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tommysparker · 3 years

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Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks.

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving.

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that.

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst.

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed.

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it.

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.”

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.”

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.”

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made.

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka.

You left without sparing a glance back.

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward.

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.”

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.”

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.”

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently.

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.”

“Like what?”

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth.

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is.

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted.

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.”

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests.

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much.

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily.

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…”

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?”

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.”

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves.

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.”

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?”

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically.

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted.

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.”

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.”

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.”

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back.

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt.

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state.

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you.

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.”

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.”

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.”

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal.

Peace.

Like this moment.

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go.

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long.

“Hey! We’re here.”

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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softbiker · 5 years

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Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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stumbleintothesun · 3 years

Text

Life Rant

For the few people in here...sorry lmao this is long as hell.

Lately I've been feeling like...garbage. I know there's no one on this place that really follows me, so this is me posting to the void.

I have been dealing with a lot of health issues related to my mental health and weight. I've gained nearly twenty pounds in a year, and no matter what I do my weight doesn't budge. I work out regularly, Ive been trying to eat better but...my only thought is its because I'm working a desk job now - which I fucking hate with a fury. And I know my weight isnt the end of the world - it just really, really fucks with my mental health. I've always felt ugly. The only time I didn't was when I was super thin which I know is problematic - and I know that's part of my mental health...like my aunt died from an ED. And my mom definitely had/has an ED even if she's gotten much better about it in the past few years...

And I'm finally getting my face to clear up after wearing these masks for a year - a year! But I'm still dealing with the healing process and I'm anxious it will scar. I've worked this entire pandemic at a job I *hate* just to you know, finally pay off my student loans just go back to school so maybe I can do something I love. But even at 25 and providing for myself, I hardly got any financial help. The only thing saving me is my grades that got me a decent transfer scholarship.

But the first school I applied to wanted my high school transcript, even though I have an associate's degree, and because I'm, frankly, stupid I somehow missed that they needed it. So they threw out my application that I spent an otherwise four hours writing for.

So I'm going to Eastern, which frankly will be better for my mental health, but they don't have a tuition free program. So I'm going to have to borrow money after just finally paying off my single year at a liberal arts college debt that I took on when I was 17 (it ended up being like 30k to pay off). And it's all because I didn't fucking read right. So much for being a good student, I guess.

But it wouldn't have mattered because they would've hardly taken any of my classes despite most of them being from down the road and for an associate's degree! And even Eastern is giving me a hard time, despite my degree they say I don't have the basic level biology course - my degree is biology focused! I'm going into ecology! I have taken genetics, conservation biology, anatomy and physiology, cellular biology but I don't have intro bio? So now I have to test out, on top of working full time. Which is fine, its a good refresher...I'm just so overwhelmed with life right now. I have a stack of over 100 flash cards and I'm just anxious.

This is a year after my partner went through an ugly break up with their old fiance (we were poly), and their ex was an abusive POS who once told them if they came out as anything other than their assigned gender, he wouldn't date them anymore. He gaslit them constantly, made them feel like hell. So we finally got out, but he wanted the house they got together or 10k. He made over double what they make - and he always forced them to pay half the bills, including half of his fucking protein bullshit because it was "groceries." He knew they didn't have the funds. Because our friends are amazing, we were able to buy him off but he left the house trashed.

It fucking sucked, and they were also responsible for getting his name off the house which meant a refinance that we could hardly afford. We got lucky we were able to do it, but they hardly got anything back for it. And it was a *nightmare*. We finally got it done, after pulling teeth and it took six months. Four months longer than they said. And that entire time they were forced to occasionally reach out to him, their old abuser.

Finally we were free, but then I started having further issues at work. Between the pandemic, and working in a heavily red area during the election, I cried a lot. I work in customer service and while I make okay money for the industry, I'm constantly burned out. My colleagues are okay, but it feels stupid to leave just to find a job for three months to go back to school. Then I started being short in my drawer (I'm a teller at a bank). The final straw was being short $500. Now I'm on a work plan, and if Im short again, I'm out. And it's my fault. I don't know how it has been happening. So now I'm always on edge at work, triple checking everything. And I could leave, I could get another job but there's no promise I'll make what I do now, and in order for me to pay for the chunk of school I need to, I have to put away a certain amount every month.

I do have a grant of sorts for 5k per semester to help with bills, which will alleviate a lot once August arrives. And I know I'm crazy lucky to have that. So sometimes I feel like such an asshole about it. But we have a house to pay for and bills to pay. Just like everyone else. Ugh, I don't know.

I talked to my doctor about my weight, came in with calorie intake numbers and how much I work out with zero change. I cut out pop entirely from drinking it every day. Nothing has helped. So we switched my meds from Lexapro to Wellbutrin to see if I lose weight because of that. Nope, just having more mental break downs, steady weight, and my resting heart rate is abnormally high, stopping me from making a little extra cash donating plasma. So now I'm switching back to Lexapro with nothing gained other than. You know. Feeling like shit. Next up? Birth control coming out of my arm. Don't really need it anyway. And maybe that will help? But I don't think so. I'm not sure what to do.

I am genuinely trying to be healthy, eating more whole foods. More veggies. More home cooked meals. I love to cook, I'm just tired. And sometimes the air fryer and oven baked frozen foods are too easy to pass up. I'm trying to always eat breakfast. I'm working out again, we have a gym membership but there are so many men there and I dont always feel comfortable, because my partner has been anemic and they can't go yet. So I use our bike in the living room and do home workouts.

But when I did this last time there was zero change in weight or anything. Even when I ate really, really clean for three weeks and worked out for most days, tracking calories and everything. Nothing changed. My thyroid is fine, we've already checked it. I'm just tired.

This past year, other than being with my partner has fucking sucked. And this doesn't even cover all the shit they've dealt with with switching to they/them and a name change. I love them so much, and love that they are finally comfy but their parents were assholes about it. And that matters. It does, and I get it. I just wish I could help them more. I wish we had a break, a breather for longer than a day. Even then I can't relax, I'm too on edge. There's too much to be done. I need to earn money, I need to clean, I need to focus. I need to be productive in some way to justify if I'm not working on those things. It's...all dumb.

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jamesvanriemsdyk · 3 years

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ok James! Im hoping my point comes thru eventually if not it’s just a vent bc I appreciate all I do but I have purposely been putting off a lot of the deeper gender shit bc I just cannot unpack all of that right now I’ve known I’m bi for a lime 5 years and there’s always more to unpack with that it’s never ending lmao but I have never been one to like care about my pronouns tbh I’m totally fine with my assigned pronouns, but also I’ve never felt uncomfortable with the thought being called they/them and think yea why shouldn’t someone use either she or they for me when it doesn’t matter to me but like i don’t want to put it in my bios when I’m not like ready to do The Work in regards to actually unpacking gender - not in the sense that I have an issue with putting it there but I don’t want the kind of awkward situation like when I wasn’t ready to use any sexuality labels yet and tried playing it off to be told by rude asses well then ur str8 don’t use things that don’t belong to you, even though I know it’s stupid and I’m an ADULT but it’s probably just a personal guilt thing of feeling disingenuous or flippant to the people who have stronger feelings about their gender and tbh that’s the part that’s been weighing heavily on my chest the most (omg I’m sorry for the essay in ur ask box I hope you have a great night!)

okay this took me a long ass time to get to and im sorry but ive been busy/had mouth surgery/been exhausted you know the drill lmao.

anyway, here’s the thing. everyone’s experience with gender is different. every single person. no two people experience gender exactly the same, and this isnt a bad thing! you arent required to achieve a certain degree of suffering to identify as nonbinary or trans - if those are things you are comfortable identifying with and you feel that you identify with them, do it! its your experience to dictate and no one else’s, yknow? the same goes for sexuality. you arent required to use labels at all, even! your journey with gender and sexuality is always going to be incredibly personal for you, and its frankly no one else’s business or place to police your use of/lack of use of certain labels.

also, gender work is a LOT. like, a LOT. you dont have to feel ready to do it right now! in fact, you dont ever have to feel ready to do it. again, its YOUR journey, you make the rules and you dictate the pace. you arent being flippant towards or disingenuous to other queer people by going at a pace you think is slower or different than the ‘norm’ (there isnt really a normal pace to discovering this stuff - we all go at very different paces!), and if people try to say that shit to you, then they’re the ones being disingenuous to YOU by not respecting your need for space and time as a queer person coming into their own - or just someone trying to explore their gender and sexuality more.

i hope all of this makes sense. i guess the tldr of all this is: its your journey. take it at your own pace and dont let people who arent you dictate what’s best for you in regards to your own sexuality and gender. best of luck 2 you and lots and lots of love 💕💕💕

#anon #answered #i hope this helped bb

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transfemininomenon · 4 years

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Hey, i'm actually a "truscum" i found out recently, but im a little confused on the whole ordeal. Im not even sure if i actually am truscum or not- because some posts seem to tie up with me being one but others dont, but i saw you were really against them, so i wanted to ask if you're okay with a friendly calm conversation about it? I am very confused and i just want to learn a bit more or find out if i'm wrong about the whole ordeal. Are you open to it?

i'll be honest im not sure how friendly i can be with this kind of conversation because i really truly genuinely, and i don't use this word lightly, Hate truscum and its hard for me to really be civil about the discussion. but for the sake of this and me giving you a lot of benefit of the doubt that this ask is in good faith i'll explain why i do not like the entire truscum ideology

1. i guess i'll start off with the Big One - the claim that dysphoria is Required to be trans. i'll preface this by saying that i am someone who has experienced, and currently Experiences in wildly different degrees depending on what is happening in my life, dysphoria throughout my entire life. i had my entire teenage and young adult years stolen from me by it. i won't get into details about it because that is a Very Very Personal subject for me, but needless to say dysphoria is something that was a very prevalent part of my life.

anyway. the notion that dysphoria is a Trans Requirement™ is something that i hugely disagree with. i used to think that me figuring out i was a trans woman was because i experienced dysphoria, but frankly the opposite is true. dysphoria is what made me refuse to believe i was a woman or could ever be one. it made me believe i was a man and that was all i would ever be. it wasn't until i really started experimenting with my gender and unpacking a lot of stuff i felt about myself that i started to finally realize the woman i was. i first started trying our she/her pronouns nearing four years now, and started using the name Alice a few months after that. being referred to as a woman & experimenting with different feminine things gave me such incredible feelings of euphoria that i still experience to this day whenever i discover something new about my identity.

and that is something ive heard from SO many other trans people i know. or different things too - i know people who are completely fine with their bodies, just certain words and terms never felt Right to them. because the thing with dysphoria is that it, like all things gender related, is a product of society. dysphoria only exists because transphobia exists - people are told that there are these two rigid things that you are and HERE is what makes you one of those things, and those things are drilled into you literally since birth. everything from colors to jobs to hobbies to cars to entertainment to clothing to Literally Everything is gendered, and when that happens then of fucking course there are gonna be people who don't fall in line with that, and when it's so instilled into people and seen as such societal norms of COURSE people are going to have trouble with that.

and that's not even getting into the subject of gender on a biological level. the fact of the matter is that the two sex system Isn't True and that biological sex is very complicated. intersex people exist, people with all kinds of different chromosomes exist, people of certain body types that have higher levels of different hormones exist, SO much goes into that subject that frankly narrowing it down to two things just doesn't Work

and that's the real problem at the end of the day. dysphoria only exists because of a fucked up gender binary that clashes with both biology and sociology. people are complicated on both a biological and personal level and having set binaries for things is bound to cause confusion & doubt.

like, people's identities are SUCH personal things in so many different ways. there isn't any Right Way™ to be trans. i know trans women with beards, trans women who have no interest in starting hrt, trans men who wear dresses and makeup, non-binary people who make no effort to be androgynous, i know SO many different identities and different people. because the fact is that there's no right way to be trans because nothing is inherently gendered including people's very bodies. people are themselves and there is no Right way to be themselves.

that's on top of the lack of education when it comes to the subject of gender. such a huge part too of me figuring out i was trans was literally learning that it was even a fucking option. i genuinely didn't know just Being A Girl was an option. reading up on gender stuff and researching the different idea of transitioning was intrinsic in my figuring out who i was because oh shit turns out there are people like me and that is Okay.

like, dysphoria literally could've been a non-issue for me. i could've lived in a world where i could just Exist and enjoy whatever i wanted without it being weird. i could've decided so much sooner that i wasn't happy with the way my body was growing and not spent my entire teen years being so confused why i was so sad seeing my girl peers. i could have from the start just gotten to be a girl and never have had dysphoria be part of the equation.

im not trans being i experience dysphoria. im trans because being a woman is rad as hell and it's what i wanted. im trans because changing my name to Alice was the biggest moment of my entire life. im trans because rebelling against the societal restraints of gender is fucking metal. im trans because my friends can't even remember me ever not being me now. im trans because im a great older sister. im trans because god nerfed me and i said nah thanks man but im not feeling it.

my identity and my gender are very personal and complicated things, and narrowing it down to "i experience dysphoria" is frankly insulting to me.

anyway, that's the big point out of the way, so here's some shorter ones

2. this is kinda expanding on the last point, but truscum both insisting non-binary people aren't a thing and them insisting "transtrenders" exist is hmm Bad

the sheer fact of the matter is the concept of being non-binary has existed from the oldest known records of human history on TOP of that concept being prevalent in many different cultures so what do ya know there's a healthy dose of racism involved in the denial of non-binary people. the gender binary is such a western concept and there are SO many different cultures where different gender identities exist.

and, frankly, going back to the above point that gender is fucking Fake and is a societal concept - again, of fucking course there are going to be people who see a rigid set of rules on gender and are like "well wait that doesn't fit me" so of COURSE non-binary people exist

on the subject of "transtrenders" i feel like i shouldn't even HAVE to get into this subject because of how inherently transphobic it is. the concept doesn't exist. there are people who experiment with their gender and then decide their assigned one is fine. there are people who go through all kinds of different identities. there are people who come out as a different gender and then revert back due to backlash. there are people who get told the way they present their gender is the Wrong Way™ and get branded a trender. it's a dangerous thought process that literally does nothing but serve the cis status quo and make people afraid to experiment and think about their identities.

3. the idea that Those Evil Trenders™ are stealing resources from the Real Trans People™ is, frankly, fucking bullshit. issues when it comes to trans people finding difficulty accessing healthcare comes from a transphobic society hellbent on denying us care on top of fucked up healthcare systems in general. hormones aren't some limited quality hard to acquire thing - when i started hrt transferring my prescription from my clinic to my local pharmacy was a non-issue because it's something basically any pharmacy will have for ALL kinds of different purposes. it's an issue because healthcare in general is a god damn Mess on TOP of inherent transphobia

and, frankly, truscum are directly involved in that transphobia in the medical field. unless you find an informed consent clinic you're going to have to jump through all kinds of hoops to prove you're Actually Trans™ by getting referrals from other (almost always cis) people and then get put on ridiculous waitlists to make sure you're not about to change your mind. that kind of attitude is only encouraged by truscum and it is one of the biggest source of trans people having such difficulty accessing healthcare.

4. truscum as far as im concerned are no different than any other transphobe. two years ago before i started hrt i was harassed by truscum multiple times, each time having them tell me i wasn't trans, that i was just a trender, and it genuinely boggles my mind that anyone thinks misgendering me because i disagreed with their ideology is Woke, actually. I've seen so many fellow trans women getting called men by truscum who disagreed with them. i was actively told i shouldn't start hrt because i "wasn't really trans and was gonna ruin my life"

i really hope all of people live in anger every day knowing ive been on hrt over a year and a half and am fucking Thriving

anyway that's all i got to say on the matter i realize my points became less thought out as it went on but frankly the first point is enough for me to not like truscum

(please refrain from reblogging this i don't want any clowns in my inbox)

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dirtyahs · 5 years

Text

What Are We? (Tate Langdon x Reader)

HELLO IM BACK JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY IVE BEEN SO ABSENT LIFE IS KIND OF KICKING MY ASS BUT IM DOING MY BEST!! I LOVE ALL OF U FOR BEING SO KIND AND PATIENT <3

This was requested by my pal @stellaholland i luv u so much bby i hope u enjoy :,)

Word Count: 4,814

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing (sexual and nonsexual), kinda fluffy at the end! (take that lightly, i dont write fluff well lmfao)

You stood in front of your closet, continuously searching through the clothes as if something new was going to appear. You pulled a black skater dress off of the hanger and slipped it over your head, looking in your mirror, only half satisfied with the way it looked. "You're just trying on the same dress in different colors, it's not that hard to pick one." You jumped when you heard a voice behind you, turning around to see none other than Tate. Your family had moved into the house about seven months ago. Both your mother and father were some kind of twisted horror fanatics, so they purchased the house knowing full well you'd be the owners of "Murder House." It was strange to get adjusted to at first, it's like living with ten other people, but only sometimes. Tate made himself visible the most out of everybody. "How long have you been sitting there? Fuckin' creep." You scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed to put on a pair of black boots.

"Long enough." He smirked at you, standing up to walk to your desk, flicking through your notebooks. You saw Tate most often, but frankly, he was the last person you cared to see. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and overall just kind of a douche. You'd come home from school to see him laying in your bed listening to your music. Or you'd wake up in the middle of the night to things falling off of your bookshelf, furniture moving with no one being there. It was always him though. It's like he got off on just screwing with you; so he did. Quite often. Everybody else in the house was decent. Nora was sweet, she just cried a lot. Which was fair given her situation. Chad and Patrick were both okay individually, but when they were together, they were beyond irritating. Just so incredibly passive aggressive - you couldn't imagine being stuck in a house for eternity with someone you wanted to divorce. You stood up, smoothing out your dress before grabbing your small bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your parents had decided everyone was going to go out on a nice lunch today. "Can you get out? I'm leaving." You pushed past him, opening your door and motioning him to walk out.

"I can never get out, angel." He said, sounding just as conceited as ever, making his way to the door, leaning against the wooden frame. "But I guess I can leave you to your little lunch date with mommy and daddy." He teased you condescendingly. You'd done your best to not let him bother you, but he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"Thanks for being so kind, Tate." You gave him the sweetest smile you could manage, slamming your bedroom door when the two of you had exited.

ii. You'd finally gotten home a few hours later. Your parents were very good at starting conversation with every server you'd ever had. They get talking, and then the server gets talking and it seems to last forever. They do always get some kind of discount or something free for being kind though. Your mom had been a server for a decent part of her life, so she was always extra nice to them. Telling them you had homework to work on, you made your way upstairs to your room, hearing music coming from behind the door. Just as you suspected, Tate was sprawled out on your bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. You sighed and walked over to your bed, smacking Tate's side.

"Can you get the fuck out? I have homework to do." You hissed. You definitely weren't going to do homework though. You'd probably end up reading, or watching YouTube or something - but Tate didn't need to know that part. His eyes opened slowly, and you felt like you couldn't look away. He looked angelic (ironically.) His blond curls spread messily around his head, face peaceful, and most importantly, he wasn't talking, which made him look amazing. Without a word, he moved over to one side of the bed, making room for you on the other.

"Tate, I mean it, get out. I've got shit to do." You tried to sound strong - however, you weren't very threatening.

"Whatever you've got to do, just do it quietly." He mumbled, eyes closing once again. Looks like you weren't going to be getting him out of your room. With that, you grabbed the book you've been reading and took a seat at your desk chair, kicking your boots off and putting your feet up on the desk. Your dress fell just a bit to reveal part of your upper thigh. Within minutes, you heard quiet snoring coming from the boy in your bed, blankets pulled up to his chin now. How he managed to make himself so comfortable in your room remained a mystery. It was his room first, technically though. You looked up from your book to see him snuggled tightly under the dark purple duvet, lips parted just slightly.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him - he looked so peaceful and quite beautiful honestly. No - what the fuck are you thinking? You thought to yourself. You don't like Tate - you haven't since the day you moved into this house. He was rude and condescending and way too overly confident. He might be nice to look at, but that's all he had going for him. You had to shut those thoughts down immediately. You shook your head and picked your book up again, returning to the chapter you were reading. iii. "Why are you going to school? Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" Tate teased, leaning against your door frame, blocking you from leaving. He'd been there since you woke up, but he wasn't going to tell you that part. He'd watched you strip out of your pajamas and slide into your hip hugging denim jeans. He enjoyed seeing you - there was something so erotic to him about just watching you go about your normal routine. Not only was it erotic for him, he just liked to watch you. He was fascinated with the way you'd wing your eyeliner, or paint your lips your favorite pink nude. He liked seeing the way you'd quietly sing to yourself in the morning. Most people that moved into that house were terrified of him and everyone else there. You and your family were so different for him. Tate hadn't felt accepted probably ever in his life. Being accepted, and even admired was such a new feeling for him.

"No, Tate I wouldn't. I need to go to class today." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. He had that stupid smirk stuck to his face. Today, it was hard to tell him no. He did this every few days, and you always pushed past him without a second thought. Today, you kind of wanted to stay home with him. But you couldn't. You'd always done well in school, and it was something you took pride in. So you did what you always did and pushed past him, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you walk away.

"Your ass looks cute in those jeans!" He called, blowing you a kiss oh-so sweetly. Your heart jumped a bit with his words. You sat in the cold blue plastic chair, resting your head in the palm of your hand as your English professor babbled on about the assigned reading. The assigned reading that Tate wouldn't let you finish. You were sat in your bed, legs crossed at your ankle trying to finish the chapter. You looked up to see none other than your blond haired nuisance. He was wearing torn up black jeans and Doc Martens. You had the same pair. He crawled over the iron swirls of your bed frame, and laid next to you - uninvited. He tried to talk to you about whatever he could - about your book, about your boots, about himself, about how good he thought you looked in a denim mini skirt. His flirting was always sarcastic. At least it seemed that way. No matter how sarcastic he was though, somehow his words always made your heart flutter. No matter how much you tried to suppress it. "(Y/N)? Can you tell me what happened to our main character in chapter 7?" Your teacher had her arms crossed over her chest, pulling you from your little fantasy - you just zoned out in class thinking about Tate fucking Langdon? Really?

"I-well Mrs. Sanchez..." You stammered, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, cheeks turned an almost electric red. How the hell did you get so carried off thinking about a boy you thought you couldn't stand?

"Please pay attention, all of this is important." She said, clearly unhappy with you. You were one of her favorite students, but she had almost ridiculously high expectations of you. Oh well, you thought, she'd forget about it tomorrow. You closed your front door behind you. It was about 3 o'clock. Your mom and dad would be at work for another couple of hours. But you were sure you'd walk upstairs to find Tate curled up in your bed for his afternoon nap, just like you found him there every day. He was a bit predictable sometimes. You trudged up the stairs, desperately needing some alone time. You'd found yourself day dreaming about Tate more than once. You'd see something that reminded you of him, and you'd feel your heart jump in your chest. You'd thought about the little freckle on his nose, and the way he'd touch all his fingers to his thumb when he got a little nervous. You'd thought about the one time you walked into the bathroom to see him shirtless standing looking in the mirror. His jeans were unbuttoned and hung low on his hips. His muscular shoulders stiffened a bit when he saw your reflection.

"I-I..." You stuttered, unable to look away. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here." Your cheeks were beet red, voice audibly shaking. "That's okay," He turned around and took a few steps towards you. "You can walk in on me like this whenever you want. It seems like you're liking what you see." He growled, his hand moved to rest against wall next to your head. You sighed and threw your bag to the floor, kicking your shoes off quickly. That memory ignited something in you and you couldn't deny the wetness forming between your thighs. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, crawling into your bed. You hooked your phone up to your speaker, playing your "Steamyyyyy" playlist, as if you'd ever been with more than one person before. You ran one finger down your chest, to your stomach, finally reaching your black panties, one finger rubbing light circles over your clothed clit. You let out a throaty sigh, gradually picking up speed. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back onto the black silk of your pillow case. You pushed the fabric to the side, your fingertip finally making skin to skin contact with the little bundle of nerves held between your soaking folds. Your lips remained parted, letting out desperate little whimpers every few seconds. Your free hand gripped at the sheets as your finger worked faster, whimpers eventually turning into loud moans. You hadn't been alone to do this in so long - honestly, you'd forgotten what it felt like. As alone as you felt, you logically knew you were never alone in this house. Tate was sat in your desk chair, a distinct protrusion pressing against his light wash jeans. His jaw hung open as he watched you, in shock over how beautiful you looked.Your mind was running with thoughts of none other than him; you thought about his fingers working you like this, his large hands caressing your skin, his full lips pressing kisses into your neck.

"Tate..." You gasped, fully immersed in your fantasy, feeling that familiar tighten in your tummy, your fingers moved harder almost instinctively. Tate sat there, quiet. You'd finally rendered him speechless. His name fell from your lips several more times. His hand clapped over his mouth to hide his whimpers as you made his cock twitch against his boxers. Truthfully, he'd fantasized about you more times than he cared to admit. Seeing you like this was just a happy accident. He'd walked into your room with the intention to scare you, throw some stuff off of your shelves to mess with your head. But he stopped outside the door, hearing muffled moans. He opened the door slowly, eyes widening when he saw what you were doing. Suddenly, the coil inside of you snapped and your legs started shaking. Your jaw hung agape, nails digging into the soft fabric beneath you.

"Oh- fuck! Tate..." You hissed loudly, guaranteed that someone, somewhere in the house heard you. But, it was just Tate. He now stood at the end of your bed, watching as you soaked your fingers, his hand gently palming himself through his jeans. Once you'd finally ridden out your orgasm, you pulled your fingers from their spot between your legs, sighing deeply, satisfied. Your eyes finally opened and you looked around - still no one. Part of you was surprised Tate wasn't there to make fun of you. It was in that moment that you realized how loudly you'd been saying his name. You literally gotten off to him. He'd invaded your thoughts throughout the day and now he was doing it again in your only alone time. God dammit. You sighed and leaned up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. You couldn't keep playing this game with him - you needed to ask him what the hell his goal was. You needed to see what he felt for you.

You stood up and slid back into your jeans from earlier, making your way to your bathroom down the hall. The closer you got, you could hear a voice coming from inside. Your hand met the coolness of the door knob, but you stopped, feeling your knees weaken when you realized what you were hearing. From the other side of the door came strained grunts. Your heart was racing but you couldn't pull away. You pressed your ear against the door, the voice getting louder and louder.

"(Y/N)," the voice hissed - your suspicions were confirmed, it was Tate. "I-I'm gonna' cum..." He hissed, letting out a loud, relieved moan. Your mind was racing, desperate to see what he looked like in that moment. Moments later, you heard the zipper of his jeans and quicker than you meant to, you began your little run down the hall and down the stairs, no doubt he heard your foot falls. Your heart was going to jump out of your throat, you were sure of it. It was your own fault for thinking you'd ever have any kind of alone time in this house. Tate never left you alone - he saw you. He had to. There was no way that was a coincidence. You opened he fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to occupy yourself. You jumped when you saw two hands on either side of your head, making contact with the fridge. Speak of the devil.

"Tate! You-you scared me." Whether he saw you or not, it was clear that something had you frazzled.

"Can we talk?" His voice sounded deep, gravelly, almost like when he'd just woken up. You finally turned around and looked up at him. His hair was a bit messy, cheeks tinted a pale pink.

"Yeah, about what?" Your voice shook with your words, hands clasped tightly in front of you. You looked up at him as he pushed his body closer to yours.

"No need to act like you don't know what you heard." He growled, chest pressed tightly to yours. "And I'm not going to act like I didn't see you soaking your sheets thinking about me."

His dark eyes looked bright. He got some kind of thrill out of embarrassing you. You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic back, but no sound came out. Tate being this close to you was making your heart race, you didn't have the overwhelming urge to shove him away like you normally would.

"I think," He whispered, lips ghosting yours, "You like when I tease you." He smirked, one hand moving down your side to your hip. "Why don't you tell me what you were thinking about, hm baby girl?" His lips brushing yours forced an unintentional moan from your throat, cheeks flushing almost instantly. "I-Tate..." You were mesmerized. He had you in the palm of his hand and it excited him. "I wasn't thinking about you." You tried to lie, realizing just how dumb you sounded after the words came out.

"Oh Tate," He raised his tone to mock you, "Fuck me, Tate." He chuckled down at you. "Nothing to be embarrassed about doll, I know you heard me saying your name just like that too." He gave your hip a firm squeeze.

"After what, nine months in this house, I think it's time you live your fantasies."

He held you tightly in his hands, spinning you two around so you were pressed against the edge of the counter top. You had nothing to say. Honestly, you were unbelievably excited. You'd thought about his hands touching your skin, his lips on yours, you've wanted this longer than you cared to admit. Your hand came up to hold one side of his face, taking a fistful of his hair and kissing him - hard. His lips worked against yours perfectly, feeling as if they were made to fit together. He got rougher, not hesitating to take control of you. He pushed you firmly against the cool marble behind your back, lips moving from yours down your jaw and to the soft skin on your neck. His kisses started gentle, but quickly got aggressive, nipping at the skin, leaving purple marks in his wake.

You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, feeling him smirk against your skin before he pulled back to tug the gray fabric over his head, showing you his slightly toned torso. Your heart rate picked up once again as you looked him up and down.

"Your turn, angel." He cooed softly, watching as you followed his actions, tossing your tank top to the side. He smirked at you, using both hands to grope at your exposed chest, pressing possessive kisses to your chest.

"I've always loved it when you don't wear a bra." He teased you, his playful, mocking tone returning.

"It's much more obvious than you think." He smirked and tweaked one nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, making you whimper from the slightly satisfying jolt of pain. You leaned your head back, allowing your eyes to shut as his tongue replaced his fingers, flicking over your nipple. Your lips were parted, letting out quiet gasps of pleasure. His now free hands moved down your sides and to your jeans, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your thighs. You kicked them aimlessly to the forming pile of clothes on he floor.

His kisses started moving south, trailing them down your breasts, to your stomach, to your hips, finally reaching the thin cotton fabric that was now soaked between your legs. One of his hands came up to lift your leg over his shoulder, his lips pushing a few light kisses against your clothed pussy. You whimpered, desperate for him. You'd never admitted it to yourself, but Tate has always a central theme in your fantasies. He'd force his way into your thoughts without you even realizing it, and after you were done, you'd push it away and pretend like you'd thought about someone else. You didn't want to be attracted to someone as annoying and immature as Tate, but now he had his head between your thighs and you had no intention of stopping it.

He'd pushed the thin fabric aside, flicking his tongue against your clit just once, to make you moan out in pleasure.

"Stop teasing me, dick head." You half whimpered, half challenged him. You did want him, so badly, but you couldn't let him see just how wrapped around his finger you really were. With your words he roughly pulled your hips forward, forcing a harsh smack to your ass.

"I like you much more when you're just moaning my name." He growled, but he listened to you. His lips attached to your clit and he began sucking lightly, not hesitating to push two fingers into your wet heat, making you squeal in pleasure. It'd been a long time since someone else's fingers had penetrated you, and somehow Tate was fucking amazing at it. He curled his fingers perfectly in rhythm with the way his mouth worked your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter top, knees growing weak. You felt that tight heat rising in your tummy, his fingers and tongue getting you so close to release, much quicker than you ever did by yourself.

"Tate- I'm gonna-" He stood up, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, keeping your leg slung over his shoulder.

"You're cumming on my cock." He growled dominantly, his eyes looking dark and almost feral. He kicked his jeans and boxers to the side, completing the pile of your clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he stroked his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance, pushing into you painfully slowly. You looked up at him, taking in his features. His jaw hung open a bit, blond curls hanging in his eyes. He looked as perfect as someone possibly could. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he looked up, beginning to thrust into you, starting slow and picking up gradually.

"Fuck-" He hissed through gritted teeth, "You're so fucking tight." His hands rested on the counter on either side of your hips, fingertips turning white from how hard he pressed into the surface. He kept up a steady pace for awhile before you felt his hips stutter - he was close. He brought one hand up and began rubbing fast circles over your clit, making your legs tremble around him.

"Cum with me, angel." He growled, fingers picking up their pace, your lips barely brushing his as you felt that tightness return. Your jaw hung open now as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You watched his fingers and hips work in time against you, when all of a sudden you felt him release, covering your walls with his hot cum, forcing the coil in your tummy to snap. You came with him, nails digging into his shoulder, knees feeling weak before it was even over. You watched his face relax once he was finished, chest rising and falling quickly. He looked up at you through his hair, flashing a faint smile. He pulled out of you slowly, pressing a loving kiss into your cheek before bending down to dig through the pile of clothes to find his boxers. He slipped them over his legs, followed by his jeans, but you stayed in your spot on the counter. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He looked at you, jeans resting low on his hips. "You get on my fucking nerves more than anything, and somehow you managed to have me up on this counter for you." You shook your head, blatantly in shock from what just happened. You didn't want it to end though. There was something about seeing Tate so vulnerable, yet so confident that just left you wanting more. He smirked, pulling his shirt over his head and shrugging. "Neither of us are complaining." He smirked, tossing you your shirt and helping you down from the counter. You pulled your tank top on, opening your mouth to respond when you heard the key turn in the door - your parents were home. "This isn't over, Langdon." You hissed, grabbing your clothes before rushing up the stairs, accidentally slamming your door much harder than you intended. A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Tate, and there had been a repeat of those events every few days. You two started to pick up on what the other one liked. Like how you enjoyed having your hair pulled and Tate enjoyed when you'd kiss his neck. He liked having you in control. For someone as confident and douchey he was, he liked having you dirty talking him, being the more dominant one occasionally. And god damn, that boy was always in the mood. You'd feel his hands on your hips when you'd brush your teeth in the morning, or when you were getting ready for bed, he'd kiss down your shoulders the way he knew you loved. But you didn't mind. If he wanted it, you were happy to drop what you were doing and sleep with him. It was a fun little arrangement. It was late, probably around 2 A.M., Tate was laid next to you, a blanket covering him from the waist down, his arms behind his head. You looked over at him, feeling your heart race a little faster. The more time you spent with Tate, the more you grew to appreciate him. He was funny, and charismatic. He'd make you giggle but then have you bent over your bed in the same minute. You couldn't help but miss the feeling of him when you slept alone in your bed. He was always warm. You pulled the blanket tighter around your chest as you leaned up on one elbow, looking over at his sleepy face. "Tate can I ask you something? It's kind of dumb, but I just need to know." You felt nervous all of a sudden. You weren't even exactly sure what you wanted with him. Could you be in a relationship with someone who died in the 90's? Was that even what he wanted? What if he just wanted to be fuck buddies? Is that okay with you? Your brain was jumbled with all these thoughts, interrupted when he looked over at you, skin almost glowing in the dim light. "What's up?" He looked up at you, his finger drawing lazy circles on his chest. You took a deep breath and visibly shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "What are we?" You blurted out, cheeks going red immediately. "Because we- we fuck a lot. You're in my room a lot. You never let me be alone, and I just don't want to say something weird, or continue being in the dark I guess." Your voice trailed off before you collapsed down onto your back again, suddenly unable to look at him. He looked over at you though, you couldn't meet his eyes. "What do you want to be?" "No, don't put this on me. Answer my question." He sighed, and you finally looked over at hi,. "(Y/N)," He started, looking over your chest before looking back into your eyes. "Honestly, this started as sex." Your heart dropped. "But you're right, we have spent a lot of time together. I like being in here with you, regardless of what we're doing." He moved to cup one side of your face. "I don't want to tie you down, ever. I can't leave this house, and I don't want you to be stuck here with me." You opened your mouth to cut him off, tell him that you were willing to be here with him, for however long he wanted, but he cut you off, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "How about this - you and me continue what we're doing here. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend here, but I won't be mad if you find someone else, out there." His words almost brought tears to your eyes. You hadn't felt cared for like this in so long, and to be here, this vulnerable and intimate made your eyes well up. "Please just agree. If I could leave this house, I'd ask you to be mine right now, and I'd parade you around for everybody to see. But I can't do that, so we keep doing what we're doing, and see how things progress naturally." He flashed you a close mouthed smile, but it felt genuine nonetheless. One tear fell down your cheek, and you returned his smile. "That sounds perfect to me. Boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of." You grinned before he pulled you into a kiss, hands wrapping around you to keep you in his arms - and you'd stay there as long as he wanted you to.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs1 #murder house #ahs murder house #tate langdon #ahs tate #ahs evan peters #evan peters #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fanfiction #ahs imagine #ahs fanfiction #sarah paulson #ahs sarah paulson

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stargleam-star · 4 years

Text

Warriors Rewrite Pt 0: Allegiances

So! Some of you may know Ive started rereading the first arc of warriors. As a result, I've been inspired to come up with my own version of a rewrite. I'm gonna make about 7+ posts of notes about things I'd change throughout the entirety of The Prophecies Begin.

To start off, let's talk about our cast

Leader: Bluestar (Apprentice: Sandpaw)

Blue-gray she-cat with a darker face, tail, and legs, and blue eyes. Basically she's a blue Burmese

She teaches Sandpaw instead of Firepaw because then it'd make sense when Graypaw says Bluestar only trains the deputy's kits. Not to mention I think Bluestar would be good at taming Sandpaw's attitude

Like in canon she gave up her kits. The way it happened was a bit different though. To look more convincing, Bluefur had Oakheart scratch her shoulder to make it look like she'd gone to fight the fox for her kits. Bringing home one of her kits half frozen made her story more believable

Deputy: Redtail (Apprentice: Dustpaw)

Small, mostly black tortoishell tom with a plumy dark ginger tail and green eyes

He lives! Or at least longer than he's supposed to. Probably til up about the time Lionheart dies in canon

He's mates with Runningwind. Sandpaw is their adopted daughter (we need more adoption positivity, plus her having no relation to the clan makes for a cleaner bloodline)

Medicine cat: Spottedleaf

Beautiful spotted torbie she-cat with a white chest, underbelly, and paws and amber eyes

She's not having a love affair with Firepaw/Fireheart in this. Also she's going to live slightly longer cause even tho Im not a fan of hers I want to change that

Warriors:

Lionheart (Apprentice: Graypaw)

Large longhaired golden tabby tom with a broad head, broad shoulders and amber eyes

Instead of dying during the raid Shadowclan leads on Thunderclan camp, he dies when the clan goes to chase out Brokenstar

Tigerclaw

Broad shouldered dark brown tabby tom with a scar across his muzzle and amber eyes

Whitestorm

White tom with a plumy blue-gray tail and yellow eyes

Bluestar raised him alongside Mosskit. So he sees her as his mom figure. He even calls her mom. He still loves Snowfur and sees her as his mother, but Bluestar was there for more of his life so he sees her as a mother too

Following that point, he sees Mosscloud as his sister. He also kind of sees Tigerclaw as a brother but doesn't have as strong of a bond with him as he does with Mosscloud

Mosscloud (Apprentice: Ravenpaw)

White she-cat with lilac patches and blue eyes

It's Mosskit!! She survived

Let me explain how: Bluefur snuck her kits out to bring to Riverclan (as she did in canon). But when she noticed Mosskit was falling behind and growing weak she panicked. She realized her daughter wasn't strong enough to make the journey, not like her littermates. So Bluefur tucked them away under a warm tree root and fetched Oakheart. Oakheart took Mistykit and Stonekit with him, and Bluefur carried Mosskit back to camp. It made her fox kitnapping story more believeable

Mosscloud doesn't really remember what happened that night anyways. If asked she'll say she remembers being cold and out of camp in the snow, and then next thing she knew Bluefur had carried her home. She believes Bluestar's story and believes her littermates are dead

She's really close with her dad, Thrushpelt. During free time she can often be found sharing tongues or having a meal with him

When she is busy, however, she's putting her focus on Ravenpaw. Mosscloud is an incredibly patient cat and wants to draw Ravenpaw out of his shell. She knows he has the potential to be a great warrior

Darkstripe

Black smoke classic tabby tom with a broad face and amber eyes. Like mama Willowpelt he looks like a British Shorthair

Longtail (Apprentice: Firepaw)

Lithe cinnamon silver classic tabby tom with a long tail and blue eyes

He was named a warrior 2 moons before Rusty came to Thunderclan

He was assigned to train Firepaw since he was so keen on testing the tom as soon as he stepped paw in camp (I'll go more in dept on this later)

Runningwind

What does "swift tabby tom" mean @ The Erins???

Here he's a fawn classic tabby tom with yellow-green eyes

He found Sandpaw at the edge of the territory when she was about a halfmoon-moon old kit and immediately brought her home to Thunderclan. She smelled of Windclan and he guessed a queen in the clan had abandoned her

Mousefur

Chocolate ticked tabby she-cat with amber eyes

She's pretty popular among the clan

She's around Longtail's age. They'd been named warriors together

Apprentices:

Sandpaw

Lithe dilute ginger classic tabby she-cat with green eyes

She doesn't know she was adopted from outside of Thunderclan. Nobody wants to tell her and frankly nobody really cares. She has clan blood, that's what's important. Plus she's strong, both physically and in wills

She's the oldest apprentice at approximately 9 and a half-10 moons

Dustpaw

Chocolate smoke tabby tom with amber eyes

He's kinda lean, like his brother. By the way Ravenpaw is his brother

He is 9 moons old at the beginning of Into the Wild

Ravenpaw

Small lithe black tom with a white chest locket, white tail-tip, and purple eyes ((this is my rewrite and I say purple-eyed ravenpaw rights.))

Like his brother he is 9 moons old

Ravenpaw is very grateful for his mentor. At first he feared he'd be given to a cat like Tigerclaw. But when he was given to Mosscloud, he calmed down, if only slightly. He appreciates her kind words and encouragement, and he responds well when she pushes him to do better. He wants to make Mosscloud proud

Graypaw

Longhaired gray tom with yellow eyes, a broad head, and a darker gray stripe from his forehead to his tail-tip. He looks like a British Longhair

He is 6 moons old at the start of Into the Wild, just like in canon. In fact, he'd been named an apprentice the sunhigh before he met Rusty.

He is still Willowpelt's son, despite having siblings who are two moons younger than him. Willowpelt became pregnant again not long after Graykit had been born.

Firepaw

Tom, handsome sorrel Abyssinian mix with green eyes. He's just...really orange

He's plump when he first comes to Thunderclan. Actually he remains kinda chubby

He's 6 moons at the start of Into the Wild

Queens:

Frostfur

Dilute tortoishell point siamese she-cat with a plumy tail and blue eyes

Obviously, her mate is Lionheart. They're the kinda couple who's really mushy and lovey

Her kits are Brackenkit, Swiftkit, and Snowkit

Willowpelt

Silver shaded white she-cat with a broad head and rich blue eyes ("rich" as in super blue. Like deep ocean blue). She looks like a British Shorthair

I decided to make her a queen early. I really like Willowpelt and I think she'd be good as a queen longer

Her mate is Whitestorm

Her kits are Cinderkit and Mistlekit

Before her current kits, Willowpelt had had 2 seperate litters before. Her first born is Darkstripe, who had siblings who had died young. He has an unknown father, but its suspected that he's half Shadowclan. Willowpelt's next litter consisted of one kit: Graypaw, who is also suspected to be half Shadowclan, but by a different tom.

Cinderkit and Mistlekit were born two moons after Graypaw was. This is because Willowpelt had had an out of clan affair, and while expecting a litter, fell in love with Whitestorm. When she was able to, she and Whitestorm mated and it resulted in kits a little sooner than either had expected. Yes this is a real thing that can happen, female cats can get pregnant again anywhere from 1-8 weeks after kitting.

Brindleface

Silver-gray spotted tabby she-cat with yellow-green eyes (I know what Brindle means but I've always headcanoned her to look like this)

She's expecting kits. Nobody knows who the father is though

Goldenflower

Pretty longhaired golden she-cat with broad shoulders, a broad head, and green eyes

She's incredibly fluffy. Even moreso than her brother

Her kits are Brightkit and Thornkit

Nobody knows who the father of her kits are, and she's going to keep it that way

Speckletail

Chocolate tortoishell she-cat

She doesn't have any kits as she is too old. She's just a permanent queen who likes helping newer mothers and kitsitting. She probably won't ever retire.

Kits:

Cinderkit

Blue-gray she-cat with a broad face and blue eyes

She's almost old enough to become an apprentice

Brackenkit

Golden-brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Brackenkit and his littermates are about a moon younger than Willowpelt's kits

Brightkit

Long haired white and ginger patched she-cat with green eyes

She's about a moon old

Thornkit

Longhaired golden tabby tom with orange eyes

Like his sister, he's a moon old

Swiftkit

White and black patched tom with heterochromatic eyes (one yellow and one blue)

Snowkit

Mostly pure white tom with blue eyes and a small patch of gray on the bridge of his nose. He is 100% deaf

I'm keeping this precious baby alive, you'll have to pry him out of my cold dead hands

Mistlekit

Silver shaded white she-cat with a plumy tail and yellow eyes

In canon she's Snowkit's littermate (who the Erins completely forgot about) soo I've revamped her and turned her into Cinderkit's littermate.

Like her sister she's about ready to become an apprentice

Elders:

Halftail

Dark brown tabby tom with a nubby torn off tail

Smallear

Gray tom with small folded ears

Patchpelt

Small black and white patched tom

One-eye

Pale gray she-cat, oldest cat in Thunderclan

Dappletail

Once pretty tortoishell she-cat

Thrushpelt

Lilac classic tabby tom with yellow eyes

He's still in love woth Bluefur but as always it's pretty one sided.

He adores Mosscloud with all his heart as if she were his own kit. As far as he and the clan's concerned, she is his kit. He's so happy he got to be involved in raising at least one of Bluestar's litter

Rosetail

Dilute mostly gray tortoishell with a pale ginger tail, and a white underbelly and paws

She retired early when Thistleclaw died

One day Bluestar explained to her how terrible her brother was, and even though she knows and understands, she still misses him

Cats outside the clan:

Smudge

Tom, Harliquine purebred Japanese Bobtail. Aka he's white and black patched and has a cute nubby tail

He has a little red bowtie collar

Yellowfang

Longhaired, flat faced, dark gray she-cat with a ragged scarred pelt, a yellow snaggle tooth, and orange eyes

Her name is actually Smokefang, but when she's exiled from Shadowclan she changes it.

Cats used to call her yellow-fang as an insult to her hygiene, so she took it on as her identity cause she's that bitch

Jake

Tom, purebred sorrel Abyssinian with amber eyes and a rainbow collar

Why do his owners let him roam around??? They probably don't know he's a pedigree purebred tbh

Nutmeg

Ginger and white tabby she-cat with green eyes

Princess

She-cat, ruddy and white Abyssinian mix with amber eyes and a pink collar

Barley

Black and white tom with yellow eyes and a red bandanna around his neck

Probably has a southern accent

Scourge

Tom, small all black Abyssinian mix with one white paw, ice blue eyes, a tooth studded collar, and dog teeth reinforced claws

Gotta talk about my boi if we're talking about a rewrite. He's probably got a genetic condition through Quince that makes him so damn small. Not to mention he's a runt

His collar is purple cause I make the rules here. And the very front has a bird skull because that's edgy and its a nod to flightfootwarrior/aka @ corvidkatana's old scourge design which I'm incredibly fond of

Also he has a hard time talking and walking. His collar's kinda tight on him now and it hurts to talk. His usual silence comes out more intimidating anyways. As for the difficulty walking thats due to his claws.

#viti's rewrite #warrior cats #wcs #warrior cats rewrite #long post #Im on mobile rn I'll put it under a readmore tonight

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transalfiesolomons · 5 years

Note

I’ve had to deal w a lot of transphobia the last few days, you have any trans headcanons to spare? 🌸💀

You’ve come to the right place friend. I hope you’re cool with an unanticipatedly large dump of ‘em (specifically on Alfie and Michael) below the cut

(oh I should mention up front these are all modern au)

(a quick caveat with this. I talk a little bit about the intersection of being trans and being Jewish and while I try to be as culturally sensitive as possible, I am not myself Jewish, so if anyone reading this has something to add or to correct please please do not hesitate to do so)

(there’s also probably some sentence fragments and thoughts that trail off because i’m a fool who can’t proofread)

me: hey just do a few happy ones

also me, 3,000 words later, basically having written two fics: ah,

Alfie –

Alfie Solomons spends a lot of his childhood chasing on the heels of older male cousins, refusing to be cooped up inside with the women of the family. He knows there are things that his cousins will never let their single little girl cousin know or see, condescendingly protecting her from a world that is her birthright just as much as it is theirs.

He grows up hearing about the “family business” without ever seeing it or knowing anything about it, other than sometimes the police came to rough up family members and make arrests and hurl slurs while they did so. But whether this had anything to do with illegality on his family’s part or just people hating Jews, Alfie never really figured out, only that after such raids his cousins are quieter and afraid and those are the times a place for Alfie opens up among them, a desire to hold family close.

When he was younger, growing up around his father’s extended family in Camden Town, Alfie had pretty constantly railed against not being able to do what his male cousins did and also pretty constantly did that stuff anyway, which garnered him both amusement and consternation from his family who only occasionally attempted to stop him.

The men in the family paid him absolutely no attention, which he felt was wrong for some reason but could never find the words to explain why until much alter in his life, until after he stumbles over the word “transsexual” in a medical diary while waiting for a physical exam and until after he first applies the word to himself. Both of which come when he is already an adult. But even before he knows, it complicates a lot of his life, especially when he came to gender roles in worship. Even after he turned 13, he was not allowed to be part of a minyan which felt wrong until someone explained that it was because he’s a girl and only men can be part of a minyan which felt even more wrong but he didn’t push it because there’s a look on his mother’s face when he asked why that told him this was just one of those things (and there were many, admittedly) that just wasn’t up for debate.

II.

Alfie makes the realization that he’s trans when he is 27. Five years into his enlistment in the British Army, sitting on Basra air base in 2004 during the British-to-American turnover, twiddling his thumbs and sweating his ass off watching supplies be loaded and unloaded on the airstrip. Two months from home for good and suddenly skin-crawlingly aware he doesn’t recognize what he sees in the mirror anymore as himself. He remembers that word then, thinks back to not understanding it at the time, thinking it was strange and wrong, and he spends the rest of the day rolling it (and rolling he, him, his) over on his tongue until its stone-heavy and nearly wrung of meaning.

It’s a sudden and stomach-swooping realization, a long-time-coming clarity that still bowls him over with the sheer force of it.

His last month there, he buzzes his hair just to see how it would be, what it would feel like under his hands. When asked why - and he goes from a regulation cut, but just barely regulation to as short as the clippers will allow him without just shaving his head, so he is asked quite a lot - he claims that the heat just finally got to him and he couldn’t take it anymore. His face is too soft then, a roundness in the cheeks he’d never shed from childhood, to allow him to pass with just a buzz but it gives him a modicum of personal comfort to run his hands over his scalp and feel that soft prickle under his fingers.

He comes home and out-processes from the military and almost immediately jumps into figuring out where the fuck to go from here, pouring over what few online resources he can find and feeling more and more adrift from himself every day. He doesn’t fit into the common narrative of “knew all along” and he doesn’t exactly feel “wrong” in his body (frankly, he’s proud of it) so it’s a long time before he’s able to truly accept that he is transgender and not actively losing his mind and that there isn’t something wrong with him.

His place as a trans man and his decision to transition put him not necessarily at odds with but in a weird position with his Jewishness. So much of Judaism is split along gender lines: where you sit in temple, what you wear, how you’re addressed, what prayers you lead, what prayers you say, if you can lead prayers at all. It causes a radical reevaluation of where he stands in relation to his faith and to g-d but in the end it wholly reaffirms both his faith and how he feels about himself.There are actually two (incredibly progressive) rabbis that help him - one who reaffirms his identity as a trans man and as a Jewish man and another who tells him in Halachic terms that he can get gender-affirming surgery if it is something he wishes to pursue.

The cool thing about realizing when he did is that Alfie doesn’t have anyone he has (or wants) to come out to - his mother had died some years before, he was estranged from his only (half) sister, he was only ever rarely in contact with any member of his maternal family (spread out between Russia and Israel), and he’d lost contact with his paternal family after his father died when he was eight and his mother moved them away from Camden Town out of fear. He had no close friends or relationships due to his “inability to relate to others” and “aloofness” (the army’s words) and his being “an utter sociopath” (his XO’s words). The not so cool thing is the not inconsiderable amount of loneliness he feels when transitioning alone, celebrating milestones like his first year on T alone, especially when recuperating alone from surgery with only his dog to keep him company (and the complications he didn’t consider - like having to take the dog on walks when he could barely get off the sofa.) But that’s, uh, that’s what alcohol is there for right?

(Already fit from military training, he dedicates a lot of time during his early transition to weight training and a continuation of the hand-to-hand he learned in basic.)

III.

His father’s family (the little that’s left of it after a brutal turf war between the Jews and the Italians over a decade ago) reaches out to him when he’s 31, after the murder of his uncle by a small Italian gang of upstarts who took old age for infirmity and, in his cousin’s words, “paid dearly” for it. The invitation is for his uncle’s funeral, but he ends up staying in Camden Town afterwards, working for his cousin who has assumed control of the gang after his father’s murder. Alfie very quickly garners a reputation for just vicious brutality against people that cross the gang.

Alfie considers it strange that his cousin invites him back, considering, well – but no one (including his cousin) actually seems to remember him well enough to remember that he was a girl child once. People remember that he is his father’s child but apparently not what gender he was assigned at birth. People remember him roughhousing with the boys, not that he was reprimanded for doing so because he was not “one of the boys.” It begs the question of how his cousin tracked him down but Alfie supposes there may only be so many Solomons in England. And it’s weird but it’s also incredibly welcome. Gifts and horses and mouths.

Alfie’s assumption of control of the Solomons Gang right out from under his cousin (who was never fit for the job anyway) is an incredibly nebulous affair that followed very closely on the heels of his uncle’s death. Like, before shiva is even over close on the heels of (which is an exaggeration, but it makes him out to be all the more ruthless, really). Legitimately no one but Alfie knows how exactly any of it went down other than it has a body count somewhere between 2 and 15 people. He describes it to this way as a coup de grace. What that means, no one is even kind of willing to ask.

IV.

He’s outed twice: once by a man in his own gang (a few years after he gains control) and once not long after by a competitor who thinks it will cost Alfie everything. It doesn’t go the way either of them wanted.

His boy does it internally, digs up his service record and his discharge papers and starts to spread the “truth” in an effort to undermine Alfie and possibly gain control of the gang himself. He doesn’t live long past the first wave of rumors and it’s fairly quickly forgotten, just a power-hungry man trying to start something he couldn’t finish.

The competitor spreads it among his supplies and allies, many many of whom have negative reactions and cut ties with the Solomons gang. This costs him the most, at least in the short term - suppliers, support, respect, a modicum of safety - but he doesn’t let it intimidate him. And because it never destabilizes him or truly threatens his leadership of the gang (who actually stand by him, not because they’re supportive but because he’s already proven to be incredibly volatile and unpredictable but also fair to and protective of those loyal to him), he gains a lot in the long term.

(By the time Tommy comes into the picture when he’s 39, there’s been so much turnover in the ranks of nearly every gang and blackmarket business that barely anyone knows and the ones that do either don’t care or just don’t feel like its worth acting on.)

The second time someone internally tries to use his being trans against him, his boys doesn’t even flinch because, cis or trans, Alfie terrifies them. He’s 5′9, built like a brick shithouse, like an American Bulldog, probably 16 stone of mostly muscle, deadlifts twice that, and he punches like a freight train hauling cinder blocks and he terrifies them.

There’s not a person in this world that can make Alfie Solomons ashamed of who he is.

Michael –

Polly spends so much of her life scouring the country looking for her stolen daughters, devastated beyond the ability of words to convey - after searching for twelve hard, long, lonely, terrified years - to find one daughter dead (buried in a country she has never been to and will never see, she can’t even visit her baby’s grave) and the other seemingly wiped from the system after her (private) adoption, no record or her past six years old.

She hits roadblock after roadblock, denied access to privileged and private information she has no legal right to access anymore. It’s helpless, desperate work and it almost breaks her because how could her eldest daughter just disappear?

It’s Tommy who eventually gets access to the records, who digs and digs (and bribes and threatens, but Polly probably doesn’t need to know about that part but probably does anyway, she knows her nephews too well to expect anything different, especially Thomas) until he hits pay dirt. The gender recognition certificate, the legal name change barely half a year ago, the parental consent forms for treatment of gender dysphoria.

It’s a week after he finds it all that he shows her, having mulled over how to tell her and finally settles on just laying it all out. He slides her the folder over breakfast and drinks his coffee – black, two sugars, a Shelby staple – while she reads what she initially thinks are some financial documents or some other Family Business™ family business.

He watches her face morph from shock to confusion to hope to awe and around to the same kind of fond exasperation she looks at him and his siblings with, the closest to love-comfort-softness that Polly gets.

And somewhere in that mix of emotions he knows there is a tug of grief (and it stings, it will never stop stinging, that grief, but for once it isn’t aimed at him), grief because she has lost both of her daughters, grief that is outweighed by the joy of having gained a son, just like the joy of gaining a nephew that outweighed the grief of losing a niece all those years ago.

“Michael,” she says, awe unmistakable. Traces a hand along the papers with as much tenderness as if they were the face of her lost son, soon soon so soon to be found again and brought home to them.

(Michael, she thinks later, of course he’d somehow pick a family name. It’s only right and it’s perfectly right, she wouldn’t have chosen any different.)

II.

They wait to reach out until after Michael turns 18, until he has been legally emancipated from his adopted parents. And the wait kills Polly but she understands it, given the circumstances. It’s Tommy that reaches out, somewhat awkwardly, a voicemail left on a cellphone. Perfunctory, because how do you explain the weight of a history like their family’s over voicemail, with a rushed callback number just before the cutoff tone.

And Michael, for his part, two years on HRT and attending uni in London and happy as hell and finally free from parents who were tepidly accepting (at least enough to help him medically transition) but suffocating in their palpable discomfort, jumps at the chance to meet Tommy.

It’s validating that his birth family has reached out to him and even more validating that, to have found him at all, they would have had to found out that he was trans. And to have reached out, they would have had to accept that fact or at least grapple with it. To have reached out, they would have had to want to see him and that’s reason enough to want to meet Tommy. That’s even reason enough to forget that his parents haven’t spoken to him since the day he moved out of their home, to forget that they looked relieved when he left.

III.

And two weeks later they’re sitting across from each other at a coffee shop in north London, a hipster hole in the wall place with good pastries - Michael’s suggestion. They both order coffee – black, two sugars. Michael doesn’t understand why that’s funny to Tommy.

Tommy sits across from him, eyes a shade of blue so startling it’s both hard to maintain eye contact and to look away at all, and offers Michael a a chance to rejoin the family he barely remembers he lost and it almost breaks Michael in half, because he didn’t expect any of this to be so easy. Except it’s not easy, of course it’s not, there’s a weight between then the heft of many people, fathers and brothers and sisters and daughters, but Tommy carries that weight somehow better, with a straight-backed pride Michael finds he would like to learn. To carry the weight of his past like a talisman and not an albatross.

“What does my mum think,” Michael asks just before they say goodbye, standing there on the sunniest day London has seen in months, on the corner outside Warren Street station. He’s put off actually asking this question, unwilling to hear the answer. Unwilling to have another parent see him as a disappointment. “Of me? Of… me.”

Tommy doesn’t speak for a long time, pulling drags and exhaling slowly. When he does speak, he doesn’t look at Michael and Michael can’t help the way his stomach drops to his feet in bitter, sickening anticipation of some kind of rebuff, some kind of confirmation that this will be hard. Instead, Tommy smiles, just slightly, the corner of his mouth blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twitching, and says “You’re her son. She loves you.”

Like it’s just that easy. And for the Shelbys, it kind of is. Family is family, all baggage included. (Ride or die, bitch.)

And Michael isn’t really given to strong emotions (another Shelby staple) but he carries that answer with him for days after, holds it in his body like a physical thing, right next to his heart tucked protectively behind his ribcage. Her son, her son, her son.

(He finds out later that Tommy himself is trans but that is not for some time - it’s definitely one of the last pieces of the puzzle for him, that last missing piece of sky that completes a nearly two decades long year search for who he is and where he belongs. But it’s not for a while yet.)

IV.

He meets his birth mother on a stormy day two weeks after he first meets Tommy. He stands on a curb in Small Heath with an address on a scrap of paper, hastily scribbled while on a confirmation call with Tommy (who does not and will not text, the neanderthal) when he arrived in Birmingham.

She’s not at all what he expected (smaller, thinner, stress-worn. but he has her nose he thinks, and her chin, the curls in her hair) but he supposes he isn’t what she suspected either so they’re at least on equal footing.

Her home smells of incense and perfume, the tea she brews is stout-dark but bright-sweet, her hands are soft and warm on his back when she hugs him and with tears threatening to choke him, his forehead on her shoulder, he thinks oh, I remember this.too

#i've been in a similar situation vis a vis transphobia recently so I relate and i'm very honored you came to me #i hope things get better for you friend #and i hope these help in their own small way #and if you ever wanted to talk or vent (anon or not) i'm absolutely here to listen #peaky blinders #trans posts #Anonymous #self made man au #(that's the tag!)

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robotslovedeath · 5 years

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Why You? | Draco M. x Reader

A/N: AAAAA ive been reading so many draco x reader fics and wanted to try one myself,,, its nearly 1am so excuse how shitty this will be :'))) ALSO RB'S ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED,, THANK YOU 💞💞

Summary: Y/N's been awfully interested in Harry Potter ever since she met him the first day she arrived at Hogwarts. Not that everyone else did, but crushes. What else could she say? It isn't until Draco, coincidentally crushing on Y/N, spots Potter and her laughing wholeheartedly, like nothing else in the world matters. Frustration hits him unexpectedly, and he tries everything to get him to lure you to him, eventually making you his.

Word count: 1,872 words

Warnings: None. Or actually maybe just a tiny bit of cursing-

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Sitting with the golden trio, you couldn't help but laugh with them at the sight of being back together again. It all felt so right. You and Hermione arguing over who casted spells the best, while Harry and Ron had their own conversations. Being how he looked forward to going on adventures again. Just like how it used to be.

"Say, Y/N, where have you been? You know.. this past holiday?" Harry suddenly mentions, making you look up at him, confused. "What do you mean by that? You know I only spend time with my grandparents during breaks. You know I've mentioned plenty of times that my parents are gone, Harry." It takes him a while to realise what he just said, eyes widening in terror. It seemed as if your only place to call home was here. Being with your grandparents felt nice but.. you knew you were bored as soon as you were alone. They didn't understand you as much as Harry, Ron and Hermione did.

Being a half-blood, much like Harry, (way too much like him, a bit strange, actually?) you used to spend your time playing with muggles, remembering how carefree it all used to be. You somehow still had that feeling of 'being normal' left in your chest, although you loathed every single bit of it. You hated that once you had had a thought of abandoning everything relating to magic and that one day you could've left without warning. That you could never see Harry again. Or Ron and Hermione. "Erm- I apologize. I didn't mean to.. you know what I mean, Y/N-" Harry hesitated with his words, his parted lips about to speak again, until the train stopped, your gaze watching the students getting off of the train in a hurry.

"We should get going." Hermione breaks the tension and everyone's off in a matter of seconds. It only takes you minutes until both you and the trio arrive to their common rooms. "I'll see you later, I guess." You mumble and wave goodbye, unsure of what else to say to your best friends. They all wave back at you, though your back already facing them as you enter Y/H's common room. It wasn't as quiet as you remembered it being. Y/H always being a great house and never.. this agitated.

You unpacked everything, clothes perfectly stacked on top of your drawer, your robes neatly smoothed out and your hair..? Let's just say you were too lazy to brush it out. It wasn't dreadful, but it wasn't the best. You had thought back to where you and the others would meet again, your oblivious mind recalling that everyone was meeting in the Great Hall like always. How stupid could you act today? Well.. not as stupid as Harry.

You brushed the thought away from mentioning Harry, knowing yourself by now your cheeks would get rosy and you wouldn't help but stare at him in all his glory. This crush.. or whatever it was, felt too much for you. You're only in the 4th year. You're 15, goddammit. A small-big crush like that shouldn't get you so overwhelmed. And you were a year older than Harry and the others. How great was that.

You noticed the others weren't there to greet you by your Y/H common room; frankly, making you feel disappointed and rather scared than lonely. They were probably busy and forgot.. Right? Your eyes were faced towards the ground, speed walking to the Great Hall, hands by your side while your mind focused on none other than the boy you were trying to forget about. Your feelings towards him mattered so much to you, what if he couldn't love you back? He couldn't love you. If he was seen with you; how your whole year would look in disgust and hatred. You didn't want that. Your mumbling was growing louder now, wanting to erase everything you were thinking of right now, until-

"Could you please get out of my way?!" You yell bluntly at the stranger who nearly knocked you out, your petite physic being such a struggle. Meeting his stare, your brows furrowed impatiently. "Well, pardon me, Y/L/N. Want me to get you a fucking plaster? Oh, do you need to go back to your mummy and daddy?" This guy was already getting on your nerves. How did he know your name? Who was he again? You only saw him a couple of times in your lessons last year, you being way too unlucky and having to work with him for one of Snape's assignments. Good thing that that was the last time you had to work with him. Until now.

"Why are you looking at me like you've seen death?" Your cheeks unconsciously redden, embarrassed by how long you were emerged by his blue eyes. They were far too bright for a guy like him. It didn't seem.. normal. "Uh, no reason. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. In fact, you're part of this too so, I'm not exactly sure as to why you're standing here waiting for something to happen." You catch your usual self again, stepping beside him and walking in the Great Hall, looking for your friend's glances and finally heading towards them. For now, you didn't want to mention what had happened earlier, not wanting to create any weird atmosphere. "Sorry for being so.. late. It isn't usually like me to arrive after you guys. My apologies. Sincerely."

They all shake their heads in silence, giving warm smiles and waiting for whatever was about to start. It was pleasant, having to be back where you always felt safe and at home, in comfort of your friends whilst not having to worry about anything else. Or so you thought.

After dinner and messing about with everyone, you gave out one last chuckle and looked around the hall. You turned around, the one and only Malfoy was staring at you. He didn't seem to care when you mumbled incoherent names at him under your breath, like he could manage to hear you throughout all the talking. Why did he keep on placing his filthy eyes on you? You knew damn well you were quite a great looking person but, to be focusing on you and only you? Sounded a bit like a creep to you.

It was all the opposite, Draco not only being able to recoil himself away from you, but to end up staring at you all the goddamn time. He couldn't help it. "She already thinks I'm a creep. Just.. fuck! What am I suppose to do now? Sit and wait? She'll never take interest in me after what happened." He rambled, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson being around him wasn't helping. "What do you fancy about that squib, anyway? She's useless, Malfoy." Pansy mentioned, leaving Draco pissed and annoyed. "She's not a mudblood! I don't think she is anyway.." He prayed she wasn't anywhere near to being one, though if being a half-blood would probably be more likely. He hoped.

Everyone finally left to their dormitories, leaving you and trio last out of the hall. You couldn't help but notice a particular blonde, hiding behind a statue. You knew just long he'd been keeping an eye on you, the constant staring and mentioning your name being way more irritant than expected. When was Malfoy ever going to get off of your back? You'd just got back, too!

"Hey, Harry? Could I just, talk to you? Alone?" He happily obliged, Hermione and Ron knowing exactly what to do next. You two didn't even say goodnight. "Y/N? What's the matter?" You stood still, nearly forgetting what you were about to spill to him. "Well.. I uh? I'm not sure. Every since I got back, I've been feeling way too- How do I put it.. distant from everyone else. Especially you. And I wanted you to know first. Since you're one of my closest friends and I trust you. A lot." You didn't realise how close you two were, inches apart from colliding into each other. Your heart was beating fast, the world around you was a blur. Only Harry was there. Only him.

"That's quite alright, Y/N. There's no reason to feel so ashamed. I agree that you've been fairly quiet and you seem to have taken a liking to.. Malfoy? I presume that's the reason why he's over there, remarkably obvious about his hiding place." And you felt your heart break, how could he not see? See how close you were. Inches away from his tender lips. Inches away from being his partner. You didn't want to go with any of it, letting your actions take over you. A red mark was slowly beginning to reveal itself on Harry's cheek. He was left gobsmacked as you left, on the edge of crying.

Draco had seen everything. When you were millimeters away from kissing. To when you slapped him across the face. Amused while yet to be shocked, he quietly followed you, making sure no one else followed him back. Otherwise, being accused of liking this one hell of a Malfoy, you stopped and rested yourself against a wall, to which you slid down on the floor with your head buried in your knees. You felt awful to have slapped your crush. Harry, even. You felt guilty. You wanted to erase everything you've ever experienced today. Surely, this was the worst day you had had so far. It sure could get worst.

You thought you were alone again, the hallways being empty and quiet, just to be filled with your own soft sobs. "Well, well, well. Does Miss Y/L/N feel bad for slapping her non-existent boyfriend?" You heard a harsh but smooth voice talking and you instantly shot your head up. "Go away, Malfoy. He doesn't like me anyway." You reply, swallowing hard and keeping your eyes locked together. He laughed, perhaps a little too mockingly and abruptly shuffled your hair. "Rest, Miss Y/N/L. You don't want those brats, Weasly, Potter and that mudblood worrying." He gave you an annoyed look, as if he regretted you leaving him from his sight. It was odd. Malfoy interacting with someone from Y/H. He wasn't as cold like before dinner too.. What was this?

"If this is some kind of lame prank, it isn't funny. However, I shall get going. I don't want to waste my time with you, Malfoy. I have much better things to be doing than you trying to desperately get on my good side. It isn't working, if you were wondering. Goodnight." With that, you fled from the extremely attractive blonde, which by the way, you were never mentioning that to anyone. If they found out, your relationship with the others could end up in a fatal disaster. Nobody wanted that. Draco whispered a 'goodnight', finding the way you said his name adorable. He left without any trace of ever being here. Draco heading back to his dorm and spending his time thinking about you.

Who knew a guy like him would soon enough make his way into your heart?

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regrettablewritings · 6 years

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Cassian Andor x Reader Ship Meme

How differently do they think of each other now compared to when they first met?: You were terrified of Cassian, plain and simple. His reputation as one of the Rebellion’s most aloof and cutthroat captains preceded him, and you were horrified to learn that you would be transferred to Yavin IV where he was currently stationed. You tried to avoid ever having to meet him, fruitless as you knew it would be, but you still held out hope . . . which was promptly dashed considering that, as a medic, your chances of meeting a gung-ho captain was higher than, say, if you had worked in the mess hall. You weren’t sure what made your first meeting with Captain Andor particularly scary: The fact that you had preexisting anxiety towards him; that his dark, piercing eyes appeared to be glaring; or that he had blood on him – some of which wasn’t even his, you discovered, as you wiped away at cuts and bruises, sheepishly asking how many injuries you could expect to patch up. On his own end, Cassian wasn’t sure of what to make of you. Rather, he wasn’t aware that he needed to make anything of you at all. It probably didn’t help that as he left the infirmary, his one takeaway was that you were a nervous slip of girl who wasn’t cut out for being in contact with a war and probably wouldn’t last long. He had half a mind to say this, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, the Rebellion needed as many hands as possible. Especially in the medical field.

Given how he was typically quite careful on most assignments, the Rebellion captain had very little reason to frequent your domain. And for that, you were thankful. But it was during one particularly grueling mission that he had been ordered by Commander-in-Chief Mon Mothma to see you for psychiatric examination. The subsequent questions, as well as your basic training, assured that you managed to gather more insight about the man’s thought process and experiences that may have given way to recurring issues within his psyche. However, it was your own natural goodhearted nature that drove you the extra mile: In spite of your nervousness around him, you tried actually talking to him – and not just the usual medical jargon about his health. But you tried opening up to him the same way one might attempt to make a pet more comfortable in a new environment by letting them know they were safe. Only all you had to go on were words, weak attempts at small talk and jokes. Given his near nonexistent reactions, you had every right to perceive your kindred attempts as failures. It was when he stopped by three days later, coming in for an unnecessary checkup where he offered some scattered small talk back that you began to reconsider that conclusion. He claimed that growing close to you had been a lapse of judgement on his part (and arguably yours), but that didn’t necessarily stop him from popping up more and more. And honestly? You didn’t mind it as much as you thought you might. It allowed you to become less afraid of him, to know him as more than just a hard-ass (which, let’s be real, he still was) but also as a man who’s sacrificed so much of himself for the cause that he honestly might not know who he is without the Rebellion. All he’s ever known was war and fighting; if you catch him in the extremely rare mood, you’d find out that he’s actually not too entirely sure of what part of him in the real him since so much of who he presents himself as has been formed by his efforts. But during this venture, the both of you can confirm that when he's hard-working, ambitiously dedicated, focused, and agile? That’s all Cassian. But definitely the most shocking of all is that Cassian isn’t some emotionless, cut-blooded soldier as many had you believing with their recounting of him: Cassian actually very much experiences remorse for when things get out of hand even if by the smallest fraction. The frozen shield he puts up is definitely less of his actual personality and more of a defense/coping mechanism that he’s become reliant on. It’s not healthy by any means, but you both understand and even sympathize with it. You just hope that you can introduce a way for him to break away from it and be more open. He sees you as far less of a liability, by the way. In fact, he’s begun to heavily appreciate how soft you’ve stayed in spite of everything. Because war instills this need for jugular-biting ambition and every-last-man mentality, he’d begun to forget how important it is to display kindness and gentleness. He now sees your helping hands as your strength and would rather not imagine where he everyone would be without somebody like you.

What do their friends/family think of their relationship?: Cassian tries to keep the relationship under wraps when the two of you first agree to start seeing each other romantically. He says it’s for your own protection, but considering how you never go off-planet and how you’re not a name the Empire would focus on to begin with, you know this instantly to be bullshit. The reality is that he knows how uncharacteristic it was for him to not only get romantic with somebody, but to do so when all his life has ever been about was the Rebellion. Oh, and the fact that his friends would have a field day might have something to do with it. To both your and Cassian’s surprise (and embarrassment), K2 isn’t the first one to comment on the connection the two of you had. He certainly had his suspicions (all of which he bluntly stated, perhaps to crude degrees in certain cases), but the ultimately first person to actually make a statement about it was none other than Chirrut. Claiming he could sense it, the monk fondly cooed over how the icy captain’s heart melted in the light of your spirit. He keeps calling the union beautiful and necessary as it is a symbol of how even during times of war, love can flourish and grow through the clouds of doubt. Baze scoffs at the comment but ultimately is okay with the situation. Aside from stating that at least Cassian isn’t as much of a hard-ass, the ex-monk is mostly neither here nor there regarding the circumstances. Bodhi himself thinks it’s nice that somebody gives Cassian a safe place to heal; he himself has only been directly involved with the Rebellion for a little while compared to Cassian’s whole life of investment, and his nerves are constantly fried. He can only imagine how Cassian must actually feel beneath it all. Likewise, Mon is just glad that somebody gets along with Cassian who isn’t a subordinate of sorts. While she appreciates the hard work he puts into the Rebellion, his attitude sometimes makes her worry about the decisions he makes out of ambition. Hopefully your presence in his life will give him reason to think more with his emotions than with his own deadly determination. At the very least, she hopes he’s more open with you and venting some of the things weighing on his psyche that he won’t express to her. But above all, K2 is obviously the most vocal about the relationship. He’s like a big younger sibling in a sense, complaining about the ways that the two of you show affection (even when it’s in privacy, even when it’s not anything blatantly resembling PDA). However, you can’t help but snicker when one day, early on in the union, he trudges up to you and states, “Cassian says I need to be nice to you, even though he’s not very nice himself; from what I’ve been told, hitting one’s on the behind isn’t appropriate – ” You die on the ground in a fit of laughter while Cassian dies in a corner, cringing with embarrassment and anger.

How do their personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?: While the both of you are reserved, you and Cassian are that way for very different reasons and by different means of expression. For you, it was something more akin to shyness and nerves. You hated the idea of getting in the way, and frankly being around people barking orders at one another didn’t do much for this anxiety. For Cassian, it was out of an assigned necessity that he be closed off. Best not to get too attached, because for all he knew, whomever or whatever he got too close to would disappear from his life just as everything else had. He’s getting better at it, but expecting years and years of a defense mechanism to go away is unrealistic. Going off of these forms of quiet behavior, you’re still legions more open than he is. In spite of your shyness, you try to make those that visit you in the infirmary feel better by even 1% considering that unless it’s for a checkup, they’re probably not there under great circumstances. The result is that many Rebels like you to some degree and cannot fathom what you see in Cassian because he’s just so . . . not like you. You have to admit, it gives you a bit of amusement to see the looks of confusion on their faces when they see you strolling about, gooey smile intact whilst walking alongside the perpetually frowning captain. It’s a nice sugar and salt sort of unity: Nobody gets how it works, it just does.

What is their favorite aspect of each other?: Most people would assume that Cassian would immediately say it’s your work ethic or overall determination to see a situation to the end. And, to be fair, that would be what he’d tell them if he cared to answer such a question. But in actuality, while it’s certainly something he likes about you, that’s not his absolute favorite thing. Cassian will never admit to it, but he finds your softness to be something he’s come to greatly appreciate. Yes, the very thing that made him question your ability to withstand the Rebellion is also the thing he loves the most. Go figure! This is because everything in his life has been ragged or uncomfortable, so your gentleness certainly stands out as a daisy on the rocky terrain that has been his life thus far. When he came back from Scarif, you could immediately determine that he was shaken even though he never said otherwise and attempted to act as if nothing about nearly dying had affected him. You’d known him long enough to pick up on his cues, and your medical training required you to recognize certain traits present in those struggling with the aftermath of potentially traumatic events. You tried not to pick at him for details and for that he was thankful but ultimately, the most he was willing to do at that point was just . . . hold you. He couldn’t decide if it was because he needed to show you how much he appreciated you after everything, or if it was because you were soft and warm and felt like an actual home for him, but what did it matter? You were currently one of the only good things he had in his life, and he owed it all to your much softer nature. It allowed him to not have to be so cold and calculating; it just meant he had a place to let his hair down – and be played with. You yourself have come to better understand Cassian’s dedicated nature as something that apparently reaches beyond just his militant duties (something of which surprises even himself, given that he never had the opportunity to extend it beyond that). When Cassian sets his sights on something, he goes all in to acquire the best outcome: Missions, keeping people safe, something pertaining to his relationship, etc. You’ve seen what even a couple months of war can do to people: It exhaust them, robs them of sleep, of energy, of hope. You don’t blame them a bit. It therefore seems miraculous that Cassian has managed to maintain his over the years not only for work, but for play as well. If you’re upset or need something, he’ll do his best to try and find either the desired outcome or a suitable alternative. This man will take a laser bullet for you if need be, frankly!

Do either of them have pet peeves about each other?: While his façade of coldness can sometimes press you, you consider yourself quite patient when dealing with that. At the very least, you knew that that wasn’t the actual Cassian, just something to cover up his vulnerability. The reality is that your greatest admirations are also your biggest flaws when taken to the max. For example, that dedication you are astounded to see in Cassian? Too much of it becomes a death wish. This was to be expected when one knows of Cassian and how far he’ll go for the Rebellion, even if unnecessarily. However, you just wish he’d be a bit more considerate about how things have changed. He has no reason to immediately hop onto arguable suicide missions, especially when they don’t actually need him to come along. Yet he does anyway. You know it’s more likely a case of an old habit struggling to die even a slow death (that, or years of putting his faith and trust into the Rebellion), but when he does things like this, it makes you wonder if he cares about the relationship enough to just not put himself in harm’s way unnecessarily. Worse is when you confront him about this, but that’s for another analysis. Sometimes, Cassian’s old world view of sensitivity in times of war seeps in like venom and tints how he views your temperament. If you appear particularly fazed or too merciful in a situation, he can get very frustrated with you and potentially call you out as being weak or criticize that “you’re gonna get your ass killed if you keep that shit up.” This alone would cause you some irritation and even insult, but it’s the cold, spiteful way with which Cassian delivers it that makes it sting all the more to you.

How would each reconcile with each other after a fight?: It turns out that in spite of your gentleness, you can bite back if you want to or if you’re pushed to your limit. When you and Cassian had your first big fight, it had been over his apparent lack of consideration over his life and how just jumping at opportunities without thinking about how they might impact you suggested an ultimate indifference to your relationship. At the very least, it suggested to you an unhealthy dedication to the Rebellion or how everything was immediately subservient to the cause when compared to it. Considering the time and devotion he’d put into it, of course he felt insulted. Which was why he felt he was the one that deserved an apology, and expected one rather soon given your demure nature. But to his surprise, you didn’t surface for some time. It wasn’t until evening came that you finally approached him, but not necessarily with an apology. You showed him a holopad. “This,” you said, nodding at the rotating holographic sphere, “is Cantonica. I’ve only heard about it, but from what I’ve gathered, it’s mostly desert. But there’s this one coastal city called Canto Bight that’s apparently quite lively. But in a different way from this place. I was hoping that one day, we could see it together. Maybe have what normal people would call fun.” You press a button and a new planet appears in Takodana’s place. “And this? This is Takodana. It’s lush and green and all around looks very peaceful.” You lick your lips. “I was hoping that maybe we could make a home there.” You press the same button from before, showing not a planet, but a home: It was nothing spectacular, but even Cassian had to admit that it looked quite cozy. You stated that this was the sort of home you’d thought about the two of you having. And it went on like this, showing potential pets, dishes you wanted to try, events you thought he might like to go to, until your voice began to tremble. At the end of it, you set the holopad down with a shaky sigh. “. . . But we can’t do any of this if it’s just me around. Okay?” In the end, both of you apologized, sealing it with an uncharacteristic hug initiated by Cassian himself. But he does point out that none of this would be possible if something doesn’t happen that ends the war in the Rebellion’s favor. He just has trouble trusting others to assure that that future comes out the way he wants it to and the way you deserve for it to. You understand. But since then, he’d made more of an effort to not jump into a fight at the first sign of one occurring. However, when he does or earns your ire in a similar manner, his go-to tends to be talking to you and listening to your venting. In fact, both of you tend to veer towards talking when you’ve upset one another. After all, Cassian’s banked on his feelings of anger: He struggles with approaching more delicate subjects that require him to be more emotionally vulnerable. But practice makes perfect. Similarly, you gain the ability to practice being more assertive during these discussions. The difference in the end is penalty: If Cassian fudges up, he is more likely to take a day or two’s break from shipping his ass out in order to make it up to you, when he can help it.

What would be their ideal vacation getaway together?: Considering that you’re existing in a period of conflict (and he’s a busy body anyway), Cassian hasn’t really put any thought into the idea of a vacation. To be honest, if it hadn’t been annihilated and if he didn’t have such traumatic memories associated with the place, he thought Scarif would have made a wonderful place to visit once the war ended. But ever since you showed him Takodana, he can’t get it off his mind. Sure, he had to go by your word for it, but he’d put in some research on his own ever since you’d mentioned it. And yes, you’d mentioned Canto Bight as your vacation spot of choice but Cassian personally found himself enticed by the tranquility the holopad depicted. He liked the foresty appearance; it looked quite serene, especially compared to the bustling base he’d been on for ages. Maybe the two of you could go hiking, scale the rocky terrain. . . . Or maybe you could just find a nice tree to sit under and just rest. Yeah; resting sure sounded nice . . .

Think of a new way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time: “You need a friend,” Mon stated. “Plain and simple.” She returned back to folding the chairs and placing them back on the rack. Cassian scoffed, “I have friends . . .” Mon pressed her lips together in a thin line. She didn’t even try to hide her disbelief. “I mean friends whom you don’t constantly see in the counseling circle. It’s good you’ve made connections with others – downright miraculous, even, considering how . . . not as agreeable as you can be.” She was, of course, referring to Cassian’s often icy nature whenever the sessions were held. Part of her wanted to be delicate when referring to his mannerisms; not everyone who attended the veteran counselling sessions at New Hope Ministries had been introduced to violence as early as Cassian had. However, what Mon had learned about Cassian was that he preferred things to be blunt; spare him the pussyfooting. And yet, when she flat out told him he needed new forms of companionship, well . . . “First you say I need to open up more, so I do,” the young man griped, crossing his arms. “Then you say I need more friends than what I already have. Where does it end, Mon?” “It ends when you accept that limiting yourself doesn’t do you any good. Besides, part of the healing process is opening yourself to new experiences.” The red-haired woman continued as she began to dismantle the coffee machine. “New points of view could really help a negative one.” “Yes,” Cassian scoffed again with the roll of his eyes, “or it could just remind me why I prefer keeping to myself.” “How about a dog?” Mon blurted. Cassian blinked. “. . . A dog?” he questioned. She was half-tempted to wince, realizing that she hadn’t put much thought into the suggestion before providing it. But she’d grown exasperated by the man’s protesting. Plus, it was too late to go back now. “Yyyesss . . .” she replied with some hesitation. “Dogs are a great way to get the best of both worlds, in many veterans’ own experiences. Dogs are pretty loving, pretty loyal; they can provide you the company you frankly need more of when on your own.” Unfortunately for her, Cassian didn’t seem swayed. She could see it in the way his eyes, normally cold and calculating, now appeared to be partially hooded with bemusement. She sighed, deciding to attempt one last effort. “Besides, you can get them trained. if you do that in a certain way, you can even register them as a therapy animal or service dog . . .” She decided to give the post-session cleanup a rest for a moment, slowly walking over to Cassian before placing her hand gently on his shoulder. “There’s no shame in needing someone, Cassian. Even if it’s a dog; plenty of vets go through the same troubles with reaccepting things back into their lives. You’re no exception.” Cassian regarded her hand for only a second before looking her straight in the eye. “Nobody’s lived like me,” he declared. This, however, only earned the woman an exhausted sigh as she removed her hand from his person. “Isn’t that all the more reason to seek comfort?” She didn’t wait for him to reply before turning to go back to her ministrations. A beat passed. Two. Then three. Six. Until . . . “You’re not gonna let this go, huh?” Cassian asked. ++++++++ “Hi!” you chirped, hearing the door swing open and shut. You were currently beneath the front desk, picking up the M&M’s you’d spilled after your rather rash motion of ripping the bag open. You didn’t hear a usual response (a child blabbering, a simple salutation back, etc). Though you could’ve sworn you’d heard a soft grunt. “Sorry,” you offered, hoping to prompt a more sufficient response. “I dropped some candies down here. I’ll be up in a sec.” “Mm. I’m looking for a dog,” came the voice. It was definitely male, a tad husky. You noted the Mexican accent it carried. “Sounds good,” you claimed, plucking up the last of the loose candies before elevating yourself to a standing position. “Just gimme a sec and I’ll lead you right – ” The first thing you thought when you finally laid eyes on the visitor was “brown.” So much brown. It was in his eyes, his hair, the leather jacket he wore, even his t-shirt and boots. And yet, you had to admit: He made it look good. A little too good, perhaps, given that you could’ve sworn that your cheeks were starting to heat up the more brown you tried to find on him. “R-right this way,” you clumsily delivered, flinging the wasted chocolates into the wastepaper bin at your side. You attempted to try and recover by reverting to a semblance of the script: “So, you know what type of breed you might be specifically interested in, or what type of dog in general you might be looking at?” You were a little surprised to find the previously stern eyes glint with confusion. However, you were definitely more intrigued by the smallest hint of pink developing on his defined cheeks. “Uh, well,” the man coughed. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his brown hair. “A-actually, to be honest, I um . . .” He bit his lip, averting his eyes towards the wall opposite to you. “I actually don’t . . . know much about dogs.” The sentence’s volume declined with every word. “Pets weren’t really a concern growing up – they were a huge luxury, so I never really thought about having one ever, really. Until now.” That piqued your interest. “Oh?” you questioned. “What made you change your mind?” The man sighed as his hand flopped back to his side. His eyes rolled, holding on the ceiling for a moment. “I’m a veteran,” he explained, “and the group therapist said that I ‘needed to make more friends’ or whatever. She said to maybe look into a . . .” He snapped his fingers in thought. “A type of helper animal?” “Service animal?” “Yes.” You pursed your lips; this guy really did need some type of help, didn’t he? “Well . . . Maybe first off we should just see which of our guys suits you the best and then look into service-training,” you proposed. Cassian, unsure of what to say (not that he could offer anything), nodded with agreement. “Right.” You made your way around the desk, heading towards the door that led to the kennels. “Right his way, Mr . . .” “Cassian,” Cassian introduced. “Andor.” You nodded and pointed to your nametag. “Well, as you can see, I’m (Y/N). Now let’s go introduce you to somebody!” ++++++++ Cassian didn’t like being in the kennel. It wasn’t the smell that got him (he’d smelled far worse in his lifetime), but it definitely probably had to do with the noises and the visuals which accompanied them. Cassian had never put much thought into dogs, but that didn’t mean he disliked them. He just hadn’t formed an opinion of them; he had no need to, after all. But as he walked along the aisles, hearing the squeaks and barking of their inhabitants as they stood on hind legs to tear their paws at the metal wire walls or approach the doors with tennis balls and chew ropes with big, gooey eyes, he couldn’t help but feel bad. They just wanted homes; to know softness and quiet. He could relate. By the end of the first five minutes, part of him – a less focused, more Id-centered part of him – wanted to take as many of them home with him as he could. Well, some of them. There were a few of them that he couldn’t help but furrow his brows at. Like the tall, skinny, yellow dog with an antsy look about him, sharing a space with a far more yappy, small white dog who aggressively barked at Cassian when he so much as glanced in their direction. Or the big, brown, mess of fur that Cassian couldn’t help but question whether it was even a dog or not; it sure as hell didn’t sound like a dog, making peculiar roaring noises instead of actual barking. They weren’t bad dogs, per se, they just weren’t the right fit for him. He felt bad upon admitting so when you’d first brought him to them, but you didn’t appear fazed. He kind of liked that; at least you were being more patient with him than Mon had been. “Oh!” you exclaimed with a clap of your hands. It was barely audible over the barking and howling of the dogs, so it barely registered to Cassian. “I know just the one for you!” You gave him no time to ask before you began speed-walking. Cassian followed suit as you led him further and further down the line. All the while, he could pick up hints of whatever you were saying. Things like “can’t believe I never thought of him first!” and “so alike.” You came to a stop, excitedly opening up the cage before he’d even quite caught up before patting your legs. Cassian arrived just in time to see that particular containment’s occupant lumber out before standing almost dutifully by your side. He was a big dog, but not like the furry, brown one. This one was sleek, skinnier with longer legs. Or maybe that was just an illusion cast by his black fur. Regardless, he was certainly tall in some way or another, as evidenced by where he stood in comparison to your hips. Cassian both dreaded and wondered with impressed curiosity how high this dog could possibly reach if it stood on its hind legs. “This,” you said fondly, “is Kaytoo.” You gave the dog a gentle stroke along the back. His tail gave a small wag but otherwise, he stayed focused on Cassian. “He’s a rescue; we brought him in after reports came in about him being neglected. Not gonna lie, we were a little worried that he wouldn’t be able to love anybody; he was all snippy and closed off but . . .” You gave him an affectionate pat. “He’s actually pretty sweet. In his own way. Hella loyal, though, he’s got a bit of a personality on him.” Cassian couldn’t help but arche a brow at that statement. “How do you mean?” he inquired. “He’s just a dog.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Least of all about him,” you nodded down. Cassian followed your stare, landing on its target. Before this moment, Cassian had no idea that a dog could look like it was glaring with the same exasperated expression as a human; up until this point, he’d honestly just assumed the doggish equivalent was growling in pure rage with the threat of going for the jugular. But now, as he looked at Kaytoo, there was no doubt about it: The dog didn’t want to kill him so much as smack him and state, “You are a prime example as to why humans are going to run themselves into the ground, you ignoramus.” Cassian might not have been knowledgeable about dogs, but he certainly had never seen a dog create an expression that could translate as an entire, articulate sentence – and with such dry humor, no less! “H…Hhehe…” It was quiet at first, barely audible over the noise of the kennel. It therefore startled you when the noise increased, louder and louder until there was no doubt about it: Cassian, this man whom you could tell from the very first moment you saw him was a stern, serious sort, was laughing. And in spite of how much it startled himself the more he attempted to think about it, he couldn’t stop; God, when was the last time he’d genuinely smiled, let alone laughed? He knelt down to Kaytoo’s level and extended a hand, giving the dog an awkward but well-meaning pat. To your surprise (and delight), Kaytoo responded by pushing his head closer into the man’s palm. Had this been a regular dog, this would have been normal. But Kaytoo wasn’t regular in your opinion; he trusted very few and allowed even fewer to touch him. “I think he senses that you two aren’t unalike after all,” you cooed. “Yeah, even if he does think I’m a dunce,” Cassian joked lightly, giving the back of one of Kaytoo’s ears a ginger scratch. The beast’s tail wagged gently (though in your experience, this was probably the most excited you’d seen him in a long while). “He really does have some character in him,” he muttered. The expression on the dog’s face arguably agreed, “Of course I do.” You clasped your hands together. You thought they made a perfect match already! +++++++++ You were part-happy, part sad. You always were with the departure of a shelter animal. Of course, there was happiness that the furrow fellow was going to go home with somebody where they would receive love and care and nice, soft, warm things that the shelter couldn’t always provide. But then, you couldn’t help the subsequent attachments one easily develops when working around and caring for these little and big guys. Kaytoo was no exception to this mixture of feelings. However, it wasn’t so much a half-and-half of melancholy as it was more three-quarters happy with the remaining quarter more melancholic. Kaytoo had been with you guys for a while now, always aloof and throwing people off with how “unfriendly” he seemed. The worry quickly became that perhaps his experiences hardwired him to become unable to live with another being, dog or human, ever again. But as you observed him standing obediently beside Cassian (whom was signing the final paperwork), you confirmed that you had nothing to worry about: Those two were going to get along just fine. “Oh, uh, by the way . . .” Cassian muttered as he gingerly handed you the clipboard and pen. “I may need some help.” You blinked, humming with question. “I . . . I mean, I’ve never had to train a dog before,” he clarified, the pink twinge returning to his face. “Ah, I figured,” you said. You offered him a small smile. “Yes, well . . . You said I should try just getting to know him? As a dog-friend-thing? Before trying to think about service training and stuff.” You nodded. “Yeah, it can take a rescue some time before they get truly comfortable in their new home. But there’s some tips in the pamphlets and plenty of suggestions online that we may not have covered. Each companion’s experience is different but” – you regarded Kaytoo and nodded at him – “I get the feeling Kaytoo will feel right at home. Maybe a little too at home. I suggest teaching him boundaries; I get the gut-feeling that he’s gonna try and claim your couch within the first five minutes of entering the place.” At this, Cassian offered you the second smile you’d seen of him the entire time. “Maybe…You could drop by some time? Or we can drop by here? For tips?” You couldn’t help but blink. The idea of going to this handsome man’s house? The idea that he was actually . . . inviting you to come to his house? And it involved a dog, no less!! But alas . . . “Well, I wouldn’t suggest bringing him back here. It might spook him; most times when people bring a dog to the shelter, they have the intention of giving them up,” you admitted. If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest microcosm of deflation appear in Cassian’s shoulders. But just as soon as you’d finished your sentence, a new thought arrived. “But I don’t have a problem, dropping in on you guys. Maybe the dog park?” Cassian nodded, a closed-mouthed hint of a smirk inching back onto his features. “Yeah, yeah. Or maybe a café?” “Oh, I know a good one where they let you bring your dogs in.” “Really? That sounds . . . interesting.” Had the two of you glanced down at him, you could have noticed Kaytoo’s expression resemble that of exasperated disgust. He really just wanted to go to his new home and claim the couch at this point.

#boy do i love angsty bois #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor imagines #rogue one imagine #rogue one imagines #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #regrettablewritings #character meme #character ship #character ship meme

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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Pokémon White Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 11]

We have made it to post-game!

Sort of!

The plot done away with, now is the time to explore the rest of the map and wrap up the entire run with one last go at the Elite Four in their final form!

Our main contestants are

still spoiler tagged!

for maximum worrying.

Let’s get marching.

Back in the room where it all began. I wonder if this beginning will also start with my friends running in unannounced and starting a battle with me. ...That would be bad, it’d better not.

...Looker. I’m gonna level with you.

I don’t wanna be a junior detective.

He’s still on the trail of Team Plasma, and has decided to assign us the task of tracking down the Seven Sages. He also gives us a Super Rod. I don’t think we could fish before this, which is kind of an odd feature for a pokemon game.

Looker’s a nut, but an endearing nut.

Ah yes, my besties.

And hey, Professor Juniper’s dad shows up to upgrade my pokedex! Half my team will no longer be without numbers!

So. Now what.

Which really means, do I let Buzz Fly me to Nimbasa or Opelucid?

I think the Nimbasa route will contain a bridge.

We’re going on the bridge.

Though before we do that, I want to check out the train area again to see if the IV person is there now that I’ve beaten the plot. I’m probably just misremembering their entire existence, but I could have sworn someone was down there.

DUDE! LOOK AT WHO’S RIGHT!

Okay okay okay we’ve got to give this a full check.

Frogger is above average, with fantastic Attack and Special Attack. Rojo is decent, with very good Special Defense. Tock is above average with very good Special Attack. Fido is above average with HP that ‘can’t be better.’ That explains a few numbers. Batman is above average with fantastic HP. Palm is above average with fantastic Speed.

Rojo, you poor, useless legendary.

You are still one of the most broken things on the team, and I love you for it.

That’s more rounded than I expected, honestly. I figured a few of them would just be terrible, and maybe one would be extraordinary, but it’s above average across the board. Which is. kind of average. Pokemon NPCs are kind people.

APTLY NAMED BRIDGE. ALSO KNOWN AS A NEW ROUTE, LET’S GO FEATHER DROPS.

The dude offering me a Magikarp to buy does not count as the first encounter. Also, I did not buy it. It is not randomized, and as we all know that means it’s awful.

That’s pretty much my reaction, word for word.

Ghetsis told them to give me the Adamant Orb. And the Lustrous Orb. And the Griseous Orb. I think those are... Diamond and Pearl’s legendary special items?

Then the ninja zoom away after telling me we’ll never meet again.

That’s one lazy way to get rid of ninja. I could have sworn I fought them once... wait, did I? That seems like something I could go back and check. Eh, whatever.

Speaking of lazy things, was Team Plasma having a giant castle ever explained? I feel like it wasn’t. I’m okay with that, I just want to know.

The inclusion of the wings you can pick up on bridges were really helpful to EV training. I don’t know how many hours I would spend biking on bridges, and frankly the answer would likely depress me, but picking up all those feather things was so useful.

Of course, I have no real use for them at the moment. I’m trying to find a pokemon in those shadows.

I found one!

Look at you, little adorable guy. Oh, girl.

Quick Ball, then faint if that doesn’t work.

Caught her!

What’s your name, though... gotta go with something musical... I dub thee Pink.

Some girl in the gateway area wants to have a Rotation Battle with me. Like a fool, I say yes, and--

Oh shit.

I was kidding when I called myself a fool, but no, yes, that classification stands. Ahahaha. Um. Okay so after this, I’m gonna. Gonna go to Opelucid instead, maybe.

I didn’t even look at Pink’s level when I caught her. It was all Quick Ball action and ignorance. Could I have been forewarned?

This is bad.

Rotation Battles in general irk me. Rotation Battles that place me at a considerable level disadvantage are. something else. Oy.

Um.

I think the Alomomola might have Water Absorb. But Frogger is the most likely to survive whatever awful thing is about to happen. So that limits me to attacking with Mud Shot or Hyper Voice until the Alomomola is downed. It’s a Normal move. It isn’t going to do much against a Steel type, and it doesn’t do much against Beheeyem either, but I think one of those probably has Levitate for their Ability.

Frogger should not be in front.

He is staying in front.

So far, none of these things are using an actual attack, which I’m grateful for.

As I say that, Alomomola uses Hydro Pump. Frogger’s still green, so. Yeah.

Frogger just keeps using Hyper Voice. He’s going to run out of PP for it. Oh well.

Next Hydro Pump gets him low enough to warrant a Hyper Potion.

Beheeyem uses Power Split. Beheeyem’s not bad and this one is a higher level, so I’m not sure how bad that is.

Good news! Nothing has Levitate, and the Klinklang is defeated!

Alomomola is also defeated!

Beheeyem is defeated!

Yikes.

That only went so well because the other trainer almost never used attacks. It was all status stuff except for Hydro Pump, which missed twice. Something would be dead if a human trainer had been guiding those move choices.

I think I’m going to go outside and check what the wild life is like. It’s possible that the huge level difference is an artificial thing with this one trainer, rather than the norm. I mean, her AI virtually never attacked me. So I’ll hold off on going to Opelucid until I get a look at what other people have.

It could also be that I am underleveled for post-game life.

One thing at a time.

Exploring time.

Oh. That guy’s a trainer. He has a level 62 Gulpin.

Okay, so I’m not comfortably leveled for this, but as long as I don’t fall into a Rotation Battle or a Triple Battle, I have items, and the exp will be worthwhile. I think I’ll keep going, with special attention paid to caution. Maybe something in the grass can help me out with some mild grinding.

I biked all the way back to a Pokemon Center.

That is how much confidence I am feeling.

Something should have a Lucky Egg, but I don’t even know if it’s safe to be here, let alone who my front runner should be.

...Fine, it’s Frogger, never mind.

I’m sorry Frogger, I have no idea why I’m so uninterested in cultivating you. I should be better about not taking you for granted and appreciate that you are the one true survivor of this squad.

It’s just you’re also level 60. So not the thing most in need of exp.

Hello possible new friend. It’s level 48, so I think it might be that the post-game sections just have a level jump for trainers. Delightful.

Quick Ball ftw, Baltoy is now Woody.

Munna’s also in this grass. I can’t help but notice these things are not great for grinding.

Trainer with a level 65 Altaria.

I think Rojo might need to try to handle it before anything more creatively unfortunate happens. Altaria’s a Special Defense pokemon, and I think has a few really great Defense-boosting stat moves. If I let it, it can sweep.

It might also be able to kill Rojo in one hit already, but.

Argh, I hate this, lol.

Rojo, go in, if something happens I’m sorry in advance.

Yeeeeeah this Altaria is doing what I thought it would and I don’t care for it. Dragon Dance plus the Cotton thing that drastically raises Defense. .I am afeared. It uses another Dragon Dance.

Oh good job Rojo. Critical hit for the save. Good job, good job.

Abomasnow is up next.

Fido, you’re up.

Fido eats it.

You know. I like this better when I’m not chronicling every single fight out of the fear of imminent death. The next trainer looks like a Fighting one, so Tock is moved to the first slot.

Are you fucking kidding me.

New plan!

We’re murdering legendaries for breakfast!

Because exp!

Side note: Air Slash has 95 accuracy. Why is it always missing.

...Oh fuck.

I hecked up. Badly. Oh fuck. no.

I thought. Tock would out-Speed. Which I would have realized was a stupid thought if I had actually spent any time thinking about Tock’s features and the fact that the Hitmontop has eight levels on him.

I thought about healing him. Those missed Air Slashes left a lot of damage.

You know what also leaves a lot of damage.

STAB Close Combat.

Stop. thinking. “oh I’m sure it will be fine.”

-cradles head in hands-

I am so sorry Tock.

Fuck, this was not supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be allowed to touch Flying pokemon. Ever. Or fight Fighting pokemon. The fact that this keeps happenings suggests some underlying stupidity.

Damn it.

This. Tock. Buddy.

ALL THOSE FUCKING SLUGMA.

FUCK I JUST REALIZED IN THE MIDDLE OF MY EMOTIONS. I DIDN’T USE TOCK AGAINST N OR GHETSIS. ALL OF THAT EV TRAINING. ALL OF IT. FOR NOTHING BUT RANDOM FIGHTS.

ALL

THOSE

SLUGMA

IT WAS A LOT OF HOURS.

I. Hell, I am so sorry Tock. I did everything wrong for your final moments. You would still be alive (assuming Close Combat wouldn’t have killed you in one hit regardless, which... I will never get to know) if I had just been more careful and less stupid. Five seconds of common sense would have put you out of harm’s way.

I am just. so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.

You have such a sweet, innocent face and I...

I am upset?

I can’t even pick someone else for the team yet. It can wait. Nothing can really replace Tock, and I can’t act otherwise.

I can take Bandit for a walk, though. There are boulders nearby.

-eliminates Reshiram with no joy in heart-

Hell.

I think this place has more uses if you are not playing on the computer.

It has grass. That’s the important thing of the moment.

Hey little guy.

Quick Ball go, Quick Ball get.

I don’t know what to call you.

So. I’m gonna go with Tick.

FOR THE LOVE OF SOMETHING, STOP SPAMMING THE A BUTTON EQUIVALENT THROUGH CONVERSATIONS WITH PEOPLE I DID NOT WANT A TRIPLE BATTLE BECAUSE THAT IS LIKE THREE TIMES THE CHANCES OF DEATH AND I AM NOT DOING WELL WITH THE NORMAL CHANCES.

It works out thanks to the typing.

But geez self. Show some learning.

See, okay, the kid standing above her also wants a Triple Battle.

Now, what are we going to do?

Go to the Pokemon Center, and then say absolutely because my guys need exp.

I’m not a greatly intelligent human.

Not even a little.

It works out, though. Exp gained, no one dead.

New route.

This trainer has a level 68 Purugly.

I think. I really need to drop everything and grind for a little bit.

Frogger has fallen in love with the Purugly. He is also now paralyzed. After a turn of that, thankfully, he uses Hydro Pump and it hits.

Frogger.

I’m judging you a bit.

Level 68 Espeon. Followed by level 68 Lapras. Good grief I should not be in this place.

THAT ONE WAS NOT MY FAULT.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

This.

Fuck.

Uh.

So uh. There was this Future Sight Batman took. I made the executive decision that it was safer for her to be in there for it than Palm, and. I stand by that. Except then a critical hit Hydro Pump hit. And it’s a level 68 Lapras. So.

So.

You killed Boeing. By catching you, I took away your ability to kill. But I always knew you could still die. You were the terror. You were the knight.

You were Batman.

You deserved to be enshrined forever in the Hall of Fame.

But this is where we part, my friend.

Farewell.

Uh.

...4x STAB Leaf Storm.

This was meant to be the grass encounter where I caught one of them?

I was focused on that?

I did not think a level 59 Petilil could kill Frogger in one shot?

This is.

Bad?

There is also a chance the Petilil is too dangerous to live?

But I catch it, so yay?

Petilil’s new name is Battousai.

And.

This has been the longest hour of this run.

I am in so much more trouble than I was.

Frogger. You were my second pokemon.

You saved the day against the Elite Four.

You were dependable, and I never learned to depend on you.

I did not see us ending this way.

I am so sorry.

...

Hello.

Darkness my old friend.

I’ve come to cry at you again.

So uh.

Guess who. needs a new team.

Ahahaha I am in hell.

...

You know what. I. am going to take a break. This has been an excruciating hour. I don’t care for it. I don’t know what I should put on my new team. All I know is that this is very sad and I continue to be worse at this game than I thought.

So that’s great.

[next session start]

Alrighty then.

-stares blankly-

My party has Rock/Fighting, Fire, Grass/Fighting.

I, uh. Need to fill it.

With stuff.

Piglet (Spoink). You’re coming with. Buzz and Bandit will come along with HMs. I’ll see if I can hit the other routes, then figure the rest of this mess out.

Right. Lesgo.

On the comforting side, the first trainer we see has a level 65 thing too. So the side picked didn’t severely change the outcome of. things.

The first thing I see is Lairon, but I have an Aron.

-considers-

Let’s see if I can catch you.

Score, I can. I forgot the Quick Ball, but damage lined up to make it a clean catch. I’mma name you Daffy.

I think. I need to grind more than anything. My surviving team is very much at risk, and Piglet is wholly untrained. Both of those things need fixing. Hopefully it won’t involve chasing down Slugma.

To Dragonspiral and Jellicent, I guess. One step at a time.

(Bandit learned Surf, by the way. Because. Something needed to know that.)

Piglet is evolving! Form of... Grumpig!

Bodacious.

What EVs does Reshiram give? Because if it’s Special Attack...

That’s worth investigating.

Cue nothing but Baltoy. ...I also don’t know what Baltoy gives. ...Or Snorunt. Snorunt is also here. Along with Piplup.

Reshiram gives Special Attack.

I’m taking this as confirmed based on recording several levels of Piglet’s stats attacking nothing but Reshiram. A wild extra point of Special Attack appeared. That makes some things so much easier. I don’t know the exact numbers on what I’m looking for out of Piglet (I think maybe max HP, some convenient split of Special Defense, Defense, and Special Attack), but. Geez this is a relief.

Looking at the numbers though, Piglet isn’t going to be able to pack much of a punch no matter how many EVs I pour into him. I need to focus on tank power.

Maxing HP, then whatever’s left will go to Special Defense and Defense.

Only not in that order.

My memory being what it is, I’m not sure, but I think Relicanth might have Defense and Attack EVs. So I’m just here for Cloyster. I’ll down twenty, then go back to HP grinding. Simple.

Cue no Cloyster.

I should level up Bandit so I start getting better stuff with all this walking.

[one hour later]

This is still boring. I should have figured out my other replacements so I could do this all at once. At least one would have to have similar EV desires, right?

But then I’d have to figure out the other two.

My guess is it will be Yanmega and Jellicent. Fluttershy and Peanut.

But.

I want to wait. Just. Just in case.

Also, screw it, Bandit gets the other Exp. Share. I have two, I’m going to use them. I’m also going to use some PP Ups on Fido’s Flamethrower. Healing after every fifteen fights is. No.

[many hours later]

Okay. HP handled.

Sigh.

The journey continues.

[another hour (okay maybe not really)]

Yay!

I think what I want to do right now is level up what I have rather than focus on training any other new ones. I need to watch those exp bars zoom to the moon. It will sustain me in my grief/exhaustion.

Since I’m in Opelucid anyway, I’m just going to go right and hang in the grass until I’m slightly more confident in the ability of my team to not die.

Wild Pichu are not that helpful in that endeavor. Nor are Mime Jr. Granbull. You are our only hope in this arena.

...

I miss Tock [’s Shadow Ball] so much.

The fear of death is omnipresent. Too much has happened. Where once there was confidence, now there is only dread. Recovery is a faint glimmer of a dream off in the distance.

Neat. Kingdra is also here.

-tilts head-

Yeah, repeats. But still.

I wonder if anything helpful’s in the water.

Well. There’s a level 35 Surskit.

Leaning towards a hard no.

Oh wait, what am I doing. It should be all legendary murdering all the time.

It’s so frustrating, because I just keep thinking hey, I can go fight the trainers along the path for more exp! Then the rest of me remembers that I should not do that.

I don’t think I checked out the dark grass in the route I found Reshiram. I’ll check that out for a quick look. It will possibly be followed by running away as fast as humanly possible, but eh.

That’s not too bad.

...Ah. Levels 58 and 57.

Their danger levels and their exp levels sadly do not line up. Gonna stick with the Reshiram grass.

...Also gonna check what’s in the water of the route with the level 68 hellbeasts.

NO I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU TURNED AROUND.

-deep breath-

-deep scream-

Okay. Okay. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Level 64 Primeape, Piglet gets switched in. ..And survives a Close Combat crit.

So then, Piglet is at 23 HP thanks to two Thrashes, and now Palm is out to hopefully do away with a level 64 Scrafty. Yes, because Palm is Palm Wonderful. Last one is a level 64 Poliwrath. Palm gets a crit because Palm loves us.

Piglet learns Power Gem because I don’t have the guts to use Rest as a real strategy.

All right. Lived.

Super Rod leads to Palpitoad. That’s not a bad thing to know. Regular Surfing leads to Wigglytuff. That’s better than the Reshiram grass for leveling if it’s the only thing in the water. But then there’s Shellder.

New area!

Undella Town and Undella Bay are different places, so I must take care with Surfing for my new friend.

This is the town’s choice. I throw a Quick Ball. Metapod caught. Now if only he had a name. Hm.

You can be Crystal.

And this is the choice of the bay. Another Quick Ball is thrown. A Hoothoot is caught. Her name is Winnie.

I’m fast approaching the end of new areas. The map is almost completely lit up.

I think it might be okay to face trainers in the water, because I have Palm. So I’m going to try that, and hope I don’t soon have reason to cry like a baby again.

Level 63 Staryu.

You know, my new question is why that one girl had level 68 monstrosities.

There’s a Quagsire here that we don’t get to catch. ;-;

Oo, and Electrode. I’ve always loved Electrode. It smiles.

I have the HM for Dive now! Yay?

RUN

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN

RUN.

-severe whimpering noises-

We are not in any way, shape, or form ready for post-game Cynthia. I have memories of grinding against her and others in this house thing, but those teams were allowed to come back after dying.

I will fight her before I fight the Elite Four. Because if I can’t beat her, I have no business facing the Elite Four again (...I think).

Okay, moved up to Route 13 because I don’t actually have anything that can learn Dive. New area. Time to see what we get.

Hmmmmmmmm. Quick Ball get.

Finneon’s new name is F9.

I can’t help but notice that other trainers don’t walk around with level 68 pokemon. I guess that means I really am exploring the entire map before I start training another pokemon. That is possibly misguided, but I really just... am not ready to finalize my final (I hope) team.

Um.

Wait, what the fuck?

I. I was typing.

WHAT HAPPENED WHILE I WAS TYPING. PALM TOOK A HEX BUT HIS HP WAS STILL GREEN AND THEN.

WHAT HAPPENED.

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

It uses Hydro Pump against Piglet, so if I were to guess...

How is this still getting worse.

Palm.

Palm Wonderful.

I have no words.

I am distraught.

I will miss you so much.

I no longer have the option of being cute about this. I can’t be walking around with three pokemon in an area where I’m losing them at this rate. I guess the simple fact is that things are now high enough level to know seriously dangerous moves, and there is no truly safe option except for absurd over-leveling.

I need to select three new ones.

I have Fido, Rojo, and Piglet. Fire, Rock/Fighting, and Psychic. I can basically pick whatever I want. And as much as I hate to say it, Palm’s loss keeps me from being overstocked on Fighting. So. If I wanted...

But what do I want?

I want to stack the deck. How do I do that.

IV checker. Everything I might consider using is getting a free checkup.

It’s a sea of “above average”s. With a few “decent”s here and there.

Maybe I should try something different. Maybe I should just select the pokemon I love most. That’s the point of a Nuzlocke, right? Getting attached? In terms of Type coverage, there are things I can do, but. I don’t wanna do that. I want to pick the things I love most. If it has good odds on ending horrifically no matter what I do, I want to have as much fun as possible.

Swiper and Wagston are in. As for the last one, that remains to be seen.

If memory serves, Riolu evolves into Lucario with good happiness during the daytime. So I should start walking. He will also be given a Soothe Bell. I think I’ll spend my time leveling up what remains. Rojo can kill a million Reshiram and become a demigod in addition to a legendary.

Oh, and sportsball. Let’s go do today’s.

Baseball! Baseball is fun.

Have I been here since finishing the plot?

I have, right? There isn’t going to be a huge level jump?

This level 65 Persian staring me down says I’m a moron.

-paces-

I should not be here. I should leave. Straight away.

But Piglet is a tank. Everything I uses in battle is over 60.

This stupidity is now on record. I’m going to try to beat the baseball peeps.

This level 66 Simipour makes me miss Palm so terribly.

Wow, I should not be doing this.

And yet.

There are a lot more trainers here now.

Level 64 Conkeldurr vs level 64 Piglet. My future nightmares start this way.

Piglet is victorious, and we continue this horrible decision!

...

You know what, this is stupid. Piglet hurt himself in confusion twice, then I used a Lemonade to get him back to full health, then the Unfezant’s Sky Attack did. That.

So. This is going badly.

Piglet, I swear I’d say sorry, but I’m mostly just dwelling on how amazingly screwed I am. So. Uh.

So.

tfw I have two usable pokemon!

#Pokemon #Nuzlocke Challenge

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phantom-le6 · 3 years

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Episode Reviews - Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 7 (4 of 6)

With just over half of season 7 of Star Trek: The Next Generation behind us, we now delve into a fourth group of episodes from that season, beginning with the highly notable ‘Lower Decks’.

Episode 15: Lower Decks

Plot (as given by me):

The episode focuses on a group of junior officers assigned to the Enterprise. The group is comprised of Nurse Alyssa Ogawa and Ensigns Sam Lavelle, Sito Jaxa and Taurik. Sito and Lavelle are both anxious about upcoming promotions, and learn from Ben, one of the waiters in Ten-Forward, that both are being considered for an assignment to the Ops position on the bridge. Alyssa is later told by Dr Crusher that she will soon be made a lieutenant, and the two women also discuss concerns Alyssa is having about her relationship with Lt. Andrew Powell.

The junior officer all become curious when the Enterprise beams aboard an escape pod under an apparent cloak of secrecy, Lt. Commander La Forge briefly reprimanding Taurik when he tries to identify the pod’s occupant. At the same time, Captain Picard calls Sito to his ready room and gives her a severe dressing down for her part in the Starfleet Academy incident seen in the season 5 episode ‘The First Duty’. Taurik later begins to suspect something is going on when he asked to assist La Forge in putting phaser blasts on a shuttle’s hull. The junior officers and Ben discuss recent events that evening during a poker game, while the senior officers do the same in Riker’s quarters. When the first game ends, Ben stops by Riker’s quarters and gets himself invited into their game.

The next morning, Lt. Worf asks Sito to remain behind following a martial arts class he has been teaching. He subjects her to a challenge that requires her to defend against his attack while blind-folded, and after a few tries Sito stands up to Worf and tells him the test is unfair. Worf then reveals that was the whole point; to make Sito stand up for herself when she feels she has not been treated fairly. She then returns to the captain’s ready room and insists Picard judge for who she is now, not the mistake she made as a cadet. It is then Picard’s turn to reveal that him berating her was to assess for a dangerous mission, and that she had been assigned to the Enterprise in the first place so she could have a fair chance to prove herself.

It turns out the Enterprise has beamed aboard a Cardassian double-agent working for the Federation. The Cardassian, Joret Dal, now has to try and get back into Cardassian space without arousing suspicion; he will take the shuttle damaged by La Forge and Taurik to give the impression he is a bounty hunter who has escaped Federation custody, and Sito is asked to pose as his prisoner. Once Dal is back in Cardassian space, Sito will be sent back across the border in an escape pod. Despite the dangers, Sito agrees and is cosmetically altered to give the appearance of having been beaten by Dal. During the shuttle trip, Sito learns that while Dal is loyal to Cardassia, he is supporting the Federation because he feels the military is more about serving the ambitions of high-ranking officers than the people of Cardassia.

Sometime later, the escape pod fails to appear at the pre-arranged co-ordinates, and Picard risks sending a probe into Cardassian space despite it being a treaty violation. The probe’s telemetry and intercepted Cardassian communications reveal that Sito was apparently killed in her escape attempt, and Picard sadly informs the crew of her passing. Later, Lavelle receives his promotion and assignment to Ops, and Ben convinces Worf to join the rest of Sito’s friends in mourning her apparent death.

Review:

The episode ‘Lower Decks’ is not to be confused with the animated Trek spin-off series; that series is part of this episode’s legacy, and a poor part at that. I haven’t sat down and watched any of it, mind, but I can see from trailers it’s been made somewhat in the style of the Rick and Morty animated series, which I tried an episode of once and promptly put to my ‘never watch even on pain of death’ list. Like Rick and Morty, and South Park before that, the ‘Lower Decks’ show seems to be based on the idea of using crudeness and vulgarity for cheap laughs instead of trying to be intelligent, and I hate comedies like that. I also hate anything designed to be a spoof of something I enjoy, which is undoubtedly the only other gear that show would have. Frankly, Trek deserves better; as much as it can and does have its comedic moments, the core of the franchise is about developing the characters of the show and exploring real-life issues through metaphor. Neither is generally the province of a sit-com, and for that reason I blank the ‘Lower Decks’ cartoon as a part of Trek to never try at all. Just toss it out the airlock and blast it into nothingness with phasers, would you please.

That aside, the episode ‘Lower Decks’ has better aspects to its legacy. A later episode of the Voyager spin-off followed a similar theme, and the CSI: Crime Scene Investigation TV show did a number of episodes across a few seasons collectively referred to as ‘Lab Rats’ episodes. In those episodes, the focus shifted from the CSIs who go out and deal with crime scenes to the lab technicians who process the evidence. Clearly there is a ‘Lower Decks’ influence in those episodes, and one does actually take place around a convention dedicated to a Trek-like TV show. It’s certainly a fun idea; take the focus off the main crew and focus on the wider crew, albeit with focus still on a set group of characters.

The inclusion and prominence of Ensign Sito really helps the episode feel like proper Trek, because through her part of the episode we get a look into the idea of redemption and can someone who has done wrong in the past become someone worthwhile again. It’s a concept many people in the real world will discount out-of-hand, choosing to believe that if someone has committed a crime or struggles with addiction to anything, they are somehow fundamentally beyond redemption. In some cases, that can be true, especially if no one is willing to help the people in question work out the underlying causes of their behaviour so they can adequately combat them. Sito is lucky to have people like Picard and Worf show the faith in her that they ultimately do, and it’s unfortunate that her story appears to have so tragic an end.

However, the tragic end is kind of the point; the story is somewhat a coming-of-age story as well, as it shows Sito and Lavelle seeking promotion and advancement as they settle in on the Enterprise, and while Alyssa Ogawa also gains promotion, the advancement of her relationship with an unseen lieutenant is more the focus of her plot. It’s also fun to see the inclusion of a member of the civilian staff in Ten-Forward, as at this point Trek hasn’t focused on many characters that aren’t officers in Starfleet or a non-Federation power while also being human. Taurik adds little to the show itself beyond compensating for TNG’s low quota of Vulcans, but the actor does go on to play another Vulcan as a recurring character on Voyager. Overall, aside from the dodgy animated show in its legacy, I can’t really fault this episode at all, and give it top marks; 10 out of 10.

Episode 16: Thine Own Self

Plot (as given by me):

Counsellor Troi returns to the Enterprise from a class reunion and is surprised to find Dr Crusher commanding the night shift instead of Lt. Commander Data. Crusher explains Data has gone on a mission to retrieve radioactive material from a deep-space probe that has crashed on Barkon IV, a planet which is populated by a pre-industrial society. The Enterprise is unable to communicate with Data to advise him of a delay in meeting him, but Crusher is unconcerned as Lt. Commander La Forge warned that radiation from the probe would cause communication problems. The two women discuss why Crusher has earned herself the rank of Commander, since it is not a requirement to be chief medical officer. Apparently, Crusher wanted to push herself beyond what was necessarily required of her. Wanting the same, Troi decides to take the Bridge Officer’s exam so she can also become a Commander. She passes all parts of the exam easily except for the Engineering section, but after several tries, she succeeds when she realises the test is not of her engineering knowledge, but her willingness to order one officer to their death to save everyone else.

On Barkon IV, Data wanders into a village apparently damaged and with no memory of who he is, carrying a box bearing the word ‘radioactive’. He is taken in by the village magistrate Garvin and his daughter Gia, who names him “Jayden”. Talur, the village healer and teacher, tries to assess Data’s memory loss and determines that he is not ill, but is instead part of a race of “icemen” who dwell in the nearby mountains. In need of money, Data is convinced to sell some of the pieces of metal he had in the box to a local blacksmith, Skoran, retaining the rest in case in case they provide any clue to his identity. He also saves a man when an anvil collapses on him, revealing his incredible strength to the villagers.

Later, Garvin becomes stricken with a mysterious ailment, with Gia and Skoran also being afflicted not long after. Most of the villagers blame Data, who begins conducting research into the cause of the illness. He determines that unseen particles are being emitted by the metal fragments from his box. He asks Talur to retrieve all the pieces of metal while he works on a cure, but shortly after she leaves, Skoran arrives with another of the villagers. The pair attack Data, one of them ripping the skin from the side of his face and revealing his mechanical nature, causing them to flee in terror. Talur finishes retrieving the metal fragments while Skoran organises the villagers into a mob to search for Data, who has hidden in Garvin’s house and reveals himself only when everyone else has gone. He has put on a hood to hide his face, but Gia convinces him to remove the hood as he continues his search for a cure to the radiation sickness.

Data’s cure proves successful on Garvin, so he administers some to Gia and learns from her that the village well is the only water source near the village. In order to sure everyone, Data opts to apply the cure to the well’s drinking water, but is found by the villagers just as he is doing so. The cure is dumped into the well water just in time, as Skoran impales Data, seemingly killing him. Days later, Dr Crusher and Commander Riker infiltrate the village disguised as natives to the planet. They find the villagers have buried Data and the box containing the radioactive fragments, enabling both to be beamed up to the Enterprise without the villagers knowing. Back on the Enterprise, Data is reactivated, but he has no memory of his time as “Jayden”, and learns that Troi has been promoted in his absence, meaning that she now effectively out-ranks him.

Review:

Apparently, the Data side of this episode was pitched as “Data as Frankenstein” according to Memory Alpha, and depending on how that is meant, I’d be very worried about the intelligence of the person making the pitch. If the idea was that Data should be the outcast scientist who others shunned for his advanced ideas, then the pitch is correct. If, however, they meant Data as a monster, then as Kryten once noted in the Red Dwarf episode ‘Quarantine’, whoever made the pitch was a truly stupid person. In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, which is the original story from which all subsequent variations have been derived, Frankenstein was the scientist who created a monster from the bodies of the deceased, not the monster itself. Every version that has identified its monster as Frankenstein has been a misconception, and frankly I wish they’d all carry disclaimers to say they’re getting it wrong.

For me, though, that side of the episode didn’t do much for me. It doesn’t advance Data to any degree as a character, though watching it in the here and now, I suppose there’s some retroactive analogy to those idiots in society who ignore or deny sound science whenever it clashes with what they believe or what they think they know. For all intents and purposes, the villagers who mob up with Skoran against Data are this episode’s equivalent to every anti-vaccine, 3G-paranoid, climate-change-denying conspiracy nut yahoo wasting space, food and air that would better be used on actual human beings. It’s such a shame that teaching them the folly of their ways wasn’t really how this episode played out, as I would have loved the morons to get some kind of comeuppance for acting like a bunch of in-bred superstitious fools.

As for the Troi storyline, it was kind of interesting to see her go after a promotion, but again it was flawed in various aspects. First of all, Troi has spent ages being on the bridge of the Enterprise. Surely in order to be stationed on the bridge for any length of time, she would need to be a certified bridge officer. Why was it a bridge officer’s exam that she had to take when she’d been on the bridge for many episodes already? Second, Data is supposed to be the ship’s second officer, so logically he needs to retain equal or higher rank than everyone except the captain and first officer. However, now he has both the doctor and the ship’s counsellor out-ranking him.

How the hell does that work? You can’t have underling officers out-ranking their bloody superior. This isn’t like M*A*S*H where rank is purely a formality and you can have a chief surgeon be fairly low on the officer ranks just for being good. Starfleet is supposed to be based on a more traditional and strict military hierarchy, and to my mind Data should have been promoted off-screen sometime before this to keep his second officer position and his rank consistent within the context of all other ranks on board. For me, this episode was barely ok, and only earns 4 out of 10.

Episode 17: Masks

Plot (as given by me):

The Enterprise discovers a comet and begins to scan it, only to receive some kind of feedback that forces them to reduce the intensity of their scan. Later, Lt. Commander Data sculpts a mask while attending a class Counsellor Troi is conducting with the school children on board. The mask is remarkable for two reasons; the first is that Data was having trouble demonstrating imagination in his sculpting earlier, the second is that matching symbols then begin to appear on the computer console of one of the children. More symbols appear at other terminals, which Data is somehow able to read, and strange artefacts bearing more of the symbols begin appearing all over the ship.

It turns out the comet contains an alien informational archive that is using a transformation program to transform the Enterprise into something resembling its native culture. The program has also affected Data, who begins to manifest different personalities, most of which appear to be ritualistic representations of the deities of the alien culture. After numerous failed attempts to halt or reverse the process, Captain Picard finally succeeds in restoring the Enterprise when he confronts the most powerful of Data’s personas in the guise of a counter-part deity. The transformation program is disabled by Lt. Commander La Forge and a Federation archaeology team is dispatched to study the archive further. Only the mask Data made himself remains, and Picard notes that Data’s recent experience transcends the human condition, as he has just been the embodiment of an entire civilisation.

Review:

For me, this episode more than any other betrays just how bad TNG was getting towards its end. It’s not a surprise considering the way Trek was spreading itself thin at the time this show’s final season was in production. You’ve got a new series and a feature film in pre-production while also wrapping up TNG and putting out a second season of Deep Space Nine. That said, this episode still could have been better. Apparently, it was based on an idea about doing an alien analogue for the Library of Alexandria, and an original script originally explained the archive was a kind of “advanced Genesis Device” that mistook the Enterprise for a world it could reshape into the world it originally came from.

If this is indeed the case, then frankly the idea that they would chuck the explanation and keep the Enterprise as the thing being transformed seems stupid. You need to explain the what and why of the archive for it to make sense, and having it change the Enterprise and make Data go into “weirdness for weirdness’ sake” mode is just unutterably stupid. They should have not only kept the archive as a terraforming kind of device, but also had it try to alter a planet. There could have been some debate then about how to handle it, weighing up whether the archive needed to be destroyed, allowed to take its course, etc. Instead, we just get a non-sensical clunker of an episode that is best forgotten. I give this one a lowly 4 out of 10, the points largely going to Patrick Stewart for delivering another great performance as Picard the archaeologist despite the episode turning out rubbish all around him.

Episode 18: Eye of the Beholder

Plot (as given by me):

Following the suicide of Lt. Daniel Kwan in the nacelle tube control room, Lt. Worf and Counsellor Troi are assigned to investigate the death to determine why it happened. Reviewing his logs and talking to his superior officer and his girlfriend reveal no behaviours that would suggest Kwan had any intention of taking his own life. Meanwhile, Lt. Commander Data reveals to Geordi La Forge that he once contemplated committing an act that would have been similar to suicide; in the early months after his activation, Data began to struggle incorporating new pathways into his neural net, and considered starting from scratch, thereby self-terminating the person he had become. However, Data notes he instead opted to look at the situation as a challenge to overcome instead of a problem to avoid. Geordi commends Data on this attitude and laments Kwan apparently being unable to do the same.

Troi visits the nacelle tube control room, and is overwhelmed by an empathic flood of emotions from no apparent source. Unable to make sense of the emotional barrage, Troi opts to try again, but is asked to wait while her telepathic neurotransmitter levels return to normal. While waiting for this, Troi and Worf talk further, after which Worf goes to Ten-Forward and tries to hint to Commander Riker that he may seek his permission to court Troi. However, Worf backs off when Riker’s comments suggest he’s about to suspect Worf’s possible intention. Later, Worf and Troi return to the nacelle tube control room. When no psychic flashes occur, Troi asks Word to open the maintenance door. This prompts a psychic experience in which Troi experiences the control room as it was eight years ago when the Enterprise was being constructed. The experience shows her a couple being found in a compromising position and laughing at the discoverer, and then the women of the couple apparently being killed.

Knowing Kwan had served at the ship yard where the Enterprise was constructed, Troi researches further and learns an officer in Engineering, Lt. Walter Pearce, also served at the same ship yard and is now serving on the Enterprise. She also remembers seeing Pearce in her visions, so she and Worf question him. While she cannot gauge the truthfulness of Pearce’s replies empathically, the fact she can’t do this suggests Pearce is partly telepathic. A discussion between Troi and Worf about this leads to the pair making love in Troi’s quarters. The next day they continue the investigation, but Troi gradually grows increasingly suspicious as she notices what seems to be flirting behaviour between Worf and Lt. Kwan’s girlfriend Ensign Maddy Calloway. Geordi finds a skeleton behind a bulkhead in the nacelle tube control room, the remains of which belong to a Marla Finn, the woman in Troi’s visions. Troi deduces her visions were from Pearce’s perspective, and she and Worf go to confront Pearce about the apparent homicide of Finn. However, Troi begs off due to her growing suspicions, which she passes off as a side-effect of a neural suppressant Dr Crusher has given her to assist her in processing her vision.

Pearce confronts Troi in her quarters and claims Worf told him to report to her. While other security officers take Pearce into custody, Troi tracks Worf to Ensign Calloway’s quarters and finds them kissing. When the pair begin to laugh at Troi, she kills Worf with a phaser. Horrified at what she’s done, Troi races away, and after encountering Pearce in the corridor, she races to the nacelle tube control room to commit suicide as Kwan did. However, before she can hurl herself into the plasma stream, she is pulled back from the edge by Worf, who much to her relief is still alive. It turns out everything from Worf opening the maintenance door to him stopping Troi’s suicide attempt took place in seconds.

Geordi finds cellular residue on the bulkhead where the dead body had been found in Troi’s visions. Apparently, Pearce, Finn and Finn’s lover William Hodges had been reported missing in a plasma accident during the ship’s construction. In reality, Pearce found out Finn was cheating on him, killed the couple, threw them into the plasma stream to cover up the murders and finally committed suicide. Due to having a Betazoid grandmother, Pearce was partially telepathic, and the manner of his death left a psychic imprint of the murder-suicide that affected Kwan and Troi. Worf then expresses curiosity about who had killed him in Troi’s visions, to which Troi responds “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Review:

This episode is the first to try and follow up on the Troi-Worf romance that came up earlier this season in ‘Parallels’, with try being the operative word. While Worf clumsily tries and fails himself to drop a hint to Riker that he’s got his eyes set on Troi, most of the Worf-Troi romance plays out in Troi’s head. It’s annoying to see it happen like this, so for once I’m in agreement with Roddenberry’s ‘no dream sequences’ rule. Granted, I know Roddenberry also wanted this show to be very episodic television with no attempts at creating a continuity, so to speak, but at over two years after his death and with the show about to end, I’m thinking they should have been more daring. TNG audiences would have been ok with the Troi-Worf romance being pushed into reality at this point instead of later, so they should have just done it already.

Otherwise, the episode is just pure whodunnit mixed with a bit of Trek weirdness. It’s ok, but could have been miles better. How? Simple; they could have gotten Troi and Worf together in the real world and done it so there wouldn’t be a telepathic vision cop-out. I was also rather unimpressed with how the idea of suicide and possible depression was handled by this episode. Ok, so your character didn’t give any signs by way of being outwardly upset or stressed in the build-up to taking his own life? Guess what? That means sod all, as we’ve sadly seen with many recent celebrity suicides. The writers on this one should have really done some research to keep this aspect of the show more timeless. As it is, it betrays a very poor, very out-dated understanding about what emotions a person can display prior to killing themselves. If I was to try and find something in Trek that covered suicide well, this wouldn’t be it. Overall, I give this episode only 6 out of 10.

Episode 19: Genesis

Plot (as given by me):

During a shift in sickbay, several characters are being treated; Commander Riker is having cacti spines removed from his back following a mishap in the Enterprise arboretum, Lt. Commander Data has brought his pregnant cat Spot in for a check-up, and Lt. Barclay is after a second opinion after once again self-diagnosing a supposed ailment. Barclay turns out to have a mild case of Urodelan Flu, something most humans would be naturally immune to. However, the genes responsible for combatting the illness are dormant in Barclay’s case, so Dr Crusher activates them with a synthetic t-cell. Spot’s visit also reveals that the newly wed Nurse Ogawa is pregnant herself.

Later, the ship begins to conduct test exercises on upgrades recently made to the ship’s weapon systems by Lt. Worf. A photon torpedo used in the test goes off-course. Remote detonation commands fail and the torpedo is soon out of phaser range, forcing the Enterprise to send a shuttle to reclaim it. Captain Picard opts to fly the shuttle himself and asks Data to accompany him. As the mission may take longer than the remainder of Spot’s pregnancy, Data leaves his cat in the care of Lt. Barclay, the only other member of the crew Spot likes and will not attack if left with.

After Picard and Data leave, various members of the crew begin to exhibit unusual behaviour; Troi suddenly feels inexplicably cold and dehydrated, Commander Riker struggles to think clearly while Barclay is full of energy, and Worf is exhibiting signs of unusual aggression. After Worf comes into Troi’s quarters and bites her on the neck, both are taken to sick bay, where Worf inadvertently sprays venom from his mouth into Dr Crusher’s face before fleeing. Crusher is placed in stasis, and it soon reported that a viral-like contagion is loose on the Enterprise, causing unusual behaviours in the crew. At the same time, the venom Worf secretes is being found all over the ship and causing system damage. Riker, with the aid of acting first officer Lt. Commander La Forge, tries to handle the situation, but his inability to think is another sign of the growing illness.

Picard and Data ultimately return with the errant torpedo to find the Enterprise adrift. Once back on board, they begin trying to ascertain what has happened and regain control of the ship. Their investigations reveal that a synthetic t-cell is present in the crew, all of whom are apparently at varying stages of de-evolving into other forms of life. The t-cell apparently activates introns, fragments of dormant DNA left over from earlier stages in the evolutionary process. Examples of the effects include Riker becoming a proto-human, Troi becoming an amphibian life-form and Barclay beginning a transformation into a spider. Discovery that Spot has mutated into a lizard but that her new-born kittens are unaffected suggests that amniotic fluid may provide the basis for a cure.

As Nurse Ogawa has recently become pregnant, Data begins to devise a counter-agent using a sample of her amniotic fluid. However, Worf begins trying to break into sickbay to reach Counsellor Troi using his abilities as a far deadlier but less intelligent proto-Klingon lifeform. Picard, despite the fact he is beginning a devolution into a prey-level form of early primate, uses a concentrate of Troi’s pheromones to lure Worf away from sickbay, eventually subduing him in a Jeffries tube by electrocuting him. This buys Data the time he needs to synthesise and release an airborne counter-agent that reverses the devolution. Later, a recovered Dr Crusher informs Barclay that when she gave Barclay the synthetic t-cell, it activated more dormant genes than she intended and then co-opted his flu infection to spread to the rest of the crew. She suggests naming this new form of illness after him, and Troi notes that given what Barclay has just been through, she had better clear her calendar for the next few weeks.

Review:

This is TNG’s last Barclay episode, the first episode of any Trek series directed by a female cast member, and the first and only Trek episode directed by Gates McFadden, who of course plays Dr Crusher. Now while this episode might be a fun one for people who enjoy seeing Trek do horror and enjoy seeing the talents of Michael Westmore when it comes to creature make-up and prosthetics, it’s not got much to go on besides that. There’s no issue exploration to be found in this episode and no character development either; it’s just a filler episode that allows the show to meet a given quote of episodes for the season. That said, at least for the most part it’s well performed, but it’s still Trek not being Trek. For me, it’s only worth 5 out of 10.

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sushigirlali · 6 years

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Finding You - Part IV (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Summary: Unseen forces move against Kylo Ren from within the First Order as he struggles to unravel Snoke’s deceptions / Rey must balance her relationship with Ben Solo and her dedication to the cause that opposes him / Leia Organa makes a desperate plea to an old friend in a last ditch effort to restore the Resistance. Pairing: Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo [Reylo] [ReyBen] Continuity: Set directly after Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi ends. Warnings: There will be a lemon in Part II. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars.

A/N: Surprise! I’m back again with some more Relyo goodness. The next three parts of this fic will be paired with the song Learn To Let Go by Kesha from the Rainbow album. If you couldn’t tell, I love Kesha, and her newest album inspires me a lot. I fell deep down the character development hole this chapter, but I think it adds a lot to the story. Hope y’all agree! You can find me on FanFiction.net as sushigirlali as well. Enjoy!

Finding You - Part IV By: sushigirlali

Been a prisoner of the past Had a bitterness when I looked back Was telling everyone it's not that bad 'Til all my shit hit the fan

Ben wiped the sweat from his brow as Ahch-To’s dual suns settled high in the sky. He knew he shouldn’t complain, Rey had grown up in the scorching Jakku desert after all, but the heat was starting to get to him. His shirt was sticking to his skin, making it uncomfortable to continue breaking rocks in the dusty quarry.

At first, Ben assumed that Poe had assigned him such a menial task for spiteful reasons, but after spending some time with the Resistance, Ben knew the truth: there were simply too few people to do all the work that needed to be done.

Not everyone had a roof over their heads, like the hut he shared with Rey, so Ben understood the importance of building more shelters. Especially since the island temple was prone to bouts of heavy rainfall with little to no warning.

So, Ben took a swig of water and bent to pick up his discarded sledgehammer. As he stood up again, a figure to his left caught his eye. Finn was walking into the quarry, flinging off his signature jacket as he went. He didn’t seem to notice Ben, but instead marched over to a large collection of boulders and started smashing them at an alarming pace. He seemed to be working out his aggression on the rocks.

Ben smirked. He could relate to that. Before Rey, he was disposed to act out in extreme violence whenever his emotions got the best of him. Now, however, he just talked out whatever was bothering him with her. She had changed his life in more ways than he could count.

Something big must be bothering Finn, maybe something to do with Rose? Ben debated if he should try to ask Finn about it or not. While Finn hadn’t been openly hostile to him, he was still wary around Ben. Not that Ben blamed him. Their last meeting before he joined the Resistance had been at the point of a lightsaber, after all.

In fact, he had yet to apologize to Finn about the incident. Rey said it was important to make amends in order to move forward. Deciding to reach out, Ben put down the hammer again and walked toward the former stormtrooper cautiously.

“Finn.” Ben called out clearly.

Finn paused in his work, panting hard. Turning, his eyebrows rose in surprise as Ben neared.

“What’s up?” Finn asked guardedly.

“What did those rocks do to deserve such a beating?” Ben joked, trying for levity.

“Ha—very funny.” Finn chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I’m just blowing off some steam.”

“Anything you want to…talk about?” Ben invited uncertainly.

“Not really.” Finn laughed. “Anyway, I’m don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.” Ben said, a little insulted.

Finn looked at him seriously, as if contemplating how to respond. Just as Ben opened his mouth to recuse himself, Finn spoke up.

“Alright.” Finn said. “You promise not to say anything? I usually talk to Rey about this kind of stuff, but she’s busy right now.”

Ben nodded.

“Alright.” Finn said again. “Rose kind of told me that she loves me a while ago, but I haven’t said it back yet. And we had a fight about it. So, that’s why I said you wouldn’t understand. You and Rey are so in love it’s disgusting sometimes. But I’m not sure exactly what I feel yet. I don’t have the Force to guide me.”

Ben digested Finn’s words, a few of them sticking out to him. “How long is ‘a while ago?’”

“Ah—well…she said it while we were fighting the First Order on Crait.” He admitted.

“That was over two weeks ago, Finn.” Ben said dryly.

“Well, I mean, it wasn’t exactly an opportune moment, and she did pass out right afterword.” Finn defended himself.

“No wonder you’re in so much trouble.” Ben ribbed.

“Well, what should I do then, since you know so much about the subject?” Finn huffed.

“First of all, you need to figure out if you love Rose or not. It’s not fair to string her along if you don’t, but it’s equally unfair to hold back when she’s opening up to you if you do.” Ben advised. Having never been in a relationship before Rey, he hoped he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Finn blew out a harsh breath. “I mean I—of course I have feelings for her. Rose is amazing! But she’s only the second girl I’ve met, so how do I know that she’s the one, or whatever?”

“It’s easier for Rey and I, since we’re connected through the Force. I know that she loves me, and she knows that I love her. There’s no hiding it. But that’s not how most relationships work.” Ben acknowledged.

“Tell me about it.” Finn scoffed.

“Finn, either you know your own mind or you don’t.” Ben said frankly. “I can’t tell you what you do or do not feel. Search your feelings, and I’m sure you’ll discover the truth.”

Finn was quiet for so long that Ben began to think he’d overstepped his bounds. And then Finn held out his hand.

“Thanks, Ben.” Finn said sincerely, shaking his former enemy’s hand.

“Uh—no problem.” Ben said awkwardly. “Listen. There’s something else I wanted to say.”

Finn looked at him inquiringly.

“I apologize for attempting to kill you on Starkiller Base.” Ben said formally.

Finn laughed in surprise. “Well, I’ve already forgiven you for that. You’re different now, and believe me, I’ve been watching. But I trust Rey and, well, she trusts you. So, I guess that means I do too. But thanks for the apology! And the advice! I’m going to go find Rose now, and see if she’ll forgive me. See you later!”

Ben watched, a little dumbfounded, as Finn picked up his jacket, waved over his shoulder, and raced back toward the living quarters. Shaking his head in amused relief, Ben picked up the sledgehammer again. There was still work to do.

I know I'm always like Telling everybody you don't gotta be a victim Life ain't always fair, but hell is living in resentment Choose redemption, your happy ending's up to you

Rey listened intently as Leia and Poe discussed their plan to meet up with Lando Calrissian in Cloud City. She was surprised to be included in this closed strategy session, and even more shockingly, so had Ben. He was running late, so they had started without him.

“While I trust Lando, his security has been—uh—compromised before.” Leia said delicately.

“And by that you mean he betrayed you to Darth Vader the first time you met.” Poe responded sardonically.

“That was a long time ago, and he more than redeemed himself.” Leia dismissed. “Nevertheless, we should take precautions.”

“What do you have in mind?” Poe asked. “We could rig some explosives on—”

“No, Poe. No explosives! We don’t want to blow up our benefactor’s city the moment we arrive.” Leia cut him off.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“I think we should leave Ben on the Falcon once we reach Bespin. The First Order doesn’t know that he’s joined us, so I believe it’s best we keep that information secret for as long as possible.” Leia proposed.

“He won’t like that.” Rey interjected.

“No, he won’t.” Leia agreed. “However, I think we need an ace up our sleeve in case things go south.”

“Yeah, that could work.” Poe said thoughtfully. “Rey, Finn, and I will be your forward protection, and Ben can be the back-up.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said sharply, entering the Millennium Falcon’s lounge, now the de facto command center.

“Ben, join us.” Leia invited pleasantly.

Ben moved to stand by Rey, who immediately took his hand in hers. He hadn’t had a violent outburst since coming to Ahch-To, so Rey had the feeling this meeting was a kind of test. Like when Poe attempted to rile Ben the first night he switched sides. She sincerely hoped that he would pass with flying colors.

“Why do you want me to stay behind? I’m the best fighter here, next to Rey.” Ben asked directly.

“Ben, I think it would be best to conceal your defection from the First Order for now. There could be spies in Cloud City, it’s happened before, so I’d like you to remain on the Millennium Falcon for the duration of the mission.” Leia explained carefully.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Ben’s voice shook slightly.

Rey could hear the hurt in his voice, so she sent him warmth and reassurance through their link. He squeezed her hand in return. She leaned towards him a bit and sniffed appreciatively. He must have taken a bath recently. Not that she should be noticing things like that during an important meeting, Rey chastised herself. Leia snapped her back into focus.

“No, sweetheart.” Leia denied softly. “But if we get into trouble, we need someone to save us. You’re the person I trust to do so.”

“Do you really believe that First Order spies could have invaded Calrissian’s ranks?” Ben asked his mother.

“Yes, I consider it to be very likely.” Leia replied honestly.

“And you’re confident that you can protect my mother?” Ben directed at Poe.

“She’s my first priority. I’ll keep her safe.” Poe promised.

“Ben, you can monitor us through our bond.” Rey contributed. “That way you’ll know what’s happening at all times.”

Ben looked at Rey. “Do you think this is a good plan?”

“I do.” Rey affirmed, biting her lip thoughtfully. “If nothing goes wrong, we’ve been overly cautious. But if something does happen, we’ll need a way out.”

“…Alright.” He agreed at last. “But I want to know the entire plan, from start to finish. And if I feel like anything is off once we reach Cloud City, the Falcon won’t hold me.”

The tension in the room eased, and his mother came forward smiling.

“Of course, my son, that’s perfectly reasonable.” Leia said. “Come now, I’ll show you everything.”

I think it's time to practice what I preach Exorcise the demons inside me Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Ben paced the length of their small hut, going over the plan in his mind. So many variables. So many potential dangers. When he was with the First Order, when he was Kylo Ren, he went into battle with an army at his back. Now, however, he was relegated to being the last case scenario for a Resistance that barely trusted him.

“Why were you late to the meeting?” Rey asked from the bed, bringing him out of his musings.

“I lost track of time in the quarry. Finn showed up and we got to talking before I had finished for the day.” He said, watching as she unfurled a thick quilted blanket.

She paused in her task, looking astonished. “You and Finn talked? Was it about Rose again?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say we were—ugh—bonding.” Ben teased, recalling her words from the other day. “Apparently Rose told him she loved him a few weeks ago but, as of this afternoon, he hadn’t responded in kind.”

“That idiot.” Rey said crossly. “No wonder they’ve been arguing so much.”

“True enough. It must be difficult for him to make personal connections on that level, though, considering his upbringing.” Ben said soberly.

“What do you mean?” Rey questioned, looking puzzled.

“Rey, he was raised as a stormtrooper.” Ben said gently.

“I know that, he told me as much on Takodana.” Rey asserted.

“And do you know what being a stormtrooper entails?” He didn’t look forward to telling her.

“Well, he said he was taken from his family as a child, and raised by the First Order. I know that he was in charge of sanitation, and had only been on one combat mission. The one that led to his defection.” Rey recalled. “But why would that stop him from sharing his feelings with Rose?”

“Rey, he wasn’t just taken, he was kidnapped. His family was likely murdered in the process on some unfortunate Outer Rim colony. Finn was stripped of his given name and assigned the designation FN-2187.” Ben relayed, trying to keep his voice even. Remembering his part in all this was painful. “He was then trained under the supervision of Phasma, the most ruthless commander in the First Order. Stormtroopers aren’t allowed to be individuals, they aren’t able to form close relationships. They are simply part of a whole; part of the war machine.”

Ben sat down on the bed, pulling a stunned Rey into his arms.

“He’s never said…I didn’t know.” Rey looked horrified, tears spilling from her wide hazel eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he’s not ready to. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” Ben’s lips twisted in self-recrimination. “It’s hard to admit past mistakes to the people we care most about. It’s even more difficult to admit to the things that we had no control over.”

“But I should have asked him about it, about his past. He’s my best friend and I feel like I’ve let him down.” Rey lamented.

“I’m sure he’ll talk to you when he’s ready.” Ben reassured her.

“Ben, did you…were you involved in abducting children for the First Order?” Rey asked hoarsely.

“No, I wasn’t complicit in that branch of operations. Still, I didn’t try to stop it either.” Ben shook his head. “I should have done something. I was so absorbed in my own pain that I ignored the suffering of others.”

Rey pulled back, wiping her red-rimmed eyes. “We can’t allow the First Order to continue. We have to destroy them.”

“I agree. And we will. Together.” Ben said, tenderly pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” Rey said sleepily.

“I’ll never lie to you.” Ben promised.

“I know.” She smiled.

Rey finished unfolding the quit and pulled Ben down to lay beside her. She pillowed her head on his bicep, throwing an arm over his chest. Ben stretched, getting comfortable, and pulled the thick blanket over them both.

“Are you ready for the mission tomorrow?” Rey enquired.

“I’m still not comfortable with staying on the Falcon, but I’ll follow orders all the same.” Ben affirmed.

“I think Leia’s motives are purely about giving us an advantage, but Poe, well…” Rey sighed.

“Dameron still doesn’t trust me.” Ben finished for her. “Not that I blame him.”

“It’s going to take time, Ben. The things you’ve done…” Rey trailed off sadly.

“I know.” Ben murmured desolately.

“Ben, look at me.” Rey said, turning his cheek. “I feel your honest contrition. I know that you want to do better, to be better. Don’t prove it to them, or me, but to yourself. They’ll come around eventually.”

“When I close my eyes I can see the faces of everyone I’ve killed, of everyone I’ve hurt with my actions. I was a fool to believe that Luke truly betrayed me, but it seemed too real at the time.” Ben confessed.

“Snoke stoked your fear, Ben. He fed on it.” Rey excused sympathetically.

“It wasn’t just Snoke. I had…friends at Luke’s academy. We were all troubled, and a bad influence on each other. I knew it then, but I wanted to be accepted. They looked up to me because of my lineage, because of Luke. Little did they know, weakness runs deep in my family.” Ben said in self-disgust.

“You’re not weak!” Rey objected. “You were scared, and angry, when you turned on Luke, but never weak. Leaving the First Order, seeking redemption, that takes strength!”

“Loving you gives me strength.” Ben countered, kissing her softly.

“You make me crazy sometimes, but I feel the same way.” Rey laughingly replied.

Ben hugged her close, like a talisman of protection. With Rey in his life, he could see the difference between right and wrong. It made the memories of his atrocities that much more terrible, yet showed him the correct path forward at the same time. He had to learn from his mistakes in order to break the cycle of violence that had taken over his life as Kylo Ren. He only hoped that he didn’t drag Rey down with him like he had his school friends.

“I ended up ruining their lives.” Ben murmured unconsciously.

“Your friends? What happened to them?” Rey queried.

“Some of them died, the rest….” He eyes closed in pain.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Rey said comfortingly. “But, I’m here when you’re ready.”

“I love you, Rey.” Ben whispered.

“I love you too.” She answered, curling closer.

And then they slept.

The past can't haunt me if I don't let it Live and learn and never forget it Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Since the Millennium Falcon was a bit cramped for the few dozen remaining Resistance members to congregate in effectively, Leia and Poe were holding the final mission briefing outside. The benches within the halo of huts served as the meeting location.

“I can’t stress how important this mission is.” Leia stated frankly. “We’re hanging on by a thread, but I still have hope that we will succeed in destroying the First Order, once and for all. To that end, we will need every ally we can gather. Commander Dameron will now go over the details for a final time.”

Poe stepped forward, motioning for BB-8 to follow him. The droid rolled into position and projected a star map of the galaxy, zooming in on the route between Ahch-To and Bespin.

“We have just enough fuel to get to Bespin. Lando has guaranteed the Falcon will be refueled and restocked with provisions after we land. While General Organa, Lieutenants Finn, Rey, and Solo, Chewbacca, and I are in Cloud City, Commander D'Acy and Lieutenant Connix will be in charge here on Ahch-To.” Poe informed them.

Ben’s head shot up at the mention of his name. Dameron’s designation of rank surprised him; since when had he been made a Lieutenant? The title was a sign of respect and authority, badges of honor he didn’t think he had earned yet. Rey moved closer to him, as if sensing his disquiet, bringing his attention back to the Commander’s speech.

“This is a diplomatic mission, but there is a high probability that First Order agents could be present in Cloud City. As a result, General Organa will act as ambassador, while Lieutenants Rey and Finn and I serve as her security detail. Lieutenant Solo will stay with the ship to expedite refueling, and act as back-up should the need arise.” Poe explained.

It still bothered Ben that he had to sit on the side lines, but at least he’d be on hand. It would have driven him crazy to wait on Ahch-To while Rey and his mother were in a potentially dangerous location without him.

“We expect this mission will only take a few days, and will update Commander D'Acy if the timetable changes. Please continue to work on the new structures and building up the food stores until we return with more supplies.” Poe took a deep breath, looking less than confident for the first time. “In the case of an attack on the planet while we’re on Bespin, we won’t be here to help you. Please confer with Lieutenant Connix for the agreed upon action plan.”

There were worried murmurs in the crowd at Dameron’s sober pronouncement. Not that he blamed them, Dameron wasn’t offering any hopeful alternatives. But he could.

Ben stood up, drawing Poe’s attention. “Commander, may I put in a suggestion.”

Poe raised his eyebrows, but motioned for him to continue.

“We can use the command shuttle in case an evacuation is required. It is equipped with the best hyperdrive on the market, and there is plenty of space for everyone here, including emergency supplies.” Ben offered.

“I—of course, that’s the perfect solution.” Poe said in amazement.

“We would never had presumed to volunteer your ship, Ben. Thank you.” Leia said gratefully.

“It’s not my ship anymore.” Ben said firmly. “It belongs to the Resistance.”

Ben could see Rey beaming up at him in his periphery, while his mother had tears in her eyes. He hoped that the rest of the Resistance would also see that he was making an effort, that they could put their trust in him.

“Alright, Ben, please go over basic operations with Lieutenant Connix before we take off.” Poe directed.

Ben nodded and sat down again. Rey slipped her arm through his, leaning against him.

“I love you.” She whispered.

Ben titled his head against hers, brushing her cheek with a kiss. He was glad that he could contribute to the cause, if only in this small way. He felt worthwhile, needed, by more than just Rey. Things he hadn’t felt since childhood. This is what life was really like, living in the light. He never wanted to sink back into darkness again.

“Hold up!” Poe called as Ben left Connix in charge of the command shuttle.

“Yes, Commander?” Ben asked formally.

“Poe. Call me Poe.” He replied with a chuckle. “Here, I wanted to give you these before we leave.”

Poe handed him a satchel of clothing.

“What’s this for?” Ben inquired.

“I thought you might want to wear something a little less conspicuous. Your signature black robes are well…they stick out.” Poe said wryly.

Ben cracked a smile. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

He unwrapped the folded clothing, surprised to find a finely made pair of dark blue pants, a crisp white shirt, and a heavy taupe leather jacket.

“Where did you get these?” Ben asked, his heart stopping as he recognized the style.

“They were your fathers. Leia kept them for you in case you came home one day.” Poe answered simply.

Emotion surged inside Ben: guilt, pain, love…he nearly staggered from the rush of feelings.

“Are you okay?” Poe asked in concern.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Ben said thickly, collecting himself. He held out his hand. “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome.” Poe said sheepishly, accepting the handshake. “There’s—ah—there’s something else I thought you should have.”

Poe reached around and pulled out an old DL-44 model heavy blaster pistol from his waistband.

“It’s not your father’s exact pistol—that one was destroyed on Starkiller Base—but this is the same make and model. Chewy said that Han modified this one too. For you.” Poe handed him the weapon.

Ben stared at the familiar pistol in shock. Even up to the moment of his death, Han Solo had never lost faith in his son. He had believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kylo Ren would become Ben Solo again. Ben looked at the gifts reverently, choking up.

“I can never repay you for this.” Ben said gruffly.

“Sure, you can,” Poe smiled, “by fighting like hell against the First Order.”

“I will.” Ben swore. “Until my dying breath.”

“Well, let’s not get too maudlin now. I intend for every Resistance fighter to live a long, happy, and free life.” Poe said confidently. “Now, go get changed and meet me back at the Falcon in ten. We’ve got work to do.”

A/N: I really wanted to work on Ben’s relationships with Finn and Poe in this chapter. I have a feeling that Episode IX won’t have much time for this, but it’s important to Ben’s redemption arc in my opinion. He needs to feel connected to people, to care about them, because I believe that love and friendship are the only things that can beat the pull of the dark side. But then, I’m a total sap, so!! Please review!

A little something extra!

Kylo: Why do you make me talk about my feelings all the time? Ali: Because suppressing your feelings is part of the reason you went cocoa bananas in the first place. Kylo: But you hate feelings in real life! Ali: This isn’t about me! And this isn’t real life! Kylo: Ali, you think everything is about you. Ali: Okay, fair enough.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #leia organa #poe dameron #finn #rose tico #my fanfiction #finding you

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logh-icebergs · 7 years

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Episode 26: Farewell, Distant Days

Dear Icebergs readers—as we’ve reached the first season finale of LoGH, we’ve inevitably arrived at some pretty serious spoilers, so if you haven’t already seen all of LoGH season one, I would advise against reading any further. Instead, you can find our FAQs here and our very first post here, and we hope to see you back here soon!

Everyone else: When you're ready, please proceed to our episode 26 post, below. —the editors

September-October 797/488. Ansbach’s assassination attempt on Reinhard is thwarted by Kircheis—first by knocking his gun out of the way, and then by taking fire himself from yet another concealed weapon, this time in Ansbach’s ring. Ansbach shoots through Kircheis’s chest and neck, then bites a poison pill to commit suicide. Reinhard’s admirals scramble, but it’s too late to save Kircheis, who dies while Reinhard holds his hand and looks on in bewilderment. Beyond devastated, Reinhard shuts himself away with Kircheis’s body for days on end. Oberstein convinces the admirals to cast former ally Lichtenlade as a scapegoat for Ansbach’s crime, and, grateful for something to do, the entire fleet storms Odin. Meanwhile, Oberstein informs Annerose of Kircheis’s death, Reuental receives an unexpected invitation, and Reinhard hardens his heart.

Reinhard and Kircheis

The first time I watched episode 26 of Legend of Galactic Heroes, there was a moment when, literally sitting on the edge of my seat, I wondered if this show was about to disappoint me horribly. Kircheis was, clearly, dying. The admirals were fluttering around him trying and failing to stop the bleeding, giving up on leaving to go get a doctor—too quickly, it seemed. And where was Reinhard? Why wasn’t he there?

As a queer consumer of media, I’m used to this kind of disappointment. Seeing my experiences reflected onscreen at all remains rare, and when a piece of media does deign to include a queer character or two, more often than not they’re killed off unceremoniously in as homophobically moralizing a way as possible. The death scenes of queer characters tend to leave me with a sick feeling not because I’m grieving the character but because I hate that I’ve had to give up on expecting queer characters and their relationships to be given a fraction of the respect afforded their straight counterparts.

The first 25 episodes of LoGH had surprised me with their nuanced and respectful depiction of queerness, in particular of Reinhard and Kircheis’s relationship. But as a seasoned veteran of queer media consumption, as Kircheis bled out on the floor while Reinhard did who knows what across the room, I didn’t know how else to interpret what I was seeing other than “Kircheis is about to die alone.” My stomach hurt. And then, this happened:

Given that it’s animated, LoGH has so far been remarkable in its commitment to realism. Without exception, what has been shown to us onscreen has been presented as an accurate depiction of events; the closest to a diversion from that has been the show’s frequent use of flashbacks, but even those are always anchored to a specific character’s experience of remembering the past.

As Reinhard steps painstakingly down the stairs toward where Kircheis lays in a pool of his own blood, the creators of LoGH throw away their own established set of rules. What we are seeing is no longer what is literally happening; instead, we are with Reinhard—and for him, nothing in the world exists at that moment except Kircheis and himself. With this scene, the LoGH creative team show us that they will do whatever they have to in order to respect their characters: If there are too many people around for Reinhard and Kircheis to get the intimate last goodbyes they and their relationship deserve, well, everyone else will simply have to be removed.

Even the lack of voiceover accompanying Reinhard’s quick series of flashbacks here reinforces the extent to which reality has been skewed for the duration of this scene.

For me, this was when LoGH went from being a great show to being (as you may have noticed) my favorite show—and not just because of how kindly it treats its characters, even while they experience gut-wrenching tragedy. Kircheis’s death changes Reinhard and, as I’ll obviously be exploring at length as we move into season 2, that changes the entire landscape of the show. Though from the beginning it has always been deeply personal and human, especially for a war epic of such massive scale, the question of what Reinhard will do now, without Kircheis, turns LoGH psychologically dark in ways that have only been hinted at so far.

Back in episode 4, we were first introduced to Reinhard’s plan to gain enough power to rescue Annerose from the clutches of Kaiser Friedrich IV. Friedrich IV has since died of natural causes, freeing Annerose without Reinhard’s help. In episode 8, we learn that Reinhard’s ambitions extend to overthrowing the Goldenbaum empire, and then achieving supremacy over the entire universe—very specifically with Kircheis at his side. By the end of episode 26, Reinhard rules the empire in everything but name (the six-year-old Erwin Josef II still sits on the throne as Kaiser), but Kircheis is dead, rendering Reinhard’s longtime goal of joint conquest impossible.

For practical purposes, this barely matters: Above, Kircheis uses some of his last remaining energy to beg Reinhard to follow through with the plan they made together, in effect guaranteeing that he will continue on the same path after Kircheis dies. But in more abstract terms, both of Reinhard’s main reasons for seeking political power are now gone. And with a promise to the dead Kircheis as Reinhard’s driving force, Empire-side LoGH has suddenly become a very different show—one that is no longer about a man trying to conquer the universe, but is rather about a man searching for something to hold onto in a universe that, without Kircheis in it, seems to have very little to offer.

Annerose

But Reinhard shouldn’t feel entirely alone in the universe. After all, he has his sister, right? Well, not exactly. As Reinhard learns after Oberstein breaks the news of Kircheis’s death to Annerose (against Reinhard’s wishes), Annerose has decided now is the perfect time to do something really, really cruel: cut off contact with her grieving brother.

Reinhard’s Family

That the season 1 arc of Reinhard and Annerose’s relationship ends on a bad note is frankly an understatement, but to really dig into how things stand between them in episode 26, we must first get a handle on all the moving parts that brought them to this point.

Over the course of my season 1 posts, I’ve mapped out much of the dynamic between Reinhard and Annerose: Reinhard, who both idealizes and idolizes his sister, does so (unwittingly) at the expense of her personhood; Annerose, whose agency has been violently denied her since an early age, projects a portion of her (natural) resentment onto her brother, who moves freely about the universe steadily gaining power while her life remains stagnant. One aspect of their relationship that I haven’t examined, however, is the extent to which Annerose has played a parental role in Reinhard’s life.

In this scene from the episode 4 flashback, Reinhard assigns to Annerose the kind of responsibility for his behavior that would ordinarily be reserved for a parent or guardian.

And then, after Reinhard and Kircheis have conspired to keep Reinhard’s misdeeds from his sister, Annerose puts their wet clothes in the laundry and dotes on them with hot chocolate and freshly baked pie. This is maybe the most archetypal depiction of motherhood I’ve ever seen, despite the fact that Annerose is both 1. actually Reinhard’s sister and 2. only five years his senior.

Reinhard’s father, who sold Annerose into sexual slavery at the age of fifteen, is obviously awful. And Reinhard’s mother, who hasn’t even ever been mentioned, clearly never had much of a presence in Reinhard’s life. Annerose is the only person (besides, eventually, Kircheis) we ever see taking responsibility and caring for Reinhard.

Reinhard’s family, as it is presented to us, is comprised of three people: himself, Annerose, and Kircheis. Though Kircheis is literally never (not once in all of LoGH!) referred to as being “like a brother” to Reinhard, their constant companionship since a young age means that their interactions often blur the line between surrogate-familial and romantic. The fact that Reinhard always brings Kircheis with him on visits to Annerose, for example, indicates that he at least views the three of them as a tight-knit unit.

But in Reinhard’s chosen family, there is a clear delineation of roles between Annerose and himself/Kircheis. In the gif above, Reinhard and Kircheis sit across the table from Annerose, who acts like a parent not just to Reinhard but to Kircheis as well; the difference in age and maturity between them is underlined by both Annerose’s matter-of-fact competence and Reinhard and Kircheis’s unashamed (and matching) nudity.

The photo that Kircheis gazes at in episode 25 (which eventually shows up in Reinhard’s locket, discussed later in this post) also draws a solid line between Annerose—who is more than a full head taller than the boys—and Reinhard/Kircheis. Kircheis’s sideways gaze at Reinhard serves to emphasize even further that they are a discrete pair.

Reinhard’s behavior towards Annerose starts to make more sense once you realize that he basically considers her his mother. Just as children tend not to understand—sometimes well into adulthood—that their parents are fully formed, flawed human beings with rich inner lives, so Reinhard has kept Annerose on a pedestal, treating her more like a symbol than a complex person. This also explains how Reinhard can, for example, be so blasé about teasing Kircheis in front of Annerose for his love of her cooking: Naïve as he is, the idea that Annerose might have feelings for Kircheis that go beyond platonic and motherly would never occur to Reinhard in a million years—unless something were to happen that brought Annerose’s feelings into stark relief.

Annerose Makes Up Her Mind

Which brings us back to the scene at hand, Kircheis’s death being the exact sort of cataclysmic event that might throw a wrench into Reinhard’s precarious relationship with his sister. And the second Annerose opens her mouth to speak, Reinhard knows something is wrong:

Annerose’s tone of voice here is as cold and distant as what she’s actually saying; rather than sharing in or sympathizing with Reinhard’s grief, she isolates him in it, trivializing his feelings of loss while also—by implying Kircheis was the only person Reinhard could ever care about losing—calling into question the authenticity of his devotion to her.

If Reinhard had been aware of all the little signs of Annerose’s resentment towards him that have been building up over the course of the last 25 episodes, this conversation might have gone differently—not because Annerose would have done a better job playing the part of the soothing sister/mother, but because Reinhard might not have been expecting her to. But Reinhard is naïve, especially about Annerose, so her abrupt switch from passive aggression (which Reinhard of course never picked up on) to overt hostility shocks Reinhard into a realization.

Above, Reinhard first protests Annerose’s disingenuous declaration that he has nothing left to lose, and then looks on in horror as it becomes clear that she intends to make it a true statement. But even while Reinhard listens, and responds, the gears are (visibly!) turning in his head, trying desperately to figure out what the fuck is going on. So let’s join him: What the fuck is going on?

First and foremost, I think, is Annerose’s desire for freedom. With Kircheis gone, she must realize that Reinhard’s need for her emotional support will increase astronomically. It’s one thing for her to live quietly in Reinhard’s mansion when he’s usually off gallivanting around space with his boyfriend; it’s quite another thing to share a home with someone who is grieving the loss of, as Mittermeyer so eloquently put it, half of his own self.

Because Reinhard may view Annerose as a mother, but that isn’t how Annerose views Annerose. We don’t actually know how she views herself—as I said back in episode 1, our entire characterization of Annerose is a reflection of how the world sees her—but we do know how she came to be Reinhard’s mother figure and, like her sale to Kaiser Friedrich IV, it wasn’t through any choice of her own.

In fact, this choice, the one to tell her grieving brother to fuck off so that she can finally get some time and space to herself, is the first choice we’ve ever seen Annerose make. So despite episode 26 ending on a catastrophic note for Reinhard’s relationship with Annerose, it ends on something of a triumphant note for Annerose herself: In choosing not to allow her well-meaning brother to use her as his personal grief counselor, she has finally, if perversely, reclaimed her agency.

Meanwhile, Reinhard has come to a completely different realization about Annerose’s motives:

My much earlier promise of a love triangle between Reinhard, Kircheis, and Annerose has finally come to fruition in true LoGH fashion, i.e. as morbidly as possible.

Make no mistake: The reason Reinhard asks this question of Annerose now is because it has never occurred to him before, and the reason it has occurred to him now is because Annerose is behaving in a way that he interprets as some mixture of jealous, vindictive, and heartbroken—none of which align with his image of his sister. Faced with her unambiguous and uncharacteristic cruelty, Reinhard searches around for an explanation and comes up with what would have sounded outlandish to him until this moment: romantic love.

But was Annerose in love with Kircheis? I don’t know. Frankly, I doubt Annerose knows (and we never get to see her answer, if she even gives one). Remember, Kircheis was ten years old to Annerose’s fifteen when she became the Kaiser’s concubine, meaning for most of the time they actually spent together, Annerose was basically Kircheis’s babysitter. It’s certainly possible that she developed romantic feelings for him over the years, or at least projected some romantic ideal onto him that she experienced as love. Given that he was probably the only male figure in her life besides her brother who was ever kind to her, it wouldn’t be surprising.

As a rival to Reinhard, though, my guess is that Annerose never considered herself in the running—and if anything, that would have made Kircheis an even safer object of affection for someone whose real-life experience with men was limited to a decade of blatant sexual exploitation. But that certainly doesn’t preclude jealousy or heartbreak; in that sense, Reinhard might be partially right about why Annerose chooses to act the way she does.

The accuracy of Reinhard’s suspicions, however, isn’t particularly important. What matters is that Reinhard has had this realization at all: In yet another twisted triumph for Annerose, and at immense cost, her brother has finally realized that she’s human.

Queerness

Given the reasons for the existence of this blog, it’s only fitting that we end our first season with a discussion of how LoGH treats queerness. Conveniently, this coincides with the creative team’s decision to convert a substantial portion of the show’s queer subtext into explicit text, done via multiple perspectives and narrative techniques throughout the season finale.

Our first open acknowledgement of the romantic nature of Reinhard and Kircheis’s relationship comes, unfortunately, from Kircheis’s murderer, Ansbach. The phrase “other half,” unlike much of the language used thus far to describe Reinhard and Kircheis, doesn’t have a heteronormative surface reading.

Incidentally, Ansbach’s easy familiarity with the concept of a romantic partnership between two men has always been one of the things that made me wonder about his feelings for Braunschweig—along with the fact that immediately after this, Ansbach tells Braunschweig to “wait for him in Valhalla” before killing himself.

Kircheis’s last words, too, work to remove a layer of heteronormativity from LoGH’s surface reading, albeit more subtly:

In this final, stunning example of a Reinhard-Bechdel Test failure, Kircheis uses his last breath to ask Reinhard to tell Annerose... that he kept his promise to be a good friend to Reinhard.

In a heteronormative piece of media, when a male character brings up a female character’s name in his dying breath, one would probably expect him to declare his undying love for her. That Kircheis starts his last sentence with “Please tell Lady Annerose...” and finishes it with a positive allusion to his relationship with Reinhard is an incredible subversion of heteroromantic tropes. It even goes so far as to “straight-bait,” dangling the possibility of Kircheis’s romantic feelings for Annerose in front of the viewer before categorically dismissing it.

Later, while Reinhard mourns, Mittermeyer uses similar language to Ansbach’s, above, to explain to Müller why Reinhard is in such an inconsolable state:

Like Ansbach’s usage of “other half,” Mittermeyer’s “half of his own self” doesn’t have a non-romantic interpretation to bolster LoGH’s increasingly shaky heteronormative surface reading. Also like (maybe) Ansbach, Mittermeyer is a character who (as we’ll see much more of soon) can speak from his personal experiences with queer romance, making him perfect for delivering this unambiguous message not just to other characters, but also to the viewer.

The last scene of the episode and the season finds Reinhard at Kircheis’s grave which, yet again, emphasizes his romantic relationship with Reinhard, and not just because of the inscription’s use of the singular possessive “my”:

Though the German “Mein Freund” directly translates to “my friend,” that isn’t actually how the phrase is used in Germany, where “Mein Freund” most frequently refers to a male romantic partner. The only ambiguity about Kircheis’s inscription is in how it’s translated: as わが友 in Japanese or, literally, “my friend,” obscuring the German usage and allowing it to continue to pass as heteronormative.

After placing flowers on Kircheis’s grave, Reinhard sits back, revealing that he has started wearing a locket. Opening it, he shows us that it contains a photo we’ve seen before of Reinhard with his chosen family, and a lock of Kircheis’s hair:

Season one of Legend of Galactic Heroes ends on a deeply personal note, and it also ends on a series of questions: What, or who, will Reinhard find to fill the gaping hole in his life left by Kircheis’s death? Will it be his rivalry with Yang? Other, darker questions are left unspoken, but their presence is felt nonetheless: Will Reinhard find something to “quench the thirst in his heart”? And, if not, what then?

Stray Tidbits

During this post, as usual, I’ve used gifs from the LD (original) versions of LoGH instead of their redrawn versions. Episode 26 was almost entirely redrawn, and many of the “remastered” scenes are dramatically different from their original versions, so I’m gonna give a few sample comparisons here. Kircheis’s death scene, for example, was changed to make his physical process of dying appear significantly less grisly. Below, on the left, the redrawn Kircheis’s body is still and his eyes are focused on Reinhard; on the right, the original Kircheis’s breaths are visibly laborious and painful, and his eyes are unfocused:

Below, Reinhard’s facial expressions and reactions during his conversation with Annerose were changed so drastically that he might as well be a different character. In the redraw (left), Reinhard is practically throwing a tantrum; in the original (right), Reinhard is still shocked, but keeps his composure as he struggles to process his sister’s unexpected cruelty, placing the emphasis squarely on his thoughts rather than on his feelings:

On a lighter note, the redraw team seems to have been confused (or, less charitably, offended) by this public display of intimacy between Reuental and Mittermeyer—in the redraw (left), Reuental stops Mittermeyer from standing by either touching his hand or just making a motion as if to touch his hand, keeping a respectful distance; in the original (right), Reuental physically impedes Mittermeyer from standing up by placing his hand on *draws a diagram* his very inner thigh, and leaving it there:

A small worldbuilding note: The dates on Kircheis’s grave are wrong! He was actually born in 467, not 468, according to every other marker of time in the LoGH universe.

And now for something extremely disturbing: An official LoGH-branded Kircheis roomba exists. When it’s low on batteries, it says, “I won’t be able to serve you anymore, Reinhard-sama.” Sadly, this is real and I’m not making it up.

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Elizabeth #Empire #Reinhard #Kircheis #Annerose #Reinhard-Bechdel Test #queerness #family #holding hands #redraws #quote unquote friends #ow

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erza-mj · 7 years

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Episode Prompto

i though it will be useful for all the writers in the ffxv community to have a written record of all the stuff that appear in Episode Prompto in chronological order ;)

You’re Welcome

Prompto production code: Unit 05953234

Research log 722-VII-6th

Research log: Year 722, Day 189. I received a proposal regarding a way to improve the infantry’s performances by leaps and bounds: Outfit all the troupers with magitek cores. Preliminary tests suggest sublimating daemons for fuel will result in an unstable infantry unit for the field. If the calculations he provided are correct, though, this could solve all our problems. The Deadless Project marks the advent of a new age. No longer will our soldier fall on the field of battle. The Empire shall rise, and soon, all the world shall bask in our glory!

Research log 722-X-21st

Research log: Year 722, Day 294. I acted on the proposal mentioned in my log of Day 189. My attempt to infuse the troopers magitek cores with daemonic energy proved successful. Only in the most basic sense, however. While the soldiers are indeed deathless, they are far from fit for fighting. Thus I’ve decided to take a different approach: rather than relying on daemons to power the magitek infantry, why not use human instead? Frankly, I had never considered employing my fellow man in any magitek-related experiments. But countless men and women succumb to the plasmodia each day. Rather than let them die victims of an ignominious disease, why not help them ascend to nobler heights? I’ve lost many a comrade on the field of battle, and I’ve no intention of allowing any more of their deaths to go in vain.

Research log 722-XII-5th

Research log: Year 722, Day 339. Another Day, another mental breakdown. All my test so far have resulted in the former soldiers suffering ego deaths. Today, however, I developed a new hypothesis: I will continue to sublimate daemonified humans to harvest the miasma, but if a sense is the source of these snags, why not inject infants with the plasmodia instead? We’ve little time. If we are to combat the Lucian threat, we must explore new options. I too, will set aside my personal misgivings and do what I must for the empire.

Research Log: 723-III-11th

Research log: Year 723, Day 70. I pondered how I might found the necessary number of infants, and then it downed on me: why not make them myself? If I clone them from my own genes, I can eliminate the pesky process of breeding them. Mass production remains a pipe dream for now, but I’m confident a can create a massive infantry once the process picks up. If everything goes according to plan, the empire will boast a million-man army in no time at all.

M.E. 723-XI-26th

A New Hope

Construction finished today on the first magitek production facility. Rising military star and leading authority on magitek Verstael Besithia has been selected to oversee the plant’s operation. Reports say Besithia will relinquish his field duties in order to serve at the compound full-time.

Research log: 724-X-24th

Research log: Year 724, Day 297. Mass production of the magitek infantry was a success. We’ve overwhelmed the lucians with our numbers and surrounded insomnia. But to rest on our laurels now would be unthinkable. On Occasion, harvesting the plasmodic miasma produces some “side effects.” The daemons born of this process have been disposed of on sight-until now. How foolish I was to let these sublime creatures go to waste! What they lack in adaptability, they make up for in sheer power. I realize now that I ought to channel my efforts into exploring the true potential of these daemons for the sake of the empire. Perhaps this has been my true calling all along.

Research Log: 736-V-3rd

Research log: Year 736, Day 123. It seems my laboratory is not nearly as secure as I once believed. Some thief – likely a Lucian- made off with one of my experiments. Absconding with a single infant will do nothing to enlighten them of the grandeur of my research. That said, I will see to it such incident never arises again. I’ve posted magitek troopers around the facility and instructed them to keep a vigilant watch. It is their home, after all.

Research Log: 745-XI-21st

Research log: Year 745, Day 325. Today marks a momentous triumph for our great nation. The Glacian herself graced us with her presence in Ghorovas Rift, and, through the combined efforts of the magitek infantry and my precious daemons, we killed her. The resulting causalities were great, but these sacrifices afforded us something far more valuable than a few units. With the data I collected, I intend to begin developing a new magitek weapon codenamed “Godslayer.” Soon, all the Astrals shall bow before me and the might of my magitek. Soon, they shall know my wrath.

M.E. 745-XI-22nd

ATTN: Research Chief Verstael Besithia

It has come to my attention thet the Glacian’s recent assault was quelled by your magitek infantry. As commendation for your service to our great nation, I have approved your petition to increase funding for your research. Your Work is the centrifugal force that will propel the empire beyond our borders to greatness on the world stage. I eagerly await further reports of your progress.

Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt

M.E. 746-VI-3rd

Prototype Numbering Instructions

In order ro better monitoring the large number of new magitek models enetering production, the Imperials Defense Council motions to reform the coding system as follows

- Troopers: 5-digit model number + 8-digit production code

- Infants: 4-digit production year + 8-digit production code

754-VIII-25th

I’ve been assigned to Chief Besithia’s lab! Not many people can say they’ve worked under the supervision of a living legend. I mean, this is the guy who saved the empire from eternal winter. He’s practically our savior.

754-XI-17th

My boss pulled me aside today to issue me a “special task.” Said it’s “highly confidential” and that I’m the only one qualified for the job. But how? I barely even know my way around the compound. Well, whatever the “task” is, I’ll deal with it in the morning.

754-XI-18th

I found out what my “special task” is today- and frankly I wish I hadn’t. if only I could unsee the things I saw today… I really ought eat something before I go to bed, but that shit totally killed my appetite.

755-II-16th

I had the honor of seeing His Imperial Majesty in person today. To think His Radiance would travel all that way through the ice and the snow just to observe our progress… if the Emperor is putting all his faith in magitek, then so should i.

755-VII-24th

Just my luck. One of the plasmodium samples strted leaking, and your truly was the blessed with the “privilege” of cleaning it up. And then my boss had the nerve to yell at me-as if the whole thing were my fault. If he wasn’t to criticize the real culprit, he ought to look in a mirror.

755-VII-25th

So thanks to yesterday's fiasco, my boss made me throw all the remaining plasmodium samples into the incinerator. What a waste of resources! My boss told the chief we used them in a series of experiments, but the thought of lying about what happened doesn't sit well with me at all. The whole thing is eating me up inside.

M.E. 755-VII-25th

Termination Report

ATTN: Research Chief Verstael Besithia. The Following specimen have been eradicated: 0755-06000326 0755-06000327 0755-06000328

0755-06000329 0755-06000330 0755-06000331

0755-06000332 0755-06000333 0755-06000334

0755-06000335 0755-06000336 0755-06000337

0755-06000338 0755-06000339 0755-06000340

0755-06000341 0755-06000342 0755-06000343

0755-06000344 0755-06000345 0755-06000346

0755-06000347 0755-06000348

All 23 samples listed have been incinerated to avoid potential daemonification of personnel.

755-VII-29th

So I ended up telling chief Besithia the truth about the other day. Here I was, ready for him to tear me a new one - and he ended up praising my loyalty instead! Everyone made it sound like the chief was some kind of hardass, but he seems to be a really reasonable guy if you actually take the time to sit down and talk with him.

M.E. 755-IX-18th

Proposal for Operation:Countersign

As deputy High Commander, I hereby propose a large-scale assault on the Lucian capital of Insomnia. Preparation are to begin next month. Our future is far too precious to entrust to our enmy. We must retrieve the Crystal and the Ring of legend, only then shall our worl know true peace.

Deputy High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret

755-XI-2nd

Another one of the plasmodium samples started leaking today. How does this keep happening!? Clearly someone isn't doing their job. The worst part is that some of the researchers seem to have been infected. I need to get out of here ASAP.

755-XII-3rd

There's a rumour going around the lab that those "leaks" from before weren't accidents at all. My buddy says he thinks the chief is actually trying to expose us all to the virus. I don't want to believe it, but...

756-I-14th

The whole compound is crawling with daemons these days... I shiver every time I turn the corner. What the hell am I doing here? When can I go home?

756-II-12th

We are all... Together, we... Insomnia. As the ultimate... we... Thank you... Farewell...

Research log: 756-IV-8th

Research log: Year 756, Day 98. Finally my daemon-infused magitek armor is complete. I have christened my creation “Diamond Weapon”. It has exhibited an extremely unstable psyche, immediately unleashing unmitigated horrors upon activation. It’s destructive capabilities, however, are indeed beyond compare. Not even the “impenetrable” Insomnia could withstand its onslaught. Why, the Crown City would fall in a mere matter of minutes. The Stone of Legend will soon be mine. To think that, in less than a month’s time, the Crystal will be mine to play with as I please!

M.E. 756-IV-8th

Diamond Weapon Report

ATTN: His Imperial Majesty Iedolas Aldercapt – It is with great pride I inform Your Radiance that development has finished on the new deamon armor. Codename: Diamond Weapon. I encourage Your Radiance to visit the First Production Facility at Your Radiance’s earliest convenience. I am most confident the final product will prove to Your Radiance’s Liking.

Verstael Besithia

Chief of Magitek Research

M.E. 756-V-21st

Report on Unit SAS-0822

After several years of experimentation, we have finally succeeded in fusing mammal and magitek. Although we are still conducting various tests on Codename: Barbarus, the unit should be functional enough to fend off would-be intruders until development finishes on Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis.

Research Log: 756-VII-9th

Research Log: Year 756, Day 190. At last, my life’s work is complete. Not only I have found a way to preserve the ego, I’ve also managed to sustain that consciousness through the sublimation process and transfer it to my magitek troopers. The prototype has proven slightly less powerful than the Diamond Weapon, but this presents no real problem. After all, one’s consciousness can be transmuted again and again and again. All that remain is to fully surrender myself to my research and become my own final test subject. I will conclude my mortal life by offering a word of thanks. Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, your assistance has provided invaluable. You have my eternal gratitude. It is through your aid that I completed my work and begun my ascension to an existence beyond divinity.

thanks @ace-of-babes-98 for the ones that i missed

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