The constant blood-curdling screams echoing throughout the halls of the castle have perked interest, and gossip has spread like wildfire. While far fetched tales of Sam and his brutality have always been whispered in the shadows, the stories have evolved. In these latest tales, Sam was so unhappy that his wife gave him a daughter instead of a son, that he had you locked away in the tower, where you’re slowly going insane.

While Sam is dealing with rumors and a desperate search for your would-be murderer, you’re unaware that life is going on around you. It’s been nearly a month since you began the change and it’s proved to be a slower, more painful process than usual.

Ellen was sent home to Lebanon by the man who helped Sam survive his own change. She’s assisted in the transformation of hundreds of wolves, but you’re proving to be one of her more challenging cases.

-

"How is she?" Sam lingers in the hallway outside the open door to your room.

"She's alive." Ellen and Sam both wince as a horrific scream cries out.

Sam's eyes flutter closed. He's hardly able to handle the idea of you in such constant, long term pain. While he wants nothing more than for you to survive this transition, he's also doubtful you'll come out on the other side the same person he knew before.

"Her bones started their first break this morning," Ellen explains, crossing her arms over her belly. "Two ribs and her left arm. This will be the worst of it. If she can survive this, I have faith she'll be fine."

"I remember what it felt like." Sam gulps, uncomfortable with the memory.

During the change, long before a wolf ever shifts under the fat moon, the bones realign themselves. Part of this process involves the breaking and healing of nearly every bone in one's body. He can vividly recall the sound of his fingers snapping, one by one and the spine curling pain that accompanied it. There was nothing to ease the agony and he wished every moment that he could die.

You're having an altogether different experience. You haven't been coherent since you burst back to life on the funeral slab. Ellen has become increasingly concerned the longer you go without speaking or being able to communicate. You’ve been reduced to nothing more than base instincts, and suffering through unending torture.

"How is the child?" Ellen asks, trying her best to ignore the constant string of nonsensical babbling as you sink further into delirium.

"It’s been difficult. She’s not gaining weight as fast as the midwife would like. She cries...all the time."

"I'll find someone," Ellen nods in understanding. "A wet nurse from our pack. Your daughter has your blood, it's possible she needs milk from one of us to satisfy her."

"She needs her mother," he retorts, hands balling into fists at his side.

"Yes, but it won't do us any good to dwell on what we can’t have." Ellen leans back into the room, checking. "Are you going to sit with her today?"

"I don't have the stomach for it. She doesn't know I'm here and I don’t think I can handle listening to her bones snap." Nausea settles into Sam's gut. "Watch over her and update me straight away with any developments."

"Of course," Ellen assures him, watching as he strides back down the hallway.

Sam feels overwhelming guilt. He should stay with you, it's what a good husband would do. But he can't bear to see you like this anymore. It's been months of you tied to a bed, writhing and crying while he's helpless to do anything about it. He simply can't take another moment.

Six Weeks Later

The world is nothing more than fire and pain. Two thoughts have consumed every waking moment for as long as you can remember. It seems there was no before or after, only the here and now. And yet, there's a change, a shift from spine curling pain to a black void. There's nothing and you wonder if you're in heaven, hell, or the limbo in between.

Then a voice, muted and hollow.

Another voice, this one familiar. The sounds echo and reverberate, slowly becoming clearer and clearer until at once everything snaps into focus.

It's a man, no, two men.

"What are you doing in here!" A strong voice shouts, filled with anger.

"I've stayed away long enough," the second man answers, just as agitated. "I came to check on her."

"This is your fault. She wouldn't be in this position if it wasn't for you."

"I did what I thought was best. She was strong, I thought she'd make the change."

"She's been like this for weeks. She's an empty shell, a lifeless body in a bed. She suffered and now she sleeps, likely for the rest of her life."

"That was never what I intended."

There's a tingling in your stomach, warm comfort that turns you into jelly. You've not felt any comfort for an eternity, but the closer the voices get to you, the more the warm, satisfied feeling grows. You fight to open your eyes, mustering every last ounce of strength you rally until...one...two...three...and open your eyes.

The voices you heard belong to the two men having a heated argument next to the bed you're lying in. There's no context, you're not sure of anything, including who you are. Your mind is a blank slate, but what you do know is that as they argue back and forth, they're getting closer and closer. And the feeling is expanding, radiating out until you're vibrating with a strange pleasure from head to toe.

"Whhh," you make a strangled noise, your throat so dry, tongue so stiff that words won't form. They don't hear you, still carrying on with their spat. "Whh!" you grunt again, louder this time, summoning the strength to lift a shaking arm.

The taller of the two men sees you now, his expression stilling as he goes silent. There was anger in his face before, but now he's wide eyes, staring at you in shock.

"My God," he breathes, pushing the other man out of the way and climbing onto the mattress to sit next to you. "You're awake."

You look from him to the other man, now frozen in place, his eyes locked on you.

"She needs water," the man throws up a hand and a woman appears in your view, filling a cup and rushing to hand it to him. "Here," the man helps you sit up and places the cup at your lips; you sputter but drink as much as you can.

"What's happened?" Another woman enters the room. She looks at both the men, then to you. "Thank the Lord! I didn't think we'd ever see her open her eyes again."

"She's awake now," the stranger sitting on the bed reaches out, soothing your hair back and you pull away. "It's alright. You're going to be just fine."

"Do you understand him?" The older woman stands at the foot of the bed. "Understand his words?"

You nod yes, looking wildly from person to person. Who are these people? What’s happened to you?

"Do you know who he is?" she asks, gesturing to the tall man.

You stare at the man, his eyes looking earnestly into yours. His smell is mildly pleasing but other than that you have no earthly idea.

"N-no," you stammer and shake your head.

The man takes in a sharp breath, flinching as if he's been slapped.

-

Sam's heart simultaneously swells and breaks at the same time. His wife is staring at him as if he's a stranger off the streets. You're bewildered, conscious for the first time in months but seemingly devoid of any true connection to anything, or anyone around you.

"That's alright," Ellen places a hand on your foot, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been through a terrible trauma. I've seen this before." She looks at Sam. "Her memories will return eventually."

"I don't..." you start, unsure of what you even want to convey. You're confused and overwhelmed...but there's something familiar. A scent that keeps growing stronger.

"It's alright. We're so happy you're awake." Ellen smiles. "Can you tell us what your name is?"

You blink, looking down at your hands.

"I don't know." Tears pool in your eyes and Sam wants to crawl into the bed and hold you, but you clearly aren't ready for that.

"I'll help you remember," Sam nods, swallowing his emotion. "You're my wife. You've been sick for a long time, but you're healed now."

"Your wife," you whisper, studying his face. He's handsome but there's no recognition. "What about him?" You point to Dean.

"You should leave," Sam turns to his brother. "You have no place here."

"Fine." Dean's jaw locks.

"Wait," you interrupt, all attention snapping back to you. You lean closer, closing your eyes and drawing in a breath. "Please don't make him go."

Sam bites back to the urge to scream; to choke the life out of his brother.

"He just..." you trail off, staring at your husband’s brother.

"He what, sweetheart?" Ellen asks, coming around the side of the bed.

"I, um, I feel, he...the way he smells ...it's soothing. Can he stay?"

Sam snorts a dry abrupt humorless grunt. He knew this was a possibility but he hoped he would be spared this.

"What?" Dean looks from you to Sam, genuinely perplexed. "She's just confused. He is your husband."

"I'm sorry," you drop your eyes into your lap, looking away from both men in shame.

"What did you think would happen, Dean?"

"You claimed her, Sam. I only turned her."

"Do you see my mark?" Sam points at your throat, practically hissing with fury. "My claim healed when her body turned. Your bite is the only mark on her." Sam stands up, shoulders rolling as Dean steps back in tandem. "She's mine. My wife, the mother of my child."

"Do you hear me arguing?" Dean cocks his head. "I had no intention of becoming her Alpha. I was trying to save her for you, Sam. I did this for you."

"Get out!" Sam shoves Dean hard as he can. It's a challenge he'd normally return with equal fervor, but not now. Sam is defending his territory and Dean's overstepped his bounds, good intentions be damned.

[vivdunye]

present day, present time

and you don't seem to understand

fabled adages of science

so i was watching the snyder cut of justice league the other morning, i couldn't really begin to tell you why other than i needed 4 hours of background noise . but i tuned in at one point when the fictional super Israeli, wonder woman, narrated a scene explaining an alien technology "that was so advanced that it almost seemed like sorcery", and wouldn't yknow, that's a real concept actually, i recognized it immediately as clark's third law:

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

it's perhaps the most well known and oft quoted of the three, but i always felt like arthur c. clark's first 2 laws don't ever get quite enough love . i've been thinking heavily about the first law lately:

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

i've been thinking about it in relation to this one quote from wernher von braun that i always liked:

Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation. Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death.

many people are afraid of death; of ceasing the awareness of life, because they don't know what will happen to themselves after, where do they go if anywhere? it's much more nebulous in the secular sense if you haven't a construct for the afterlife already . i've been thinking about death more and more often lately to a worrying degree . however, scientific thought for all its clinical detachment from all things spiritual has strangely enough always felt like the perfect module for contemplating the metaphysical . so i decided to do some research .

i want to recall right now thomas edison's first intended use for the phonograph . edison had originally envisioned the phonograph primarily as a means of preserving the voices of loved ones after death . he later went on to try and develop a "ghost box" or "spiritphone" . this device would allow humans to communicate directly with the dead . he was unsuccessful .

if hauntology has taught us anything, we technically do have ghost boxes now, but maybe not in the way edison intended or even predicted . we carry them everywhere and can check them anytime, channeling messages through them constantly . we actively become digital ghosts, online we are both present and absent . the present implodes with the past, we've over-documented everything so now we can experience an instant nostalgia . today's future becomes archaic, we live in the archive to try and remember what the future once was .

'haunted' and 'futuristic' become one and the same .

by this token i'm reminded also by transhumanism . as the technological singularity fast approaches, as progress charges forward at a constantly increasing speed, current estimates posit the 2040s as the point in which technological improvements will occur at a constantly self-replicating rate . in the time between now and then, transhumanism and the eventual merging of human consciousness with machinery are theorized outcomes of technological progress . one day we might be able to leave the shackles of our human bodies and transcend our physical forms as a joined digital consciousness .

and in relation to this i also think now of clark's second law

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

through the wired

this is the stage on which the anime Serial Experiments Lain is set . a story, that while constructed on the patchwork of fiction, is nevertheless symbolic of certain phenomena based in reality .

also i apologize if it wasn't apparent that this post was going to be about Lain . im lainposting boys

the first few episodes exist to misdirect the viewer right from the beginning . and only by returning to these episodes having thought through the rest of the show, does their purpose become clear . the first episode, aptly titled "Layer 01: Weird" , is meant to show us exactly one thing, that lain is fucking weird . we can't tell what she's thinking, we can't tell what she's doing, and that's exactly how everyone around her feels . lain is totally and completely disconnected, she doesn't keep up with current events at school, she doesn't communicate with her family, near as we can tell she has no actual interests besides her stuffed animals and totally phasing out of reality. the inciting incident of the series happens when someone tries to make a connection with lain, and that person happens to be dead...

or at least there body is dead, their consciousness seems to have escaped into the wired . lain's decision to pursue this connection is what lead's her to ask her father for a new navi (the series' name for a personal computer) and that's all that really happens in this episode . coming back to it from later episodes we know that lain is probably thinking a lot throughout this episode . the decision to not entreat us to any of her thoughts is intentional, it is to make us feel distant from her as viewers, the same way that the world around her is distant . as lain forms connections throughout the series, so too, will we form a connection with her .

we do not know how much time has passed since then and the second episode, but whatever has happened lain has already developed a significant presence in the wired . this episode is tricky in its presentation as it doesn't make us privy to which things lain is lying about and which things she's honest about . in it we have lain talking to someone on her navi, she types sporadically in an encrypted language, and someone who looks just like her appears late one night in a night club downtown . while lain won't admit it to her classmates it's apparent at the end of the episode that it was her at the club all along . the key to understanding her actions throughout the episode is to realize she is trying to keep her existence in the wired and her existence in reality as separate entities . the realization she has by the end of the episode, which she uses to terrify a gunmen into suicide is that there is no escape from the wired, no matter where you are you are always connected .

made in the late-90s, Lain was quite ahead of its time . it predicted not only how in the early 2000s the internet would be regarded as a separate world where anonymity and personas reigned—it also predicted how the internet would eventually and inevitably overlap with the real world, once people in the real world realized that the internet is the real world . people have a tendency to see one part of themselves as their "true selves", whereas the parts they show to others are personas, they think of these things as separate when in reality a person is an amalgamation of all of their personas . lain tries to change her personas by dressing and acting differently from when she's in the wired-mode and in normal-mode, but she doesn't realize how people have been doing this way before the wired existed . her classmates are all 15 but they all pass for adults when they've dolled up and hit the club . if the characters in the show seem a bit young for their attitudes then you may not have met enough tech-savvy teenagers before . the purpose of this episode is to ultimately to prove to lain that the so-called real world and the wired are merely two layers of one reality, which couldn't be more true of the world today .

let there be light300pMTK. .

in mythology, psyche was the mortal princess who fell in love with and, eventually, married the god cupid; in religion and classical philosophy, psyche came to mean the human soul, and in the modern, literate world, it retains that meaning as the human spirit; in freudian analysis, psyche refers to the totality of the human mind: the id, ego and superego .

every meaning of psyche is distinctly human: a human princess who achieves godhood, the soul or mind of an individual . if previous episodes introduced the blurring of the real world with the wired, then episode three; "Layer 03: Psyche" is the episode that starts to blur human identity online and offline . one doesn’t even have to venture into the wired to ask what is human .

by this point we know that lain is definitely up to something . at this stage it's hard to tell what, but all we get are little glimpses into her actions . she still seems to be hiding a lot from the world around her and from the viewer in turn . ironically, lain's blank-faced silence and response to the questions of those around her it's own incrimination . when a police officer tells her to speak up (regarding the gunman's suicide) even if she had nothing to do with it, he doesn't realize she's being silent precisely because she does have something to do with it . but her deer-in-the-headlights persona gets her out of it .

the lain of the wired and the lain of reality are slowly starting to mesh into one whole . it remains difficult to interpret the physical existence of "other lain" so to speak, and the show refuses to outright show her playing that character . at the least, we do get to see lain access the wired in all its chaotic glory and she does begin to take an active interest in expanding her knowledge as she learns about and installs the "Psyche drive", a computer circuit that lain procures in hopes of it enhancing her computer's processing power . on the smaller scale, when lain applies the psyche processor to her navi, she is installing a spirit or soul, an animating element, to her machine . notably, the psyche does not replace the main processor; psyche augments the main processor, interpreting the data that flows through it . the soul is not simply the brain, it is an elevated consciousness or meta-self. by this point in the series lines become blurred and the lains begin to merge (hehe) . all of this is set against the backdrop of lain trying to decide if she should remain in the physical world or fully integrate in the wired . she hears one voice telling her that death feels amazing, and god exists in the wired, that there is nothing left for lain in this world . however, lain begins to establish a connection with her classmate alice, saying her name out loud and commiting it to memory for the first time, alice asks why her friends are not more shaken up after watching someone shoot himself in the head the previous day . it's almost as though lain is clinging to alice as an excuse to stay in the physical world out of fear for changing over . this all sets the seeds for what eventually grows throughout the series .

i want to recall the final meaning of the word “psyche". that the word also meant “butterfly,” which is how the greeks imagined the soul to appear . no doubt the symbolism of a creature that begins as one thing and transforms into another is not lost on us here .

every event serves to emphasize the existence of one's own personal reality, and as individuals from all others, we desire a place to belong . however that too is an egotistical concept . in order for there to be a mutual understanding, it is necessary to recognize here and now, like the brain synapses, we are all—in a logical yet chaotic manner—connected .

each is seperate—yet they are one . by connecting, humanity gains first awareness of its function as a seed . and by connecting a human no longer remains a mere endpoint, a "terminus", but becomes a junction to another point, having won the right to continue itself . in a sense, the ability to connect is the ability to continue . this not only applies to the connection of axial coordinates but temporal coordinates as well . therefore, at the time when a conscious, intentional connection is made, surely the dead will rise from there intended place, appearing at the time coordinate of the connection's origin .

in that moment, the realization will dawn that the time in which we inhabit our physical bodies is but the starting point of the connection, and the very meaning of possessing a physical body might be questioned .

we recognize we are connected .

serialize thyself .

[castielgeralt]

How to Study Plot and Character in Your Favorite Stories: 5 Easy Steps

What if I told you the best way to learn how to create amazing plots and characters in your own stories was by purposeful osmosis? First, of course, I might have to explain that “purposeful osmosis” means reading lots and lots of books and watching lots and lots of movies–and consciously studying what it is about them that works. With that explanation out of the way, chances are you’re in agreement. But chances are, you’re also not entirely sure how to actually make this happen. Just how do you figure out how to study plot and character in other people’s stories?

Not too long ago, Wordplayer K.M. Updike (she of the rad initials!) emailed me, asking:

[What is] your process for studying the plot, structure, character arcs, etc., of the books you read and the movies you watch? I’ve been wondering for a while how one goes about studying the writer’s work as they read/watch.

This is an excellent question. After all, it’s easy for Stephen King to say:

Don’t get me wrong: this is a tremendous piece of advice. But it’s also pretty vague.

That’s it? We just … read? And the answers will, what? Come to us?

Yes, actually. To some extent anyway. The more we read and watch good (and bad) stories, the better our own storytelling instincts will get–without our having to do even one thing more.

But in the interest of upping our game here, how about we do a few things more? Today, I’m going to give you an actionable plan for how to study plot and character (and lots more) in your favorite stories.

1. Start With an Action Plan

The first step in being purposeful is, of course, to have a purpose. Often, you may simply want to observe the books you read and the movies you watch generally, letting the story’s own strengths and weaknesses guide your study. But it can help you dig down deeper if you have a list of things you want to consciously pay attention to.

I recommend a short list. The shorter, the better, in fact.

Why? Because your brain can only keep track of so many tangents at once (says the woman with twenty tabs open in her browser). You’ll get better results if you focus on one or two primary elements or techniques at a time.

For example, lately, I’ve been concentrating on dialogue (both because it’s something I’m working on myself and because I’m planning a series of blog posts on dialogue for sometime next year). I watch the ebb and flow of dialogue, taking note of what works and what doesn’t. What’s the effect–and why did the author intend it?

This isn’t to say, of course, that you can’t also take note of anything interesting, in any category, that reveals itself. But only consciously follow certain rabbits down their holes.

2. Arm Yourself With Highlighters and Pens

Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic (Amazon affiliate link)

This is for serious studiers only. Seriously, I only do this one when I’m in full battle mode (e.g., like when I was dissecting Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, so I could write about its brilliant techniques in Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic).

This is where you’re going to want to divide your studying into a few more categories–one for each color of highlighter. Go through the book, highlighting appropriately, whenever you find an interesting passage. Write notes with abandon in the margins. Then, when you’ve finished, go through again and type up your notes, expanding on them to fully record your reactions and new knowledge.

I say this is only for serious studiers primarily because this is a fast track to interfering with reading-as-pure-pleasure (and also to making a mess of your paperbacks).

This is rigorous studying at its best and will require your full brain power. No reading-to-get-to-sleep when you’re doing this.

3. Break Down the Structure

The surest way to get a grasp on plot and story structure is by consciously breaking down the structure in books and movies–as I do regularly for the Story Structure Database. How do I do this?

Start with an easy shortcut: divide the total page count of a book or the total running time of a movie by eight. Why? Because the major structural moments happen at each eighth of the story:

1. Inciting Event (12%)

2. First Plot Point / End of the First Act (25%)

3. First Pinch Point (37%)

4. Midpoint / Halfway through the Second Act (50%)

5. Second Pinch Point (62%)

6. Third Plot Point / Beginning of Third Act (75%)

7. Climax (88%)

For movies, I use my handy dry-erase board notebook to note the approximate minute of each turning point, so I can easily watch the run time and take note of what’s happening.

For books, I use little Book Darts bookmarks to mark the appropriate page at each turning point.

This way, I’m not totally adrift within the story. I can watch the clock or the page count and know to be on the watch for the respective structural moment roundabout there.

This is a fabulous way to grasp story structure as a whole and, just as importantly, to understand how the various structural elements can manifest in vastly different ways from story to story.

You can study my many examples in the Story Structure Database.

4. Examine Your Reactions

Whenever you finish a story, give yourself a moment before rushing off to the next thing. Just sit there and think about your reactions to what you just experienced. Ask yourself:

How did the story make you feel?

What did you like about it?

What did you dislike?

Do you think it was an objectively good story?

Did you dislike it anyway? Why?

Do you think it was an objectively problematic or even bad story?

Did you like it anyway? Why?

Within the answers to these questions lies your greatest opportunity for growth as a writer. If you can distill your often nebulous feelings about a story down into logical facts about what made you feel that way, you will then be able to add other authors’ effective weapons to your own arsenal.

I use this technique after every story I read or watch. It’s where I get the ideas for fully half the posts on this site.

5. Transcribe the Prose

This trick is especially useful if you’re trying to crack the code of, not just great storytelling, but great writing. What is it about some authors’ prose that makes it sing so effortlessly and powerfully? The whole point of great prose is that it’s flawless: we’re not supposed to think about it, we’re not supposed to see the cracks where the pieces are joined together. If we saw the cracks, that would defeat the whole purpose.

As a result, simply reading great prose isn’t always the most effective way to learn how to write awesome prose of your own. What you need to do is sit down with a notebook and pen and a favorite book–and start transcribing passages. I recommend doing this longhand, with an actual pen, since this will slow you down and force you to think about and absorb each word and punctuation choice.

I used to do this every day, and it never failed to amaze me how it allowed me to suddenly see the building blocks the authors had used in crafting their prose. Their seemingly inimitable mastery of wordcraft was suddenly within my grasp. It was something I could learn–and that you can too!

Afraid Studying Will Ruin Your Reading? Don’t Be

Although you can learn from other authors, such as me, who break down stories and share what they’re learning in blogs and books, you’ll get more out of the experience by also doing it yourself. Start approaching your book reading and movie watching purposefully with an intent to logically identify and utilize the tools handed to you by authors you love.

But what if it ruins your reading and watching?

It’s true, it might. Some authors use these practices and find themselves growing hypecritical. But, frankly, it shouldn’t. The more I learn to identify how other authors are using the craft, the more I appreciate their stories. Give it a try. You’ll transform both your appreciation of stories in general and your own writing.

[freshlybakedspiderbread]

I brought up hanyang type 88 here and i said i’d explain, so here I am!!

okay so first off here’s a bunch of likely useful context about girls frontline. There is this feature in the game called digimind upgrade, or mod 3, where certain t-dolls can be upgraded past the normal maximum levels and stats, and at the same time gaining whole new abilities and also a new design. Basically a reinvention. There are like hundreds of playable characters in the game, and only a fraction will get mod 3s, typically the ‘main characters’ who are relevant to the major ongoing plot.

two things about getting a doll who has the ability to do digimind upgrade, to actually do that. One, is that it can be very costly in terms of in-game materials. like, maybe i just played the game wrong but I would have to grind for weeks in order to amass the materials to upgrade just one doll to mod 3. So even though by now there are dozens upon dozens of dolls who are capable of this feature, i’ve only actually done so with like, less than one dozen. A normal player probably has to be picky.

secondly, and this is the big one, every t-doll’s mod 3 comes with story cutscenes that become available for you to view upon upgrading them. Personally, i think most of the only worthwhile mod 3 stories are the ones that are associated with the actual major characters of the main story, especially since their upgrades actually happen in-canon and their mod 3 stories fill in blanks or otherwise expand upon the regular story chapters.

for the t-dolls who aren’t major characters that get digimind upgrades, their associated stories tend to follow a very basic pattern. They’re feeling like they are falling behind other T-Dolls in abilities or are otherwise experiencing a drop in confidence in their abilities, but then find the resolve in them to either change themselves or stand by an aspect of themselves, and this leads them to heading to the lab to get upgraded. obviously theres some nuances here and there depending on the character, but a lot of them, from what i saw, follow this basic pattern.

hanyang type 88 has a mod 3 but i certainly never wanted to see it. Firstly, using the feature at all takes up resources are kinda precious so i wasn’t just gonna use it on anyone. Secondly, she is just one of many one-off t-dolls that basically dont ever show up in any actual main story cutscenes or even funny events. Thirdly... you saw what she looked like in the linked post, i was in no rush to make use of her.

That being said, even if you don’t ever upgrade a t-doll, simply having them in your possession allows you to at least view the first of four parts of their mod 3 story, which nets you a small amount of those materials needed to see the rest (its a pretty fiendish system, huh o_O). I was lacking in some materials to upgrade a doll i cared about, so i just mucked around, eventually happened upon type88 again and decided that instead of just immediately feeding her to the furnace, I’d watch the first chapter of her mod 3 story. I watched it, it made me just curious enough to look further, and well. ...I got into it. Exactly what I got into, i shall now just elaborate and summarise the whole thing in my own way! Warning, it’s long!

(disclosure: my summary will bias towards my own preferred interpretation whenever any aspect is somewhat vague.)

The story starts with type 88, or as she is called by others in griffin base, Ai, working her shift in the base’s cafe, because what else would she be doing.

i hate looking at her! Anyway, its just a pleasant peaceful day and Ai is taking the logistic person, kalina’s order when suddenly in the middle of a conversation, Ai freezes in place and starts making worrying sounds.

kalina here and the t-dolls present in the cafe are concerned, and talk about how Type88 has actually been crashing like this more and more frequently lately, yet has not reported any of this to the maintenance crew despite the advice of her friends. They try rebooting her on the spot, but it has an even more concerning effect, because she starts erratically acting like she doesn’t recognise the others, and talks about how she is a maid in “Jiangcheng Cafe”. Afraid that her neural cloud (her mind) has been scrambled, they put her to sleep and bring her to the repair bay.

Its in the repair bay where they explain exactly what is wrong with type88. She is a fairly old doll, and her processing capacity has been severally clogged up for a long time. Her internal memory is overflowing because many large sections of her mind is filled with very large encrypted files (memories that she stored away). she is likely to keep crashing and possibly even cease functioning entirely one day if those encrypted files are not deleted, but nobody is really keen on just deleting parts of her mind without her consent. For now, kalina just opts to try and decrypt the files and see what they are.

And from here, we watch type88 memories from her perspective. Sort of. Kind of. It gets complicated later but for now, we view the first memory of her life, not as a combat t-doll type88, but...

...as 59898, a doll designed to be what is basically a ‘crash test dummy’ for testing artillery technology in a research station. With a purpose like this, 59898 has an (ostensibly) rudimentary AI. Her learning ability is intended to be used to better aid the results of their testing, but she also knows how to understand and even imitate specific human gestures in order to better respond to instructions or conversation, even though she herself has no voice module to speak with. She is assigned to assist one specific person.

first off, i was pretty shocked right off the bat that this story above so many others actually has unique assets to it. The above two sprites don’t show up anywhere else in the game, i don’t think. Secondly, this woman’s name is only ever spelled with those white squares, so I’m stuck with having to just calling her ‘the pilot’, as dry as that sounds... I just don’t want to type out weird characters every time, or call her ‘triple cube’...

Anyway, so 59898 is assigned to help this woman in testing artillery tech (stuff like mechs and tanks). I should mention really quick that in the game’s story, during this point of time is when world war iii is happening, but that’s just a backdrop for robots to eventually gain more prominence. Anyway, we move on to the second memory, where some time has already passed. At the beginning of this memory, the pilot is visibly depressed, which 59898 takes note of.

Her ‘comfort mode’ consists of patting the pilot on the head, who while surprised, actually is grateful. She feels comfortable enough to talk about her worries aloud to the doll, mentioning how she is a war refugee and has to make a living in the research base because she can’t go back to her home in china, at least not before making enough money for a very expensive and exclusive train ticket. She continues to talk at length to the doll...

...not that the test doll is capable of responding to anything she says. The pilot insists that she’s happy just to have someone listen to her though, since she feels like she can’t really express her feelings to any other person on the base. Despite that-

That aside, the pilot says that referring to 59898 by her serial number all the time feels a bit weird, so she decides to give the doll a name. (I sure wish the story would give this woman a name too, other than ‘three white squares’ but oh well...)

She talks more with Jiangcheng Ai, or just Ai, after that, asking her if she’d like a change of clothes sometime, like some casual clothes, or an old maid outfit from an old cafe job she used to have (I guess they had to throw in any explanation for that outfit somehow) Point is, more and more time passes.

As time passes though, and we go into the third memory, the pilot brings up complaints to her superiors about how the more recent testings, becoming more increasingly intense and frequent, are putting a great strain on Ai, and even repairs can only help maintain her chassis so much. She insists on wanting to take Ai’s place in the testing, but they refuse because, well, Ai’s entire purpose is to take the strain of these tests so that the human pilot doesn’t have to, and the doll is just a tool there to pave the way for the pilot to eventually take over the mech in action

The next time Ai wakes up from her most recent repairs, the pilot is there to greet her, and Ai can tell straight away that she’s unhappy and tries to comfort her again. The pilot is not surprised at this and talks about how this is how Ai has been since they first met. She goes on to say how all the other people on the base don’t know her half as well as Ai does. Ai tries to understand and determine what the pilot’s intentions with saying all this is, but she cannot do so and can only listen while offering ‘executing - affirmative nod’.

The pilot talks about how once the war is over, she’d like to take Ai back home with her, where they could go to all sorts of gatherings, and the pilot would introduce Ai to her friends.

Ai reviews her personal data, confirming that she has no owners or obligations other than the pilot, so she executes another affirmative nod, and the pilot says this:

As Ai tries and fails to further determine this, something bad happens! if you’ve read this far, i’m sure you’ve already guess what happens next...

At that exact moment, a warning goes out and the research base is being attacked by nebulous enemy forces. With no time to talk anymore, both the pilot and Ai head out into their first real fight.

They spend a good long while repelling enemy forces, working well together and apparently using all sorts of wacky anime weaponry like beam blades and whatever ‘retrograde evasion’ is!

obviously though, you already know this isn’t going to end well for them... When the pilot takes a breather, Ai moves to protect her, but at a critical moment, a sudden high-speed projectile comes her way. In the next instance there’s a crash, and we move onto another memory. Where its all fire and debris, and Ai can’t move.

^ this text box actually repeats several times, indicating that she is repeating her scan for life signs over and over. She gets an internal warning from her systems (differentiated with red text) that she has insufficient power and it warns her to immediately cease ineffective operations. [Unable to detect owner life signs] repeats again.

At this point, uuuuh, its a little stupid actually? because two humans show up, reusing generic ‘bad guy’ sprites from other events that don’t match the current environment and situation at all (one is in a suit and the other is in casual clothes). but the reason they’re here is to provide exposition out loud about what happened. It looked like the human’s mech took a hit for the doll and was blown to bits, though they talk about how that doesn’t make any sense.

Ai at this point tries to execute a bunch of different actions like hugging [target not found] and screaming [no relevant module] but they all fail, and her internal systems tell her that her power is running out and she will cease to function in 30 seconds.

So in those last 30 seconds, Ai decides to quickly review her internal files. the damage she took has corrupted her memories and she doesn’t have the time to properly go through them, so she executes a ‘simulated processed records’, which basically mean she’s just filling the blanks of those memories herself with simulations.

And I have to say. I was decently into and enjoying this little story so far, but its this part that’s the reason i became forced to make this stupid giant post. the first ‘memory’ loads up, and we see the pilot.

Different ‘memories’ of the days spent with the pilot are loaded back to back, each are very short and only last a few lines. Across these files, the two of them talk comfortably with each other, Ai is invited to go get coffee with her, the pilot talks about how going alone is boring and would rather spend time with Ai, Ai saying back with her own words that she always likes spending time with her, etc etc etc.

And then finally, she loads one last ‘memory’, from earlier that same day, before the explosion and the fighting.

and she shuts down.

i passed by this scene the first time all calm, but an hour or so later when I was in the bathroom replacing shampoo bottles, i started thinking about it and I literally started sobbing. And then again later that night when i was in bed. I hate this game!!

so that’s the ‘end’ of that, and the next scene opens, once again in griffin base’s cafe, except...

Ai is sporting a brand new (ugly) look. She says she’d like to take kalina’s order but she was just leaving on other business, as she likes keeping herself busy with all sorts of work around the base ever since she got upgraded into a gundam gajinka. and after she leaves, kalina talks with the other dolls about how Ai used to have some cache issues because her neutral cloud was too full, but upgrading into this new chassis easily fixed that and even allowed her to make use of her old locked away abilities.

Because of the way this scene in the cafe opens up exactly like the very first one at the beginning, it makes me believe that this final scene is also a simulated ‘memory’, that is, Ai filling in the blanks of her corrupted memories with what she wishes to be reality. And i feel confident in believing that because after the scene fades to black, we see more of her internal system monologue.

She (the system) says that the priority execution is to preserve those encrypted memory logs. She does so, and the neural cloud upgrade is complete with confirmation of no loss files. With no risk of deletion in this new form, she executes the command to unlock the encrypted memories. And finally...

[spiderbread dies]

i still wouldn’t use her in gameplay because i can’t stand looking at her design but  i told you all i eat up robot with feelings stuff and this is like prime example of exactly that... and if i didn’t make this post, i think my own neutral cloud’s cache would be at risk of overflowing x_X!