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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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Black and white - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry is a vampire and he’s been trying to keep you safe by distancing himself.

Warnings: vampire!Henry AU, blood, smut

A/N: this was requested by anon waaaay back in october 😅 It’s finally here!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The bell rang as another customer entered the shop, but I was too busy jotting down the books Miss Gayle was buying that it took me a minute to raise my head to greet them. When I did, I immediately wished I’d just ignored the sound, despite the fact that it was both absolutely impolite and completely out of character for me.

Nonetheless, it was done, and I scrambled to replace the smile that had fallen from my face at the sight of Henry with another one, albeit a visibly plastic replacement. It was nothing like the ones I usually greeted my customers with, and by the way Henry flinched and Miss Gayle raised an eyebrow, it was easy to see that I was in no way comfortable with the new arrival.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” I barely acknowledged him, turning back to the nice old lady who had kept her weekly visits to my shop ever since I first opened it. It was times like these where I’d wish I actually had people working for me. “That’ll be 35 dollars, Miss Gayle. Do you want a receipt?”

Eyebrows still raised, she simply fished two twenties before handing them to me, just as I handed her a five back. She always tried to leave me with some sort of tip, but I’d known her well enough by now to be able to anticipate her antics.

“You’re impossible, dear,” she’d always tease me, to which I’d laugh heartily. The only difference was that today, after our usual banter, she chanced a glance at Henry, who was trying to pretend to be busy while looking at some bookcases, before turning back to me. “Give him a chance. He clearly cares about you, and you need someone to do so, so you don’t end up like me, all alone with only this store to keep you company.”

The unrequested advice took me by surprise, and I froze in my spot, staring back at her with her receipt still in my hand. It was only when she reached out to take it from me that I snapped out of it, hopefully blinking my confusion away from my face.

It wouldn’t be the first time I seriously considered the possibility that Miss Gayle was actually a witch.

“I think you’re misreading the situation, Miss Gayle. But don’t worry, if it’s any consolation, so have I.” She frowned at my words, undoubtedly pondering over what I could possibly mean, but I tried to keep a smile on my face as I walked her to the door. Any excuse to keep myself away from the man waiting for my attention.

When the bell rang again, signaling her leaving, I sighed, trying to mentally prepare myself for whatever the hell was about to happen. But before I could even turn around to face him, Henry’s voice cut through my whirlwind of thoughts, declaring, “She’s right, you know that?”

I hummed halfheartedly, not wanting to turn around and deal with this, but knowing it was better to get on with it already. “Right about what? About you caring for me? I don’t doubt that, Henry, but I also don’t think I was wrong in what I told her. I clearly misread whatever it was we had going on, because I thought you had taken me out on a date and I thought you had been too nervous to take the first step and kiss me goodnight, so for the first time in my life I gathered enough courage to initiate a kiss, only to be rudely pushed away before you disappeared for days.”

It all came out in one jumbled speech, my need to get those feelings out making me run over the words while I tried to get through this to save me the embarrassment of having to relive that night again. It was all I’d thought about for days, and just when I was finally about to get over it, he just had to waltz back into my shop and throw me on a loop again.

“Look, I don’t mind that you don’t reciprocate my feelings and I don’t mind that I made a fool of myself that night. Did it suck? Yes. A lot. But what really hurt was the fact that that stupid risk I decided to take was miscalculated, because even if I considered the idea of you not reciprocating my feelings, I never thought you would simply allow it to destroy what I considered to be a good and strong friendship. Because that’s how I saw you, first and foremost. As a friend.”

I took a long breath as I finally averted my eyes from him, trying to force myself not to cry in front of this man and become even more pathetic to the one person who I wanted to impress more than anyone else in my life. God, this crush was going to destroy me, just how weak was I?

I didn’t really expect any sort of response from him. What could he say after all of that? Still, it took me by surprise when he interrupted my string of self-deprecating thoughts. “I don’t want to be a friend.”

My heart started to pound inside my chest, my eyes suddenly meeting his again. As much as the sick part of my mind wanted to tell me that he was saying he didn’t want to have any association with me anymore - he did avoid me for three days, after all - rationally, it was clear that he meant something else entirely.

Henry’s P.O.V.

I watched her eyes grow bigger, her breathing becoming more laboured. I could hear her blood pumping more rapidly on her veins, calling out to me, but for the first time since we met, it was easy for me to ignore it. I didn’t want to lose her, in any shape or form. All of my attention was focused on her and her reactions, because I needed her to believe in me.

“You weren’t wrong. It was a date, or at least I wanted it to be a date. And I did chicken out when it came to kiss you goodnight, but it wasn’t for the reason that you’re thinking.” She was frowning, clearly trying to understand what I was hiding, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “Give me another chance,” I whispered, reaching out for her hand when I heard the bell over the door of her bookstore ringing again, signaling the arrival of another customer. “Go out with me tonight. I promise that I’ll explain everything.”

Her brows furrowed deeply, I knew she was having a hard time deciding to trust me again, to put her heart on the line once more. And I hated myself for putting her in such a situation. I hated that I’d wrecked her self-esteem, made her doubt my feelings for her.

Which was why I knew that I was making the right choice by fighting to stay in her life.

“Okay,” came her answer finally, yet not at all in a firm tone. It broke my heart, but I understood. “Come and pick me up after I close the store. I’ll be waiting.” And with a simple nod, she dismissed me until later.

Fair enough. I knew she had things to do and that she needed time to go over the repercussions of what I had just admitted, but a part of me was scared that being apart would simply make her second guess her decision. Still, I needed to respect it. I owed her at least that. So I left her to her own devices, trusting that when I got back to the store she would really be there for me to pick her up.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I spent the rest of the day unable to concentrate on my work activities. Everything I did, my mind brought me back to Henry and those two very pungent moments when I was with him. The night of our “date” and this morning.

My gut told me I hadn’t made a mistake in accepting his request for an explanation. Even during those days apart, I knew there was a reason for his behavior, I just… I knew it. I couldn’t explain it, especially since we didn’t even know each other for that long. But it was the same thing that made me trust him implicitly. The same feeling in the depths of my soul that recognized him somehow, that made me start to fall for him during long conversations over coffee in my bookshop.

Still, my mind begged me to run away, to protect myself. I didn’t need to go through this again. Nothing stopped him from rejecting me again - in fact, that was very likely to happen. Doesn’t love work out just like… 1% of the time?

Just when I was starting to freak myself out, I heard my name being uttered from behind me, making me jump in the air. “God, make a noise or something,” I complained, a hand over my heart as I turned around to find him clearly trying very hard not to laugh at me.

“Sorry.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I simply noted, “You don’t look sorry at all.” He wanted to laugh again, I knew that, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes became peculiarly soft as he pondered over what to say. “You’re right, I’m not sorry. You look really cute when you’re scared. Can I kiss you now?”

I should say no. Right? I should totally say no. But I had been crushing on this guy for the last few months and in that second, all I seemed to be able to do was to nod, my breath hitching when he approached to cradle my entire face with his huge hands. God, he was so beautiful, even more from up close.

But just when the distance between our lips was about to become nonexistent, just when all I could hear was the blood in my veins being pumped on maximum speed due to the way my heart was pounding in my chest, he hesitated, breaking the spell.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered almost against my mouth, so close that I could feel his cold breath on my face. “I shouldn’t.” I couldn’t really call it a clarification, since it only left me more confused.

Even worse, it awakened that awful, burning feeling of humiliation, that reignited the fires of embarrassment deep within my stomach. “Why do you do this to me?” His eyes grew big at the realization of my anger, like somehow, he didn’t expect it at all.

“Did you come here only to break me further? I can’t handle this, Henry. I don’t need this. Please, leave.” For a second, I thought he would, but I don’t know why. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed that would be his intention. If anything, it was the precise opposite. As the concern disappeared from his face, his expression solidified in a hardened mask that showed just how serious he was about whatever it was that he needed to say.

Henry’s P.O.V.

“No. I’m not leaving. Not until you hear what I have to say. Please.” I could see the hesitation on her, and I knew it was deserved. I deserved it. I knew it just as well as I knew that I didn’t deserve her.

But she did deserve an explanation, and I was going to give her that. And if she could find it in herself to still want me in her life, maybe we could be something more. God knows how much I actually wanted to kiss her.

“Not here,” I implored, needing her to give me just a little bit more of her time. “Can I please join you in your home?”

It took some time, but at last, she nodded, making sure the door of the bookshop was properly locked before silently making her way down the street, taking the path that I had followed so many times before, when I’d accompany her on her trajectory after work. But back then the air was lighter, there was chatter and laughter between us. Now, it felt cold, even colder than my skin.

Thankfully, we were by her house before long. She looked over her shoulder before moving to unlock the door, like she wanted to make sure I was still there. There was absolutely no way I’d leave her hanging like that again, especially since she had found it in her to continuously give me another chance.

“Thank you,” I peeped when she invited me in, quickly assuming the seat she pointed me to. I was even more thankful for the fact that she still chose to sit by my side on the sofa, instead of pulling a chair to keep some space between us. Maybe she liked to be in a close proximity to me just as much as I did with her.

“I… don’t know where to start,” I began, suddenly self-conscious and doubting everything I’d decided on my way here again. But then she shrugged, and the realization that I was about to lose her before I even had her was enough to get me to suddenly blurt out, “I’m a vampire.”

At first, there was no reaction at all. She remained seemingly unfazed, arms crossed in front of her chest, expression thoroughly unreadable. I would be sweating if I could, but as it were, I just started babbling even more.

“Please, don’t be afraid. I’d never hurt you. I promise. But that’s why I’ve been keeping away, I… I feel so attracted to you, but I couldn’t let you fall for me without knowing who I truly am. And this is who I truly am. Still me. Just a little bit older than you thought.” Still no answer, until suddenly she cut the silence that had fallen in the living room with a long drawn-out breath, before exclaiming, “I’m not afraid.”

That was literally the last thing I thought she would say immediately after I admitted my secret.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“You… You’re not afraid of me?” He repeated, clearly not believing what I had just said.

“No.” After a few seconds of silence, he ended up cutting the tension in the room with a request.

“Then tell me what you’re thinking.” As bizarre as the situation was and as confused as my feelings for Henry were at the moment, I couldn’t help but to joke, “What, you can’t read my mind?”

He pursed his lips, clearly unamused but at the same time relieved that I wasn’t angry or afraid of him. I took a deep breath, still looking him dead in the eyes, before admitting, “I’m thinking… that I really want to fuck you.”

That caught him by surprise.

“You want me?” I had to huff, rolling my eyes at his stupidity. How could someone be this unaware of social queues? Or, better yet, of his own attractiveness?

“Yes, I want you. And I’m done holding myself back from getting what I want.” And with that, I climbed on his lap, tugging him down to meet my lips by the collar of his shirt. He was cold, colder than he should be, but I don’t think I would have noticed if I didn’t know who - or actually, what - he was.

He tasted like mint, and a little bit like coffee. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t something this ordinary. And I especially wasn’t expecting to like it so much. But suddenly, he grasped my hips, stopping my unconscious slow grind against his crotch. “I’m not sure you’ve completely understood what this means,” he started, and I had to laugh.

“You drink blood, right? What else is there to understand? I like you, Henry. I’m not gonna suddenly stop liking you over something like this. Now please, can you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for this for so long...” I don’t know if it was my words or my pouty face, but something made him grab me with a new vigor that had me screaming in excitement.

“I knew you were perfect for me,” he whispered as he rubbed his nose on my cheek, making me giggle with delight. The absolute sweetness of the statement had my heart skipping a beat momentarily.

“Then kiss me, you idiot.” Thankfully, he did just so. And although I could still feel his restraint, I now understood what it meant - and it was so much easier to deal with when I had his lips to distract me.

When I had to pull apart to catch my breath, he kept his mouth on my skin, slowly tracing a path from my jaw down to my throat, and when he got to my jugular, he stopped, simply inhaling while I felt his mouth water on top of it. “You ever wonder what I taste like?” I teased, running my hand through his curls, and he pulled away to look me in the eyes, first in concern and then in lust.

Henry’s P.O.V.

“All the fucking time.” Instead of being afraid, the little mixen bit on the lower lip I wished I still had between my own teeth, before remarking, “That’s kinky.” It had me roaring with laughter until I felt the need to attack her mouth with mine again.

“I’ll show you kinky.” After she had to separate from me to catch her breath once more, I traced the path her blood followed down her neck until the neckline of her dress, before softly pulling the sleeves down on each side so I could lave her collarbone and shoulders with my tongue, too.

“Do you want a taste?” She whispered, the question making me freeze for a second, my fingers pressing even tighter in the soft skin of her hips. I could feel her heartbeat under them. She was so… alive. Perhaps that’s why she made me feel like that, too.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you for that.”

“You’re not asking.” I tried to find something, anything in her eyes that showed me a sign of humour, but there was nothing. She was honestly doing this. I hesitated for a while, until she used the grip she had on my curls to pull me down against her neck, that she exposed even more to me by throwing her head back. “Please.”

My eyes trailed down the curve of her shoulder as I felt my fangs starting to grow. A swipe of my tongue over them confirmed what I already knew: they were ready. With one last look into her eyes to see if she wanted to back out, I leaned over her and pierced the neck of my beloved, sucking just enough to allow me to taste the magnificent essence that kept her alive before I retreated and lapped the few droplets that still escaped the punctures.

The sight of her breathing hard, making her breasts jump up to my face as I kept her safe in my lap was enough to get me completely hard. “Bed. Now.” That was the only warning I gave her before I rose up from the couch with her clinging to my body, legs wrapped around my back. She giggled against the kiss I stole from her lips, undoubtedly tasting a little bit of herself, before keeping on with the trend of endlessly teasing me for her own amusement.

“You know, I don’t really feel like sleeping right now.” I growled at her continuing giggles, squeezing her ass to grind her against my hardness. I wanted to know just how thoroughly fucked she’d be.

“You’re not going to sleep any time soon, darling.” Reconnecting our lips, I followed blindly in the direction of what I assumed her bedroom to be located, only stopping to let her catch her breath because she pulled away. I would have to be better at remembering that she needed that.

“You never told me what I tasted like,” she breathed out against my lips, buying herself more time to get some air into her lungs. It made me laugh, the question sounding absurd considering everything, but this is precisely what I loved about her.

“Like fucking candy, how about that?” She screamed as I dipped her back, laying her down on the mattress before climbing over her again. “I really want to know if it’s the same down there.”

She clinged to me eagerly, legs wrapping around my body as her hands made quick work of my shirt. It felt intoxicating to see just how desperate she was for me, just how she reciprocated my own desire.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The second I was laid bare for his eyes to take in, a sharp inhale resonated through the room. I could feel his eyes trailing down my body, drinking me in, and it made me dizzy with desire. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was barely over a whisper, and still, I heard it in my very soul.

But then, a thumb was running over my lower lips, teasingly opening me up to his gaze, and I mewled at just how great it felt to be this exposed to him. “And so wet,” he added, using that same thumb to collect some of the moisture I could feel starting to drip from me and then rubbing it all over my pussy.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I asked, trying to muster all of the defiance I could find, but my body was weakened by my need for the man hovering above me - and he knew. He just knew he had reduced me to a needy, whimpering mess, and he was loving every second of it.

His thumb found my clit and he massaged it for a bit, eyes trapping mine in his hypnotizing gaze as he pondered over my question. Until, finally, there was an answer. “I want you to touch yourself.”

Okay, this wasn’t what I was hoping for. But still, I could see the hint of nervousness in his eyes, even if buried under deep layers of desire. So I was happy to oblige, my own hand slowly traveling down my body until it met his, right when he raised the thumb that had been just touching me there up to my lips.

“Open up.” My eyes fluttered shut as my mouth dropped open to accept the digit, and I eagerly swirled my tongue around it before sucking, while my own fingers slowly explored my dripping opening. I don’t know if it was the action he was getting on his thumb or if it was the vision of me dipping two fingers inside of myself and moaning around him, but in a second he had pulled both his and my hands away and had lunged himself at me.

“Eager, aren’t we?” I joked, fully enjoying that for at least this millisecond, I had the upper hand again. Henry didn’t seem to mind, if the way he licked his lips and delved to bruise mine in a breathtaking kiss was any indication of it.

“I’ve dreamed about being in your bed for so long,” he admitted, and my heart grew twice its size at the thought of him actively wishing for this, just like I’d done when I laid in this bed hundreds of nights ever since we met.

“How long has it been?” I asked, hugging his body closer to mine, already addicted to the way it felt to have his weight over me. “Ever since you’ve… done this before, I mean.” Henry chuckled, but didn’t immediately answer as he kept himself busy by littering my collarbones with kisses and lovebites, making me offer my chest up to him. When he grasped one of my breasts in his large hand, I couldn’t stop the loud moan that echoed around the room as my heart beated wildly right under his palm.

“I don’t even remember,” he finally answered, but by then, I had all but completely forgot what I’d even asked. He was slowly but surely messing with my mind and my ability to hold coherent thoughts, all I could focus on was the feeling of his cold hands running over my sweaty skin and his lips licking every inch of me. “It doesn’t even matter. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

Henry’s P.O.V.

The whine she let out was clearly a complaint and a request in itself, making me chuckle against her delicious skin. “Soon,” I promised, nearing the place I was longing to be. “I need to feel you cumming on my lips, first.”

The sigh she let out as I buried my nose on the small curls just over where her fingers had been buried made it clear that she wasn’t about to complain about my plan, at least for now. Still, I needed her to give me the time I needed to fully appreciate this, so while I caressed her thighs to allow myself the space I needed to work with, I negotiated, “I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

She didn’t seem to doubt when I stuck out my tongue and gave her a temptative first lick, immediately groaning at the incomparable sweetness and diving in for more. She gasped and wrapped her thighs around my head, like she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t leave her hanging, but I was sure I’d never leave the space between her legs again.

Sweet, so sweet and wet. I’d spent so long imagining her taste on my tongue, both of her blood and of her juices, and now I knew that she truly was sweet all over. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have to pretend I hadn’t tried the god’s ambrosia for the rest of my life, so I sincerely hoped this really meant she truly wanted me forever.

I lost myself to the activity of exploring her pussy with my tongue, eyes closed to better imprint the taste and the sounds she was emitting into the depths of my memory. I was so into my meal, the lapping sounds of her drenched cunt surrounding us and only adding to the powerful symphony of her moans, that when she came, covering my face in her release, I was taken by surprise.

“You know…” She started, as soon as she was able to catch a breath while I sucked the juices dripping from her. “This isn’t the type of eating I expected a vampire to be so good at.” That made me look up to meet her eyes, and the second I did so, taking in the humorous glint in them and the way she pressed her lips tightly together to contain the laughs that were certainly threatening to escape, I lost it.

“I don’t think I ever laughed so much during sex.” I nuzzled in her neck, before depositing a quick kiss on her pouty lips. Her tongue came out to lick them as soon as we parted, like she was chasing away her own taste that I knew was still present in my mouth.

“Then I don’t think you’ve been doing this the right way.” I felt her tiny hands pressing on my shoulders, and it took me a while to figure out she was trying to invert our positions. When I did get it, I allowed my torso to fall on the soft mattress by her side, hands immediately flying up to caress her body as she climbed on me.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

I groaned as I heard those words, paired with the gentle rock of her wet cunt over my still clothed member. How could one resist such sensuous sin? But I had more pressing needs in the moment, and as I had to remind her, “The night is still young. As tempting as that is… No, don’t look at me like that. Do you have any idea what you do to me, you little minx? I have to be inside of you now.”

Her eyes made it clear that she didn’t feel all that terrible about my denial, but still, she asked, “Later, then?” Chuckling, I brought her down to whisper in her ear, “ Believe me, we have all the time in the world. You’re not going to sleep anytime soon. I’ll keep you in this bed forever, if I have my way.”

I heard her suck in a breath and I took advantage of the brief moment of surprise that rendered her immobile to drag two fingers along her folds before curling them in. “Oh, wow. Now that is a sight.” Just the tone of perplexity in my voice had her clenching around me, and when I began to laugh yet again, she brace herself on my chest and groaned, “Are you going to fuck me or keep staring?”

I looked up to meet her eyes, making sure she was looking directly at me as I pulled my fingers out and licked them before grabbing a hold of my member and running it over her pussy. “Take a guess.”

The moment that we became fused in the corporeal sense, it became clear to me just how entwined our souls already were. There was no escaping our connection, not anymore. “Does this feel good,” I teased her as she released a particularly high moan, fingers gripping my shoulders tightly as she threw her head back and tried to keep riding me. I took this opportunity to nibble and nip at her jaw and neck, teasing myself with the feeling of her blood pumping right underneath my open mouth.

“Yes, yes,” she screamed, picking up her movements as I kept fucking myself up against her, too. “Deeper, harder, please, Henry!” The desperation in her voice had me roaring, and in a quick movement I had her under me again.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” I whispered under my breath right when she grabbed a hold of my locks and pulled me to meet her lips again. “Are you ready?” I knew she was close by the way she was moaning, and all it took was for her eyes to meet mine so I could feel her clenching around me. “No falling asleep, remember? Or maybe you want me to keep going even if you do end up passing out.” It was just a joke, but her whine made it very clear that she didn’t mind the perspective.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’m right here. I’ll give you everything you want, I’ll be everything you need. For the rest of your life.”

“I know.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #smut #henry cavill #henry cavill reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill header inserts #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill oneshots #henry cavill headcanon #henry cavill headcanons

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etheriadearie · 4 years

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“Promise”

Why can't you just… Promise ?

Today's goal is an in-depth look at one of the most beautiful and breathtaking episodes of She-ra: "Promise"

Storywise, it's incredibly important to the series, and focuses entirely on Catradora. It's the first time since Adora left Catra behind to seek out the sword that the girls really have an opportunity to talk, and things are not going well. Both of them are royally pissed off at the other, with good reason.

For Adora, we're gonna deflate that proud hair poof of hers a bit, as we'll take an honest look at her as a person at this point in her life. And Catra... she's really guarding her feelings closely, as she's already deeply angry with Adora. But we will use the combination of Catra's younger self in the memories they see, plus looking at other times in the series that relate to this episode, where she was less guarded, in order to understand her as a person at this time. Also: warning: tl;dr, best enjoyed while cozy with a drink..

To get started, we skip to when they end up stuck together…

After Adora takes drastic measures to ward off the security spiders by collapsing the tunnel, the girls are now stuck together, and so… they talk...

We immediately see how incredibly irritated they are with each other as Adora chides Catra for being in the Crystal Castle, since the monsters will continue to attack them as long as she's protecting Catra… only to have Catra retort that she didn't ask for protection. Some snippy bickering back and forth happens, then...

Adora asks: "Does Shadow Weaver know you're here?" Very deadpan assertion from Adora. She knows Catra must be disobeying orders, she just doesn't know why.

"I'd say Shadow Weaver has bigger problems right now". Catra is already starting her move against SW back at the Horde. With SW abusively blocking her every move within the Horde, and now that Catra knows that SW was going to mind wipe Adora, Catra has decided she must deal with her abuser.

Adora puts on her telltale sideways grin, and Catra chafes at Adora's flirtation, saying "I told you it's not because I like you” downplaying Adora’s suggestion that this was the reason she let her go. Catra freely admits here that she does like Adora, but it's not the real reason she did it. Still, Catra doesn't explain further, and we see later that Catra often lets Adora explain away her actions this way... but that Adora constantly misses the deeper truths.

"Where are your new best friends? I thought you did everything together". She's very snarky and dismissive of Adora and her flirting. She's mad about Adora leaving her for her new life.

"The ones you let SW imprison and curse?" Adora is angry at Catra for what she did, which was a sudden escalation of things by Catra.

"Yeah obviously, what other friends would I be talking about?" An obvious dig at Adora for leaving her, everything behind. She deadpans this, staring back plainly. Catra is obviously really angry at Adora... while Adora is legitimately mad at Catra for doing something so nasty to Bow and Glimmer...

::Let's take a moment to talk about Catra's feelings about Adora's new friends: Catra feels horribly betrayed by this. Adora completely tossed her aside, and replaced her with Bow and Glimmer. What comes to mind is at the end of Sea Gate, Catra is thrown in the water and then looks up at Adora, who is celebrating and cuddling with Bow and Glimmer. Catra is emotionally forlorn watching this, as Scorpia comes to drag her off to safety, Adora doesn't even look back towards her.

She's forgotten, Adora showed no love towards her at all in that scene (and then hardly any at Princess Prom, either). Adora ignored her plea for her to return, she didn't reach out to Catra at all. And now she watches her cuddle with her new friends: everything Catra thought she had with Adora meant nothing, and she's been replaced with these feel goodie goods who are fawning all over Adora.

Suffice to say, Catra couldn't do this, she's got way too many issues with emotional intimacy and touch aversion. So she watches Adora, seeing that what she offered her wasn't good enough, knowing because of it she's forgotten. Catra was trying really hard to be a close friend to Adora in spite of her issues, but as we will see, Adora wasn't trying to understand what was going on with Catra. And because of this, Catra was too afraid to express her affection openly, and yet here's Adora... accepting all of Bow and Glimmer’s love, for which Adora really did nothing to earn. Adora took Catra’s friendship for granted while ignoring her deeper needs, as will be explained, then completely abandons her, not even seeming to miss her. Catra is deeply hurt by the unfairness of this.

>Catra stares back at Adora, frustrated when she doesn't even acknowledge their lost friendship.

"Well, we don't need to go together. You do your weird little magic quest thing I'll find my own way out". Catra looks resentfully at the sword on Adora's back as she says this. Catra is laying down boundaries, except it's useless since they are trapped together. But, boundaries are important to Catra and as the episode progresses, Adora shows that she doesn't really understand Catra's.

>As they walk along, both girls' shadows loom equally tall. The symbolism is that in this story, both are equally important... it's also a shockingly beautiful sequence. (pic above)

After entering the room of infinite darkness, Catra tries to separate from Adora but the door is gone, they are stuck together. Weird things start happening. As the Fright Zone appears, both of them are confused. Adora decides to suspect Catra, after all, she attacked her friends. But as Adora grabs Catra, Catra is surprised and confused... Catra doesn't like being touched unexpectedly, Adora knows this but is ignoring that and attacking her. She gets treated as an enemy when she clearly hasn't done anything wrong, and it sets the tone for the two of them: Adora has constantly treated Catra as an enemy since the very moment she defected, not even trying to understand Catra's point of view. And so Catra increasingly emotionally distances herself from Adora. Catra angrily casts Adora's arm aside, not liking being vilified by her, and Adora doesn't understand why Catra is so upset. Catra slips away to explore, needing space from her.

The way Adora immediately suspects and then attacks Catra is symbolic to the whole episode: by defecting to the Rebellion, Adora chose to start treating Catra, and her entire unit, as enemies, backing it up with hostility. But Catra doesn't really agree that the horde is evil... in her experience, it's just how life is.

>The two girls, now separated, call out to each other. Adora hears Catra's call, then another: young Catra is behind her, looking lost and insecure. Catra joins Adora as their first memory has just begun…

~DISCLAIMER TIME~ A lot of information in She-ra is inferred by emotional context, so if this seems a bit head-canon-y, I assure you, I have data! Please ask questions and seek clarifications, I promise to answer back! ~EtheriaDearie

>A worried and hurt young Catra runs to young Adora's side. She is emotional and needs support. Adora checks her out then gets the real deal: Catra was in a fight with an adult. It hints that Catra always had to deal with people messing with her, even before SW began her abuse. This is a guess, but it's probable: this is likely a happy memory of the two of them right before the hurting began. Along with the "promise" memory and the moments immediately preceding their entering the Black Garnet chamber, these scenes set the baseline for what their friendship was like before Catra suffered SW’s abuse. Also, this memory is a happy one, and how Adora remembers their friendship: it was likely triggered by her memories. The next ones are not, as I believe they are triggered by Catra, who is trying to explain to Adora what was so painful about their childhood...

>Catra doesn't know what to expect when she shows Octavia to Adora. She probably expects Adora to try to apologize on her behalf, or to give her a hard time about what she did. Instead, Adora sticks with her friend and yells “Hey Octavia, you're a dumbface." This brings young Catra much joy, Adora is sticking with her, not passing judgement. The two young girls run together hand in hand, experiencing childhood bliss, but it doesn't last. The present versions of themselves return, holding hands...

They share a brief moment of connection before Catra pulls her hand away in anger. Adora is surprised at the strength of Catra’s reaction. They are not on intimate terms any more, in fact, I suspect they had been struggling for a while before Adora's defection. Adora doesn't want the moment to stop, but Catra does. It hints that the gulf between them is already wide.

"How can you deal with all this magic stuff?" Catra has a deep distrust of magic, as it was used in her abuse. She resents it, and throughout the series whenever anything magic happens that she doesn't see coming she gets creeped out.

"I'm only dealing with it because I need to figure out how to heal Glimmer after someone got her cursed." It's a valid criticism, but Catra deflects it.

"What do you want? An apology? You're not getting one." We don't get the full story on this moment until season 5 when a young Catra tells Adora she'll "never say sorry to anybody, ever." Adora doesn't like Catra just refusing to explain, and as Catra pushes her away, Catra is full of reproach at Adora's judgement.

::As an abused child, Catra was continuously vilified and abused by everyone but Adora. And when Adora would suggest she apologize throughout their lives, she can't understand why Catra won't. It comes down to literally everyone in the world judging Catra and being cruel. Not once did any of them apologize to her, even though she didn't do anything to deserve the abuse. Except Adora... but that has issues, too. In fact, SW literally tells her "I won't apologize" regarding her abuse of Catra. Can you imagine the hurt at that?

[pic caption: Catra refuses to apologize, Catra often shows her deeper emotions while blinking, in this case: the incredible pain she experienced from SW’s abuse.]

So no, Catra won't apologize, she had a thing she was trying to do by kidnapping Bow and Glimmer and taking her sword, and it ended badly. But she felt she had a good reason to do it: she wanted to force Adora to see her, to make her acknowledge how big of a part of Adora’s life Catra used to be. And it's not like anyone has been helping Catra, she's had to make every single decision on her own her entire life and live with the consequences.

Also, mistakes for Catra have an entirely different meaning than they do for Adora. Whenever Adora made a mistake, she was given an opportunity to fix it. This is a theme of their relationship: Adora expects Catra to let her fix her mistakes. But for Catra, she learned that any mistake she made was dangerous, as when she did make a mistake, SW would torture her for it. And if other people saw it too, they'd use it to perpetuate the notion that she's some kind of no good fuck up. So Catra is extremely careful to not make mistakes, and if she does, she tries to cover it up, distance herself from it. (note: this isn't the same as Catra's intentional rebellions against this system where she was unfairly targeted for abuse-). This is why Catra simply cannot forgive Adora easily for breaking her promise: in Catra's world, she had to be perfect, or she could have been dead by SW's hand. She wasn't allowed to make mistakes like Adora is, she is what is clinically known as 'hyper vigilant' and always preparing for the worst. And so she applies this standard to be perfect all the time to Adora, and therefore she won't give Adora the same license to make mistakes with their friendship. Catra thinks Adora should know better, and see the consequences of her actions.

>Adora lets it go: when Catra seems to shut down, Adora does her best to try to accept her. Adora tries a different track. She asks Catra why she let her and Glimmer go when SW had them imprisoned, when it could have resulted in Catra getting in trouble. Catra walks ahead, trying to distance herself from having to answer. But the magic of the Crystal Castle intervenes: as Adora slips and begins to fall, Catra saves her. It's a symbolic moment: Catra has always tried to protect Adora, to save her from pain. It's why she changed course to give the sword back to her, partly.

"Did you really think I'd just let SW erase your memory like that?"

"I don't know. Probably." Adora shows such little understanding of their friendship. It shows Adora really is thinking of Catra as an enemy, not as the complicated person stuck between protecting her friend, and the cruel necessities of her life.

Catra looks at Adora with disappointment. "Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me." Adora tries to understand Catra's emotions, fails.

"Huh, can you blame me?" Ouch. Adora smiles at Catra, trying to show love for her roguish quirks. But it just shows how little Adora understands: she is repeating a negative stereotype of Catra that everyone in their old life believes and perpetuates. And Adora should know better, instead of just assuming the worst about her. That persona is one which Catra uses to protect herself, partly from her own emotional feelings, but also as a necessity to protect herself from SW. She had to act like she doesn't care, doesn't try, so SW wouldn't see her power.

"Psh, not really." As Catra turns away, again she deadpans this but you can see pain and disappointment leaking past her indifference.

As she walks away she trails her tail across Adora's hand, flirting and drawing Adora's attention to her butt. It's a cute little moment of telling a truth to counter the lie: 'Adora, you should know me better, and also, I like you.' Still, it's only a half truth: Catra couldn't let SW win because SW is Catra's true enemy. But, Adora takes the flirtatious hint, as always. She accepts it and doesn't dig deeper.

Catra asks Adora about their childhood, trying to understand how Adora could just throw it all away. Adora gives a very direct and impassioned speech, she looks Catra in the eyes, trying to convince her and make her understand why leaving was the right thing to do. Catra hides her emotions, weighing Adora's answer. She doesn't agree with her sentiment, in Catra's experience good and evil are relative and exist as such everywhere. Also, she's right: we meet many people in the Horde who aren't evil. And Adora's finding the sword is one giant sinister manipulation by Light Hope. Moral grayness is a constant theme in this show. Still, this isn't really why Catra chooses to stay with the Horde.

Adora sees her explanation failing to convince Catra, so she tries reminding Catra of their deeper friendship, telling her she misses her too. Catra is temporarily taken aback at being called out before remembering to deny it. She tells Adora to get over herself, and Adora tells her she won't stop until Catra says she likes her. They flirtatiously rough house, and Catra smiles during it: yeah, she does. But she denies it anyways.

::Adora often tries to be respectful of Catra's personal space but is making an exception here: she's telling her that she finds her desirable, and if Catra wanted it, they could be together. Adora can't understand why Catra feels the need to resist this, but she knows doing it helps her friend feel wanted. Still, this shows how casually Adora views their attraction.

Yes, they should be together. And actually, they had an unspoken agreement that they would be. But Catra's not going to open herself up to that just to serve her desire. She wants more from Adora, for Adora to show her that she really does see her, and cares about her. If she did, maybe Catra could open up about some of her pain. Being intimate without doing that would be impossible, and so far Catra's life still isn't safe enough to risk her feelings. Adora's promotion could have meant the beginning of something new between them, where they worked together to build a more secure future together where Catra didn't have to be fearful all the time. But instead, Adora left her.

So begins the second memory. The two girls, now teenagers, compete against each other in sparring. It's clear they are flirting, and neither is fighting all out. When Catra taunts Adora by putting her finger to her forehead, she shows how much better she is at fighting. She full heartedly laughs, Adora enjoys this and then throws a purposefully weak strike to restart the fight. When Adora seemingly turns the tables through brute force, Catra plays hurt to exploit Adora's naiveness. As Adora tries to show concern, Catra turns the tables back. She wants to teach Adora a lesson: that not everyone will play fair, as Catra knows all too well from SW's abuse. But Lonnie interrupts her. Catra doesn't appreciate this and makes quick work of Lonnie, showing just how good she is. Adora attacks, getting the predetermined win. Catra doesn't enjoy the beat down but accepts Adora's help up. She heads to Lonnie as Adora receives compliments from their commander.

As Catra confronts Lonnie, she tells Catra "you were playing dirty, I was just leveling the field". Catra will hear these words again when she leaves Adora behind in frustration near the end of the episode. They are significant: these are stereotypical views forced on Catra, and those views ignore that Catra was just doing something she felt was important: teaching Adora about the harsh realities that exist in the world. Real enemies don't play by the rules, and will be unpredictable.

As Catra’s anger rises at this, Adora puts her hand on Catra's shoulder to calm her down, then compliments Catra on her fighting skills. Catra ever so casually tosses the comforting hand aside. She's saying 'I can handle my emotions without your help, but thanks for asking.' As she tells Adora she let her win, Adora tries to tell if Catra really is ok.

Thus starts one of cutest exchanges between the two of them: as Catra tries to explain why she lets Adora win, Adora puts on her sideways 'you like me' grin while she playfully denies that Catra let her win. Catra gives a very animated and obviously made up explanation about not wanting to have people expect things from her. Adora grins along, and halfway through her lie Catra leans in, staring at Adora's lips before looking up into her eyes. Once again, Catra is undoing a lie by telling a truth: she let her win because she likes (loves) her. But it's only a half truth, once again...

Adora accepts the explanation, keeping her sideways grin: 'it's so cute how you like me'. Catra's explanation done, Adora moves on, wanting to catch up with their unit. Catra lets her do so while excusing herself. As Adora leaves, a huge amount of meaningful information passes across Catra's face…

First, Catra feels bad about having to lie to Adora, and it shows. Then, as Adora leaves to socialize, disappointment and rejection shows: Catra had hoped Adora might look deeper, and try to see the deeper truth. As Adora turns away and leaves we see a look of total love and adoration on Catra's face. She really, really loves Adora. She's the light of her life, a real idiot no doubt but Catra will always love her for exactly who she is.

The girls remain their younger selves as the rest of the memory plays out, Adora staying to accept praise while Catra separates to deal with her internal feelings which Adora always fails to see: the hurt and aloneness she feels.

>A frustrated young Catra cries, expressing her repressed emotions. It would be easiest to assume she cries because she's sad about losing, but we have to look ahead to the next memory to find the real truth.

Catra is sad because she never had a choice. SW took that choice from her, and while Catra is happy to let Adora win because of the love she feels for her, it hurts that she never really got to decide. And Adora doesn't see that, doesn't see the pain Catra is bearing, hiding. And so she cries for that, too. The one person who should love her doesn't really see her. As she looks up in the mirror to see herself, since no one else in her life seems to see her pain, she sees her present tearful self looking back. The pain of the past is real in the present, and while she's older now and won't let herself give in to tears, she feels the pain as she did back then. (pic 1, below) She sees the tears and it snaps her back to her present self, totally unnerved by the simulation as the security detects her and attacks. A fearful Catra screams, wanting help, wanting Adora.

>Adora snaps back to herself, having been participating in the replay of the memory post Catra excusing herself. She tries to run to help Catra, full of worry. She sees a terrified Catra trapped by the spider. As the spider begins to drag her away the two girls lock arms, trying to free Catra. But it's too strong, and as we see their grip start to slip, Catra looks to Adora wanting, pleading for help. As Catra is pulled away, Adora feels helpless, knowing she couldn't help her friend. She thumps her head in frustration that she wasn't there for Catra.

The scene speaks to an obvious truth: Adora has never quite been there enough for Catra. She's always less present, less aware of Catra's reality than she could have been. But since Catra was experiencing a painful memory when this happened, her reaction shows her vulnerable emotional state, and so she called out for help: Catra just wants to feel safe, for Adora to be there to help her. But she wasn't.

>As Catra is dragged away, she feels helpless, and calls out mournfully for Adora. But she's long gone; Catra is alone and scared, as usual. She screams out her frustration, the realization that she’s never gotten the help she needed, she always ends up alone. She cries tears for the suffering and anguish she feels from that. (pic 2, below) It’s a moment that shows us the real inner Catra: She feels deeply, whether it be her desire to be seen, loved by Adora, or the fear she feels in this moment and others. She tries her best to act confident in herself, but it's a lie: she needs support, yet is left behind by everyone, including Adora. She was willing to bear her pain for Adora's love, but she has become increasingly aware of how tenuous that really was growing up.

>Catra digs deep, like she's always done. She will handle this, won't take the abuse lying down. She shifts her mentality to being the survivor, the person who has survived years of abuse. She frees herself and gets to her feet, accessing her foe, determined to defeat it. She attacks, using her anger to deal damaging blows, seeking to destroy her enemy, to make sure she survives. She stands back, confident she's won, proud of herself for it. She doesn't quit, she always perseveres against those who want to destroy her. (pic 3)

Adora shows up, finishing the monster. Catra doesn't drop her mentality, this person who has lived a separate life from Adora and survived on her own, doing the hard things like winning fights and resisting Shadow Weaver's abuse.

Adora walks forward, seeing Catra's anger, determination. She looks blankly, trying not to upset Catra. She's trying to get a read on Catra but not having any luck, so she's being cautious. She asks if Catra is ok, casually pulling webbing off Catra's shoulder, trying to exist in her physical space without upsetting Catra further. "I had it" says Catra, not dropping her fighter stance, mentality at all. Catra is very much feeling the aloneness of her life from everyone, including Adora.

Adora tries to casually put aside Catra's assertion that she had it, she smiles diplomatically. She tries again to touch Catra, to break down her animosity and get her to calm down. It doesn't work. "We need to make sure we stick together from now on." As Adora touches Catra, she tenses, uncomfortable. Catra has strong touch aversion, and Adora knows this but she also knows doing it sometimes helps Catra shift her mentality, so she's trying to get Catra to connect emotionally, to get her to accept care.

"Will you stop telling me what to do?" An exasperated Catra says. We see a look of total dismay cross Adora's face. She's not understanding why Catra has so much animosity in this moment. (pic below)

As Adora looks at Catra, she hunches her body, looking misunderstood and isolated. Adora has consistently failed to see Catra's emotional states and so Catra is feeling more and more apart; that the mentality of the survivor she's feeling now is the right one. Adora didn't really help her at all growing up, and she doesn't see her for who she really is, either. Adora always took the easy explanation, like saying that Catra did things for her because she liked her. Never looking deeper, trying to see her struggle. And so Catra doesn't drop her combative pose, she stays in it because she feels in control, less vulnerable.

As for the words "stop telling me what to do", that's an essay in itself but consider: just now Adora became frustrated when she lost Catra, and now tells her they need to stay together. But they didn't, they never did, and even when they are together Adora is no real help to Catra. So she reacts in anger to Adora trying to direct her. After all, in the next scene we will see that Adora leads Catra into danger, and then doesn't really help her as she gets abused. Adora is no great leader, not according to Catra's experience.

::Adora is having a total loss, here, as she tries to understand Catra, why she's angry at her: It's because she has never really known this 'survivor' side of Catra. Adora wants to comfort her and calm her down, but Catra isn't having it. I think this is when we first see Adora begin to realize that there is something is very wrong with her friend that she has completely failed to see, and she's deeply worried by it. (pic 2)

[pic cation: Adora can't read Catra's emotions, Adora realizes Catra is deeply angry. Outside SW’s chamber, Adora wants to take Catra’s hand.]

Adora loves Catra, but can't seem to get through to her: Catra is holding herself apart from Adora. Again, Catra pushes Adora's hand aside, frustrated. She expresses her exasperation at the situation, saying she's sick of what's going on. Adora follows along, confused. As Catra seemingly purposefully leaves her behind, Adora demands to know what Catra's problem is, saying that she was trying to save her. Catra looks down at her confrontationally, frustrated with Adora's lack of vision. "For the last time, I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own. No thanks to you." Uh oh.

The words "no thanks to you" are especially cutting. Adora has totally failed to see the struggles Catra had all her life, she didn't understand the hurt and abuse Catra was fighting against. And so Catra did it all on her own, protecting herself and trying to remain strong. Her love of Adora might have helped her have hope, but fundamentally Catra overcame the abuse by not giving up on herself, believing she had worth, and not letting others tear her down.

Adora runs to Catra's side, taking her arm in one hand. Feeling her friend becoming increasingly distant from her, Adora tries authentically telling Catra her feelings, hoping to make her friend see her desire to help and understand her. Adora explains that she's sorry for leaving and that she did it because she couldn't stand the war the Horde has pursued. Her next words are telling: "but I never wanted to leave you". 'Want' is an important word in this series, and it comes up again in season 5 when Catra asks Adora "what do you want, Adora?”. By choosing to leave the Horde, Catra feels that Adora wanted that more than she wanted what they had together. Also, promises are not something you're supposed to break over a 'want'. And Adora so casually breaking their promises makes Catra think she doesn't matter to Adora. It's not the truth, but this belief still determines her reaction in this moment. Even though Adora dearly loves Catra, including at this point in the story, she hasn't shown it in a way that Catra can see as meaningful. As Adora finishes saying this, Catra looks back, feeling alone and unwanted, seemingly thinking 'but you did leave me, Adora.'

Adora tries to appeal to Catra to join the rebellion with her. Then she says "I know you're not a bad person, Catra. You don't belong with the Horde." Catra must be thinking 'Ok so at what point did you become the authority on whether someone is good or bad, Adora?' Adora has shown no interest in understanding Catra's position, she treated her as an enemy without fail since she left her, literally in every single case including at Princess Prom when Catra was trying so hard to romance her. And Catra doesn't accept Adora's naive black and white view of the world. Think about it: when Adora defects she begins treating all Horde with hostility, including her dearest friend, she judges them all and doesn’t even try to see them as the complicated people that they are. So when she suggests Catra doesn't belong with the Horde, Catra looks back at her, feeling totally isolated from Adora. Even though Adora's plea is earnest, Catra declines it.

>As the next memory begins, we see Adora now has both hands on Catra's arm, she's desperately trying to hold on to her bond with Catra and show her desire to fix things between them. Catra doesn't drop her wary demeanor at all, and Adora looks lost and anxious over this as a young Catra runs by.

The memory starts out full of childhood innocence as the two of them play together. When the girls see that the Black Garnet chamber is open, young Adora remarks "we're definitely not allowed in there." Young Catra looks at Adora, seemingly asking if she wants to go in, trusting her. Young Adora runs off, and Catra follows her in. Yes, Catra participates in the decision, but she's not the one who runs towards the chamber, and that's important to what happens next.

A worried (adult) Adora looks to her friend who seems so distant, stoic. Anxiously, Adora tells Catra "You don't have to go in there." Adora knows what happens next is very bad, that this is a hurtful memory for Catra. As an unwavering Catra begins to walk towards the chamber, Adora looks down at Catra's hand. [pic above] She wants desperately to reach out and take it, to hold Catra back from this terrible moment, to tell her she's sorry for messing up. Adora knows now that she screwed up, that she's let Catra down, somehow more than she ever realized. She doesn't know what to do about it… she follows Catra inside.

The young girls explore, Catra touches the black garnet and gets shocked. Adora has second thoughts, she realizes they're trespassing.. but of course, SW returns, so they try to hide. As SW takes off the mask, Adora cries out, taken aback... young Catra looks at her in dismay. She's about to pay for Adora's mistake with a lifetime of suffering. Offended, SW tells them to "Get out!" but rethinks. She puts the mask back on, and decides to use this moment to instead abuse the girls and use the crime of their trespass against them. As SW tells Catra to stay, Adora turns around, seeing that Catra is caught, and she's scared for her friend. She really did make a poor decision, and as a highly empathetic person, what happens to Catra scars Adora, too.

Held powerless by magic, Catra tries to explain that they were just playing. SW's words to her set the stage for a lifetime of physical and psychological abuse: SW leans over her menacingly, telling her "Insolent child, I've come to expect such disgraceful behavior from you, but I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well." Again, it's not Catra who decided to go in, so it's really not her fault. SW disparages her and heaps blame upon her for Adora's bad choice, ignoring the truth.

Adora weakly tries to protect Catra, saying "SW, it wasn't her fault. It was my idea too." It's an understandable response, as they're just little kids. Still, Adora could have taken the blame for their trespass, since she led Catra inside. But it's about to get a lot more hurtful for Catra...

SW's voice echoes through Catra's head as she trembles in terror: "You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me. I've kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. Do you understand ?" Catra trembles in fear, her eyes unfocused, the room empty but for SW menacing her. She's in a dissociative state, terrified and helpless. I think some people probably feel like this must have been a idle threat, but it isn't: SW abuses Catra many times after this for her mistakes. And the depiction of the dissociative state helps us understand just how damaging it was. While Adora seemingly goes on to not realize the importance of this memory, for Catra it is formative to her entire life.

Again, Adora tries weakly to stop what's happening, putting herself between them. She tells SW "please, stop" then looks over at Catra, full of concern. Running over to SW, she tells her "she didn't mean to". This is so hurtful, as young Catra is very smart. Catra knows Adora has blown it again, after all, what is it that she "didn't mean to" do when it was Adora's idea to trespass? Adora isn't getting the magnitude of the situation, and Catra is very much left to fend for herself.

SW then does a very insidious thing to Adora, a very directed abuse that's meant to work against her personality and empathetic reactions to others pain. She tells her "Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. Do not let something like this happen again..." SW follows this up with years of manipulation to make Adora even more susceptible to abuse. But in this moment, SW again heaps the blame for Adora's mistake onto Catra, who did nothing wrong. For Catra, she comes to believe that what she did doesn't even matter, nobody cares what the truth was. Even Adora. But for Adora, the hurt goes deep as well. She made a bad decision, her friend gets hurt for it, and she never comes clean... instead, she's told she has to do a better job of controlling her friend, and that she has to be perfect so that it doesn't happen again. It's a deep and hurtful moment for Adora, just like it is for Catra. But the hurt is much less direct, and more sneaky. Nonetheless, Adora struggles with this moment, this abuse of her, in the most intimate and painful ways all throughout the series.

Young Catra watches on as SW completes her manipulation of Adora. For Catra, she's left with the feeling that nothing she does matters, she was blamed for something she didn't even do. And Adora seemingly took the easy out, spreading the blame. But she doesn't realize this moment is so insidious for Adora, that it attacks and manipulates her at her emotional need to help others. From this moment on, Adora is afflicted with a desperate fear that she can't protect others, and must lead perfectly so they don't get hurt. This internal conflict erodes Adora's self worth, and causes her great emotional pain throughout the series. Catra, instead, believes she is being told she has no worth, and isn't even allowed to make her own decisions. It's hurtful, and it's part of why she tensed so badly at Adora for trying to tell her what to do earlier. We see this realization cross young Catra's face: she feels forgotten in this moment.

We see the young girls walking away from SW's chamber, Adora with her hand around Catra's shoulder. This comfort is not enough... Catra really needed Adora to stand up for her there, to come clean, and she didn't. Trying to comfort her now seems hollow. As they flash to their present selves, Catra knocks Adora's arm aside in frustration, accusing her of needing to play the hero.

Adora responds, saying she was only trying to protect her. Catra's next words tell the real truth of their childhood: "You never protected me! Not in any way that would put you on SW's bad side!" Adora at first chafes at this statement, feeling like she did try to protect her, then crosses over to confusion at the strength of Catra's assertion. Catra is telling Adora she was blind to her pain. She wasn't there for her, and this is very much at the core of Catra's disappointment with Adora: the fact that she never stayed, never tried to understand. Adora let SW control her, make her ambitious, and so Catra was put to the side of that, and over time Adora grew apart from her. Catra’s exact words here are important: she says that Adora ‘plays’ at being the hero, yet always seemingly protected her status as the favorite, never standing up to SW and risking harm onto herself in order to save Catra from pain.

And so, the fact that out of seemingly out of nowhere, Adora decides to risk everything and defect in order to fight for people she doesn't even know, insults Catra. Adora abandons and consequently fights against her own people, leaving Catra behind, unilaterally treating her as an enemy. Never, in their whole lives, did Adora ever fight for Catra, only offering affection afterwards to make up for the cruelties that happened to Catra. So no, Catra doesn't want Adora to save her, or her sympathy, when she seemingly cared so little about her pain. Adora was no hero to her.

Now an obvious question might be: if the manipulation is that Adora is supposed to protect and control Catra, then shouldn't she have had to see SW abuse Catra for it to work? The first part of the answer is that it was never really about that, once the idea was put in Adora’s head, SW used it to manipulate her further into a mentality where Adora would accept praise, promotion on her path to becoming a force captain.

The other is that when someone is being hurt like Catra was in that moment... if the one person in the world who is supposed to get it doesn't get it... then it becomes very hard to ever bring it up to them again. It's a specific type of hurt and abandonment: for Catra, she goes on to believe that this is her burden, that somehow she alone is supposed to learn these hard lessons. And so she doesn't tell Adora about the abuse. Also, keep in mind that they are small children, and Catra doesn't want Adora to hurt like she does... so she's actually protecting her, in her mind. But the fact that time goes by and Adora never seemed to care, to stop and see Catra's pain, was very hurtful to her. And Catra’s feelings of betrayal at Adora’s not seeing the hurt are justified: in episode 1, we see Adora watch SW menace Catra, then happily run off to accept her promotion, only remembering to check on Catra as an afterthought. Catra needed Adora's support, and never really got it.

[pic caption: (left to right) Adora’s apparent willful ignorance of the abuse.]

So Catra believes she learns these hard lessons so Adora won't have to, but is left alone in her pain. This also means that SW specifically abused Catra at times and in places so Adora wouldn't be aware, which again, tells us it was never really about making Adora responsible for Catra's decisions. No, the reasons were much darker, and Catra bore it all alone.

The girls flash to their younger selves, and Catra accuses Adora: "Admit it, you love being her favorite." Catra is telling Adora that she was disappointed and hurt that Adora kept accepting praise and privilege from SW, after that moment when she so clearly should have seen how SW abused her, and the maliciousness of the death threat. In Catra’s mind, Adora could have rejected SW. As painful as it is for a small child to be without any parents, it would have been the right thing to do, for Catra. SW was no good to Catra, and they could have shared the pain of being orphans who only had each other, but instead Catra ended up bearing all of the abuse while Adora was given privilege.

Adora denies this assertion, and yet she did accept the privilege SW offered her. Catra's next words show how ignorant Adora was to the realities of their lives as they flash back to their present selves: "Oh yeah? When you left, who do you think took the fall for you? Who was protecting me then ?" Catra bore all the abuse and punishment for Adora's leaving, and Adora wasn't there to see it. Catra did this bravely for Adora, in fact, up until before Princesse Prom, Catra did everything she could to cover for Adora, just like she asked, protecting her, hoping she'd come back to her. But Adora shows no understanding at all for what Catra went through, she didn't even think about what must have been happening to her. Adora has never taken the time to think about how her actions affect Catra's life.

Adora counters, suggesting that Catra could leave the Horde, and therefore get away from SW's abuse. Catra just glares back at her, disappointed. Catra knows running from the abuse won't solve anything.

::What this comes down to is a totally different understanding of the world. For Adora, she thinks she became a hero for leaving the Horde, and becoming She-ra. She doesn't realize she was lucky to fall into the situation she did, with Bow and Glimmer helping her gain acceptance and protecting her. She's totally unaware that the reality that her becoming She-ra is a manipulation born out of evil intent. For Catra, she's always known that the world is harsh, and that bad people exist who will try to destroy you. She's not afraid to fight, she's had no choice learning these harsh truths. It's a jaded view that negatively affects her perceptions of people, but it prepares her for the worst, and so she relies on it. So when Adora suggests she run from it, she rejects her as naive. They flash back to their younger selves after Adora suggests Catra can leave like she did, and Catra accusingly points out that she doesn't need to follow Adora around. That they're children is relevant to the previous memory where Adora led Catra into danger, and then didn't protect her. Catra isn't interested in following Adora blindly after she's put her in danger so badly in the past.

Flashing back present selves, Catra tells Adora she doesn't want to leave. As she says this her face conveys her anger at the world, her drive to face SW instead of flee. She says "I'm not afraid of SW anymore, and I'm a better force captain than you ever would have been." Let's take this in parts: Catra won't run from her abuser, she's already planning to take her down. Doing so is important to Catra, as it fixes her world in an important way. And that Adora can't see this just shows how far apart they are now. In Catra's mind, Adora was supposed to stay, and as they rose to power together, they would have supplanted SW, fixing Catra's world. The two of them would have been stronger in the end. But Adora did leave, so Catra impatiently tries to get Adora to see that she won't just run away. If Adora doesn't want to help Catra overcome this evil, then she'll do it on her own.

Her disappointment in Adora for abandoning this fight is apparent, what comes to mind is when Catra calls Adora weak in the Sea Gate episode. And now Catra knows she's got the power to do this, she's a force captain, and if she can just find a reason to depose SW she knows she has the station and fighting ability to take her down. She always knew she could lead, but was happy to let Adora have success because she really didn't want that responsibility. So she points out her superiority, not to show that she's better than Adora, but to tell Adora she was blind to Catra's worth, and to be hurtful to Adora for abandoning her.

They flash back to their child selves: Adora looks at Catra, hurt and confused "You always said you didn't care about things like that." Adora is feeling hurt by the idea that she was unknowingly taking advantage of Catra, because Catra has seemily just told her she was lying.

Now, this next part is important, and it's important that we are seeing Catra's reaction as her child self: Catra looks sad and lonely as Adora finishes her question, and she's crying. Something adult Catra would never let herself do. So we're seeing a much more authentic expression of Catra's hurt and emotions than if it were her present self. What you need to understand here is that those emotions don't really match her words... Catra tells her "Well I was lying, obviously!" But her face says she's angry and hurt at Adora for not seeing her pain.

As she delivers those words her face is full of accusation and insult, she's being dramatic, something we will see Catra do time and time again. She stares down Adora, eyes scrunched up, showing Adora how betrayed she felt by her insensitivity. Then we get sadness, disappointment. Finally, we get a lonely kind of furious sorrow: all that time feeling alone and Adora didn't bother to understand is written on her face.

The tears are still flowing, but as she turns away they shift back to their present selves. Adult Catra looks totally alone, heartbroken.

Ok but how we REALLY know Catra isn't telling the truth is this: almost word for word, this moment exists in episode 1. ANY time you see that happen in this show, you need to look back to find the meaning of it.

>We will need to look in totality of this scene in episode 1: An excited Catra pounces on Adora, asking her what SW said. She sees the badge and takes it. Here's a funny thing, because we see Catra jump on Adora you might think Catra is always like this, she just comes into Adora's space as she pleases. But once Catra has the badge, we see no anger or jealousy. Just total wonder. She shows nothing but exuberation and happiness for Adora's promotion (pic 1, lower left fyi).

Catra knew this could be the turning point she's been waiting for, that Adora was due for promotion. And so she's jumping all over Adora, full of joy. We only see her attitude change once Adora tells her SW isn't letting her go on missions. And so, we can infer a lot of information from this...

Catra expected this moment to change their lives for the better. That Adora's rising in rank means freedom, the beginning of something new. Some many new things, in Catra's case. But Catra definitively shows us in this scene that she doesn't desire the success for herself. She only shows happiness for Adora, for them together, and she's ecstatic. (pic 1, fyi)

This, in Catra's mind, probably means the start of their romantic lives. If Adora is the force captain that brings them to victory, SW won't be able to just trample all over their lives. Catra can begin letting down some walls, maybe even let Adora pursue her romantically. If they're together, and Adora is on her side because of that, she becomes safe from her abuser. It's a much better outcome than trying to fight SW, but that's not how the story goes. No, Adora leaves her instead. How's that for emotional whiplash? All of these truths are laid bare in s3ep5, when we see Catra's perfect reality, when she and Adora are together romantically. Catra only wants to be safe and to be loved, but when Adora leaves her she loses trust in the goodness of Adora, and in people in general.

> Adora tells Catra she shouldn't be surprised she's been cut of of the mission because she's so rude to SW, to which Catra responds by calling Adora a people pleaser, then storming off in anger...

::Note, as this is important: Adora is taking SW’s side, and not Catra’s, which is entirely opposite of their early childhood memory of Octavia. It shows how Adora had started listening to the negative judgements others placed on Catra...

>Adora goes after Catra, finding her sulking on the roof. Catra is angry, betrayed by the world, at the injustice that SW is in her life. Adora asks "I didn't even think you wanted to be a force captain?" Catra tossed the badge at her, saying she doesn't. Then she folds her body up, holding herself. Adora sees this, but doesn't touch her. She's being careful to respect Catra's boundaries. But the anger Catra feels here isn't about being denied the chance to be a force captain, it's at all the hurt that SW has dealt her and continues to do so. And Adora doesn't see that, which disappoints Catra. But, she's unable to verbalize it herself, she is too insecure in her emotional vulnerability, so she lets it slide.

What we have here is two different instances of the same question with two different answers, but in both cases Catra is telling the truth. In episode 1, it's the truth that she doesn't care about being a force captain because of her love for Adora, and the promise, in her mind, that they will eventually be together. In episode 11, Catra then says she lied, and this now is also true: Catra did think about what she was going through, all the pain and sacrifices she made for Adora, which were done in the name of love. But Adora doesn't love her the way that Catra loves Adora, instead leaving her behind. And so now that Adora didn't ever see how excellent a person Catra actually was, how dedicated to her she is, and the pain she was willing to bear for her sake, it does matter. Because that's shitty of her, and so now Catra will survive on her own by her own excellence, her strength that Adora never stopped to see. So Catra is guilting Adora, trying to make her see how blind and unfeeling she is.

>Back to ep11: Catra tries to walk away from Adora, who desperately chases her, trying to understand why Catra is becoming so distant, wanting her to tell her what's wrong. She reaches out for Catra's shoulder in one last attempt to get Catra to talk, she knows touching Catra could maybe get her to be more open. But the truth is Adora has been far too easy on Catra, she needs to be more forceful if she wants Catra to talk, which she later comes to understand... she's been coddling Catra, and so Catra is allowed to wallow in her unhealthy mental states.

Catra takes Adora's hand, forcefully holding it away from her and delivering a hurtful line: "Why do you think I gave the sword back to you in the fright zone? I didn't WANT you to come back, Adora!" This hits Adora like a load of bricks, her dismay is evident. And it's all true, which is the sad part. Catra was already preparing to cut ties with Adora, as even by that point she had come to a realization, a decision: if Adora doesn't want to be with her, then she'll do it herself. She will do the hard things on her own.

She turns away from Adora, looking hurt and betrayed. And Adora is at a complete loss, she doesn't know this side of Catra, this part of her that has survived hardship all these years... she lets her leave, not knowing what to do.

Adora is then attacked by the security, which takes up her time. As that happens, we see memories only shown to Catra. Catra runs, emotionally overwhelmed as all the unfair judgements, the abuse, and hollow apologies ring out around her. All the years of frustration and sadness weigh on her, she tries to keep it together, lashing out at the holograms. She falls to her knees, fighting back emotion and trying not to cry, her inner, vulnerable self is near the surface, and she's trying not to break down in tears over all of the hurt she's had to bear...

… and then she hears soft crying...

She turns to see her younger, tiny self, crying. Then, a tiny Adora joins the tiny Catra. Unlike the other memories, Catra never flashes into her younger self, she just watches...

The tiny Adora pulls the blanket down, Catra hisses at her... Adora sits down next to her tenderly. And we finally get the promise, the two parts that Adora has so tragically broke...

Adora tells her "It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you... nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other." The tiny Catra looks at Adora, wanting to trust her, to believe in her. As she says the question, present Catra echos it: "You promise ?" This was a sacred moment that gave Catra hope as a young orphan, that maybe she would be ok.

And so, the present Catra echoes it. Adora tells her she promises, as the skeptical present Catra looks on. Tiny Catra is still sad, insecure... she hugs Adora, needing this. Adora suggests they go back out to play... and we see tiny Catra look at her, still afraid, reluctant, wanting to stay. But she decides to trust Adora, and so they walk out, holding hands. Then something unique happens. Tiny Catra stops to look up at her present self: note, this is entirely a unique moment in the simulation, it never happened in reality... and yet Catra is given this moment...

The innocent child stares up Catra, making her see her. It's a look full of meaning, it doesn't carry any specific emotion... only innocence. Catra is having an inner child moment. That most deep and innocent part of her, her vulnerable self who feels love, is communicating with her. It's asking her to see it's vulnerability, and it's pain. Catra sees this, all of the pain Adora has caused her, the breaking of the promise, the promise that this innocent part of her was holding on to desperately with hope. She is forced to acknowledge Adora's disloyalty to her, her carelessness. Catra is reflecting on how she did her absolute best to keep that promise, even after Adora failed to look out for her in SW's chamber. Catra was so loyal and so good to Adora all of their lives; she made sure Adora had a good life, and she played by SW's rules so Adora could be the chosen one, wanting to protect her. All in the hope that they would be together, and that their love was real. But Adora couldn't even do that much, she left her. And Adora doesn't understand her, she doesn't even seem to miss her.

[pic 9: Broken Promises, Catra’s inner child, The Hero goes Her Own Way].

Present Catra watches her tiny self leave, coming to the tough realization: that she's never been able to trust Adora, not really. Her love isn't reciprocated, not by her standards.

…. which makes Adora a deeply unsafe person to Catra...

Catra survived SW's abuse, learning to believe in herself, protect herself because no one else would. All while keeping this hope of love in her heart, this vulnerable core of herself that has tenderness and loves Adora, and needs love back. But, her need for love goes to such a deep vulnerability that giving in to it and then again being rejected or forgotten by Adora would simply destroy her. SW held the threat of death over Catra’s head her entire life, and Catra resisted it, got through it by being tough and trusting in herself. So now she sees she can't trust Adora: everything that happened since she left her behind, the fact that Adora always treats her as an enemy, that she seems to show no lingering desire for her, and doesn't even seem to miss her while replacing her with new friends, seems to confirm her worst fears. Fears that have been building over the years, starting when Adora broke their promise in SW's chamber, and then as Adora pursued her success while accepting praise and privilege from SW, ignoring the abuse Catra bore because of it. She decides she can't trust Adora. Love is a lie, a weakness. A weakness that could destroy her last bit of individuality, and belief in the world.

And so, Catra, The Survivor, makes the decision... in her mind it's the brave one, just like way back when and she decided to bravely stand up to SW's abuse and not let it destroy her: she will stand up to the threat that is the weakness of her love for Adora. Adora is selfish, she doesn't deserve Catra's love. She was stupid to believe that love was even possible, for someone like her… who has always been ignored, and told she is unworthy of praise or even existence. There's only one thing left for her to do: she will be alone, strong on her own, for herself.

Her gaze hardens... that part of her that has made sure she survived SW's abuse, and made sure she won fights when she was threatened, is now the decider. It will protect her from her vulnerability, and reject Adora for her. I suppose you might be confused as to what I'm referring, or maybe not... If you haven't had to fight for your life, whether physically, mentally, or otherwise, you might not know this side of yourself well. But we all have it, it's The Survivor. And while I knew mine would protect me, I didn't accept it as my real self, I didn't accept its necessary but vicious deeds as my own. This is very much how Catra is, and as the series goes on she puts this survivor in charge of more and more decisions, we watch her deteriorate as this part of her gets out of control, protecting her from darkness with more darkness. All the while her vulnerable inner self suffers, watching the horrible deeds and becoming more and more alone, desperate for affection.

>Adora is outnumbered, eventually ending up hanging from the cliff's edge by spider webs. She hears Catra return, dealing with the spiders. Adora looks up, hopeful because Catra has returned...

Catra saunters in. Let me say a few things before we go through this part: Catra is about to say a lot of things that aren't really true. They are instead meant to be hurtful to Adora, Catra is being intentionally mean. We shouldn't take her exact words as her authentic beliefs, because they're not... no, Catra is doing what she believes she has to so she can be apart for Adora, and be safe from her. The truth is, Catra needs to be away from Adora. She's too scared of the vulnerability that is her love for Adora, because Adora hasn't shown her that she cares. And she can't do that by defecting, no, she must stay with the Horde. It's the only thing she feels there is left for her to do.

Now, let's go through this: and heads up: I'm getting at something very powerful that's going on here that you may not have realized. This speech is, in fact, a heroic moment. A heroic moment... for Catra. Not Adora, for Catra. And you just need to open your ears to hear it...

"Hey Adora."

🎶 is sad

"Catra! Help me, please!"

"This thing wouldn't work for me if I tried, would it? It only works for you... then again, you're special... that's what Shadow Weaver always said..."

🎶 is melancholy

"Catra, what are you doing??"

"Ah, ya know, it all makes sense now... you've always been the one holding me back... you wanted me to think I needed you, you wanted me to feel weak."

🎶 has even tone

"Every hero needs a sidekick, right?"

"Catra that's not how it was.."

🎶 rises, falls, sad (“Promise” begins playing)

*Catra chuckles* "The sad thing is I've spent all this time hoping you'd come back to the Horde... when really you leaving was the best thing that EVER happened to me..."

🎶 lowers, is dark, is dramatic. -Note: we see Catra seemingly become deranged as she says this line. This is Catra deceiving herself out of perceived necessity.

"I am so much stronger than anyone... ever... thought." *she cuts part of the web*

🎶 begins to rise, uplifting

"I wonder what I could have been if I'd gotten rid of you sooner." *she cuts the rest of the web, Adora falls, catching herself*

🎶 rises, is dramatic

"I'm sorry! I never meant to make you feel like you were second best. Please, don't do this."

🎶 is still rising, uplifting

*Catra stands proudly, nobly, looking at the sword. She looks down at Adora, then she casually tosses the sword past her...

🎶 is rising, hopeful, heroic.

"Bye Adora, I really am going to miss you..."

🎶 is heroic, violins now playing, adding depth

*Catra turns and walks away from Adora, proudly*

🎶 has risen to its height, crests, is heroic.

"Catra... Catra, no!!"

🎶 remains high, cresting, heroic

*Adora cries, sad, confused by Catra's leaving her...*

🎶 crests again, fades out...

Ok, so... let's talk about what just happened here. The undeniable conclusion is that this was meant to be a heroic moment, and a damn heroic moment... for Catra. The writers are telling us that Catra leaving is an important part of her hero’s journey, and that it was the right thing to do. You might be wondering, how can that be? The short answer is, Catra is on a hero’s journey unlike all the other hero’s journeys normally portrayed in fiction. All of it, even her darkest deeds, all her cruelty towards Adora, will be part of a very... important... and powerful... journey. One which will forge her into a hero in this series, in her own incredible right... how this is, what she is, is yet to be revealed... but make no mistake, she's a hero. Just not the one you expect…

We see Adora open her eyes, and see Light Hope. She tells Adora to let go. She means of her emotional attachments, as we find out. Adora cries for her lost Catra, that she couldn't bring her back to her. She lets go...

BIG ASSERTION TIME: Now, I know it's a common theory that these memories were all just an elaborate manipulation by Light Hope to divide the girls from each other, but I don't agree with that. No, I believe this was a memory journey guided by Catra, subconsciously, to help her tell Adora why she couldn't come with her, why she has to be apart.

Take for instance the memories and visions that Adora sees when she's on her way to the Heart of Etheria in season 5: this system exists apart from Light Hope, who dies at the end for season 4. This simulation comes from somewhere more primal: in my belief, it is the deep magic of Etheria being visualized through the First One's tech. We see the simulation show Catra the promise memory, something Adora isn't shown at all, and then allows her to see her inner child's hurt. Something deeper is going on here, and you should consider how strongly the magic of Etheria is resonating with Catra when it does. Because the magic of Etheria will again speak directly to Catra, this isn't the last time... In short, the magic helps the two of them to understand each other, because Catra is an important part of Adora's true She-ra journey.

I also believe that a theme of this series is that abusers, like L. Hope, are not perfect vindictive manipulators. They are flawed, and L. Hope in particular, I believe, is no genius: she fails time and time again. That L. Hope uses the moment to get Adora to let go is her using the moment to her advantage, she didn't play ultimate control over it. She just piggy backed on Catra's hurt to do it. So that last memory really was for Catra... Furthermore, I simply cannot believe L.Hope would understand the concept of the inner child… as she can't even understand sarcasm.

But now, because of this, Adora now knows of Catra's pain... and this is the beginning of Adora's long journey back to Catra, of her repairing their bond…

Let's address the obvious counterpoint: Adora now knows that Catra is hurt, but she doesn't yet understand why. And it's not really her fault, as Catra doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, among other things. But it's apparent that Adora doesn't remember these crucial memories as well as Catra does, even though they were critical in her development as well. Adora is a mess of emotions, just like Catra, and (if) she has ADHD, it might be one reason why she doesn't really get Catra. Especially if her parental figure has been manipulating it against her. Adora very much vibrates between stimuli anxiously, so SW might have made her forgetful by distraction over time. Also, the way in which Adora treats Catra as an enemy when she doesn't accept Adora’s (totally rushed, afterthought, and hollow) ultimatum that she defect with her, is a reflection of Adora's ingrained Horde war training… this is something she has to unlearn, as it is wrong. But Adora is a good person, she really, truely, is, because Adora never stops trying to make it better. And so, she slowly, but surely, comes to understand Catra’s trauma.

We get one last scene of Catra returning to the fright zone. We get to see Catra's truth here: She walks, as if she's not even there, she's deadened by the sorrow and the inevitability of what her life will now be: one of hard work, and zero joy. She will try her best to stand on her own, and put Adora out of her heart, slamming its doors shut against love. It doesn't work, but that's what she's trying to do, nonetheless. This is the beginning of a profound depression that builds over the next 3 seasons, and combined with new traumas, nearly takes her life.

But the tech Catra has brought back will end up giving her what she needs to face down and depose SW, just like she needed...

::Here is another complicated twist that's so essential to She-ra as a series: Catra, in fact, protects Adora by taking down SW. Catra may go on to command the Hordes forces so effectively that it pushes the Princess alliance harder than it's ever been pushed before, but her deposing SW is extremely important in the story. She both removes SW’s ability to attack Adora, and then denies her any sorcerous power by taking the Black Garnet from her, since SW needs an external source to draw power from in order to use her vampiric powers...

Ok so more theory time: it's a common belief that Catra stays with the Horde, and goes on to try to conquer the world out of some deep need to externally validate herself, and to prove she was the better child by beating Adora. I don't think any of these explanations are true. Catra may go on to play such a character on a surface level, but every time she professes to have any such ambitions, she is either in the presence of Adora, or under incredible stress. In the one case, she's saying those things to try to hurt Adora, and make her see how naive and foolish Adora always was, especially now that Adora thinks she can fight against her.

In the other case, it's actually her survivor mechanism trying to take over, to make her world safe. In every case where Catra says something about ambition, somewhere in that scene, Catra shows the distinct emotions of her true inner self: generally, these emotions are sorrow, fear, and loneliness. They don't exist on screen long, they are what is known as micro expressions. (See below for a short discussion of Catra’s micro expressions.)

To put it simply, the only reason Catra stays with the Horde is so she has somewhere she can be separate from her feelings and heartbreak over Adora, and then she climbs the ranks in order to find safety, first from SW, and then Hordak, once he threatens her life with his temper tantrums. That she fights against Adora is just a collateral consequence, she isn't out to get Adora, but nor does she care if Adora gets hurt, because she’s hurt her. Catra does fight against the princesses, though (including She-ra).

A core feature of Catra's character is indeed one of personal power. She's a person who is told to hurry up and die at an early age, but refused to do so. So her arc, her issue, isn't a cautionary tale about chasing validation, it's about her overcoming her fear of vulnerability and allowing herself to rely on others in a way that lets her be safe without needing to combat the darkness with more darkness. But vulnerability scares her because of the abuse she experienced.

As for validation, the only person she would want that from is Adora. This is because Catra believes in herself already: that she has a sacred right to exist, no matter what SW and others may tell her (note: Adora struggles with this, she's actually the one who seeks validation). But, she also needs love, and she is too fearful that Adora doesn't really love her and is afraid of being hurt by that. It's also why I think she's so chaotic towards Adora: her inner child tells her adult self to protect her from her love for Adora, which it tries to do, but that same child misses and needs Adora in so many ways. So she's trying to be mean to compensate for the incredible desire she feels towards Adora. I love it when Adora calls her a brat in season 5, it's such a well deserved line, mmhhmmm.

Actual discussions of how these particulars play out in the show are better left for another time, but there you have it.

Promise sidebar discussions: Catra’s micro expressions; Catra nearly dies at the Battle of Bright Moon

“White Out” microexpression discussion: [see pics below] This is the first time since the Battle of Bright Moon that Catra and Adora meet. So it's a good time to talk about Catra’s micro expressions. Picture 1: Adora says “Hey, Catra” out of the blue and Catra is completely blindsided, she figured she wouldn't be bothered out in the middle of nowhere. She's anxious and unhappy to be seeing Adora. Along with her suspicious absence the episode before in “Roll With It”, the answer is obvious: Catra has been avoiding Adora. She may have cut ties with her in “Promise”, nearly bested her at the Battle of BM, but she doesn't want to see her. She doesn't know what she feels about her.

Picture 2: Enraged monsters are decimating the base, and a battle breaks out over the corrupted disc. Catra is desperately trying to protect it, because she can control Adora if she has it... and she needs this chance to have her back. As Catra reaches to pick it up, she's facing away from everyone and so no one can see her desperation and sadness from missing Adora. (pic 2) Shortly after, we also see her clutch the disc desperately to her chest in a way that's very endearing, right before the monster attacks her and makes her drop it. Then, as she's about to die in its jaws because she doesn't want to give Adora up again, Scorpia breaks the disc and saves her life. We see in this episode as Catra completely loses track of her emotions, and now realizes she has to come to terms with the fact that she's so desperately sad from missing Adora, she was willing to die just for a chance to have her back.

Pic 3: Catra hates working for the Horde. She HATES it. She gets zero joy from the job, and she’s already figured out that Hordak will kill her if she screws up too badly. She didn't want this job, plain and simple, but now feels stuck with it. None of this is the life she wanted. Combining this knowledge against Catra’s declaration to Adora at the end of Promise, we know she's not happy that she had to go her own way...

Catra’s near death experience at the Battle of Bright Moon

At the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra leads Adora (She-ra) away. They battle, but then Catra retreats and instead starts listing out every single worst fear of failure she thinks Adora has. It's a dark moment, she's acting much like SW did to them as children, and we watch her manipulation take root in Adora. Finally, her words are too much, and as Catra looks down at Adora's (She-ra's) back, we see Adora become deranged, overcome with her fear of failing everyone... (pic1, above) she picks up a boulder and throws it directly at Catra. Catra is knocked flying, and only by the barest of margins does she keep from falling to her death. Adora nearly kills Catra. And so, as Adora drags Catra up from the cliff and slams her into the wall, we see a totally heartbroken and emotionally crushed Catra. In this moment, Catra believes all of her worst fears are confirmed: Adora only cares about being She-ra, so much so that Adora would kill her in the name of being that hero. Catra uses this moment, this belief, to justify her division from Adora. Sadly, she's wrong... she's ignoring the seriousness of the threat that the battle poses, and as Adora was facing away from her during that moment, she doesn't see the terror and desperation Adora experiences due to her cruel words…

Oh, and one more thing before we go: when Catra says “What, did you really think this was about you ?” SPOILER ALERT: It was. Because She-ra is one big Catradora story… and we love it.

As always, thanks for reading. <3

~EtheriaDearie

P.S. :: as I am new to tumblr, if you enjoyed reading this, please consider giving me a reblogg! Thanks!! 🙇💛

#she ra #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #catradora #happy birthday Catra #catra #she ra shadow weaver #shadow weaver #adora #my writing #thanks for reading #she ra synopsis #she ra fan theory #she ra meta

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #1: Avengers Assemble!

September, 1984

WHO will answer Hawkeye’s call to join the new team?

I assume Mockingbird? I see her silhouette in the cover box and the assumption was that she and Clint were a package deal? I don’t know what it’s being played like its not a given.

Some good or at least interesting options here for the second team.

Red Wolf, Iron Man, Puck, I thiiiiink Crystal?, Doc Sampson, Mockingbird, Cyclops, Black Widow, Wonder Man, Tigra, Quicksilver, Hercules, Ant-Man, Namor, and the Shroud.

A lot of interesting options. I really want it to be Cyclops and I know its not going to be Cyclops.

STOP TEASING ME WITH AVENGERS CYCLOPS IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!

Also, this issue #1 of West Coast Avengers. Or at least the first issue #1. The team is introduced in a four issue miniseries before getting an ongoing - and a second issue #1 - about a year later.

This will be moderately confusing for my numbering but I’m brave enough to barrel on through anyway.

Last time in Avengers: Vision became the chairman of the Avengers and announced that due to the threat of the Dire Wraiths, the Avengers would be opening up a West Coast team led by newly married Hawkeye. In one page reminders of the subplot in various issues, Hawkeye and Mockingbird arrived in Los Angeles, went real estate shopping, and set up a new HQ in a nice compound that used to belong to an actress.

The team is only missing one thing.

A team.

Maybe it’s just me but I’d think that you’d get the team sorted out before you spent who knows how much renovating a compound up to the level required for a superhero team.

It’s going to be really embarrassing if you open a new Avengers team and nobody comes.

(Vision agrees and has taken the liberty of reaching out to several likely candidates.)

Mockingbird confirms that Hawkeye has invited her onto the team but she’s not even sure she’s Avengers material, she doesn’t even have powers.

Hawkeye: “Neither does Captain America! Neither do I! If I can be an Avenger -- !”

Mockingbird: “Anyone can, right?”

Hawkeye: “And people wonder why you took the code-name Mockingbird!”

Haha! I do like their chemistry!

He does clarify that its totally not just because she’s married to him (although I would point out that he kept trying to get Black Widow on the team based on them dating) but that she’s totally earned it! She has years of experience as a SHIELD agent!

Hawkeye calls Vision to let him know that the place is all set up and Vision lets him know about the reaching out to several likely candidates biz.

BOOM SCENE TRANSITION TO DOWNTOWN SAN FRANCISCO at the office of private investigator Jessica Drew.

Because, yeah, Jessica Drew did the PI thing as an ex-superhero way before Jessica Jones. And Jessica Jones is probably Drew with some of the serial numbers scratched off.

ANYWAY, she’s talking to hardboiled Tigra, who helped her on the Enselmo case.

Jessica Drew: “I still laugh when I think about the way you ran our pigeon up and down Telegraph Hill!”

Tigra: “That was the best part of the case! After all... bringing pigeons to ground is second nature to a lady who’s half-cat!”

Jessica tries to offer Tigra a job (since this is before the internet and Tigra can’t find a lot of modeling jobs for models covered with fur) but Jessica’s secretary interrupts with a call for Tigra.

The call sounds ominous from Jess only hearing half of it but I’m 99.9% sure its Vision offering Tigra a spot on the West Coast Avengers.

Read Tigra’s replies with that context and you’ll laugh.

Tigra tells Jess that she’s got to book it to LA for business that she has to settle on her own but they’ll talk about Jess’ offer later.

Tigra: “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl... I can make my own mistakes!”

I feel like a little bit of clarification would have gone a long way here, Tigra.

Because Jessica assumes that Tigra is in trouble and decides to call someone to tail (ha) Tigra.

Meanwhile, a car chase in the Mojave Desert.

To cut to the car chase, this is a movie set filming a stunt spectacular car chase scene for what I’m pretty sure is James Bond.

Pyrotechnics are easy if you don’t stress blowing up the stuntman.

Because he’s near invulnerable.

The stuntman (Simon Williams, Wonder Man) does need to have buckets of water thrown on him to cool him off after being in an explosion but he’s otherwise fine.

Cool that Wonder Man found an acting job he can handle. He seems pretty thrilled with it.

One of the staff on set tells Simon that his trailer is buzzing and he realizes its his Avengers transceiver.

He receives his offer from Vision (although apparently a much more vague one than Tigra) and flies off after making sure he has no more stunts scheduled for the day.

An hour later and hundreds of miles elsewhere, Iron Man (the James Rhodes version) is flying around, minding his own business, thinking about how cool it is to have relocated to California to help Tony Stark open a new business, admiring the Standord University Linear Accelerator Center.

Just as he’s thinking that he hopes that Tony isn’t in a hurry to being Iron Man since he’s gotten used to it, Vision cuts in on the secret Iron Man radio frequency to call him in to the meeting.

Iron Man arrives twenty minutes later at the West Avengers compound on the Palos Verdes Peninsula bluffs and paraphrased does an impressed whistle at what a nice place it is.

Iron Man: “Some spread! This looks like the kinda place Tony would’ve hung out... before he lost Stark International! The best part of being his pilot in those days was ferrying him to spots like this! Who’d have thought I’d ever be invited on my own? Then again, who’d have thought little Jimmy Rhodes would grow up to be Iron Man?!”

Future knowledge bums me out a little with this. This is spoilers for a year from now and several issues from now but in the time gap between the West Coast Avengers limited series and the ongoing, Tony does take over being Iron Man again. I hope you enjoy all this while it lasts, Rhodey. And hey, War Machine is only like eight years away!

Tigra arrives and starts acting familiar with Iron Man because she thinks she knows its Tony and they were teammates for a bit.

She ditches the briefly identity obscuring trenchcoat and hat because dammit she has a year round fur coat and its hot in California!

She also might be flirting, although hopefully not as bad as she’ll get later in the ongoing. Spoilers for a year and several issues for now but it is a bafflingly bad subplot that Tigra gets given.

The other reason I bring it up is that this is the exact situation that led Rhodey to quit the Avengers when he became Iron Man. He felt it would be awkward interacting with people who already knew Iron Man well.

I guess he’s more comfortable with it now.

The West Coast Avengers roster that we already know about are all people who either quit the Avengers or don’t feel like they’d be a good fit. Which is just a great start so I’m interested to see if we’ll get justifications for why they’d sign up the minute a franchise opens.

Hawkeye takes Tigra and Iron Man off on a tour while a mysterious shrouded figure watches.

The tour concludes without us seeing the tour, boo. But it comes up that neither Iron Man or Tigra know why they’re here.

Iron Man was just told he was needed but didn’t get any more details. We know that Wonder Man got the same vagueness. And Tigra was just offered a $1000 dollar stipend to fly out to LA and see if she could “help the Avengers out!”

So Hawkeye gives them the sales pitch.

That Captain America made it a rule that except in emergencies, the Avengers’ roster would be limited to six members. But Vision decided that they need more than six Avengers but wanted to keep the team from becoming unwieldy so told Hawkeye to set up an expansion team: the West Coast Avengers!

It’ll basically be the same thing as the original Avengers in terms of by-laws and rights and privileges and both groups will be affiliated but the West Coast Avengers will be running their own show west of the Rockies.

If everyone here agrees to sign up, that’ll make a team of five with a sixth spot to fill.

But Tigra objects that she left the original team because she felt out of her depth and why would that be different here?

Ah, now there it is.

Justify it, Hawkeye.

Except he doesn’t because the intruder alarm goes off.

The intruder alarm all the way in the first basement level, which means their intruder has already penetrated deep into the compound and bypassed a lot of the security systems.

Hawkeye is sure that the intruder is actually a highly organized commando raid and he’s instantly proven wrong with an infrared scan shows just one guy.

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is also sure that however this just one guy got as far as he did, the security system in the next area will totally--

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is fed up at this point and seals off the security levels, forcing the dude back through the domestic areas. He then orders Iron Man, Tigra, and Mockingbird to split up to cover more ground that way and surround the intruder.

Not having much better to do, they do, but everyone has some misgivings in their thinky thoughts.

Iron Man: Hawk sounds like he really gets into giving orders. I don’t know if I like that.

Tigra: I must be some sort of masochist to get involved with Avengers again! They always seem to know what they’re doing... not like me! What am I doing here? What am I trying to prove?

Hawkeye: Should I let the others catch our intruder... or rush in and collar him myself? How would Cap handle this?

Mockingbird: Poor Hawk... He wants so much to be a good leader! I know he can do it, but I wish he wouldn’t try quite so hard! In a way, though, it’s funny... His first act as leader was having the team split up!

Mockingbird is the first to run into the intruder, suddenly being enveloped in a cloud of darkness. She can’t see anything but hears someone moving and launches one of her staves from her spring-loaded sleeve launcher.

Its a near miss, breaking a lamp instead of the intruder, who turns out to be Shroud. Y’know, that friend of Jessica Drew’s we met in that two-parter about saving Jessica Drew’s ghost?

Shroud realizes how skilled Mockingbird is and that he might have trouble if he takes her lightly so he goes right for the Vulcan neck pinch, knocking out Mockingbird. But she hits Shroud in the stomach guts with her second stave as she’s passing out.

Hawkeye then shows up, concerned that he hasn’t run into Mockingbird yet and drawn to the cloud of darkness, except not the Final Fantasy villain.

He shoots a light arrow, except not the Legend of Zelda powerup, into the cloud to no real effect so shrugs and shoots a sonic arrow instead.

Shroud flees the area and Hawkeye finds Mockingbird who tells him to shut up with the EEEEE arrow.

Hawkeye: “Where’d our man go?”

Mockingbird: “How should I know? It was dark!”

Hah.

The cloud of darkness passes through the area of the mansion/compound that Tigra is in and she recognizes it as Shroud’s darkness. She calls out to him but he doesn’t hear her because he’s in another wing about to be tackled by Iron Man who can see Shroud with his in-helmet radar.

Controlling darkness is all well and good until technology.

Ain’t it said, Rumia?

Shroud is also blind so all he knows is that an armored man is lunging at him until Iron Man calls him a fool for trespassing on Avengers turf.

And that’s when he realizes that he done goofed.

Hmm. What is that symbol on Shroud’s hood, anyway? It looks kinda like Aku.

Shroud manages to escape Iron Man’s grasp, sacrificing some of his neat cape. Although, it tears into an even cooler look so is it really a sacrifice?

He decides that he’s just going to get out of here.

Shroud: Have to get undercover and think out my next move. I don’t want to fight Avengers! That could become a life’s work -- and I have better things to do!

I can’t decide whether he means that he’d be at it all day or that this misunderstanding fight would lead him down an unwilling path of villainy as some third-string grudge holder.

Probably the former?

Anyway, Shroud is just leaping over the balcony when Wonder Man finally arrives and spots him. And unfortunately for Shroud’s ribs, he has been cultivating a reputation as a crimelord so Wonder Man flies in and tackles him into a tree.

Womp womp, except for Shroud this time.

Tigra shows up and jumps on Wonder Man from forty feet away to stop him from hurting Shroud any further, explaining that he’s her friend.

Shroud: “I’m certainly glad I’m not an enemy... I’d hate to think how I’d be treated then!”

Hah.

Later, in the medical room, I guess, Mockingbird applies bandages to Shroud’s ribs except on the outside of his costume. Does... does that do anything? Obviously not for open wounds. But for bruised bones, I guess the point is compression. But it feels less than ideal because he’d have to take off the bandages to take off his shirt. Just feels better to apply the bandages under the clothes, MOCKINGBIRD.

What makes it weirder is that we see him a couple panels later pulling his shirt down over the bandages. Which makes me think Mockingbird bandaged him on top of his costume and he had to pull his costume top out from under them and pull it down. He didn’t just stop her because that would be rude?

Shroud explains that Jessica Drew asked him to keep an eye on Tigra because of how the phone call made her act all weird. He followed Tigra from the airport to here and ran into a gaggle of superheroes.

In the meantime, Hawkeye has verified Shroud with a report Captain America filed on him so Hawkeye believes he’s a good guy now.

Wonder Man and Iron Man apologize for going in swinging and Tigra for not just telling Jessica what the call was about. But Shroud tells them no permanent harm done.

Hawkeye decides to offer Shroud the last spot on the team (assuming that everyone already invited is going to choose to stay).

Hawkeye: “That trick you do with the dark is one slick little number... and anyone who can hold his own against us as long as you did obviously has what it takes in the skill department. Besides, what you did reminds me a little of how I introduced myself to the Avengers -- I broke in, too! Come on... What do you say?”

Shroud say... no.

He’s honored and a couple years earlier he would have jumped at the chance. But Wonder Man’s assumption didn’t come from nowhere. Shroud has been spending the last many months building up his outlaw rep so he can take down gangs from the inside.

Like the Green Hornet, I guess?

But since it’d be hard to be an Avenger West Coast AND keep up the fake outlaw thing, Shroud has to turn them down.

Shroud then pulls his cloud of darkness disappearing trick and nopes out.

With all that tied up, Wonder Man asks whats the big thing that Vision called him out for, leading an exasperated Hawkeye to start his West Coast Avengers sales pitch from the top.

Mockingbird: “That’s the spirit, fearless leader! Just remember, it can only get better from here!”

Hah.

So, that was the first issue of West Coast Avengers.

And there’s still no West Coast Avengers team.

Tigra and Iron Man still have reservations about the idea. Wonder Man has no idea why he’s there.

Its an interesting decision to hit the ground walking with this team. But it makes sense. The initial plan wasn’t for the West Coast Avengers to get an ongoing. This limited series was supposed to establish the concept, give a few Avengers affiliated characters something to be doing off-panel, and be able to be pulled in for crossovers and guest appearances as needed.

So the book can focus more on Hawkeye’s trials in actually getting this team going. He’s finally gotten to be a leader of the Avengers like he’s always wanted and now has to deal with all the frustration that Captain America or Hank Pym had with him, and then some.

Still, funny that the West Coast Avengers’ first adventure has them not only not a team yet but spending their time beating up a friend due to mistaken identity.

Will they get their act together by the next issue? Only time will tell. I tell a lie because Chronos never spoils stories. Only me will tell or maybe the Internet.

Follow @essential-avengers for the rest of the West Coast Avengers limited series. And for eventual bafflement when they get an ongoing. Also, like and reblog.

#avengers #West Coast Avengers #essential avengers #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Tigra #Iron Man #James Rhodes #Wonder Man #the Shroud #Jessica Drew #essential marvel liveblogging

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #lost light #maccadam #tf #rung #megatron #minimus ambus #rodimus #swerve #self insert #human reader #requests #anon #my writing #transformers headcanon #my asks

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watarigarasu · 4 years

Text

October 31st – Ghost Stories

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Word count: 2,379

Warnings: None

Author’s note: Modern!AU. My last story for the event is also the longest, I hope you enjoy it! Participating was a lot of fun, thank you so much for running it, Jessica, I look forward doing more events in the future! <3

You were never particularly fond of the centuries-old manor you used to live in with your fiancé. No amount of splendid decorations nor modern architectural solutions could stop the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched, of every single of your steps being followed, of the shadows disappearing in the corner of your eyes whenever you were trying to catch them.

It was odd, considering the fact that Thranduil seemed to not notice any of those things, no ill energy, no suspicious rustles in the middle of the night coming from the floor below your bedroom, nothing strange. He was never the man you would consider as insensitive, on the contrary, under the cold mask of calculation there was a compassionate soul, the one you fell in love in many years ago. It did not took a lot of time for him to ask you to live in his house together—the great, luxurious mansion appearing to you like some kind of untouchable dream. And yet, there you were, sleeping in the soft embrace of the man you loved, in the place people could only dream of.

With the invisible eyes watching your every step.

“Is something bothering you, my love?” Thranduil asked one day, stroking your hair in a caring manner as your cheek rested upon his chest, the book still open in his hand. “You seem tense.”

At first you said nothing. It was the beginning of a wonderful, sunny day, the leaves of a maple tree behind your bedroom’s window shining brightly in gold and orange, the smell of tea and coffee prepared by the cook downstairs reaching your senses and causing your stomach to grumble in need. It was supposed to be your Saturday, the day where none of you were supposed to work and simply enjoy your time together.

If only not for the dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered and played with a long strand of his platinum hair, twirling it over your finger. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“I understand.” You felt his chest throb when he spoke and then the Adam’s apple to move when he swallowed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Bad feeling rather.”

“About?”

You frowned. Clarification of your worries was way harder than it seemed and immediately you thought that maybe getting into this subject was not the wisest idea. Supporting your weight on one elbow, you rose up and looked him in the eyes. There was a genuine concern, a will to help, and you wondered how people around you could be so blind to still consider him as ruthless.

“It’s just a stress,” you explained vaguely and kissed the corner of his lips. “No need to worry about, let’s go get breakfast, shall we?”

Whether he did not want to push you or respected your opinion, Thranduil did not ask any more questions. Still, he managed to successfully occupy your mind with kisses and delicious breakfast.

Walking up the stairs, you greeted the maid and headed forward to the dressing room to grab a coat before joining Thranduil on a stroll through the gardens. Although the weather seemed appealing from behind the windows, you quickly found out that it was rather cold once you stepped outside. Blowing wind tossed the fallen leaves all over the estate, giving the gardener a plenty of additional job.

Thankfully, spending the peaceful, completely normal morning with your fiancé was enough to make you lighten up a little, forgetting about the unpleasant incident. Perhaps you truly were overreacting; it was not the first time when your empathy gave you a wrong impression of what was going on around you and if you could only focus on something else, you could quickly realize that there was nothing to be afraid of. You were safe and there was a bright future ahead of you, full of wonderful surprises, marvellous adventures and never-ending love.

Smiling to yourself, you turned right on the first floor and went through the corridor, taking a mental note to take a pair of gloves and a scarf for Thranduil also, before you stopped abruptly and held your breath.

Cold sweat rolled down your spine as your mind was desperately trying to understand what you have just witnessed—to no avail. Frozen in place, you could only stare blankly at the portrait hanging on the wall, the one which has been there since the times of Thranduil’s grandparents. It was all the same as you remembered it; golden frame, heavy movements of brush against the canvas, mostly brown and copper colours used, green armchair appearing as soft and comfortable, roses blooming from the corners, however, now there was one detail missing.

The armchair was now empty.

“I swear to you, I’ve seen it,” you confessed, your trembling hand hidden in Thranduil’s, warmed up by his natural heat, as you led him to the first floor. “She was not there, the lady from the portrait disappeared as if she just casually stood up and went out of her painting. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true.”

Thranduil remained quiet, following you with the long steps until you finally reached the said portrait. Unexpectedly, you felt a wave of relief washing down on you as you realized that the lady was still not present, since you were afraid that once you will go and get your fiancé here, she might come back and therefore make you appear as a lunatic. You were not convinced if he would believe you in the story only.

His answer, however, was as stoic as he always was.

“I see…”

For a long moment, you were staring at the painting. With him by your side, there was new courage in your heart and eventually, you took a step forward, looking at the canvas from a different angle, hoping to maybe see her hiding behind the painted armchair. Naturally, she was not there and the painting was as flat as you could expect.

You peeked over the shoulder when you heard Thranduil walking away and quickly followed him.

“What are we going to do about it?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” You blinked in confusion. “There’s a living portrait in the house and we’re supposed to just ignore it?”

“What else should we do?” He raised an eyebrow and this question shushed you successfully.

Indeed, what should you do? Look for her? Where, on the on the other paintings, like in Harry Potter? Put the portrait down, so she would not have a place to come back to? Burn it? Every idea seemed to be more ridiculous than the previous one so you only shook your head in resignation.

You would gladly take a walk in the garden now, but first, you had to add few drops of bourbon to your coffee.

The lady came back on her painting next morning. She was sitting on her armchair in the same position, with the same, soft smile on her lips and you started to wonder whether yesterday happened at all. Thranduil confirmed your inquires to be true and although you still felt like in a dream, the life was going on. This time, however, everytime you passed the painting by, you were eyeing the portrait carefully, looking for any signs of movement, any proof that you were not crazy.

You and your fiancé equally.

She did not move for the next week but it was getting harder and harder to be glad about it, since various objects from the home started to disappear and appear in the same places some time later. First, your favourite mug, then Thranduil’s tie, a shoe, a key to the basement, porcelain figurine, 5th volume of the book series, a vinyl record and a single candle from the candelabra. None of the staff knew what happened and surprisingly, they were as shocked to discover the things reappearing as you were previously.

“Did that happen before?” you asked Thranduil one evening, while sitting by his side in the enormous living room by the fireplace. “Before I moved in, I mean.”

You did not have to explain the details to him, so he would know what were you talking about in an instant.

“Sometimes,” he sighed, still looking at the screen but now paying no attention to the film’s plot.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Why should I?” Corners of his lips turned up in a weak smile. “To scare you off with the ghost stories about my house being haunted?”

Fair point.

“Have you ever tried to… talk to it?”

He sent you a curious gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean trying to communicate. I’m no expert but things like that usually happen when they want something. When they’re lost or scared or lonely. Maybe that’s the way of getting our attention so we can do something about it, while we’re still here.”

Thranduil did not answer for a long time, staring blankly at the screen, completely lost in his own thoughts. When you started to wonder whether he will talk about it with you anymore tonight, he finally spoke again, his voice slow and quiet, barely a tone above a whisper.

“My wife died many years ago. This place changed so much since she left, no current staff remember her and with every passing year, I’m remembering her less and less myself.” Rising a glass, Thranduil took a big sip of the wine but you decided to not interrupt him. It was the first time he has ever started to speak about her so elaborately.

You were aware that he was a widower, he has informed you about that at the beginning of your relationship, just in case you had anything against it. Still, he never spoke about her again as if he was avoiding this topic as much as possible, and you knew better than to start it. She was the love of his life and although at first it unsettled you, seeing the painful, tired expression on his face when he finally brought the subject proved you that there was nothing to be afraid of. His love for her was eternal but it did not lessen the depth of affection he had toward you.

Love was not a pool to divide between the people in certain parts, it was always different and always whole to give.

“She loved this house,” he continued. “She loved her son and she loved me. This place was filled with her love, completely. And truth be told, once she was gone, the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced was waking up one day and realizing that she’s not here anymore. As if she never existed, as if she was just a projection, a fleeting dream, a whisper on the wind… I could no longer touch her, feel her, hear her voice. She was as far away as the stars upon the sky, unreachable, unimaginable.

Then, things like that started to happen, sudden disappearances but nothing harmful, just a simple jokes. Silly games. At first I couldn’t believe my own sight either but it was true and it was not evil. Moreover, it was as if she was still there, a soft reminder that I wasn’t mad, dreaming about her love, and the memories we shared were real.

I missed her every day and please, don’t hate me for that, but I believe I’ll miss her forever, too.”

It was rare to see the tears in his eyes and the sight was enough to make you feel your eyes burning also. Gently, you hugged him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and stroking his hair, the bittersweet grief squeezing your heart harder than ever before. You loved him more than anything; you were willing to leave your homeland for him, to withstand his difficult, distant personality and eccentric behaviour and to devote the rest of your life for him knowing, that he will never be truly yours.

Holding him in your arms, weeping the tears of sorrow, you loved him more than ever before.

The last thing which mysteriously disappeared in the house was never found.

You were sitting with Thranduil by the long table and enjoying the delicious dinner, listening to the music playing and making plans about your upcoming wedding. Before the meal, you were looking through the album featuring variations of cakes, the one which included so many propositions that it was hard to pick at least five better than the others. You had a feeling that the preparations will take much longer than you previously thought, but the vision of marrying your fiancé was more than appealing.

“I’m afraid to even start a conversation about the decorations,” Thranduil added. “Perhaps it’d be wiser to simply hire someone to take care of it.”

“We’ll see. I don’t want anything to be missing on our special day.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll personally supervise the preparations.”

“That’s a relief.” You sighed dramatically. “Speaking of which, I have some good news for you. The earring, the one I was supposed to wear on the wedding, was found.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side.

“Was it?”

“Yes. It was in the casket, just where I left it.”

“I’m glad then.” He smiled genuinely. “It would be a shame if I had to buy you multiple new pairs, just in case they got lost also.”

You giggled at that statement, knowing that he was capable of doing this just to make sure that nothing could interrupt your special day. Sometimes, you were starting to think that it was him who was more nervous about the whole act than you, even though he managed to hide it well most of the time.

Taking a sip of your tea, you eventually decided to not tell him about the last thing which seemed to be missing. There was no need to worry him, especially since you were certain that this one will not be found anytime soon. Your insecurity was, after all, the last thing which you wanted back, and the gentle smile of the lady in portrait ensured you that there was nothing to be uncertain about, not in the house, nor about the love of your future husband.

#13daysofspookywritingevent #13 days of spooky writing event #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit

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bao3bei4 · 3 years

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i have basically covered the material in this post several times on my twitter. but this is, in my opinion, the only s*xy t*mes with w*ngxian take you need.

(cw transphobia, transphobic slurs, antiblack racism, mentions of csa and bestiality in fiction)

edit 6/10/21: hi! i’m realizing people are still reading this! this was written in response to aja romano’s vox article on the fic that was published in late february of this year. i had been frustrated with how their article seemed to miss the point in many ways, because they never talked about the substance of the fic. which, i mean, fair. i wouldn’t want to read a 1million word fic either.

but i already had, so i thought i’d write about some things that i believed needed to be part of the conversation. namely, that its author wasn’t a harmless troll, but a person i genuinely disliked who i believed should be deplatformed.

i think virtual1979 is a bad person.

i think a lot of people mainly know about sexy times the phenomenon more than they do sexy times the fic itself. i have the dubious honor of being one of the few people who has actually read large portions of the million word fic, and that’s why i wanted to write this meanspirited hit piece.

the fic is down right now and the author’s notes and comments have both been deleted, which is why i cannot provide screenshots. however, these are all quotes i have saved from when the fic was online, and i’m happy to talk with anyone if you feel any of these quotes are mischaracterizations of the fic.

i also want to be clear this is not a “callout post” and i’m not trying to “cancel” them or whatever. i am just explaining why i don’t like them, why i don’t feel bad they’re being harassed, and why i do not find them sympathetic at all, and perhaps why you should also adopt these stances.

let’s start with transphobia.

sexy times with wangxian is transphobic. this much is apparent from the tags. virtual1979 tagged the following: F*tanari, d*ckgirl, Sh*male. they use this language in the chapters that include a character with both a vagina and a penis.

they refer to this character (wei wuxian) with the pronouns “he-she.” the following excerpt is a fair representation of how this wei wuxian is referred to in the chapters where wei wuxian has a vagina and a penis.

[Lan Zhan] would never be turned on by a female, and he would actually be turned off by a drag queen - but this… this Wei Ying, it’s Wei Ying, and he-she looks [...]

i know these words are common in porn categories, but they are also slurs. virtual1979 also uses hermaphrodite to refer to this set of anatomy, which is not strictly a slur, but definitely a stigmatizing choice of language.

they have repeatedly made clear they are not open to criticism. they have also since removed the comment section. making an intersex character for the express purpose of using transmisogynistic language towards them in your million word porn fic isn’t annoying the way their tags are, it’s actively fucked up.

fanfiction has a transphobia problem, and if we’re talking about sexy times with wangxian in any capacity, we must be clear: sexy times with wangxian is part of that problem too.

secondly, virtual1979 is also complicit in ao3’s racism problem.

i think the way they write about chinese characters and settings is annoying and racist, but they are a malaysian chinese person, so i do have some sympathy for them. i am committed to having some patience for people who are annoying if they themselves are working through the prejudice they have faced.

they’ve commented as much:

Not gonna lie, this fic has been a steep learning curve for me despite my roots being Chinese as well, but I have absolutely zero knowledge in some of these aspects!

and i’m happy on some level they can get in touch with their roots. who among us has not been cringe and diaspora. any criticisms i have of their portrayal of chinese people will stay private and be made to other people of color.

i’m going to be clear here i don’t think the actual comment they made makes them super evil or anything. but this essay IS clearly in response to That Article, which did mention racism in fandom. so.

i think we have all seen the infamous karen comment they made, in which they compared people who criticized their tagging with “Karens,” equating antiblack state violence to... mean comments on ao3? and “SJWs,” which, eye roll. no ageism but you’re 41 why the hell are you complaining about sjws

anyway. i am deeply frustrated by the co-option of the word karen. a stand-in for a particular type of racist violence white women specifically can and do inflict has become fused with that reddit-type mommy issue “can i speak to the manager” internecine white resentment.

so their trivialization of antiblack racism is another reason i don’t like them. again i KNOW it’s petty to point this out here, but this to me shows that virtual is afflicted with the same kind of fandom brainrot that aja is, where everything comes back to that same sort of self-centered bullshit.

sorry for that jab. julian told me that aja thought that cql was about callout culture and all i could think was “wow! just like virtual thinking that--” because i also have spent too much time on twitter this week.

this is just like. part of this ongoing pattern i’ve noticed with virtual, where they’re aware enough of real problems to acknowledge they exist (police violence, accessibility issues caused by their tagging) but are determined to double down on their minor relative persecution as king, shittily drawing parallels between like... real problems and fandom problems. equating the two or allowing the second to take priority over the former is like... par for the course for this type of person!

third, this is just another clarification on more parallels between ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on by That Article.

i would rather DIE than get into discourse. but why did they write this sentence:

Lan Zhan’s rational mind finally broke with a tsunami of pedophilic lusts [...]

by the way that is the start of a 430 word sentence. and yes this fic does contain hundreds of thousands of words of aged down wei wuxian. make of that what you will.

also why would you make wei wuxian teach baby chickens how to sexually pleasure him. do you hate these characters. what’s going on. i think mxtx should be able to sue virtual for that one.

there’s a very obvious connection between mainstream ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on in That Article. sexy times contains multitudes and some of those multitudes are bestiality and explicit childfucking.

this is not unrelated to fannish culture, they are not unfamiliar with fannish norms, blah blah blah. this is just normal fandom. they’re not subverting shit, they’re just a normal fan who unlike 99% of fanfiction writers on twitter, spends more time writing than posting. this has taken their fannish tendencies to cartoonish heights.

finally, they don’t care about mdzs or wangxian. they’re literally just horny and spiteful that’s it. this isn’t a question of like... “ohh they were a good faith participant in fandom until they went joker mode” and the REAL villain is society/ao3. like no they wanted to write shitty porn, and when they found out they were annoying people, they decided to double down because they could be the main character of the mdzs ao3 tag every time they found a spare hour to write.

here are some select receipts on that topic:

they do not care about canon:

MDZS has quite a complicated and expansive plot and history, and enough content that one can choose to tune out certain parts and still get to the end of the story in one piece. Also, because of its source, some fans may not fully realize the nuances, cultural aspects (ooh, cultural appropriation is another triggering topic) or the full breadth and depth of the source material, such as a person like me, who is half-baked in terms of knowing what the canon universe is all about. So I end up playing with characters and settings technically borrowed from the story, and make them do things that would otherwise run counter to the original source material - and that draws quite some flak from those opinionated people I mentioned just now. It's part of what makes the fandom toxic. It's like they're the self-appointed guardians of the source material and they act like they own the rights to question such questionble fanworks, and dare I say, try to take down those that cross certain lines too.

they are just horny:

After that giddines of extra drunken Lan Wang Ji scenes at the beginning, I'm blessed with Lan Wang Ji (Wang Yibo's, actually) fuzzy nips! Bless Bless Bless, and Amen! muahs the nips on the screen

anyway they did get nuked over wishing covid on people.

so yeah. i want to be really clear. this is my thesis: i do not feel bad for them. you should not either. i do not like them. you should not either. that’s ALL!!!!

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 3 years

Text

Redemption, My Love

Chapter 8 update Cross posted to AO3 Rated Explicit Important tags: In depth tags warning can be found on AO3) Lancewain, Slowburn, Found Family, Eventual smut, Warnings for abuse (emotional, physical, mental) of a child, Rape/ Non Con, Self harm, and the rest of the tags that come almost implicitly with an Lancelot/Weeping Monk centered fic. Side note: Everything happening with NImue and Merlin and the Fey takes place at the same time as the events from chapters 1-6.

++++Arthur++++

Arthur is locked in discussion with the Red Spear. It is vital they become allies, he knows this, without her and her warriors the Fey would have been wiped out today. There would be none of them left in this group. He would have failed to protect them as Nimue requested. He must convince them that the Fey are worthy warriors, capable of returning the support of the raiders. For now the most important aspect of discussion is the vulnerability of the beach. If a storm blows in or the tides change, they could be trapped here. Tonight, remaining on the beach is their only option with so many wounded, but tomorrow they must find a more formidable location. Perhaps they can go back to the woods. “We should send scouts at dawn. Then we may burn the dead. When the scouts have returned we will move our injured.” “Aye.” The Red Spear agrees, then continues, “ Supplies will be short with so many mouths to feed. What would you recommend for it?”

“We should ration, immediately. Send out hunters into the woods to bring back whatever they can to offset the difference. And send those who can pass for humans into the nearest town with funds to buy what we can.” He stands firm beneath the intensity of her gaze. He could swear it's as if she is looking through him, or perhaps she is looking into him. Setting his jaw he forces himself to meet her gaze and finds himself captivated by the angles of her face and the odd jewelry she wears. Shouting pulls him from his distraction and he turns to face a young boy running towards him. “Arthur! It's Nimue, she’s returned with Merlin and Morganna. Hurry, she's been injured!” He follows the boy across red sand, feet pushing against a malleable surface, slowing him as he attempts to reach his lover as quickly as possible. When he turns to call an apology to the Red Spear he finds that she is keeping pace with them. The boy slows to a halt and pants just ahead of him. Pushing through the crowd he comes to a stop, nostrils flaring as he inhales and chest rising and falling quickly. He watches as Yeva sends Pym to gather something for her and ushers two boys carrying Nimues limp form into a tent. The Moonwing casts a glance and Merlin and despite her obvious disdain for the man, nods, then shakes her head and enters the tent. Pym passes by him and he reaches out grabbing her arm in a vice-like hold. She meets his eyes and he loosens his hold minutely. “Will she be alright?” “We don’t know yet. I have to go and help.” She pushes his hand away and moves quickly towards the tent. Not quite a run but far from a walk. Her red hair flies freely in the breeze where it has fallen out of its braid, and for a moment he is taken back to the first moment he met these two girls, singing in Hawksbridge. That day feels so long ago. “The girl they carried into the tent. She is Queen of The Fey?” “Yes.” “And is she more than that to you.” He nods, throat to dry from lack of water to speak, and constricted with fear to function. Frantic voices draw his attention and he glances towards Merlin who is speaking urgently with his sister. His feet drag in the sand as he makes his way to their side. “Morgana what happened? Why are you dressed like that?” “It’s a long story Arthur. Nimue was shot twice by Iris. There wasn’t… we couldn’t do anything. She fell off the edge of the walk and into the waterfall. Arthur, we barely found her. She’s freezing cold, cold as death.” “Yeva, is skilled. She will heal Nimue. I am certain.” Merlin suggests, voice shaken but firm in its conviction. “What about you? You're thousands of years old. You're her father. Why don’t you do something?” Morgana snaps back at him furiously, face drawn tight, and arms wrapped tightly around herself. “ I have not practiced my magic in almost two decades. I'm not sure I can help her. Even if I was certain I wouldn't do more harm than good, Yeva will not let me work beside her. When she is done I will do my absolute best to repair any remaining damage. For now, we must be patient.” The wizard says, inclining his head and leaning heavily on the sword pushed into the sand. His staff gone missing in the fray. Arthur bares his teeth, ready to say something else, to argue, start a fight, but it leaves him just as fast when a hand rests gently on his bicep. His sister looks up at him and he pulls her into an embrace. “Are you hurt?” “No. No I am not. But I have done something I fear cannot be undone.” She trembles in his arms and he can do nothing more than pull her closer, he never could shield her from the world, and now less than ever. He wants to help, but without knowing what has happened he cannot.

“Morgana? Morgana, what is it?” “Later my brother. Later. For now let us worry about Nimue.” He mutely agrees and looks between the two as he formulates what needs to be done next. The next thing is the only thing he can think of at this moment or he will go mad. There is so much to consider, so much still to do. Instead he begins to lead them towards the center of the camp. They linger a moment looking at the healers tent before he speaks.

“You two must be hungry. Let us get you something in your stomachs and dry clothing.”

None of them will sleep tonight. Not well at least, even with dry clothes and full bellies. So, as they sit around the fire in silence, waiting for whatever news the morning may bring, Morgana and Merlin take their turns explaining what occurred at Uther’s camp. Morgana tells him about Nimue’s plan for her to flee with the sword and how she decided to come back. He listens as she tells him and Merlin about how she had met the widow, and that she had killed her. As he listens to his sister speak, the belief that she is hiding something from him rears its ever present head and settles low in his gut. Their relationship is tenuous at best and he knows it, so he does not press for clarification or more answers. Just listens silently, idly drumming his fingers against his leg and casting furtive glances at the tent whose walls hide Nimue from them. Neither Pym nor Yeva nor the others have come to tell them anything. Eventually Morgana stops speaking and Merlin begins to explain what Uther has done. “Guinevier, The Red Spear, should hear this as well. She and her troops have agreed to help us, if we in return help them against Cumber’s men. It seems we have a common enemy in him, and now Uther as well.” “And the Paladins?” Morgana inquires looking between them and towards the direction of the raiders. “The raiders have been sacking their camps as repayment for raiding the cities before they get a chance. It is to our benefit.” He offers a small smile to his sister. “Nimue left you in charge, did she?” Merlin adds, looking into the fire. “Yes. She did, is there a problem with that?” He raises his eyebrow in question and stares at the exhausted looking man. “No. I just find it curious is all.” He aches to slap the smirk off his wine drinking grin. Instead he sends someone to fetch the Red Spear. As they wait the sounds of the camp fill their ears. It is the sound of a war camp. The moans of the injured surround them on all sides in the dark of the night. The chill of the sea breeze billows the tent walls around them and carries the sound of death up the cliffs and over the fields. Whetstone on steel is a comfort against the cries of the heartbroken and injured. Morgana shifts to his right and he turns. “You wish to go help them?” “I would be more useful trying to save a life than sitting here worrying.” She agrees as she stands and disappears into the shadows. Merlin shakes his head and drinks deeply from the goblet in his hand.

When the raider joins them the three discuss the political game they have found themselves in. The Fey have their backs against a wall. If the Paladins, Uther, and now Cumber have sided with each other against them their only real hope is to side with the Red Spear and her raiders. Even then, there is little guarantee that any of them will survive.

++++Pym++++

Even inside the tent it is cold. She shivers against the breeze and watches as Yeva sets up to begin working. She swallows away the tightness in her throat and approaches cautiously. “I want to help.” “Get her hair dry and get her out of these clothes. The last thing she needs is to catch cold.” The Moonwing bites out as she turns half way around to size Pym up. Half blind eyes meet hers and she wonders how this woman can still see to be a healer. Jumping at Yevas sudden proximity over the table she starts to unlace Nimues bodice with trembling fingers. It takes far too long to undress her friend and get her covered by blankets. Yeva works around her with little difficulty. She is grateful for that small mercy. If she were in the way she isn’t certain she could live with that. For now she stands at the head of the table they’ve laid Nimue on and towels long chestnut locks.

She doesn’t take her eyes off Yeva as she works. It is inspiring to see old hands, twisted with time and tipped with talons work so delicately with the skin beneath their touch. The shoulder is the most logical place to begin as the arrow has already come loose but Yeva ignores it, looking instead at the bruising forming on Nimue’s head, and sides. She runs her hands over the young Fey’s arms and legs, feeling for broken bones, then down her ribs. “Feel this.” She speaks, low and raspy and Pym jumps again, not having expected for such a request to come from the matron. She extends her shaky hand and Yeva takes it, presses it against Nimue’s ribs and slides it up and down letting her feel just how real the damage is. “She must have hit a lot of rocks when she fell.” The whisper falls from her lips unbidden. It’s stupid. Surely, Yeva has already thought the same thing, but instead of telling her off the woman looks at her and asks, “Why do you think I haven’t started with the arrow wounds?” With hesitation, Pym considers the options carefully. She isn’t really certain, but there is not a lot of blood which means she should be concerned about infection. “They aren't bleeding? So, it gives you time to look for other injuries?” Yeva meets her eyes and gives a nod. “Now what should we do first?” “Why are you asking me? You're the healer.” Frustration fills her voice and she tries her best to keep it out but can’t. Her friend is dying and Yeva is standing there asking her questions instead of healing her. “You wanted to help. I am teaching you.” The old woman answers calmly, turning her back to the girls and reaching for several supplies. Indignant, Pym comes to stand by her, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out. “Well then teach me something!” The glare Yeva sends her way makes her spine tingle, slowly she steps back and lets her arms fall to her sides. “Sorry.” She looks to the ground. “Do not apologize to me. Do better.” The woman says thrusting a bowl half filled with water at her. “Clean the wound on her shoulder.” “Shouldn’t I add something to the water?” “I already have. Now go on.” She doesn't waste another moment to do as instructed and sets about cleaning the wound as best she can. It isn’t very deep into the tissue of the shoulder but she can see the edge of the bone when the debris has been cleared away. “Yeva, I can see the bone of her shoulder. And the skin is hot to the touch.” The Moonwing healer looks up from her concentration on the arrow lodged in Nimue’s stomach and lets out a long sigh. “Prepare a poultice of yarrow, beeswax and pepper for now. Apply it thickly and wrap it.” Moving away from the table, she finds the ingredients she needs on the table, the flickering light of the candles dancing ominously at the periphery of her vision. Focusing on her task she wills away the tears seeking to fall from the corners of her eyes away and mixes the ingredients. When she turns back around to apply the salve to the wound she finds Yeva cleaning the one on Nimues abdomen. This one does bleed. A lot. She knows from her time on the raider ship that the arrow was keeping the wound sealed. Applying the mixture to Nimues shoulder she watches the matron wipe blood from the entry site and flush the wound out with a mixture of herbs and water. When done she packs the wound with yarrow leaf and applies the rest of the poultice to the outside of the wound and wraps it tight.

“We cannot stitch these, they are puncture wounds and there is infection in them. We must leave them open to drain. We will check them twice a day. Keep them clean and dressed until she is well. Until then we must keep her warm, and when she wakes keep her from pain as much as possible. Her lungs will ache, as will her leg.” “Her leg?” The look Yeva gives her could curdle milk, still she does not look away. “What is wrong with her leg?” “It is broken.” “What can we do?” “Thankfully the bone does not need to be set. We must keep it still, until it has mended itself. Go and get the supplies for a splint. You know what's needed?” “Yes.” When it is done, the bone splinted, the wounds wrapped, Pym sits beside Nimue. She holds her cold hand in the darkness of the tent and weeps, keeping vigil until she falls unconscious with the first rays of morning light rising over the sea. ++++Percival++++ “What do we do?” He casts his eyes forward to The Green Knight, then turns to look up at The Weeping Monk. He can feel his blood run cold at the thought of being captured. He remembers the smell of hot iron and burning flesh, old blood and vomit that lingered in the tent he found Gawain tortured in, the one Lancelot rescued him from, and his heart hammers in his chest at it. He remembers the sight of blood, old and dried and cracking, splattered on every surface. The way Gawain looked, bloodied and half dead, slumped against the ropes in the chair. He blinks. Head spinning, he tries to settle his stomach. Someone is speaking but it's like they are miles and miles away and he can barely hear them screaming over the rapid pulse of blood in his ears. He feels like he’s drowning. He closes his eyes against the onslaught of noise and it makes it so much worse. He feels like he’s falling over. “Percival! Percival.”

There is commotion around him and his right shoulder hurts as if someone has wrenched it behind his back but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet.

“Squirrel? Are you alright? Squirrel.”

He blinks and looks up at The Green Knight and The Weeping Monk, hand on his side and face screwed up in pain, both standing over him. He swallows and tries to take a deep breath as he attempts to sit up. “Careful,” Gawain says, voice steady and calm, though Percival can see the worry creased between his eyes. The Weeping Monk, looms over them both like an ominous statue, watching, he turns, takes a deep breath and winces. “They’re getting closer.” He says turning to look back at them. “Sorry,” Percival starts, looking between them as he runs his sleeve over the sweat on his brow, “What happened?” The shouting in the background grows louder. “We will talk about it later. We need to go. Come on, up you go.” Gawain pulls him along and he climbs up on the mare. He watches him turn to Lancelot. “You said five or six?” “Yes. But it's not exact. It’s never been exact.” “If we need to engage can you fight?” “Yes.” “Alright. We will try to slip away unnoticed. If that fails…” The Weeping Monk nods at him solemn and dark beneath his hood and they both return to the saddle.

“Are you going to give him the sword?” He whispers as he leans back against Gawain. He raises an arm up to block a low hanging branch, and The Green Knight does the same. “If I have to.” The response is breathed against his ear as they lean low. “Left!” Lancelot calls from behind, Gawain glances over his shoulder and Lancelot has already cut to the inside, putting himself in the lead. They follow another trail into a valley. Gawain hot on his heels. When they reach the center, Lancelot breaks off and pulls his horse in a circle. It almost seems like he is looking for something. “Why is he circling like that?” “I don’t know yet.”

The Weeping Monk comes to a halt facing them, both horses stepping side to side in excitement.

“The woods are teeming with Paladins. The only way I don’t smell them is directly behind us, and that direction is about to be cut off.” Percival swallows and tries to keep himself calm. The Green Knight tightens his hold on him for a moment before releasing him. “Then you recommend we fight our way out?”

Lancelot only nods, eyes never leaving Gawain's face. Percival inhales sharply and looks around the spot they have found themselves in. It’s not very defensible. “We need to get up higher.” He says automatically. Both the men with him know this, but he can’t help himself. They should be moving. “You’re right.” Gawain inhales sharply behind him and they fall into unmoving silence. “What are you waiting for, we need to go.” He feels Gawain shift behind him. “Here.” The Weeping Monk eyes the sword for a moment, before nodding slowly. Once the blade is in hand, they climb the otherside of the valley and lead the horses into a thicket. “Percival. Stay here with the horses. Do you understand?” The firmness in Gawain's voice is almost frightening as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “Yes. Green Knight.” He nods urgently and tightens his hand on the hilt of his knife.

Lancelot whispers something softly to Goliath and hands him the reins. “We should cut back across the valley and take them by surprise.” He watches as Gawain stands and meets the monks eyes again. The two stand at arms length to speak, they can’t give away their location now. “How many now?” Lancelot adjusts the sword on his belt. “The initial six behind us, another four ahead, and two or three to the right.” “And further this direction?” Gawain points south. “A camp, from what I can tell. Too many to be a scouting or hunting party.” The Green Knight opens his mouth to say something but the monk moves quicker covering it with his hand and using the other to push Gawain further into the brush. Gawain retaliates quickly drawing a knife and pressing it against the others ribs poised to pierce his heart. Lancelot doesn’t flinch. Percival watches in horror as it unfolds to fast for him to help. When they’ve come to a stop barely a foot from him, Lancelot removes his hand from Gawain's chest and holds up an open hand, defensively and tilts his head to the opposite side of the thicket. Gawain, eyes wide, does not move the knife, but gives a slight nod. Lancelot takes a single step backwards and they listen in silence for what seems an eternity. “Good catch today?” Someone asks. “Good catch? Those are the scrawniest rabbits I’ve ever seen. Barely fit for a stew.” Another supplies gruffly. “At least I caught us something” Another paladin says followed by laughter. Lancelot tightens his grip on the sword hilt and Gawain does the same, dagger still not lowered, attention caught between the possible enemy and the certain enemy. Percival swallows, they can’t see how many there are. It would be reckless to attack now, but as time drags on the voices grow quieter again. He takes a deep breath. Looks between the two who are watching him and nods. He’s okay. He’s okay. He repeats the line over and over again in his head until he begins to believe it. “What if we wait till nightfall?” He whispers when there have been no signs of the paladins for a while. “Horses could give us away any minute. We need to move.” Gawain murmurs into the air between them. Lancelot nods once in agreement. Slowly the three of them start for the exit of the brushwood. Gawain lets Lancelot lead and Percival doesn’t understand why, but he trusts the Green Knight to know what he is doing. They make it back to the other side of the valley they had crossed before anyone speaks again. “Well then, Monk?” “It’s getting hard to sense their locations. It’s all bleeding together. Two of the groups must have come together here.” Lancelot says turning in a slow circle. “I do not know which way is safest.” He shakes his head at them. “We need to continue southwest. We should press on, get as far from here as possible before nightfall.” The Green Knight states firmly. There is no room for either of them to argue, not that they would have anyways. The monk mounts his horse and follows beside Gawain in silence. Percival keeps his eyes peeled as they move slowly through the woods. He thinks they should be moving much quicker.

Eventually they pass by a small stream and rest for a moment. It's at the edge of the woods. The sun is beginning to fade from the sky. Percival drinks deeply from the clear stream and stretches. He feels a little better, still uncertain, still sick to his stomach, and ignorant of how he got on the ground earlier. But the pounding in his head has stopped and while he hates to admit it he hopes he never has to see a paladin again for a very long time. “Should we keep going?” He finally asks when the horses have been fed, watered and tethered and the other two have had a moment to sit. “We will be too exposed in the field.” “We’re too exposed here.” The Weeping Monk counters, softly, voice low enough it would be easy to miss in the commotion of a camp.

Gawain shakes his head in frustration. Even Percival knows The Weeping Monk is right. “What are the paladins doing all the way out here anyways?” Squirrel asks, trying for casual, but the waver in his voice gives him away and he shrinks under the appraising gazes of the warriors to either side of him. “Search parties most likely.” Lancelot responds offhandedly taking a sip from a waterskin. “Not a main camp then.” “No. More likely, it is a base they spread out from, but it would have no more than 15 or 20 men. Three to five forming a party.” “Hunting Fey.” Percival looks at the ground, even he flinches at the venom in Gawain's voice, but Lancelot does not shy away, “Yes.” The admission slips from his mouth like ash thrown in the air. Percival stands abruptly, panic flooding his body with adrenaline. “What about our prints?” He looks desperately between the two men who also make their way to their feet. They share a knowing look. In its wake Percival feels a stab of betrayal low in his gut as he looks up first at the Green Knight and then at The Weeping Monk. How dare they share something with each other and not him? Hasn’t he known Gawain longer? Besides that, they are supposed to be protectors and they’ve left him vulnerable. They are supposed to protect the fey. Protect each other, now. Protect him. “Percival.” Gawain starts, kneeling to look him in the eye, he pulls away from the hand that tries to rest on his shoulder and inhales harshly. The ring of steel forces him to turn, Lancelot stands facing them, sword in hand. Gawain is too slow. Percival feels a burn like fire across his face as blood soaks his hair and clothes. The ground meets his face and he rolls, instinctively getting to his feet. He turns and draws his knife from his belt but he can't see through the blood in his eyes.

#Cursed Fanfiction #Cursed TV 2020 #Fanfiction #Lancewain #Lancelot #the Green Knight and The Weeping Monk #The Weeping Monk #The Green Knight #Gawain #Percival #Found Family #Redemption #Chapter 8

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notasdriedapricots · 3 years

Text

The Tender Trap: The Origin Story

This is just pretty much a disclaimer for the disaster that’s coming.

I TALK A LOT OMG HOW DID YOU KNOW? Here's a TL;DR: -The Tender Trap is canon as shit, because I never intended to write a fic, and much less to publish it, but one thing lead to the other and I ended up kinda liking it. I love them so much. There's quite a lot added to it, but there's still a fair bit of the original thing in there, because again, that was the original goal. -However, if you think there's too much still there, let me know! I think I've modified it enough, but that's only my opinion. -If you catch technical mistakes, grammatical errors, weird vocabulary... let me know! English is my second language. -There's an after-villa sequel in the oven that has more angst (the game doesn't leave much space for that) and honestly is more fun. Or at least I've been having so much fun with it. I have to finish it first, though. I might hate it by the end, but we'll see. -Funny story: It was untitled for months. The day I randomly found a title while listening to Ella Fitzgerald, I kinda decided to 'fuck it, just upload it somewhere'. And so here we are. That was literally yesterday. -The first real chapter will likely be posted on AO3 on Thursday/Friday, depending on how much longer I keep messing with it :D

800 words of me rambling under the cut. How annoying is that.

I transcribed the whole goddamned game. In past tense instead of present, mind you. As one of the most popular memes in my country preaches: Why? There is no 'why'?

Well, there is. Just for clarification, that transcription is not what I will be posting. I'm not that dumb. No, I wanted to add nuances to the story without altering it, so I used what the game gives us as the skeleton. I wanted to see if I could make nonsense dialogue and the whole amnesia deal make sense by turning it into inside jokes, sarcasm, and anxiety. (Prosody is a wonderful thing). I tried my best to not contradict what has been explicitly said, regardless of how. much. I. wanted. to. change. it. That was the challenge, to reframe it so it made sense. Did it interfere with the 'creative process'? Nah, it was pretty fun, and I work well with a structure in place. The post-villa thing is way freer and oh god it's so over the place I have to put some order to that I don't even know where it's going but I found out I love writing domestic shit and I LoVe Lucas' mother.

This idea lead up to extending some scenes, adding others I felt were missing, composing internal monologues... And I ended up writing fiction again after like ten years. Which is not a "take it easy on me" card, by the way. Be ruthless, I can take it, mainly because I did this just for fun. I know I'm rusty, what's new? I know it mainly shows in the first chapters because the game forces a pace that's too fast and too slow at the same damn time and there's only so much my brain can do. I might rewrite them at some point, who knows. Also English is not my first language, so I can only hope there's something that sounds hilarious in there somewhere that you can point out so we can laugh about it. Let me know! I've loved this language since I was three, I want to use it properly. Also punctuation is sometimes different (commas and the necessity of explicit pronouns in English are a pain in the ass compared to Spanish) so you're welcome to correct that as well if you catch a mistake. So I don't intend to put myself at the same level as some of the fantastic writers in this fandom; you keep writing art, I'm just here for shits and giggles, and because this was insanely fun for me.

But going back. I started getting sidetracked, as I tend to do when I write, as you can see, so I had to get the scissors and cut those parts that weren't adding much to the main plot (telling Gary to apologize to Marisol is very nice but this chapter is already over 8000 words long, SIR) to make room for other parts that needed more depth, so amongst other things we have the emotional breakdown and apology we deserve after CA (or at least one that makes me feel bad, I don't know) and a lot of chats so these two actually get to, you know, know each other? Oh, and smut, ejem. Yeah. That.

In between I wrote half the after-villa sequel, canons for Liz, headcanons for Lucas, (head)canons for them together, pages and pages of questions and answers from both of them, fashion headcanons, families and exes, best friends; I put together pinterest folders with pictures of so (so) many people, clothes, apartments; I even wrote a musical episode where Liz has a karaoke battle with her ex in a jazz joint that's one of my favourite things because the songs are just *chef's kiss* I mean, Liz singing 'Cry me a river' is so cathartic... Anyway I started adding shit, mostly thoughts, to the game's dialogue, and it ended up in this abomination that never intended to be anything but fun. I'm not particularly proud of the first couple chapters because the cut/don't cut thing looking at the wordcount, trying to decide if I butchered the original dialogue, reduced it to a general paragraph, or pretend the scene never happened, all while having a chapter that was too short to split into two (or that would have one of them containing too little new stuff) but so long to be just one... was painful. I'm still dealing with that as I tweak the next chapters, but as soon as I have a somewhat definitive word/chapter count, I'll let you know. Just know that it's long, so do with that what you will.

SO, welcome. Take a seat, help yourself to a drink, and stay for as long as you like. When I got into this I went to the ball, so now I'm just dancing.

#TTT #dont say i didnt warn you #lets gooo

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accio-kitty-malfoy · 3 years

Text

A Breath of Fresh Hair

I am SO sorry it has been so long since my last update. I’ve been super ill and then work has been manic. Anyway- if you’re still interested, here’s a new chapter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/77463770

Chapter 10: A Second Attempt

Harry took the same route to the coffee shop as he’d done the previous time. This time his head was less foggy and he enjoyed the journey. As he walked through Grimmauld, he resolved to make plans to clean the house. He knew it wouldn’t be quick or easy, but he would just take it a room at a time. He thought he’d probably end up doing the kitchen, living room and one of the bedrooms first. It would give him space to sleep, eat and relax at least. He was sure he would be able to count on some of his friends to help him too.

He was more prepared to see Malfoy when he walked into the coffee shop. This time he was wearing a darker grey suit with a deep red shirt. His hair was tied back again; a red velvet ribbon secured it at the top of his neck. Malfoy tucked a couple of stray strands behind his ear and stood up, holding out a hand to Harry. He smiled easily, but there was no trace of his customary smirk anywhere to be seen. Harry shook his hand before taking the seat that Malfoy gestured to.

“Mr Potter, you’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.” Harry nodded. He didn’t know what to say. “Would you like a coffee? Or perhaps a tea?”

“A tea would be lovely, thank you.” Before long they both had steaming drinks in front of them and Malfoy dug around in his bag, bringing out a notebook and a pen.

“Now, please explain your idea to me. You don’t mind if I make notes while you speak?”

Malfoy didn’t say much while Harry spoke, bar making small sounds of acknowledgement, or asking for clarification when needed. He bit the inside of his cheek while concentrating. Harry had never noticed he did that before.

“Sounds like a good base idea, Mr Potter. I’ll have a look at it in more depth and make some notes on what might need to change, or how certain things might be achieved. I’ll write it all up and we can have another meeting. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. That should be-“ He checked his diary “- the seventeenth of July. I have one thirty free, if that’s good for you?” Harry nodded. “Would you like to meet here again?” Harry nodded again. “Then that should be all, unless you would like another drink?” Harry was slightly taken aback by the offer.

“I should, um, get back to the Burrow. I’d like to go and see Bill and Fleur and the baby.” He felt like he was making excuses. “Sorry.” He added quickly.

“No worries at all, Mr Potter. I understand that you have had a rather stressful few days.” Though Malfoy gave Harry a friendly smile, he could’ve sworn that there was something more in his eyes. It was probably relief, but Harry had an odd feeling that it looked more like disappointment.

On the way back to The Burrow, Harry had a walk around Grimmauld. He decided which rooms he would tackle first. On the ground floor, there was a large entrance hall that went right up to the top of the house. The door closest to the main entrance was the formal dining room. There was also a library and study on that floor. The first floor had the large, double story drawing room with the Black family tree and a bedroom. The second floor didn’t have much, except for a bedroom and the third had a large room that had originally been Sirius’ parents and then Buckbeak’s and a smaller spare room. The fourth, and last, had Sirius’ old room, as well as Regulus’ and the stairs to the attic. All of the bedrooms had their own bathrooms, except for Sirius’ and Regulus’; they shared one between them. Right at the bottom of the house there was a large basement with a huge kitchen, a dining room with a fireplace, a bathroom, a pantry and the boiler room. Harry decided that he would renovate the whole of the basement- that wouldn’t be too much of a job as they’d been used the most often by the order, so they were in good working order already and just needed a freshen up- and turn the formal dining room on the ground floor into the lounge. He didn’t know which room he would take as his bedroom. He thought he would probably end up in Sirius’ but didn’t know if it would hold too many memories of his Godfather for him to be comfortable in there right away. He would have to think on it.

The Burrow was quite quiet by the time he got back. It was half three in the afternoon. Molly was knitting (she’d made an early start on the jumpers this year), Arthur was out in the garden and Ginny was doing some in-between practice reading in the kitchen. The try outs were approaching quickly and Ginny had a nervous energy about her. He said that she wanted to get as much practice and reading in as she could before tea, as Luna would be joining them for food and then staying over that evening.

“How’re things going with you guys?” Harry was genuinely curious.

“Good, thought we’ve barely seen anything of one another with all the drama of you being ill, Ron and Hermione moving and the new baby. I’ve also been training a lot, and Luna has the quibbler to run. It’s been pretty mental to be honest.” Harry nodded his head then stood up, heading over to the kettle.

“Brew?” Ginny smiled and gestured to the chipped yellow mug sat in front of them. They closed their book and leaned back in the chair, stretching as they did so.

“So, how did the meeting with Malfoy go?”

“It went well. We’re meeting again in a couple of days when Malfoy has had a chance to look over the plans.” Harry poured the hot water into the mug and stirred thoughtfully. “I’m going to move into Grimmauld. I’m going to renovate it a bit at a time- starting with the rooms I need to live in- and live there. It’ll be easier for me if I’m going to work in London. It’s going to feel pretty empty there though.” Ginny made a small noise in the back of their throat and leaned forward in their chair.

“Luna has been looking for somewhere to stay in London. She’s opening a new office up in Diagon Alley and Tomas will be taking over the branch in Hogsmeade. If you’re looking for a housemate then I’m sure she’d be happy to muck in with the renovations. I’m sure she’d be glad of not having to floo or apparate, she says both make her feel sick. I doubt she’d want to stay forever though. She’s nearly got enough saved to buy a nice little flat somewhere.” Ginny had begun rambling a little, trying to justify their suggestion. They only ever seemed to get flustered when talking about Luna.

“Sure Gin, I’ll ask her when she comes over today. I’ll have a the floo connected to here at some point too, so it’ll be easier for you guys to see each other.” Ginny smiled and gratefully took the mug of tea that Harry handed them as he sat down.

The next hour or so was spent comfortably sipping tea and chatting about this, that and the other. Weasleys from all over were flitting in and out of the house. Bill had come back from the hospital for a freshen up while Fleur’s parents and sister were visiting her. Charlie had decided to stay for a few more days to be an extra pair of hands if needed. George and Angelina had called in and decided to stay for tea. Luna arrived around five and her, Ginny and Harry went to sit outside in the garden. It was a cooler day than it had been in a while, though it was still hot, and the sun was still high in the sky, it was comfortable and pleasant. After a while of lounging and chatting, Ginny gave Harry a meaningful look. He cleared his throat and brought up the topic of Grimmauld to Luna.

“Of course, that sounds fantastic! How much are you wanting for rent?” Harry looked confused for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it.

“Nothing. We’ll split bills and things, but I already own the house so it’s not like I’ll be paying a mortgage or anything. All I ask is that you give me a hand with the renovations.” Luna nodded enthusiastically.

“That would be such an amazing help with me saving up for my flat. Harry you are the sweetest.” They gave each other a hug and carried on discussing finer details. Harry had decided that he would move out, even if his salon project didn’t get off the ground. He knew it would be good for him to get out of the Burrow and actually have some responsibility. And even renovating Gimmauld would give him something to do- some purpose. Him and Luna agreed to move in at the start of August. That would give them a couple of weeks to sort everything out in finer detail.

Ron and Hermione appeared not long after, and then they all sat down to eat on the tables outside. As always, the conversation flowed easily. Harry sat back and watched his friends and family talking and laughing. He drank in the joy and happiness that surrounded him, knowing that he would miss it when he moved out, but finding himself excited for what the future held in store for him. He knew that he would appreciate his easy comfort more when he wasn’t constantly surrounded by it, and he promised himself that he would try and visit The Burrow as often as possible after he moved. He also knew that he would have to tell Mrs Weasley as soon as possible. Hopefully she would be distracted by the happiness of the new baby and that would soften the blow of him leaving, but he knew she would still be upset. After all, he was like a son to her. Affection for the woman spread throughout him, but he was soon distracted as Ron placed a huge slab of chocolate fudge cake down in front of him and Arthur topped up his cider. He smothered his cake in cream and was enveloped back into the conversation, a smile on his face and in his heart.

#harry/draco #drarry fanfic #drarry fandom #drarry #harry x draco #gay draco malfoy #bi harry potter #non binary ginny #trans luna #black hermione granger #aromantic asexual charlie

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fanartfunart · 3 years

Note

Heya! I really really like your style and saw the commission thing and was wondering how to, y'know, commission a tningy ^^' I haven't done it before

Glad you like my art and like it enough to consider commissioning! ^u^

My commission information page is here. I suggest looking through it. I explain how I work in that as well, at the very bottom. But, I’ll give ya a breakdown for the Never Commissioned Before. (since that version lowkey assumes at least slight familiarity)

It’s not too difficult or anything so don't stress it! If you want a general price-point before diving in or anything: for me, an average work tends to be around $35-50ish USD (usually mostly depending on color or number of characters) but some of the more complex stuff, which often includes multiple characters and background goes more up towards $200ish. If you’re tighter on cash, as I know a lot of people are, I suggest setting yourself a budget and telling me what it is! That way if you want something, but you can’t afford it, I can help make it something affordable! (ie I may suggest not using full color, or having a bust rather than a full character- etc)

For the actual process, I’ve put it under the cut. I go pretty in-depth and it got long.

Step One: Message me with what you want to commission me to do. Give a short description.

You can message me on tumblr or through my email [email protected]. I like it if you come in with a semi-solid idea of what you want. Hopefully you read through my commission page, but, I’m also happy to provide suggestions and ideas as well. I do fanart and original works! You should have a description of what you have in mind ready.

Here’s two examples on each extreme of what I can work with:

“A picture of my character, standing with their hands on their hips. They have long brown hair and eyes and wear a pirate-like costume”

“A picture of my character, standing with their hands on their hips, a little sassy in pose an expression. They have long brown hair that goes to their hips, and is parted to the left. They have brown eyes, and a small scar on their cheek. They’re a little stocky and they wear a v-cut loose black tunic, a purple vest and leather belt.”

I’d ask more questions for both of these! I’ve never had a commission where I don’t feel the need to ask for more information. If it’s an original character (or even au-versions of fanart or characters I’m not familiar with), I love hearing about who they are as a character, since that gives me a sense of what energy I’m trying to portray with the character. If you have references (doesn’t matter if it’s an amalgamation of references plucked off of google or something you drew yourself) that’s awesome! I don't require it, but, they’re always appreciated. I am totally open to helping you make decisions too! if you have the base idea, but you don’t know if you want them to have a coat or not, I can give you sketches with both options.

Step 2: Pricing.

If you don’t already mention it, I’ll ask you specifics of the things in my commission post- ie: if it’s full body or a half body, or if it’s full color or anything.

If anything on my commission post confuses you, you can always ask me for more examples or an explanation of the difference!

After determining exactly what you want me to do, I’ll usually give you an estimate for how much it would cost to complete. Sometimes, if you’re still deciding between things that determine the price, like how complex the pose is, I might do some sketches first and see which ones you like before giving you a price. I have a little leeway on pricing here, and if you think it’s too much, you’re welcome to ask me to explain why I priced it that way and if I can lower the price. That said, a lower price means lower complexity and detail.

If we’re confident in the price, I like if you pay me at this point, rather than later, as it’s easy to forget, and frankly, I’d rather not do all this work just for someone to take the image and not pay me at the end. I have some leeway, but I usually prefer if you pay me before I get to the last step before completion. If it’s a lineart work, that means after the sketch. If it’s a colored work, it means after the lineart.

Step 3: Sketches.

When I get started with sketches it usually takes me a day or 2 to get them done. I’ll give you several to choose from. I usually do about 4-6 individual sketches and label them by number (because I’m dyslexic and for the life of me never remember left vs right).

Once I send you a batch of sketches I’ll ask you for your opinion. I basically want to know: which sketch(es) fit your idea the best and if there’s anything I’m missing or need to get rid of. It’s going to be loose and messy, so if you want me to explain anything about how it looks, please feel free to ask. I can combine sketches if you like parts of one or two of them but as a whole they’re not perfect. If I’m totally off the mark, you can totally tell me so! That kinda means I didn’t do my job right in step 1, and I’ll ask more questions to understand which aspect I’m missing.

Once we have one sketch that works, I’ll ask you a few more questions about what you’d like to see on the lineart.

Step 4: Lineart

Depending on how complex it is and how busy my life is, this might take me a day or a whole week.

Using the sketch as my base I’ll use this time to make clean lines, get some details in (this is usually where expressions and clothes are defined beyond the general structure.)

I’ll send you the sketch after I’m finished and once again, ask you what you think and what might need adjustment. Your job is to nitpick here! Please, feel free to nitpick. Is the hair too short? Is the arm in a funky angle? Tell me! You’re buying it, you get to critique it. I’ll work with you to come to an agreeable look.

If you’re commissioning me for a colored work, I’ll also ask you for any clarification/changes from the original concept for the color.

Step 5: Color

This tends to take about 1-3 days.

If it’s flat color, it’ll be pretty simple, and shading or lighting will be done with kinda flat bold lines unless otherwise stated that you just want it Flat-Flat. It’s not my usual style, so most people tend to go for full color. Full color is my usual coloring style, and I use some pretty soft shading. It tends to reflect a midday-look, but if there’s a specific background I’m doing, I will match the color to it. Dynamic shading is a secondary layer of color. I usually do color and shading on one layer. Dynamic shading is where I work with really bold, dramatic lighting.

I usually work with a background at the same time as everything else, but, sometimes I don’t because I focused on one aspect or another, so that might be an additional step.

Once again, I’ll send the work to you and ask for your opinion.

Step 6: Finishing up

Once you’re happy with it, all that’s left is A) confirming you paid me (I’ll usually remember or write it down, so if you had, I won't ask.) B) signing the artwork and C) sending it to you via email. I usually send it as a .png but you’re welcome to request other filetypes. I’ll ask you for all these things too.

You’re also welcome to request that I record the process I can take screen-capture videos or I can screen-shot each step that I’m not screen-shotting already to send to get your opinion. (you’d have to ask me to do this at the beginning though.)

After all that, I’ll usually post it on my tumblr here, and you’ll have your commission!

#commissioning #answered asks #fanart's commissions

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not-sewell · 4 years

Note

For the Wayhaven Route Questions, for Mona, N questions numbers 9 or 10 (this depends on Bobby/Douglas route), 12 and 14? :)

okay, firstly: I LOVE THIS LIST.

now, to answer your questions:

9. How does your detective feel about N being more “human” than the others? Do they think they are holding on to something?

oh, Mona has definitely noticed how Nate kind of purposefully indulges in more, what one may call, “humanly” pleasures. she has made note of how he said he “misses humanity” in his work, how he shows more attachment towards humans, and how he has - as i said earlier - purposefully trained himself and his senses enough to enjoy things that an average human can enjoy - human food, noisy environments such as the one you’d find at a carnival, etc. she thinks he does this because he still has some kind of attachment to his life as a human and she respects that. that being said, she is also aware that these are mere assumptions she has made on the basis of whatever she knows about Nate so far. but she wouldn’t go ask him for clarifications unless either it’s absolutely necessary for her to know, or he himself brings it up because clearly, he does not seem comfortable opening up about his past yet yet.

[now, i’ve played both the branches - though i prefer Bobby’s branch - so i guess i’ll answer both!]

10. If on the Bobby route, did your detective and Bobby kiss? Unwanted or Wanted? How is your detective dealing with this? And how do you think N will react once they find out?

no, Mona didn’t kiss Bobby.

i’ve made mentions in the past of how Mona was hurt the most from her relationship with Bobby. she was somehow more invested in the fast-paced relationship and probably a little in love with him before she really saw Bobby for the kind of person he was and it very nearly shattered her completely. it still stings a bit but she’s dealt with it as effectively as she could. the fact that Bobby still has the nerve to think that he still holds some kind of power over her - yeah, that shit won’t fly anymore. she’s hurt, sure, but she’s come far when it comes to respecting herself far more than she ever has.

coming to Nate’s reaction: he still doesn’t know what exactly went down in their relationship but he knows that Bobby’s one of those “bad exes”. Mona didn’t kiss Bobby, but the fact that Bobby even tried to do something like that is enough to draw his ire. once he knows the details and the depths of Bobby’s assholery, though, RIP Bobby.

11. If on the Douglas route, what is your detective’s feelings on this? And how do you think N feels about this?

oh my god, Mona doesn’t know how to deal with that kid. she is a tad protective of Douglas because he’s very young and especially because has an extremely shitty father. that makes her want to be very gentle with him, and let him know that he’s being very cringe about his crush on her and that she would never date him. she’s always holding back on the snark - which is usually her go-to response around people she’s comfortable with - and gently let him know that it’s not going to happen. Nate senses Mona’s general discomfort with the situation, but god, it’s just so amusing at the moment. he thinks it’s almost endearing - flattering even - the way Douglas tries (and fails) to emulate his style and mannerisms. but if this goes on for a long time and Mona’s patience begins to run really thin, Nate may want to step in and have a chat with him.

12. How do think N will react if you let Tina or Verda find out about the supernatural? How does your detective feel about them finding out?

Mona has been very particular about keeping the supernatural world under wraps, so this is entirely hypothetical. Mona doesn’t take the trust placed in her lightly and will do her utmost to not break it. if she does ever reveal or encourage Tina/Verda to uncover the truth about the supernaturals, it’s likely that it came from a moment of desperation or out of necessity. yet, keeping this in mind, i think the act itself is definitely going to sting Nate a little bit. mostly if the reaction UB receives veers towards fear or animosity. but then again, he recognises the effort Mona would’ve put in order to keep the secret for as long as she did, knowing how difficult it must’ve been to keep it that way from people she considers close friends. moreover, he trusts Mona enough to understand that it’s something Mona must’ve really given a lot of thought before doing, given how cautious she is, as also how dedicated she is to her job and her people.

14. What do you think drew your detective to N? And when exactly was the moment, where it was “yes, I like them” (If they’ve admitted that to themselves, of course) And if not, what’s stopping them at this point?

oh man, i love this question.

i think Nate caught Mona’s attention pretty early on but it was just that: he piqued her interest. she thought (still thinks) Nate had this aura about him that radiates warmth and safety: like she has nothing to fear when he’s around. his physique would make him seem kind of intimidating, and he seems to put genuine effort in being mindful of how he conducts himself to seem anything but. this is something that she greatly appreciates: the thought of someone being so kind, so gentle, so caring of others, and so open. it’s unlike anyone she’s ever happened to interact with, and certainly unlike Bobby. she knew she liked Nate, but she thought it was more platonic than romantic. that is until she had to face the possibility of UB leaving after they were done with Murphy. the idea of Nate leaving left a very tight knot in her chest and suddenly, her previous understanding about her equation with him didn’t make sense anymore.

and i think it just got stronger over time, with him assuring her repeatedly that he would never let anything happen to her, her general longing for him in the months they didn’t interact, him being open about his feelings for her, the like.

#twc #twc ask #wayhaven route questions #n sewell #nate x mona #smalltowndetective #i have once again rambled omg

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redledger · 3 years

Text

texting with a 106 year old man, a discord thread (pt.2) with @epiitaphs (pt.1 here)

NAT

She waited on the doorstep, a little soggy from the rain and arms burdened with enough Thai food to feed a family of four. They could always drop some off to Marina in the unlikely event Bucky didn’t finish it. All her kit fit neatly in her rucksack, she travelled incredibly light on tips like this. She lent against the wall, wishing he would hurry the fuck up.

BUCKY

Once he sent the text in reply, Bucky straightened up his closet nest a little - it wouldn't make her stop worrying, but it couldn't hurt. And there was even some food still left in the cupboards. That was also good proof that he was doing fine. Everything settled, he padded over to the door, unlocking it - and opening it without being told, Liho cradled in his flesh arm. "Welcome home. For a day or two."

NAT

The sight of the two of them was actually pretty adorable. It reminded her of the fake apartment in Novosibirsk. Coming out of the cold and into the even colder home they had shared. It probably felt like a decent chunk of his life, if he remembered if. It was only a fraction of hers, but some of the happiest memories she had ever had. It was enough to be close to another living person then.

She moved inside, pressing a kiss to his cheek and struggling to balance all the food herself till the made it through the hall and into the kitchen. “Is the news still on? Did they have a cause of death?”

BUCKY

The kiss felt like it held the weight of several decades. They'd done that before, then. He remembered some of their time together, but time combined with brainwashing kept those recollections scattered and out of focus. When he doubled down on trying to remember, it usually got better, but now wasn't hte time to get lost in the past.

He followed her to the kitchen silently, gently petting Liho as he went. "I left it on." He shook his head. "Won't say. Just murder - mysterious causes, looking for perpetrator. They will cast blame soon, but they haven't yet." He held the cat out to her a little once she set the food down. "Say hello to her too."

NAT

She set everything down, immediately confronted by a big black fur all extended in her direction. She switched to Russian, and for a woman who claimed to not want a cat, Nat sounded like she was taking to a baby.

”Oh look at you, what did the mean man do to you? You just want a cuddle don’t you-“

Her arms opened, scooping the mass of fur into her chest and covering the cats head on kisses. She did miss the scrappy thing. And she made a fuss knowing it might make Bucky happy.

“I’ve text a source for more information. Plates? Do you think we need them?”

BUCKY

A quick smile crossed his face as she cooed at the cat, clearly disproving all of her earlier statements about disliking the furry thing. ”The mean man fed her and gave her lots of attention,” he informed her as he looked over the food she’d set down. Getting any of it out of the containers would have to wait her her cue, but it did at least smell good.

”Careful not to spoil her.” There. A joke to her face. He was having a good day and that was proof.

“Okay.” Involving more people could be dangerous, but if she had nothing at all, that was worse. “We don’t need them. But it might be helpful. Otherwise you won’t get anything of whatever I’ve chosen.”

NAT

It was welcome, to come home to him in such a good mood. Maybe it was the fact she was back, although more likely the fact he was hungry. She could live with that. The cat squirmed in her arms, wriggling at the smell of food. ”No, that’s not for you my little misery.”

She set Liho down on the floor, pulling open the drawer to her left with cutlery. “You’re alright. I’ll just take the Pad Thai off the top, the rest is for you.”

She paused, the reel on the TV catching her attention even though it just released what he said. “Go on, before you combust.”

BUCKY

"She's been very good for me. Maybe if you were around for her." There was no real point in attempting to convince Natasha to stay around. Both of them came and went as they pleased. He imagined she came back when he wasn't there, just as he stayed around mostly in her absence.

"Okay." That was good. He glanced over the bags she'd set down, calculating. Despite her accusations, he'd eaten while she was gone, but something like this would shore him up well for the future and for his current hunger. He assumed it was hunger, at least. Sometimes he wasn't really sure.

"I took the explosives out of the arm, don't worry," he told her. For him, it felt like a joke, though sometimes those were hit or miss. Still, permission was helpful, even now. He took a couple containers for himself, reaching out for a utensil before going to sit on the floor in front of the TV.

NAT

They switched between Russian and English without delay, it was second nature after all. She handed him the fork, not really looking as her eyes were still glued to the tv. It was only when he sat down that it really registered in Nats brain want has happening. And she wasn’t hungry anyone.

She missed his joke, missed his teasing. Here in the walls of her flat she could let her brain process, fully. No instead she reached for the bottle of wine and a glass. She hovered behind the breakfast bar in the kitchen, reading the scroll again.

“What we’re you doing? Whilst you were gone?” It couldn’t wait, not even until Bucky had finished eating. There was no stopping her when she was in this mood. “Where did you go?”

BUCKY

He ate, listening to the TV as he did. Chaos, confusion, death. It was, in its own way, old news. The world moved from death to death, from regime to regime, ultimately with more or less the same organizations calling the shot. That said, the fingerprints on this weren't obviously Hydra's. A good reason for them both to be concerned.

"West Virginia. In the mountains, Point Pleasant area." If he told her, he could keep eating, and she was far enough away that there was no need to worry. "Cleaning up threats." He could tell her. She knew what they'd done to him, better than most. "There was a Chair there, I remembered. So I cleaned up."

And now here he was, back in the relative safety of her apartment, with her cat lurking around the far corner of the couch, waiting for a treat. He tossed a bite of chicken at her, which she ate with satisfaction. "Like I said. My own business."

NAT

“Threats to who?” Nat set the bottle down, swirling the wine in the glass. Finally she left the kitchen, completely forgetting about the food she has set aside and instead taking a seat on the sofa. She didn’t even look at him. She was concentrating on the face, trying to pull it forcibly from the depths of her memory.

“Hydra, not KGB then. Anything connected to this?”

BUCKY

“Me.” Or really - his continued freedom. He watched her approach, but her attention was directed to the TV, rather than him or his diminishing collection of food. “Maybe America, but I’m doing it for me.”

“KGB comes later. Their programming stuck better and lasted longer. Better off waiting. And Hydra presents the most credible threat at the moment because they want me returned or decommissioned.” Over all at least. “This base had a former KGB there. Ossi, not Russian. Started out Stasi, got comfortable with those holding the leash. Can’t remember why he defected.” There seemed to be a decent former Soviet to Hydra pipeline. “Human, though. Died in 2002. Not me.”

NAT

It was good, both seeing him eat and getting this much information from him. She set her glass don on the table, desperately running her hands through her hair as she bent low. None of this made sense, and what she had hoped would be breadcrumbs felt more like a wild goose chase. Another few minutes with the news reporter filling the silence was all she could manage.

“Any connection to the room? Or Madam?” She had to ask. The clarification Bucky wasn’t behind a targeted attack was something, especially given how messy and murky the timelines got. “Ex client? The American or the defector?”

BUCKY

He made use in the pause in her interrogation to keep eating. He considered leaving some of what was still sitting on the table for later, but decided to at least start in on some of it. Couldn't hurt. He was up and back by the time she asked her next question, sitting down quietly for someone his size and with a metal arm.

"Madame, no. The Room, maybe. He had connections, I think. To many things." Their world was one big web of connections, reaching between every operative, whether they knew it or not. "The defector worked for Hydra, gave them information for me to use. Out of date, but better than nothing." That was parroted, clearly someone else's speech. "The Americans there...they are dead now. C4, controlled blasts. There's always been something funny about the old factory." Difference voice, different person's speech. "They were waiting for orders. Not responsible for Havanna, if that's what you're asking."

NAT

She didn’t pull her head out of her hands. Or move at all really. The cat followed him to food in the hopes of being involved but Natasha was buried in her own confusion.

”Fucking connections” She slipped for a moment back into her mother tongue, just because it angered her so much. She needed to pick over the details he had with a fine tooth comb at some point, as well as maybe scold him for being so reckless. He had always had a good memory, but she isn’t a fly felt him filling the gaps with what other people had said verbatim. “Waiting... four red room clients dead and counting. Always one step behind me. Havana was a message James, they’re not screwing around anymore. Not after the fall.”

Not after she had faced off with someone wearing her own image to play games. “Did you keep anything? Take any papers or hard drives?”

BUCKY

He tossed another bit of meat at the cat once he was seated and everything was arranged around him. She ate it in a flash. Bucky understood.

"Everyone knows someone." That had been true through the ages. He looked over a second. "Eat don't agonize. Hunger slows you down." He'd noticed on his trip back and forth. "Real food." That seemed necessary to emphasize. This was the man who'd taught her. "One step behind requires planning. They are watching. You need to find where from." What sort of surveillance they had set up. "They want you. Just you. Not me. Red Room, yes, but connected to you. Without question." Though he couldn't imagine some rogue faction would say no to having control of the Winter Soldier.

"I took the bus. No papers." He had indeed gone on a Greyhound and then on a hike. Not too much room for extra baggage there. "I have a drive from their computers, though." It was something he'd learned from her, though he wasn't planning on looking through the information at the moment. He didn't feel stable enough for that yet.

NAT

“Look at you, giving orders.” It was enough to crack a smile, even with her hands still firmly planted in her hair. He was right, she should eat. But she sat back, reaching for the glass of wine and finally taking a sip. “I am careful. Every job is vetted, you sweep this place for bugs constantly. I watch my back but they know the training...”

It was harder to run when your every instinct was clear to someone else. She watched the cat gobble up her scraps eagerly, but she didn’t have the energy to call him out on it. “Will you let me decrypt it? I can take a first look. It might jog my memory, give me something to go off. The fake me... is there anything you remember about her that could help?”

At some point they needed to talk about his instinct for revenge. But not when it was actually coming in handy.

BUCKY

"I was in charge of you once." That's why he could do it. She had once been...not necessarily subordinate. But similar. And he had been in charge of training her. So it felt less wrong to tell her these things. It was simply how to be a good asset to them. "I would have noticed if you had gotten sloppy. If they know the training, then they must be somehow connected to it." It felt like it narrowed things down, a little bit. Not by much, but perhaps enough to find a good guess. "I have different operating procedures if you need modifications."

He nodded. "Yes." He dug in a pocket for a moment, tossing a flash drive to her once he'd found it. Better to keep the evidence close. "Shared data with other Hydra locations and local files as well. From my understanding as I watched it transfer." He hadn't done much of that - had gone off to complete some killings in the meantime.

The fake her. He had to think about that one, finishing a container off as he did. "Favorite." Not his, obviously, given whose apartment he was in. "Trained, but leniently. The only one I was told to avoid killing. Who says there is no favoritism among soviets." More thinking. "Did not stand out, but good at what she did."

NAT

“And you won’t be again. Trust me.” She was teasing, but from her perch it was nice to have some time together. The stress showed in her face and her shoulders but watching him eat was a good reminder her body functioned a little closer to his than she would like to admit. She was hungry, if she thought about it.

She caught the drive, putting it in her own pocket for safe keeping. She’s get out her laptop once he was asleep and pour over the data, trying to find some kind of loophole she could use.

Natasha stood up, grabbing the container of abandoned pad Thai and a fork. Instead of heading back to the sofa though, she moved to the floor to lean against his side. “Agreed. She got lucky that she caught me off balance. It was definitely a her, you could tell by how she moved.”

She picked a three food with her fork, taking a few mouthfuls to consider his words. “I don’t know how old she was, the techniques were the same but the old masters might still be alive. She moved fast.”

She looked at the cat for a moment, then at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay here. If they are after me, I mean. Could be compromised.”

BUCKY

"Could you stop me?" Out of anyone, the answer was probably yes. Well - anyone who didn't have the words. "I don't want to be." No need, no desire. He just wanted to be his own person first.

She stood, Bucky watching her closely to determine whether she was actually going to eat or get rid of it. He glared at her approach, but didn't strike out. As long as she stuck to her own business, he could manage. Maybe, since clearly he'd stopped eating. The lean was too much - he nudged her back forward, wanting both arms free. Leaning to the other side, he kept eating once he'd determined that she was too. "Luck will not last forever." He nodded. "Not hard to tell much of the time. Especially not with who made her."

Another shrug. "New, I think. But I don't remember exactly." Another nod. "Some are. Very few, but I think there are two still living for sure." Those he would leave for much later. He couldn't destroy everything from his past, but if they remained a threat by the time he turned his attention to the Red Room more, he would reevaluate.

He frowned. "Could be. I assume it is, usually. Someone's always watching, even if they don't know it yet themselves." He could go - he had other places he could live. And to call them less comfortable would be soft. "I can go when you do."

NAT

“Bet I could.” Not that she would. She was fine until he pushed her away, her eyes flicking up and down. She face masked any shock or hurt that would have registered. Perfectly neutral, and she shuffled away a little. Wanting to be close to someone and only having him to replicate it with was hard. Maybe she should call Clint once in a while. Maybe she should explain, or ask Bucky to use his words next time. But that was how things were.

She took another forkful but her heart wasn’t in it. He’d pulled her mind out of it now. “Leave them for me. I’ve got plans. Promise?”

It wasn’t great, the idea of him leaving. Here he had someone to rely on him, even if it was just the cat. A bed he refused to sleep in, weapons dotted around where only he knew to find them. He could build his nest and block the world out, and she could breathe a little easier.

“Tomorrow night. Your call. I’ll ask Marina to feed the cat if you’re not here. Where will you go?”

BUCKY

"We can spar." That was practice, though. Even if they fought to incapacitation, it wouldn't be the same as actually trying to stop him. Maybe when she was younger - there'd been more of a risk of death then. Or the times he'd tried to kill her. She moved away from him. Good. Just a little longer and he'd be ready to look forward to the two of them sleeping in her bed.

"Alright. They're yours." As if they weren't discussing men who'd tortured and deserved the worst of tortures. Well - someone else might think that. For Bucky, they had trained well. Worked with him and on him. He'd been there to train the girls, but he had also learned many things that had ended up keeping hiim alive over the years. "Promise." Words meant nothing, but he would stay away.

"I will think it over." He hated choices like this. She was right - he shouldn't be returning even when there wasn't a huge chance this base was compromised. He was a fugitive. He was supposed to keep moving, and yet here he was. With a cat. He shrugged. "Somewhere." DC was destroyed. West Virginia was destroyed, and several others. "Maybe North Africa somewhere. Algeria. Could fit in there. Ouran, Algiers. Somewhere like that. But we'll see."

NAT

“We can, not tonight though.” She was careful not to say no to him when he put out suggestions. Shutting him down felt unfair, like kicking a puppy. He didn’t deserve that. Yet she was still tired tonight, from a long flight and what was sure to be a long week. Once he had his space he seemed a little less tense, and the cat was still sitting expectantly near them both.

In time, when she had a full grasp of the truth, Natasha would track the old masters down and eliminate them. But there were other pieces of the plan in motion for now. She had no desire to play exterminator till she could be absolutely certain how it would end.

“Somewhere hot might be nice.” She didn’t even have details of where she was headed yet. That was a phone call and an encrypted email away. They were sharks, in their own way. Moving constantly to survive. That was the man she knew, although as his memories filtered back in he seemed to settle more. Maybe that was the American in him resurfacing. “Do you still want to go out to Colney island tomorrow? Up to you.”

BUCKY

“No, of course not. You wanted a quiet night.” With that came a quick grin. “And what would your neighbors think? You come home, you make noise, you leave.” Hardly neighborly.

“Could be.” There had to be a base in that region. It’d just take memory and stolen files to find it. “Hot and dry.” He’d take that over a jungle any day. “Nights are cold in the desert. But not so bad.” He could see a night sky in front of him for a moment. He’d have to go through those memories to get anywhere.

He set aside his last container, holding onto the fork for a moment. Because he could. And because she’d asked him a question. “Always making me make a choice, aren’t you.” It got on his nerves but it’d worked. “Sure. Middle of the day during the week and hope it rains.” That felt a little too easy to say. “For crowds, you know.”

NAT

“The neighbours might think I’ve got a man over. Who knows.” Others than Marina, Natasha kept to herself. A small smile here or a hello, just enough not to be a stranger but not enough to give anything away. A loner and a workaholic, even if what her job actually was seemed to escape them. She tossed a pice of chicken at the cat and handed him the container. She was done for now anyways. He clearly needed it more.

“You need help then you let me know. I can take a couple days off.” It might be good, to be in the field together again. To trust him and watch him work when her life wasn’t on the line. She spent too long chasing him down as a ghost, being on his side after over fifty years could be nice.

She smiled again. Small and slight, the corners of her mouth pulled up at his teasing. Someone had to give him a choice. “You got a jacket? I could get the bike out of storage. Or we take the subway.” It had been too long since she did something like that. It was funny, with an extended life how fast time seemed to slip by.

BUCKY

"They know you have me over sometimes." Whether he really counted was questionable, given everything - he was only sort of a person. He wondered what the neighbors said - beyond the eavesdropping he had already done. He stared at the container for a moment before taking it from her. It wasn't snatched back, so he dug in.

"I will." Maybe. If he thought about it at the time. But she was a good option - he knew how she operated and he knew more or less exactly how much he could trust her. He'd probably also never hear the end of it if she found him doing anything particularly foolish.

"Yeah, I've got one with my stuff." It had occurred to him that he could keep things at her place if he really wanted to, but the thought of having it potentially found if something was compromised made him hesitate to keep anything besides weapons there. "Bike." That was an easy choice. "Subway's fine, but the bike would be nice."

NAT

“You’ve met the neighbours? Actually spoken to them?” If he had, she was shocked. It was decent, actual progress. It wasn’t like she hadn’t briefly had people come and go, but it was rare. Maybe only Clint counted. Even then it had been mostly his space, his place, his things. If there was someone else in the last decade it wasn’t anything in particular.

She watched him take the food, he looked like Liho. Permanently starved. “Your stuff?” He had to have a footprint, it just seemed wild to her. She thought about asking what stuff, or if he wanted to leave it here but that wasn’t really smart given the already present security concerns. “You want the bike then we take the bike.” She shuffled backwards, letting her back rest against the wall. She considered scooping the cat but it didn’t feel fair when the chance of food was still present. Liho got the privilege of sharing his meal, which Nat hadn’t earned. “I’ll get up early and head to the locker to get things sorted then.”

BUCKY

"Three times. And if they can see or hear anything, they know." Old people gossiped. He was pretty sure at least. Something told him that, at least. Probably a memory - though from when he had no idea. "Not for long, though." Bucky didn't really talk to people if he could avoid it. Sometimes it was nice, but so close to where he stayed felt like a risk.

"I have a cache. And a backpack." A cache which he should probably move in a few weeks. Didn't hurt to be careful, after all. Especially when they seemed to be targeting Natasha. There were too many organizations in their pasts to ever lose the paranoia that clung to him. "Good. I want to see it, make sure it's a good one." Not that he didn't trust her, but Bucky was remembering amount of mechanical knowledge beyond how to do repairs on his arm. "Okay. You don't have to leave too early, though." He'd missed her, even if he hadn't yet admitted it. Maybe he would.

NAT

“Wow, and I keep making fun of you for being a shut in. You should have told me you’re turning into a social butterfly.” She watched him, green eyes reading his body. He was like an animal really, so much of him was instinct. “You still hungry?”

“Good.” Assets didn’t have stuff. Agents could drop everything with no warning and move. Leaving a footprint was a sign of real emotions, real connections. A footprint. “Oh it’s a good one. SHIELD don’t pay well but Stark loves to impress for birthday gifts. Apparently this was for my 30th.” That was what it said on file, anyways.

He was almost sweet as he said it. Almost kind. “Earlier we go, less people there will be. Don’t you want that?”

BUCKY

“Didn’t want you to lose a source of fun.” He tensed without tensing when she asked, only his eyes moving to look down at the now empty container. Well - one more bite for Liho, which he tossed for the cat. “No. I’m good now.” He set aside the container, scooting a bit closer to her.

He shrugged. “Weapons, mostly. Got no one just handing them over anymore.” And who knew exactly what he’d need next. “He should know, then. About motorcycles. Or at least machines.” He didn’t trust Stark but that seemed in the man’s wheelhouse. “How many 30th’s have you had?”

He shrugged, hearing the plates in his arm flutter. “I do. But you wanted rest.”

NAT

“There’s plenty of other things for me to make fun of, don’t you worry.” The second he inched close it was invitation enough. She loses the gap, settling on the side of his human shoulder and threading her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand just to check in, more for her benefit than his. “We should stop feeding her human food. It’s bound to be bad for her.”

They were both raised when animals got scraps from whatever was left on the table, but there was probably science to say half of it was toxic by now. Liho wasn’t super, like them.

“Anything fun? Anything normal?” So having stuff wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “You saying I don’t have taste? And asking how old I am? Did no one ever teach you manners?”

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, they very fake outrage in her voice matched with a smile. “A few. You missed a good one, in the eighties I had a gorgeous surprise party in Paris...”

It had all been fake, obviously. The target needed an excuse to get her alone and as his live-in girlfriend it was the right move. But the cake was beautiful, and the champagne tasted good even if the tipsy act had been irritating.

“We’ll see how late we sleep and go from there.”

BUCKY

“I guess I’ll find out.” No worries there. She talked to him like he was another person - pretty much always had. She took the cue, moving closer herself and leaning on him. He squeezed back, remembering to be gentle. “I don’t do it often.” Which was probably telling of what he subsisted on when she was away. “But I can stop.”

He could. He’d just have to find another way to spoil her. And persuade Liho that he wasn’t betraying her.

He was pretty sure weapons were normal. “Some clothes.” He wore layers, but his bag could also only hold so much.

“I am. Too practical.” Not that it was a bad thing when it came to vehicles, but in this case, it was nice to have fun. “I’m older, it’s okay.” He shook his head, punting a memory down the road. “No, wasn’t protocol.”

“Sounds like a good time.” Who knew what he was doing at that time. “Might’ve been in the freezer then.” Like ice cream, his brain provided.

A nod. “A good plan.” Bucky was hopeful he’d get decent sleep, but he wasn’t capable of sleeping too long.

NAT

“She probably deserves it. Not like she was eating healthy before she found me.” That was important. Nat might have taken the poor scrap in but really it was Liho who should get the credit. Not just for making her life a little less lonely, but for making Bucky stick around too.

“You could leave clothes here if you wanted.” It was nice to put the offer out there, maybe he’d take it if he ever felt ready. She laughed at his jab at her taste. “I’m practical because half of them get wrecked- Steve is a fucker for it. There’s no way a nice bike like this one is seeing any kind of Avengers duty.”

It was flashy. Bright red, more of a statement than a vehicle. But Stark liked his extravagance. “Come on. What about your family? Your Mom never tell you how to talk to a lady?”

Not that she was much of a lady, she just wanted to hear him talk. Natasha Romanoff was a weapon at best.

She nodded against his shoulder, tapping the floor with her free hand in hopes of coaxing the cat to join them.

BUCKY

“She does.” He firmly believed it, too, maybe seeing a little bit of himself in Liho from time to time. “If she’s eating, it means I’m eating too. You, I don’t know.” He’d seen how much was left in that container.

“I could.” He’d have to think about which ones would seem normal or at least less suspicious of anyone ever looked through her place. A bit of a laugh. He squinted off across the room for a minute. “I think he’s been like that for a long time. And add in all of the Avengers, it will be worse.” He didn’t hate them - hatred was still an emotion he wasn’t sure how to tap into consistently - but he didn’t trust them.

“Yeah, she did.” For a moment, his original accent stuck. “Too bad they burned all of that out.” He wished he could remember her better, but those memories were scrambled and painful. “Not sure I’d call you a lady like this, though.”

He watched Liho as she considered joining them. “Call her. That might help.”

NAT

“Long day, longer flight. That’s all, promise.” She didn’t eat enough, and sometimes wine counted as a food group. Not that she could be considered an alcoholic given the lack of side effects. Tonight she was simply distracted, but she’d make an effort tomorrow morning when they stopped somewhere. Pancakes at a diner, so he could devour a whole stack if he wanted. Maybe she should cook, she did know how. It was just that leaving again the day after made it feel a little useless.

She read his squint, knowing that look. She loved her team, or what was her team. She missed them even if she was too jaded to admit it. Being on the outside was her resting state, but having people to have faith in and work beside... it was a nice change. She didn’t trust them, but that was her own issue. She didn’t trust anyone. Maybe worth the exception of the man on her arm.

“They egg each other on. Too much testosterone in one room sometimes. You’d like Thor, he’s a sweetheart. Very easy to mess with.” Nat shoved him a little for his remark. “It’s been too long since you’ve seen me in a dress, you need a reminder of how well I scrub up. You should call her, she likes you more.”

BUCKY

"Okay." He wasn't sure he believed that. What did either of them promising anything mean? Bucky could be ordered to tell the truth, but she couldn't. Not as easily, at least. "I know you can go a long time without it, but might as well stock up before it's a problem." Not that he thought she was heading for anything like that, but you really never knew.

"It was like that in the war," he said. He was pretty sure at least. "Especially after Steve got there." That was after the experiments. A lot of that time was a little blurry and he wasn't sure how much he'd get back. "I remember the team a little." Moments, flashes, lunacy.

"Sounds right up my alley. He's the alien. I want to know about that." What space was like, what he though about earth and other plants. What sort of things they had on his planet. Bucky smiled at the push. "You'll have to scrub up, then. Get fancy, make it look like you're slumming it with me." She did, but that was because he was around more. "Liho, come join us."

NAT

“I don’t work like you. All that food, I’d feel stuffed. Little and often is more my style.” That wasn’t a lie. She was a grazer by nature. It was less conspicuous. “I was thinking about breakfast on the road tomorrow, and then you can lecture me on how coffee isn’t a meal. How does that sound?”

She would make an effort, because it was better than giving him something else to worry about. She got up for a moment, slinking away from him to the breakfast bar to grab the spare wine glass and the bottle- and then her own from the coffee table. She poured one for him, curling back up against his side with tired eyes. Then Natasha extended it for him to take. It was good wine. Fruity and full bodied.

“What do you remember?” She didn’t have to keep pushing, but it was nice to hear there was a happy past somewhere. He had a family and a life before the war, something she had always wanted. She could share his memories like they were her own.

“You’ll have to ask him sometime.” She hadn’t really quizzed the god of thunder, but if she was ever allowed to see them again then she would make an effort even if it was just to report back. “He speaks like a Shakespearean villain, so dramatic. Good texter though. Drives the others mad.”

Her friends. Or at least as close as she could get. “Next time I’ve got an event you could be my date. Have everyone jealous to have me on your arm.” It was a fantasy. One she would have liked if it had been reality. Instead he got here her, in unguarded moments. There was some kind of silver lining in that. She wasn’t performing, just at a resting state. The cat finally made a small noise, padding over with only her claws making noise on the hard wood floor and immediately purring as she clambered into his lap.

BUCKY

"Hm. You still need to eat at all, though." Wine wasn't a meal, but maybe that was just Bucky's need for a lot of sustenance to keep going talking. "Little doesn't mean nothing." He didn't need to push the issue. She was capable of taking care of herself. "Coffee is not a meal. I can tell you that now." But he shrugged. "That sounds nice."

Wine would not do anything to him. He knew this from before, he thought. Maybe not because of wine, but for some other reason. He took the glass from her when it was offered, her pressed up against his side. Something like this was not a meal - no need to protect it from her.

He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't leaning against. "We fought in woods and fields and mud. A lot of mud. We'd scrape it off of everything. Throw it at each other until you got tackled. And then more muddy. It was one of those things - we knew we were wasting energy, but we needed something or we'd lose our minds." It was all jumbled together, but it was fairly linear.

"You think I'll meet him?" It seemed like a big step when he already couldn't quite talk to Steve. Who he had known once. Warming up to Natasha had taken some time too. He didn't know how he'd approach a true stranger, much less an alien. "I wonder why he does." Maybe he had a translator device. That was from a radio drama, he thought. "How come? Because he knows how to text?"

A quick flash of a smile. "Metal or flesh?" They'd never get to that point. He was a fugitive from multiple governments, multiple agencies. Bucky didn't think he'd find internal or external peace for a long time. Maybe he never would. The cat listened to him - a victory. "See? You should come home more often. She thinks I'm the one who lives here." He petted the cat carefully, switching the wineglass to his metal hand.

NAT

“Alright doc, any other health advice for me?” It rolled off her tongue instantly, but not defensively. “I’ll have some biscuits from the cupboard or something if you’ve left me any. Does that sound fair?”

She noticed there was far less of a reaction this time, less of a drive to protect. Maybe it was because he was full, or he read that she was no real threat. Nat closed her eyes to listen to him, a soft smile spreading across her face. He had mud, where she had only known the bitter winters of war. The way Bucky spoke made it seem like the mythical good old days people referred to. The brotherhood and camaraderie that she had never fully known.

“If you want.” The chance was almost none. Not without a small miracle, yet it was no harm to anyone to pretend. “He’s dramatic. Good heart though, always means well. He send paragraphs, huge long statements of intent and it drives Tony mad. Someone might have told him it’s rude not to state the time and date at the start- oh and of course sign off.” She laughed, fully proud of herself.

She set her glass down to her left to wrap her arm under the one she was leaning on. Looping it lightly as he stroked the cat. “This one. Metal one is too stiff. Does it still hurt?”

He didn’t have to say it. It was clear, both in how he held himself when no one was looking and how he slept. When he wasn’t in a blanket nest in the hall closet. “Yeah, I know.” It was the first time she fully conceded the point. But how was there a way to tell him this still didn’t feel like home? She was on the outs with the Avengers, her identity was known and she had a lot to answer for. Especially to Steve.

She didn’t open her eyes but let out a heavy sigh. “If I know you’re here it’s more likely. I’ve not exactly got friends in New York right now.”

BUCKY

“Breakfast is healthy.” If she wanted to make fun of his suggestions, he could do the same. He considered. “That is okay.” Probably. She wouldn’t each much and since he had a base he could get more food. She had picked up food for him today. This was a fair exchange. “There is good in the cupboard by the refrigerator. The cat food is under the sink. Your choice.” A joke.

She relaxed into him more fully, closing her eyes in his presence in a way that no one had dared do in a very long time. Maybe the last time had been her.

He didn’t want things like that. He barely knew which brand of food he wanted over another. “Maybe.” Probably not. But he didn’t want to disappoint her. “He sounds like a nice friend for you. Not normal, but at least he’s nice.” A quick huff of a laugh. “Of course. A good protocol you designed.” It had to be her, if it annoyed the other ones. And if she was actually laughing like that.

She got even closer, touch light. Escapable. The cat settled into his lap, purring almost imperceptibly. The metal one was an amazing piece of engineering, he’d been told. But it wasn’t really his. “Nothing above baseline. It’s stable.” There were some slightly damaged plates, and he was often on the edge of the weight of it causing problems. But today it hurt no more than usual.

“I thought you might.” They’d talked about this before, and she wasn’t a fool. She sighed, air currents playing over his arm. “I can tell you when I’m here.” Right, yes, she’d blown every cover on record. “I’m a friend. I think, at least. I haven’t tried to kill you for at least a year.”

NAT

“I don’t know who it would be worse for you to take food from, you or little misery down here.” Her time was warm, it wasn’t an accusation. Just an observation. And he was funny, so he earned another soft laugh. It was a welcome distraction when he was funny, a reminder there was a human beneath the pain and hazy memories.

“I think our definition of normal was broken a long time ago. I’ve been hanging out with men in spandex and robot armour, it’s hardly a good measure.” His maybe was non-communal. She didn’t miss it for a second, shattering her daydream just a little. It was fair for him to be skeptical though, and it wasn’t like she was going to be allowed back in stark tower anytime soon.

“You want me to take a look?” She was indeed tired, but that ball he slept in had to be making things worse. There was hardly much she could do, but she knew enough about the human side of his body. How it carried stress and how to relieve pain if need be.

“You’re a friend James. Definitely a friend.” That much she was certain of. As much as Natasha was attracted to danger, she wouldn’t be curled up on the floor with him like this if there was any doubt. The metallic sound of his arm was oddly soothing. “It’s refreshing, nee level of friendship for us.”

BUCKY

"Me. She cannot tear you from limb to limb." Bucky thought what he might be feeling was some sort of defensiveness. She hadn't taken anything from him, but there was always the possibility that one day she might. She could starve too.

She laughed a little, though, and he relaxed slightly. "I agree." He couldn't imagine what that could be like. They'd always sent teams with him - normal people. "They stand out a lot more than you do."

He didn't know if he had the energy to want much - his body was still working through the food he'd just eaten. He could let her that close. He knew that. "If you want to." It wasn't a yes or a no, but he set down his glass at his side to pull his shirt off one-handed while trying not to disturb the cat.

A friend. It was nice of her to think that. He still wasn't sure that was allowed, but it'd be nice. "Thanks." She had tried a little less to kill him. "I guess so. I take care of your cat for you, you make fun of me."

NAT

She hummed softly, knowing he wasn’t joking. He could pull her apart at the seams if he really wanted to. She just had enough trust that he didn’t.

Natasha shuffled off the wall to get a better look at his back, hands on it the second the shirt was over his head. It had been a long time since she had seen it in real detail, and so many of the scars were new. Of course she knew how brutally cruel his life had been. But she was more than a little grateful he couldn’t read the sadness in her eyes as she surveyed the damage. She started at the base of his spine, digging her thumbs in with a little pressure and slowly, carefully moving them up towards his shoulders.

It was hard to tell what was metal and what was knots. “If anything hurts, tell me. I mean it.” Once she hit underneath his shoulder blades, she ran her thumbs outwards, just underneath the curve.

“Seems like a fair exchange, although if I’m going to keep feeding you I might have to work a bit more. You eat like a racehorse.” Hopefully he would see that as more teasing and not a reason to stop showing up.

#( discord thread )#epiitaphs #v: the dark room #thread | epiitaphs (txting)

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