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#is the “criminal minds cast” part necessary
brummiereader · 4 months
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PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST
Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Two/ Dark!Tommy)
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Summary: It's September 1923 and your first day working at Shelby Company Limited Offices. Hired by Ada Shelby after the unforseen departure of her brothers previous personal secretary you are yet to meet your new boss, the notorious gangster of Birmingham, Thomas Shelby. But with new beginnings comes new threats, one your colleagues warn you stalks the streets of Small Heath, his recently hushed prescenece still strong enough to keep the women of the towns fearful guard up. And fearful they should be, for he has set his sights on someone new.
Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, stalking, obsessive behaviour, supernatural themes, dark romance, manipulation of time, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)
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September 1923...
" Thank you for this opportunity Mr Shelby. Fuck, right...Thank you for giving me this position in your...your..." You huffed losing your words as you walked down the cobbled streets in the direction of Shelby Company Limited Offices reciting under your breath what exactly it was you was going to say to the man that had given you a position as a secretary in his offices, the same man you had yet to meet. You couldn't believe your luck when a Miss Ada Shelby entered your granddad's blacksmith a few weeks back in search of his expertise to fix a unusually dented cast iron kettle that she had savaged at an auction, in tow offering you a new leap at life and an opportunity to pave your own way in the world of work. Not only was Miss Ada delightfully charming she was as equally curiously minded as yourself, occupying you with a plethora of questions as to how it was you ended up in Small Heath, or as she lovingly referred to it, a muddied dump of misfits and degenerates. After three cups of tea and a slice of soggy Victoria sponge cake you had made the previous day with more eggs than essentially necessary you both sat in the corner of your grandfather's forge as you nattered the time away, delving into each others lives as she waited for the indenting of her newly cherished kettle. Your own life seemed a far cry to Ada's exciting escapades. Yours being one in search of escape from the unhappy memories of the past and a new meaning to life after the death of most of your family during the war. You knew of the Shelby's through your granddad of course, albeit through the briefest of rundowns of information anyone could have possibly received having lived the majority of their life away from the smoke and factories of Birmingham. The sweetest if not the greatest grandparent life could have bestowed upon you, always concerned for your wellbeing. But a notorious man of very few words. And when he did speak it was in unintelligible riddles, not exactly the most ideal informant in a town as reputable as Small Heath. His exact words in regard to the Shelby's..."They've avoided more time in his majesty's pleasure as far as anyone north of John o' groat's" The gist of it, they're possibly the most hardened criminals in the country well overdue a lengthy stay in the local prison. But they were not just any criminals, they had amassed a wealth and power well beyond what anyone would consider possible. A true embodiment of rags to riches, all at the hands of one mastermind conspirator, Thomas Shelby Ada's brother. The very same brother that happened to be in need of a new secretary for his growing empire. " Thank you for this position as secretary in your Offices Mr Shelby" you said as you looked in the reflection of the buildings window as you straightened your dress out when you felt two hands suddenly rest on your shoulders, shocking you out of the silent ramblings that had taken up space in your overcrowded thoughts.
" No need to rehearse a speech, you've already got the job" Ada said as she spun you around to face her, a friendly smile welcoming you along with a playful wink.
" Shit Ada, you scared me" you replied holding your hand to your chest as you stood before the elegantly dressed Shelby sister.
" Stop fretting would you. Like I said, the jobs all yours, all you have to do now is turn up" she added as she pushed your locks over your shoulder, a smile creasing the corner of her mouth as she took in the endearing effort you had made to look sophisticated yet professional as you entered what was for all intents and purposes a man's world. As Ada once said..." You need a pair of balls and tough skin to work in this field, that and turn blind eye on a daily if now hourly basis. So it's a good thing we have a pair of them just as much as men do, if not a bigger pair"
" I'm not fretting, I just...I don't want to mess this opportunity up, and god knows I've perfected the art of that" you replied turning back to your reflection in the glass window as you pinched your cheeks in attempts to give them a rosier glow and not the washed out colour of little sleep they were currently exhibiting.
" Enough of that" she said swatting your hands away. " Anymore pruning and my brothers well, they'll...well you dont want to know" she trailed off not wanting her new friend getting caught up in their shenanigans. She knew you was serious about the job, and she was intent on you keeping your focus solely on that before one of her three older brothers took it upon themselves to show you the "Good life". " Ready?" she nodded her head to the door as you turned to look at your reflection one last time when something or rather someone caught your eye. Squinting further into the glass your eyes focused in on a woman behind you on the opposite side of the street silently watching you as a man dressed in black stood behind her, his hand cupping her shoulder as he whispered into her ear, both faces blurred by the weathered glass but familiar, eerily familiar. " Y/N?" Ada questioned as you turned around to see that the couple had all but vanished.
" I..I swear I could have just..." you stopped as you turned back to look in the glass, void of anyone else but your own reflection, suddenly feeling like you had been seeing things. Had you been seeing things? "...never mind" you relented as you recomposed yourself, turning your back on whatever tricks your exhausted mind was attempting to deceive you with.
" Come on nervous Nelly" she said with a smile as she opened the door to the offices. "Tommy was quite impressed with your lengthy experience of accounts and single handedly turning your granddad's chaotic paperwork and list of jobs into something more manageable in all but a few weeks" she remarked as you walked ahead of her down the dimly lit corridor, the clicking of your heels on the brick floor resonating through the cramped passage before you suddenly came to a halt at the door.
" Wait, Ada. Tommy, I refer to him as Mr Shelby, right?" You clarified worried you'd become the bumbling newcomer miss naming people before what would be considered socially acceptable.
" Yes, and by god it stays that way" she replied as she pushed the door open and ushered you forward.
"Stays that way? What do you mea..." You replied when Ada scooted behind you, holding you by the arms as she presented you to the three people now staring back at you.
" Alright ladies, this is Y/N. Tommy, Mr Shelby's new secretary" she announced to the room gently nudging you forward into a lion's den of three pairs of beady eyes watching your every move. " Betsy and Ethel" Ada introduced you as you slowly took a step forward feeling like the new kid in school that had been dragged up to the blackboard to recite their whole life in front of a sea of students gawking at you like you were the latest exposition at the circus. " And this is Polly" Ada finished as she perched herself on the edge of her Aunt's desk.
" So you're the new girl " Polly stated looking up from the paperwork in her hand as her eyes bored into you, curiosity further picking her interest as to what it was that brought you to Small Heath, not that she didn't already know everything about you.
" Well I'm glad we found someone new. Lizzie the last girl just upped and left the selfish mare" Ethel huffed as Polly stood up and showed you to your desk, her insistent stare softening into one of pity at your fumbling nervousness and shaky hands. Nobody wants to be the new girl.
" Alright ladies let's not bore her with past office politics" Ada said as she flicked through the file on Polly's desk, her eyes rolling at the mountain of work that had to be done since Lizzie's impromptu departure.
" Just saying, she could have given us the courtesy of letting us know in a timely manner she was leaving before dumping the shit tonne of bloody work on us she hadn't bothered to effing finish"
" My Ethel, for a moment there I thought you'd turned a page and stopped using every profanity known to man each time you opened your mouth to speak" Polly said arching her brow with a small smirk of amusement on the corner of her lips when the door opened at what you could only assume was your boss came storming through with two men following behind, the youngest eyeing you up with a tooth pick in his mouth that looked dangerously close to making it's way down his throat.
" Ethel" the youngest winked in her direction, a cheeky grin dimpling his face as you abruptly bolted up from your seat expecting to go through the formalities of greeting your new boss.
" Sit down love. He's not the king of England, as much as he'd like to think he is" Polly said gently pushing on your shoulder as your slumped back down into your seat, your face filling with embarrassment at your blundering display of readiness.
" New secretary ay?" Arthur said quietly to his brother as he strode beside him, one hand causally sitting in his trouser pocket jostling his loose change around as the other smoothed down the edges of his moustache.
" Good luck getting any work done with that distraction" John commented under his breath their way as he walked ahead, his brothers words enough to lure Tommy's attention and finally look in your direction. Don't fuck this up Y/N, don't fuck this up... you mentally mumbled to yourself as his stare lingered on you for an uncustomary amount of time before a hushed comment to his brothers left his lips and a burst of sniggers and laughter ensued from within the office as he closed the door. Fuck sake, did you have something on your face? Did you look like a child trying to play with the big boys? It was when you stood for attention like a complete idiot wasn't it? Shit.
" Don't mind twiddle dee, twiddle dum and god knows whatever John is" the matriarch to family quickly put your mind to rest as she nodded her head to Tommy's office. A pretty face had captured their attention and they were no doubt doing what men do best, being dicks, or rather thinking with their dicks... Polly thought to herself as she mentally took note to remind her three nephews to refrain themselves from looking like complete immature prats the next time they were in the presence of the fairer sex.
It had been an hour since the start of the working day and Polly had busied you with the back log of work that needed to be done. An easy task of copying and correcting copious amounts of files onto the typewriter. A tiresome but welcome distraction from the impending meeting you was yet to have with your new boss. That was until a loud voice sounded through the building capturing your otherwise distracted attention.
"Ada, bring the new girl in" Tommy called out from behind his desk.
" Does he have to shout like that?" She commented with an irritated huff as she turned back to her Aunt. " He does possess the ability to get off his royal ass once in a while before summoning us" she grumbled ignoring her brother as she turned her attention back to signing the document in front of her.
" Ada!"
" Jesus bloody Christ!" she huffed once again as she stood up, throwing her pen on her desk as she turned back to face you with a sympathetic smile at the one of many joyous personality traits of her brother you had just witnessed and undoubtedly would encounter again. Straightening the creases out of your dress you stood up in a hurry as your two giggling colleagues, Ethel and Betsy eyes followed your flustered state. " Hey" Ada said holding you by your elbow before you both entered the office. " If I was to tell you that when he was a boy he'd make Arthur religiously check for ghosts in his wardrobe every night before going to sleep would that make you less nervous?" She asked with a mischievous smile on the corner of her lips as your own face that had been taut with anxiety finally relaxed after hearing that despite his intimidating presence your new boss was human after all.
" Miss Y/L/N" Tommy greeted you as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ash tray on his sprawling wooden desk. " It is Miss, no?" He clarified as you nodded your head in response, the rolling of Ada's eyes not going unmissed by her brother as he strode towards you.
" It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Shelby"
" Tommy, you can call me Tommy. First name basis seems appropriate since we'll be working so closely together. Wouldn't you agree Y/N?" He said with a soft smile that caught the corner of his lips as Ada stood behind you shaking her head in disapproval at her brother's inability to keep things professional with anyone he had suddenly taken a liking to." Thank you Ada, you can leave"
" Not even one full bloody day" she mumbled under her breath crossing her arms as she sauntered out the room, hoping to high heavens that you had your wits about you.
" Please, take a seat " Tommy gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he hitched his trousers up and sat down, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he watched you pull nervously at the ends of your sleeved dress. It may have only been a mere two minutes, but the silence was deafening one he seemed comfortable with whereas you could barely stand it. Was he waiting for you to speak?... you thought to yourself as you brain scrambled to come up with something to say. " I was..."
"I want to thank you for..." you replied wide-eyed realising you had cut him off, your cheeks going an embarrassing shade of your less than favourite root vegetable, beetroot. " I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt"
" Go on, you was saying " he replied gesturing with his hand as he lent back into his chair, watching as you rolled your thumb along the inside collar of your dress, easing the pressure of its tightness from your heated skin and the sweat that had gathered there from the nervousness enveloping you.
" I want to thank you for this opportunity, Mr Shelby...Tommy. I'm a hard worker and I will do my up most to fulfill your every expectation of what a secretary should be" you said as you looked up from your fidgeting hands.
" I don't doubt you will" he replied as another small silence descended on the room and you watched as he ran the side of his forefinger across his bottom lip back and forth, his eyes remaining locked on you as your own darted to anything but him. God, was he always this intense? This was a test, wasn't it? He was trying to see if you'd crack under pressure, under the pressure this job would undoubtedly demand, right? "I was quite impressed with your resume" he suddenly remarked shocking you out of the endless questions ticking in your brain as he picked up your file and came to sit on the edge of the desk next to you, his knee pressed against your outer thigh as he flicked though the folder. " Five years working as an accountant and assistant for Lembroch and Co in North London" he said closing the folder, dropping it In front of you on the mahogany wood. " Now that is some endurance. Anyone who has spent working half a decade for that grumpy old bastard has my sympathy" he smiled to you as you welcomed the ease in tension with a small laugh and smile of you own. " But enough of that, tell me about yourself Y/N' he asked as he reached into his pocket pulling out a silver case of cigarettes and offering you one.
" I'm afraid there's not much to say" you smiled as your hand reached to pull out a neatly coiled cylinder of tobacco from within the case, the tips of your fingers briefly grazing against his as you made your choice.
" I dunno about that" he replied as he leaned down igniting the lighter, watching as the orange glow cast a shadow on your plump lips as you cupped the flame. " Try me" he said as he flicked the lid of the lighter down in one single snap, watching as you inhaled the fumes and your eyes relaxed with satisfaction at the welcome relief.
" Well..." You said as you rubbed you thumb over the filter, clearing your throat as your eyes darted between him and the wall behind him, completely unprepared for his question. Did he not trust you? Surely he already knew everything about you considering his line of work and the importance of hiring workers he could rely on? And he did, all but the smaller things only you yourself could tell him, things he now wanted to know since having met you, seen you. "I've lived most of my life in London, down by..." You continued telling your life story up until the present day as Tommy impatiently smoked his way down to the end of his cigarette already knowing everything you had told him, everything but what he really wanted to know. Only one small matter he needed to clear up...for his own peace of mind of course.
" And what do you do in your spare time, you have friends here, a boyfriend?" he questioned his eyes darting down to your lips parting in surprise at the casual tone in question.
" Oh erm no, I've haven't been in Birmingham long enough" you replied taking one last drag of the cigarette between your fingers before resting it on the edge of the ash tray in front of you.
" Don't have a sweetheart waiting for you back in London then?"
" No. I don't need any distractions" you replied confidently, convinced he was trying to gauge how serious you was about the job in hand.
" Distractions eh? Is that what you ladies are calling us these days. I beg to differ, I'd be more inclined to say it's the other way around" he chuckled raising his brows as he watched the corners of your lips crinkle into a smile. "Well, you'll soon make friends here. My sisters already pretty fond of you, and I'm sure we'll all quickly follow in her sentiments" he said standing from the desk as you followed.
" I won't let you down Tommy" you said opening the door as he nodded in acknowledgement, watching the bottom of your dress sway back and forth with each step you took as you walked away.
" Now that I can believe" he quietly commented under his breath as he shut the door and walked over to his desk, his head tilting mischievously at your cigarette still burning in the glass tray. Resting it between his fingers Tommy sat down in his chair, slouching back as he rubbed his thumb over the stain your lipstick had left from your full lips. Raising it to his mouth Tommy took a long drag as he closed his eyes, his head resting on the back of his leather upholstered chair as he welcomed his own satisfaction. Satisfaction from what, or rather in finding what?
" Jesus fuck, it's getting cold and dark again" Ethel said as she wrapped her coat around her body as you and Betsy huddled next to her hopping from one foot to the other as you passed the cigarette around between the three of you, hoping it would warm you even if it was for the briefest of seconds as you stood outside the offices at the end of the day.
" Ethel Davis! Polly's right, you'd give any sailor a run for his money with your potty mouth" she reprimanded as a small giggle escaped your lips at their constant playful ribbing of eachother" And you're no better" she said turning to face you as Ethel grinned with amusement." You need a trip to confession following the string of profanities that left your mouth after your encounter with that typewriter" she laughed as she looked down at your hands and the black ink dotted all over them.
" I hate those bloody things" you huffed at the unfortunate event or fortunate to those in the office that burst into a fit of laughter at your flustered state as you wrangled with the ink that needed changing in your typewriter earlier that day.
" Ladies" Tommy said fixing his peak cap on as he walked out the door passing the three of you huddled together from the change in season. "Y/N" he added sending you a small smile that you eagerly mirrored before quickly catching your self and reigning in your overly friendly pleasantries before your own ribbing from your two colleagues began.
" Tommy already is it?" Ethel giggled as you turned around to face them.
" Don't you call him Tommy?" You asked scrunching your brow as you passed the cigarette to her.
" Not after one bloody day!" Ethel laughed taking a drag as she shuffled on her feet.
" Even now after two years of working for him he still corrects me" Betsy added as she rolled her eyes at the already fully smoked cigarette handed to her. " Ethel! I only had two puffs"
" Owh I'm sorry, I'm just so buggering cold!" she apologised dramatically as she put her arm around her friend. " Think he might already have a soft spot for you babe, you poor thing" she grinned as she hugged further into her friends fur coat, both of them now smiling at you like two annoying Cheshire cats.
" He's just being nice is all" you shrugged pushing a stone into the muddied ground with the tip of your shoe.
" If you do cosy up to him can you persuade him to spare us poor workers some extra time off?" Ethel teased as you shook your head, a friendly laugh of disbelief on your part as you turned to leave for home.
" Y/ n wait. Don't..don't you want us to walk with you?" Betsy said grabbing your arm as she suddenly scanned the area and anybody nearby.
" I'll be ok, I'll see you two tomorrow" you replied sending her smile when her grip on your arm tightened, restricting you from leaving without her.
" Y/N! It's not safe" Betsy insisted as you watched a sudden wave of panic wash over her face.
" It's alright Betsy, there's been no talk of it for a while now" Ethel gently reassured her friend as she removed her hand from you.
" Talk of what?" You questioned as you watched Ethel hush Betsy's worries and the tears now streaking her frightened face.
" Fuck, you don't know do you? You won't catch a single woman in Small Heath walking by herself when it's dark out" Ethel replied, realising you had no knowledge of the dealings the women of Small Heath had endured for the past six months.
" But why?"
" There's been a man following..."
" Say it right Betsy. Stalking. He's been fucking stalking" Ethel corrected her as your eyes widened at the unexpected information.
" Nothings happened yet so don't go and worry yourself on it too much" Betsy dispelled your fears in response to your sudden reaction.
" Other than that girl that ended up in the cut a few months back" Ethel commented under her breath as Betsy's head snapped to her.
" She fell Ethel. Stop telling tales!" Betsy said in attempts to reassure everyone only in the end realising she was trying to ease her own fears.
" Either way, he won't be getting me" Ethel said in a hushed voice as she lifted up her skirt pulling a small knife from within her boot.
" Please, let us walk with you" Betsy pleaded one last time as she reached for your hand.
" My place is only around the corner and my granddad waits by the window until I'm safely inside. I'll be ok, I promise" you assured her, not fully convinced her concerns were enough to even fret over. You was from London, encountering the unwanted happened on a weekly If not daily occurrence. You was street wise, or at least you thought you was.
" Ok...but you scream bloody murder if anyone even dares approach you, alright? There's enough police surveying this dump to hear you and come running" she said giving you a quick hug before she huddled up to Ethel from the cold again as they both watched you walk into the night.
Was this the plight of the women of Small Heath? Living in fear at the simple act of walking home. They were of strong stock, endured and lived through so many hardships with a fearless attitude. But this, this scared them.
Ok so your place wasn't just around the corner. But it was pretty close. You just didn't want them to worry...you thought to yourself as you headed for one of the bridges that hovered over the street , an uneasy feeling suddenly settling in your stomach as you stopped yourself from stepping another foot forward whilst you eyed up the overpass. You was thinking too much about it, Ethel and Betsy's worries had found their way into the very corner of your brain you had kept under lock and key since the war. You had passed under the same bridge countless times before, even later at night than it currently was...you reasoned with yourself as you started walking toward the bricked archway, your eyes solely fixed on the opposite side were the welcome dim hue of a street light ushered you forward into safety. Just a few more feet you reassured yourself as you clutched your hand bag into your side when you came to a halt and your eyes frantically widened at the dark shadow being cast on the wall inside the bridge. " I'll...I'll scream" you said aloud rather than the action itself Betsy had encouraged you to do into the night, silent to the empty street but you and whoever was lurking behind the wall. " Please, I don't want no trouble" you sobbed quietly as your bottom lip wobbled in response to the sudden surge of fear overtaking your body, feeling like at any moment your legs would buckle and give out when the large shadow grew two fold. How could you have been so brazen to think you could handle the treacherous darkness of Small Heath alone?...you cried to yourself as you took a step back when the heal of your shoe kicked a stone into the gutter beside you, the shadow now overtaking the entire wall in response as you lost your balance and fell backwards. "Fuck!" You breathed heavily, your heart rapidly pounding in your chest as you looked up at the starry sky shaking your head not only in relief but amusement. " You bloody scared me, you know that?" you said catching your breath as you stood up wiping the grit from your palms, picking out the minute stones that had managed to wedge their way into your skin as you eyed up the black cat in your path. " Not the luckiest thing to come across are you?" you said as you knelt down to stroke his head as he brushed up against your leg " But Luckier than whatever my brain was conjuring up" you said with a small smile as you stood up heading for home, mentally remembering to not let yourself be fooled again by silly gossip that for all you knew could be the result of the very black cat you had just encountered.
" Good evening Mr Shelby" a older man said tipping his hat in Tommy's direction as the black coated gangster blew a cloud of smoke into the crisp air, briefly acknowledging the gentleman's presence before returning his gaze back to what had been his sole focus for the past half hour. Stood across the street in the shadow of the brick wall he watched the golden glow from the upstairs window dance in front of his view as the woman he had been watching walked back and forth within her bedroom, finally coming to a stop in front of the small mirror sitting on the edge of the windowsill. Tommy watched intently as she gracefully collected her hair to one side into one large lock, brushing her fingers through the ends as she leaned in closer to her reflection. She was not like the others, he mused as he watched the sleeve from her nightgown fall from the curve of her shoulder, his lips parting at the enticing movement that only exposed more of her delicate skin that was beckoning him to her. Why would she leave her curtains open if she didn't want him to see he smirked as he stepped further into the darkness shielding his statue as a group of young men passing a bottle of whisky around walked by, their drunken boisterousness capturing both his and her attention and all but ruining the moment he has lost himself in. Throwing his cigarette to the ground Tommy turned on the heel of his boot into the dark of the alley way as his coat glided around the brick wall back into the cover of night.
" Alright up there?" Your granddad called down from the bottom of the stairs at the sudden noise of your mirror that was precariously leaning against your window came crashing down onto the wooden floors, shattering into hundreds of shards at the brisk movement of you closing your curtains.
" Yes, everything... everything's fine. Just being clumsy as usual" you said sitting on the edge of your bed, your hands either side of the plump mattress steadying yourself as a surge of panic rapidly scrambled up your throat at not only the seven years of bad luck you had just brought upon yourself but what you was sure you just saw. It was only for the briefest of seconds but you saw him, his face masked by the darkness of the night but the glint of his signet ring captured by the moonlight like the spark of a flame as he turned the corner making his presence known. He'd been watching you. An innocent bystander, or at worst just a peeping Tom...you quickly reassured yourself turning your bed stand light off as hurried to be under the comfort of your warm bed, your only true comfort for the night. Just a peeping Tom. Oh how those very words would come back to haunt you. An unchangeable string of a events had started, threatening not only your life but your very soul.
NEXT PART
Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem49-blog @pacifymebby @indierockgirrl @globetrotter28
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andmineisyellow · 1 year
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The biggest issue with CME is how little it’s been focusing on the personal relationships and dynamics between the BAU members. There’s been a lot of talk about how there hasn’t been much attention given to certain ships, but realistically we haven’t gotten many meaningful moments between any of the BAU members as of late. 
The first two episodes- for the most part- did a good job of balancing the main plot with the side plots, while also reestablishing the group dynamics. The conflict between Rossi and the rest of the team leads to some really great moments between him and Garcia as well as him and Prentiss. Penelope and Luke spend a solid portion of Episode 1 just bantering back and forth, which was such a delight to watch. We get to see Tara and Emily bond. Even in scenes that would typically be filled with exposition, we get some personal connection, like when Luke and JJ are talking about bringing back Garcia. It’s clear those first two episodes understand why people watch this show. Yes, it’s a crime show but at the end of the day, it’s about these 6 to 8 people that sit at that roundtable. At least that’s why I watch this show. I watch it because I love seeing them work together, protect each other, and learn from one another.
Episode 3 drops almost all of the focus on the team and instead chooses to focus on the unsub. I understand that a show called Criminal Minds needs to have some of its focus on “the Criminal”, but that episode really shifts the rest of the season off of its axis. I also understand that supporting characters are necessary to drive conflict and provide character development to the main cast, but at this point, those relationships have started to outweigh what I care about most. And while we’re at it, Will, Tyler, and Bailey should not have more character development than Luke who is supposed to be a vital member of the BAU.
I guess what I’m saying is... I miss the team. I miss watching them come to work at the beginning of each day and talk about their lives. I miss moments like Luke bringing Emily takeout because she has to work late. I miss Rossi calling Garcia in the middle of a case just to see if she’s okay. I miss the girls going out and getting drunk. I miss their group gatherings.  I miss those quiet moments when they just get to be people who freakin’ love each other. We’ve gotten tastes of it in some of these more recent episodes, but it’s just... not enough. I appreciate that Evolution wants to dive deeper into some of these characters’ personal lives, but they’ve become so separate from each other that they’ve forgotten the heart of the show. It’s not one individual person or story. It’s them as a family.
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cas-backwards-tie · 6 months
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Chapter One: Assembly Required
Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader
The Missing Title
Summary: Enlisted to help a friend with a crisis you once specialized in, you find yourself in a foreign country getting ready for a mission in which the details you're unaware of. Reunited with a good friend, you follow his unhinged partner as you all prepare to stop more harm from being released onto the world.
Words: 5k
Warnings: Cursing, Illegal Activities, Terrorists, Politics, Bombs, Assassinations, Criminals, Secrets,
A/N: So I watched the series this summer, and while I hadn't anticipated to get hooked onto anything, a surprise appearance from Zemo had me falling in love with his character and now I'm writing this series and it'll just evolve forward into a story I've been daydreaming up these past few months. Also thank you to @imamotherfuckingstar-lord for hyping me up and encouraging me to step out of my comfort zone with the future topics of this story.
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“Whatever, we just need to get inside,” Bucky dismisses Sam’s introduction to you. Truly, it’s a reintroduction, since you’d met him once or twice before, even if it was really only in passing.
From all the stories you’ve heard, you’re sure his attention was elsewhere, so you aren’t too dissuade by his stiff attitude. Sam offers you an annoyed glance in hopes that you, too, are either amused or off-put by the ex-assassin’s dour aura. With an alacrity you'd rarely seen in the past few years, his partner opens the auto shop's door and heads inside.
"What're you talking about, you wanna break Zemo outta jail?" Sam asks the man, clearly more perturbed by the incurring situation you'd stumbled into upon your good friend, Torres’, request. "Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?" Following both the men with the little light their flashlights emit, you listen, unsure what exactly the job Joaquin sent you to help out on entails.
"We have no leads, no moves, nothing-" Bucky answers, but Sam cuts him off.
"-Except the one I just called in, yeah. What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars," Sam argues. Rounding the shelves of oil, dirtied gloves, tools, and mechanical parts, you try and watch your step. Albeit the darkness makes it harder than necessary to find your way without stumbling. Burner phone dug out of your pocket, you shine its faint light around your surroundings.
"And we also have eight super soldiers that are loose," Bucky reasons, his light casting downward as Sam shines it on him stepping over a rig. Despite not knowing James well, you know most people call him 'Bucky', and you know it's probably best not to interfere with the two men considering you're aware of Sam's indulgence when it comes to arguing. Hell, him and Joaquin could bicker for the rest of time. The thought elicits an amused eye roll on your behalf.
"Look, Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours, no offense," Sam rebuttals, following suit as he steps over the rig. Suddenly his light is held still and there's a loud click before overhead lights come on all around you guys, lighting up what you can now see is a garage. Granted, the outside did have a sign indicating it was an auto-shop, you never know if it’s just a cover.
"Offense," Bucky comments, laying his flashlight aside on top one of the movable shelving carts. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code." Lips parting in thought, you're about to speak up when Sam beats you to it.
"Yeah, and I've been on the wrong side of that code, Buck, and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T'chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that?" Eyeing his partner with a ludicrous look in his eyes, he quickly finishes his train of thought. "You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It's a rhetorical question- they didn't. I know why this matters to you, but come on, it's pushing you off the deep end."
Despite your abhorrence for bickering, there was admittedly not much you could contribute to the conversation. Though the name ‘Zemo’ sounds familiar, you can’t pinpoint its origin. Tucking your burner phone into your back pocket, you place your hands on your hips in waiting. A big breath puffs out your cheeks as you pray they come to some sort of conclusion sooner than later.
"Sam, we don't know how they're gettin' the serum. We don't even know how many of them there are. Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?" Though the topic is concerning, Bucky’s phrasing and search of consent elicit an amused smile.
"What did you do?" Sam asks accusingly, like the man’s already committed some sort of crime.
"I didn't do anything. The weakest point in a system isn't the software, or the hardware, it's the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it's nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond-“ Bucky starts to explain.
“-So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?" Sam questions.
"-Who knows? There could be many reasons. But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated with all those bodies flying around left and right, it wouldn't be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage." With his thorough knowledge of the protocols, it’s clear Bucky has a plan.
"I don't like how casual you're bein' about this. This is unnatural. Are you... and- where are we, man?!" Sam comes back to reality, demanding an answer as hypotheticals really won’t do much for whatever super soldier problem is going on. In the distance the metallic sound of a hinge squeaking and a click of a lock signals a door’s been opened.
Eyes flitting to its source, the three of you watch in anticipation as a blurry figure approaches, its shadow cast upon the hanging plastic curtains of the auto shop. Lifting a section of said curtain, a police officer or guard of some sort enters. Considering the lack of people around, you assume he’s here to arrest you all for trespassing. Vision shifting to the men in hopes they have a better plan than you, the two of them surprisingly don’t move.
“WHOA, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa- what’re you doin’ here?!” Sam yells, clearly upset by the man’s presence.
“No, listen. Look, I didn't wanna tell you cause I knew you wouldn't let this happen. Okay?" Bucky says calmly, a confusing juxtaposition for you, to say the least.
"What did you do?!" Sam turns his attention to Bucky.
“Nothing, according to him,” you quip. Gears turning within your mind, you’re starting to wonder if this is that ‘Zemo’ character they were just talking about. The former Winter Soldier aims a glare at you momentarily before refocusing on Sam.
“We need him,” Bucky asserts.
"You're going back to prison!" Sam declares, focus and pointer finger now targeting the dressed up guard.
"If I may,” the man speaks, lifting a finger to weigh in the conversation.
"No!" Both Sam and Bucky simultaneously yell, their similarity amusing if it weren’t a serious situation. If this is that ‘Zemo’ guy they were talking about who’s in prison… then clearly they’re in trouble.
"Apologies,” the mystery man’s accented voice elicits your attention which shifts over to him. Eyeing him up and down, you feel like he looks familiar in a strange way, but your memory is failing you in this moment. As his eyes turn in your direction, yours dart back to the two men closest to you.
"When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again,” Bucky’s words elicit slight paranoia and anger within you. Torres didn’t mention the help you’d be giving was illegal. While you’d technically broken the law before, it’s not something you were ever hoping to do again. If something goes wrong… you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to get out of this, and going to jail is not an option. Hopefully Torres could work something out if worse comes to worst.
"I really think I'm invaluable,” mystery man speaks up again. While you’re distracted by the notion of mentally planning next steps, the comment elicits a mildly amused smirk from you.
"Shut up,” Sam commands the guard-dressed man. He spares a glance in your direction, tacitly seeking affirmation, which he’s granted. “Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission.” Sam directs the latter of his sentence toward the accented man, to which he subtly shrugs.
"Fair,” he comments, holding the black cap between his hands in front of him. It reads ‘JUSTIZ’ in white big bold capital letters across the front.
"Okay, Zemo. Where do we start?" Sam inquires, handing the reins--temporarily, knowing Sam--over to the man in uniform.
“Woah, woah! He’s the guy? The one you were talking about- the UN Bomber?!” You exclaim, hands thrown out in front of you as you gauge the two familiar men.
Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. “Why do you think we made such a big deal out of it?”
“The one and only,” Zemo—as you now know—responds all too calmly for your preference. Though what were you expecting, really? The man who supposedly (if you remember correctly) broke up the Avengers, according to the news.
“Correction: you made a big deal,” Bucky retorts, a disgruntled look sent in Sam’s direction.
“Nevertheless, first I need to grab a few items,” Zemo states, turning and walking back behind the plastic curtain in the direction he’d come from. Though the two man-children behind you begin to bicker again, you follow the criminal behind the curtain. This attracts their attention as they follow, intent on watching Zemo and making sure he doesn’t escape.
Opposite where he’d come in there’s another door. Pushing it open, you walk through; a few feet ahead Zemo confidently walks toward a black sedan-style car that looks like something out of an old Hollywood movie. “Woah,” you whisper, taking in all the little details of what’s clearly more a showroom than a garage.
“So our first move is grand theft auto?" Sam asks sarcastically, you assume based off his tone. Approaching a yellow-colored convertible car of the same antique classiness you slowly reach out and run your hand along the smooth metal, taking in the intricate detaling.
"These are mine. Collected by family over the generations,” Zemo informs, opening the trunk of the black car nearest the door you all had entered through. Though you can see him stashing equipment into a duffel bag in your peripheral vision, you follow Bucky and Sam suit as you marvel over the opulent vintage automobiles.
"I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum-" Zemo explains. Information cataloging in your mind, your heartrate accelerates slightly as your vision shifts between the men in hopes of gauging their mentality. As the known terrorist approaches the vehicle you'd just been examining, you feel yourself stiffen slightly. Surely if he'd wanted me dead he'd have killed me already, right? As he opens the right-side back door and rummages inside, it seems as though everyone's attention has returned to the one speaking. "-Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people like the Avengers." Slow and deliberate with his word choice, you can tell that there may not be any secrets left unsaid. As the man's intense brown eyes shift over toward you, and then Bucky, your jaw clenches, and you swallow.
Uprighting himself, he continues. "I ended the Winter soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." With this revelation, relief washes over you and your tension ebbs again. At least it seems, for now, that you're not on his list. Crossing your arms over your chest, you refocus on the information Zemo's relaying. "To do this we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes." While the terrorist walks off toward the other side of the garage, you turn and follow his figure.
"Join the party, we've already started," Sam comments, seemingly trying to piece together whatever plan Zemo is forming. Walking after him, you try to keep up considering the man seems to be taking lead.
"First stop is a woman named Selby--mid-level fence I still have a line on--from there, we climb," Zemo explains. While an eyebrow quirks in confusion at the term 'fence' you don't verbally question it. It's obvious whoever he's talking about is some kind of 'in' and while Joaquin hadn't taught you everything he knows, you can still follow along with enough context to understand what they're talking about.
--------
It'd been easy enough to get to the airport as it wasn't far, only about a twenty-minute ride in a taxi. While the men attempted to ascertain a location from Zemo, the criminal had been reluctant to indulge them, simply profiting a 'you'll know soon enough.' to keep them satisfied.
"So how was the flight here?" Sam inquires, finally turning his attention to you as the past half hour has been hectic. Sitting between Sam and Zemo, you try not to let the awkwardness of the whole situation get to you. Up front, an old man drives the taxi while Bucky had insisted on the passenger's seat. The ex-Winter Soldier stares out the windshield, yet something tells you he's eavesdropping, which you wouldn't put past anyone in this vehicle, honestly.
"It was fine. Short enough, though the constant 'we're here, now we're here, no, we're here- was somewhat annoying. Like, I just kept having to reroute and figure out how the hell I was gonna get to you when you guys couldn't keep still for even a second!" This elicits a laugh from your friend on the left, and you can't help but smile for the first time since you'd arrived.
"Kind of hard to do when you've got an agent on your ass," Sam comments, an amused smile on his lips as he leaves room for you to continue.
"Oh God, who is it this time?" Palming your face, you know that this mission is dangerous, yet you haven't been involved in this world for a while, and considering the subject matter, it's rather crucial you help them out.
"The new shield," Sam explains. He gives you a tight-lipped disapproving smile, nodding in understandance of your reaction. Eyebrows raised and lips parting in shock, you shouldn't be surprised, yet you are.
"That's why Joaquin warned me," a hum escapes your lips, "makes sense. Can't say I'm a fan, granted I don't know him."
"You don't need to know him to know he's doing something despicable," Bucky comments from the front, not bothering to even spare a glance in anyone's direction.
"Hey now-" Sam goes to start something, yet you interrupt him with a dissatisfied noise.
"So we know that whoever their supplier is, they've gotta have a lab. A professional one, one big enough to be producing the-" you glance at the driver in the rearview mirror, "stuff, and once we know where we're going I can start looking into a lead. Sound good?"
The distraction seemed to work for now as both your acquaintances respond in some form. Bucky nods up front, the two of you momentarily making eye contact in the side mirror.
"Yeah," Sam answers, arms crossing over his chest as he sits back in the seat. Luckily, the airport is already approaching in the distance.
Upon arrival all the doors are thrown open and the men evacuate the vehicle. Zemo lingers at the door as he holds it open. Unaware of the implication, you instinctively slide out on your left, following your old friend, Sam. "How much do we owe him?" You ask. As Bucky begins speaking with the driver and Sam dismisses you with a wave of his hand, you follow Zemo as he walks toward the airport's runway.
The infamous 'Avengers' follow you two suit, the both of them adorned with sunglasses, even if it's not the brightest out today. Readjusting your duffel bag on your shoulder, you aren't entirely sure what Zemo's plan is here.
"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asks incredulously, and it's then that you realize the private jet the group of you are approaching is for you. Steps falling behind, your lips part in shock and surprise. Bucky notices your change in pace and offers a look back in your direction, a quirked brow. Small legs quickening their pace once again to catch up to the tall men, you contain your awe.
"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country," Zemo answers. Another revelation, another piece of information you hadn't known and hadn't anticipated. While the man may be an international terrorist and criminal, you hadn't paid the case too much attention as it was going on considering you were going through your own set of problems within your work field during that time.
"A Baron?" You echo Zemo's answer as you outwardly process this information. Though you're by no means stupid, the title is something you're not the most familiar with.
"Yes, the thirteenth, to be exact," Zemo responds, offering a look back in your direction before returning his attention to the man awaiting your group at the steps of the private jet. The puzzle only grows as Zemo greets the older gentleman in a language you don't understand. With extended arms, the well-dressed gentleman takes the Baron into his arms. Kisses placed on either cheek, you find the custom familiar. Smiles on both the men's faces, you feel taken aback. Mind reeling, you only find your curiosity toward this criminal growing. "Please," Zemo encourages you all to follow him up the steps.
Sam mumbles something to the older gentleman, and Bucky doesn't acknowledge him as he gestures with his hand for you to go up first. The older gentleman begins to take your bag off your shoulder, but your hand is quick to find its way atop his. "It's okay, I've got it. Thank you."
"Are you sure, Miss?" The elderly man asks in English. With a nod, he releases the strap of your bag and offers a polite smile. Following Sam up the steps, the other two men follow suit.
With help from the taller men to stuff your bag in one of the compartments toward the back of the jet, you find the only open seat is the one across from Zemo. It shouldn't be a surprise, despite Sam and Bucky's marriage-like bickering relationship, they're friends, teammates, and are more fond of one another than you'd guess they are of Zemo.
Before you know it, the jet is taking off and you're in the air for the second time today. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," the Baron extends a hand in your direction, eyes roaming your face as you do the same, taking one another in.
With a quick look toward Sam, you're sure the worry in your eyes shows. Just as the Baron is about to sit back and retract his hand, you envelop his hand with your own, much smaller one. A firm shake between you two, you aren't sure what Zemo will make of your past, but surely he'll find out at some point.
"It's fine," Sam says your name, catching your attention. Even if the reassurance is small, you trust him.
With a divulgence of your full name, you offer Zemo a polite smile. "I take it you and Sam are friends? Former partners, I assume?" he questions, his head tilting slightly as he gauges both your, and Sam's reaction. The latter coughs, suddenly turning his attention out the window. You take that as your cue to answer.
"We've worked together once or twice, but... really yes, we're more friends than anything. One of his coworkers and friends is like a brother to me."
"Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out-" the elderly man from earlier hands Zemo a glass of champagne, "-but I will see if there is some good food in the galley," he informs the Baron. From his attire, you've realized in the short time between boarding and taking off that the man is Zemo's butler.
Accepting the flute, the Baron responds in a language that sounds akin to Russian, you'd guess. The butler laughs, "Oh, it's good to have you back, Sir." Although you're not sure why, a small smile graces your features as you watch the butler turn to leave, though he suddenly turns back. "Can I get you anything, Miss?"
With a look between the butler and Zemo, who simply repeats his earlier indulgence of 'please', you shake your head, only to furrow your brows, rethinking. "Actually, water maybe, if you can, please?"
"Of course, Miss." The butler offers a polite smile and nod before turning to retreat into the galley toward the front.
"A friend of yours?" You question, turning back to face Zemo. Swallowing the sip of champagne he'd taken, he nods.
"Something like that," he responds with a look you can only attribute to playfulness in his eyes. "Can I ask how you've wound up on this exploit alongside us?"
Eyes shifting toward the windows beside your seats, you feel your heart beating a little faster under his gaze Zemo stares intently at you. Unwavering attention, he simply sips his drink as he waits for an answer.
"I, um... used to work for the CIA in their R and D department," you admit, swallowing the thick feeling in your throat as you contemplate explaining the whole truth.
"Which is how you met Torres," Sam comments with a smile, swiveling in his chair as he engages in the conversation.
"Yeah," you respond, meeting Sam's gaze. "though none of us knew what they were doing at first, we were just hired as scientists to test and develop certain biological elements. Our friend--" you turn your attention back to Zemo, hoping to clarify, "--Joaquin, the one who's like a brother to me, he wasn't a scientist, but we came into contact a few times and considering we grew up together we ended up in similar fields: the government."
"And how you met Sam," Zemo assumes, to an exactly correct truth.
"Yes, eventually."
"So you worked in Eugenics?" Zemo dares to ask, blatantly. Though you hadn't been expecting the boldness, you aren't surprised by the question. It was reasonable.
"In some ways... yes, though we thought at the time we were only doing it for the benefit of the people's health. Eradicating diseases, testing possible solutions and seeing how they affected the gene code," you explain. "Things... changed, toward the end, toward the snap..." trailing off, it's clear to everyone that there's a story there.
Not interested in divulging your secrets and past traumas, you don't indulge the following silence. While Sam may know a few select details of what occurred in the R and D department, he doesn't know the whole truth of what happened to your unit. Only what their cover-up was.
"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell," Zemo comments, his thoughts obviously having drifted from the conversation. "Oh, that's right- you do." Turning his attention to Sam, he offers him a grimace along with false cheers, sipping his warm champagne.
"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" Sam pressures, swiftly changing topics as he doesn't wish to go down memory lane, and certainly doesn't want to entertain anymore thought of your previous life, nor the onslaught of questions, ethics, and morals he knows Zemo would cave to if he had you alone.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes with a wave of his hand before flipping another page in the small book he'd produced from his jacket a few moments ago. "I was just fascinated by this," the Baron comments. Eyeing the front of the book, you don't speak German, however, you can recognize it. 'Das Offene Nein In Der Liebe' reads the title, though you don't recognize any words besides 'nein', meaning 'no', and 'der' which you're pretty sure means 'the'. Curious as to why Zemo is suddenly avoiding Sam's questioning under the guise of reading, your eyebrows furrow.
"I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?" Zemo asks. In a sudden movement that makes you yelp and jump, Bucky has his gloved hand wrapped around Zemo's throat. Wide-eyed, you stare in shock and fear as you aren't sure what to do.
"If you touch that again, I'll kill you," the ex-Winter Soldier whispers, eyes filled with anger as he threatens the Baron. The thief quickly nods and Bucky retracts his hand, sitting back in his seat. Letting a big breath slowly filter through your lips, you try not to let the situation unsettle you. After all, from the fleeting moments you've been acquainted, Bucky's always been a wild card.
"I'm sorry," Zemo apologizes again, to your surprise. While you don't know either of the two men well, you hadn't heard them to be quite as... dramatic, as they've been the last hour. Still gathering yourself, you try not to meet anyone's gaze as your eyes travel to the flute Zemo still somehow holds in his grip. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."
Your association with the man brought up, you let your gaze flit over to him, Bucky's face somewhat stoic on the outside, yet the faint view of his eyes from your position lets you see that Zemo's not wrong.
"Don't push it," the man warns, and you can't help but offer Bucky a sympathetic smile. While you don't know too much of his story or personal life, you've heard about how he's been through more than anyone could ever imagine.
"I've seen that book-" Sam speaks up, and you have no doubt he's trying to lessen the tension between the four of you. "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man- he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?" Sam asks, turning the conversation into something more causerie.
"I like Fortie's music, so..." Bucky responds, finally shifting his attention back to Sam as opposed to staring out the window like he'd been doing for most of the conversation since take off.
"You didn't like it?" Sam asks, obviously offended in some way. Clearly his taste seems to differ from Bucky. Steve, though, was a different man. You hadn't known him personally, though you've heard all the stories everyone did growing up and during the time he was alive.
"Fortie's music is great, so- can't say I blame you," you agree, taking Bucky's side. Is it really taking sides if you're just stating your opinion, though? Sam clearly seems to think contrarily as he gives you a glare before turning his pressuring and quizzical look on Bucky.
"I liked it," Bucky states.
"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive," Zemo pipes up, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize, "it captures the African-American experience." While you're personally not familiar with whatever movie, song, book, or album they're talking about, you can't help but find yourself biting back a smile. Sam's concerned look only adds to your amusement as he shifts his attention back and forth between the two men.
"He's outta line, but he's right. It's great! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam argues, finally turning an eye on you in question, "right?"
"I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky agrees.
"I... can't say I know Marvin Gaye," you admit embarassedly as your eyes turn toward your lap for a moment.
"Steve adored Marvin Gaye. Wait- what do you mean you don't know Marvin Gaye?! Everybody knows Marvin Gaye!" Sam argues, starting to go off about how Joaquin had to have shown you and how he'll correct that, that is, until Zemo speaks up again.
"You must've really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him--"
"You met him?" The words leave your mouth before you cringe, palm coming up to your face as you remember. You hadn't been involved, but you'd seen the news. You knew what happened with Zemo. "Sorry! Sorry, I-" No one addresses your misstep, as you're sure they all know, or suspect, that it wasn't really your personal business anyways, even if the entire world knew what happened to some degree or another.
"The danger with people like him--America's super soldiers--is that we put them on pedestals," Zemo continues, reciting his line of thought on the subject as he ignores what you'd said, thankfully, and blows right past it.
"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam warns, obviously defensive over one of his closest friends.
"They become symbols, icons... and then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die, movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?" Dark eyes turning on Bucky, Zemo clearly is bringing up what happened, what? Almost... nine, ten years ago? Silently counting on your fingers in your seat, you conclude: nine years. It's been nine years since Ultron rose and attempted to overthrow the world. Nines years since the Battle of Sokovia happened. Yes, it's all coming back now.
Zemo. Baron Zemo, royalty of Sokovia, right? There'd been something in the papers, something about how his family had tragically died and that was the reason he blew up the United Nations headquarters. That's what he's talking about. Tuning back in to the conversation, you follow his line of thought.
"As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?" Zemo shakes his head, and you can't help but do the same. "That is why we're going to Madripoor."
"What's up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island," Sam interjects, Zemo must have said something about it when you were zoned out.
"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s," Bucky explains.
"It's kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." The Baron turns his attention on Bucky, "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone..." with no outward reaction, he turns to you and then Sam. "You two will have a part to play as well."
~~~~~~~~
forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo
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yonemurishiroku · 8 months
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I was rereading The Blood of Olympus today, and I realized how much I just do not like Piper.
Whenever Piper is in a chapter, to me it feels like she’s always being pushy, selfish, or overprotective. Also, it may just be me with this opinion.
When Piper is in the temple of fear with Annabeth, Piper is the one who takes control of the situation. In my opinion the way Rick explained it didn’t make sense. Annabeth is the one who is always calm and collected. Even with trauma. Piper is the one who acts on impulse and what she wants, (as displayed when she jumps down the chute even though Annabeth warns her not to). Although this action may have been necessary to the mission, it what reckless.
Also, despite Piper knowing something is up with Leo, continues to treat him like a third wheel and as someone who could be sacrificed. It just doesn’t make her a likable character.
As my last little tid-bit on this topic, Piper committed crimes before becoming part of the seven. I don’t think this should be ignored as a part of her character. It shows how much she craves attention and isn’t above breaking the law to get it. There is certain things that are *somewhat* understandable for not having attention from your parents, but never should breaking the law be considered okay to do because of that.
Who knows, maybe I’m reading her character wrong but that’s the way I see her. Please dissect this.
I just want to say that, as someone who has been trying to keep it down to only Nico, to receive an ask specifically about another character I've paid no attention to surely is an experience lol.
Anyway. Let's see. From your words, Piper doesn't seem to be a likable character, which is to be expected. As far as I'm concerned though, Piper, as a character, just does not interest me enough for me to form an opinion. I'm more of a "eh whatever" or "oh. cool" when it comes to her. It also does not help that I haven't read The Lost Hero, and my brain just straight up auto-deletes everything that's not Nico-related, so you can say my grasp of Piper McLean is limited at best and non-existant at worst.
If there's anything I remember about her, then that'd be the times I had to skip some pages of her and Jason (like I did to Percabeth, bc I disliked romantic scenes with everything in me and that's nothing new).
With that being said, as someone technically blank, I feel that your dislike to Piper is already set in stone, so there's no changing to that, and it's not like you need to change anyway. I wouldn't like such a character in your description either. 😂😂😂
About that scene of Annabeth and Piper, (keep in mind that I am not aware of that scene but directly referencing it through your retelling) I think what Rick was trying is to make Piper a direct contradiction to Annabeth in terms of action repertoire - a type of recklessness to the latter's meticulousness.
(Wow Percabeth and Jiper are actually a square full of contradictions)
However. The line between 'bold, risk-taking' and straigh-up stupidity is but a fine line. I will not judge Piper without properly re-reading the whole thing (which I won't), but I can see where you get it from.
I just want to say a few words about the last part. The thing about Piper's criminal record.
I understand that, from a reader's point of view, it'd be unlikable for a character to commit a crime, specifically, to "gain attraction". Though, while the action itself is inexcusable, it should also be acknowledged that Piper - like 90% of the PJO cast - was a teenager, who grew up with barely any parental guidance (or at least that's what I remember). A figure as such is bound to make mistakes, as well as cause debates over their likeliness. I do agree that what Piper did was wrong (I mean. that's like. the law), however there's a reason and background to said wrongdoing.
It's not okay, nor is it right to do so, but it's understandable. That's all.
That is to say: fuck it. I have been resenting Percy since the day I read PJO, you can dislike Piper all you want. We're just humans, not saints. Just don't go around shitting on people with different likes then you're good to go! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️😂
While we are at it, I'm quite curious as to how this was "ignored as a part of her character". I'm guessing that Rick failed to incorporate Piper's background into her own character as she's developed? Then that's not Piper's fault. That's just Rick and his YA writing lmao.
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igotsnothing · 7 months
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The BOLD THE FACTS tag- Part 2
The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!
This time I was tagged by one of my original moots who brightens my dashboard anytime they're in town: @silentsundown! <---is writing a novel!!!
Thank you! 💕
I chose to do this for my sweet boy Julian Keats from my story Bite Me!
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[ PERSONAL ]
$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty (He's grad student poor- lotsa Cup o Noodles at the end of the month.)
✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable (Grad student on the crappy mandatory campus health plan. Often has digestive issues. See "Cup o Noodles" above.)
✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other (Grad student- its own special hell)
✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other (Grad- ok, I'll stop)
✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed
[ FAMILY ]
◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children
◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased
◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent / not applicable
[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]
♦ extroverted / introverted / in between
♦ disorganized / organized / in between (He is tidy but as is the case with many academics, his workspace is chaos)
♦ close minded / open-minded / in between
♦ calm / anxious / in between
♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between
♦ cautious / reckless / in between
♦ patient / impatient / in between (He's very calm and composed until he isn't.)
♦ outspoken / reserved / in between
♦ leader / follower / in between (Can take charge when necessary- happy to delegate to someone who knows what they're doing. Not Jairo.)
♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between
♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between
♦ traditional / modern / in between (Is modern but can appreciate the past and old-timey stuff, which is, frankly, good news for Lawrence...)
♦ hard-working / lazy / in between
♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown
♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown
♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown
[ BELIEFS ]
★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic
☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious
❀ Philosophical: yes / no
[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]
❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual
❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless
♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious
❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious
(He's been in committed relationships before, but it's not that he's worldly in the love and sexytimes department- he's more like, constant, dedicated, and very giving.)
⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all (He's in denial regarding his interest in Lawrence.)
[ ABILITIES ]
☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none (As evidenced here...)
[ HABITS ]
☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic
☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker
✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict
✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess
☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater (I'M NOT SAYING IT BUT YOU KNOW. Rhymes with Cup O Zoodle)
$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic
♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler
I am tagging @agena87 and @izayoichan, @thebramblewood and @magicofsimplestories because they have interesting characters and stories that I always want to know more about.
And if you want to do this, copy and tag me! I get self conscious and end up not tagging everyone I'd like to tag, so if you are itching to do this, do eeet! ❤️
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qdbs-writes · 1 year
Note
Not enough nightwolf:
They steal his people's relic back, simply saying "Don't ask how I got it back, but I accept a date as payment" .
nonny i could not agree with you more, the lack of nightwolf love is criminal
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Reparations of a sort - Nightwolf (Grey Cloud) x Gn!Reader
Warnings: Reference to Native American genocide, implied illegal repatriation, ooc nervous Nightwolf, nosey Ingidenous Aunties, use of Y/N.
Words: 1.1k
Grey Cloud had long considered how best to lead his people in this ever changing world. As the line of Nightwolves passed down, peace for the Matoka had greatly diminished. Even the history of the Matoka from a time before European expansion has been lost through death and violence. Even now, the Great Spirit has gone quiet, the silence had left a great void of doubt in its wake. Grey didn’t consider himself a religious man, but a power beyond himself or any other mortal has chosen him to lead. And lead he must. By the 1980s, life for the Matoka began to stabilise. Their reservation in North Dakota near the Canadian border was not originally their home but had come to be accepted as such. And while parts of the Matokan’s town lacked many modern amenities: paved roads, reliable plumbing, year-round electricity, or medical supplies, the Matokan made do regardless. Legally, the Matokan, like many other indigenous communities, were in no position to be making demands of their small town politicians. Even local law enforcement seemed happy to completely ignore the Matoka and their struggles. So those who would align themselves with the Matoka became valued allies of the community.
That’s when Grey’s thoughts shifted to you. You were a recent addition to the Matokan’s allies, however, you made up in your willingness to step up to the authorities who would otherwise ignore the suffering of his people. The passion and dedication you had committed to a community you had no reason to help has earned the endearment of the latest Nightwolf, something his friends and family were not about to let him forget.
“You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?” An older woman said, as she approached the perched Nightwolf, brow quirked in a knowing way.
Grey scoffed and cast his gaze around dramatically. “Auntie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said, trying to shrug off his embarrassment.
“C’mon young Grey, you’ve never been subtle. The rest of us see how you look at Y/N,” She responds, “You know, we don’t mind if you want to marry outside of the tribe, it might be good to get some fresh DNA –“
“Auntie, please! This lecture isn’t necessary…” Grey interrupted, his cheeks now a deep rouge, hiding his face away from the older woman. “Besides, Y/N and I don’t have that kind of relationship.” He says pointedly, but still too shy to make eye contact. Despite Grey Cloud’s status as Nightwolf, he was still at the mercy of his tribe’s elders.
The older woman paused for a moment. “Oh, young one, we don’t mean to pry. But as the Nightwolf, your happiness benefits all the Matoka both near and far.” Grey turns to glare at the woman, silently pleading with his eyes that she stop. “Either way, we’re having a barbecue this weekend, and we wanted you to ask Y/N to come.” She finishes, clapping him on the shoulder heartily.
“Actually, I don’t even know where they are right now…” he turned back to the older woman only to realise that she was gone.
Grey only sits there for another moment, before you arrive in your beaten-up truck, which appeared to have recently run down several fences and perhaps a person. As the truck comes to a stop in the clearing of the Matokan village, the door swings open and you clamber out, holding a small, black trash bag up heroically.
Grey stands to meet you as you pull him into a hug, unable to tear his eyes away from the new damage that covered the front and sides of your vehicle. “Should I ask where you’ve been?” Grey jests, looking back at you.
“Nah,” You shake your head dismissively, “But, hey. I got something for you.” You said as you reached into the trash bag. A gift perhaps? You’d never given him a gift before. With some grimaced teeth and rattling, you carefully pull out a necklace made of carved deer hoof pieces, the kind Matokan warriors used to wear into battle.
Grey stared in awe at the necklace and delicately took it from your hands. The only surviving examples had been taken to White-owned museums in the United States and around the world, stolen off of the bodies of massacred Matoka. Traditionally, such necklaces would be buried with the fallen warrior as help to guide and protect them in the next life. It was an item of extreme spiritual significance that should never have been on display. Grey is desperate to know where you got it from but decides against it. After over a century, the spirit attached to this necklace could finally be laid to rest by their decedents. Another lost soul would find its way home.
Grey looks back up from the necklace, tears forming in his brown eyes. “Y/N… You… You don’t know what this means I… I can’t even begin to thank you or pay you back for this, I-“ He just manages to get the words out before you shush him.
“Oh, I don’t want your money, Grey. Consider it… reparations of a sort. But I will accept a date as payment.” You smile at him confidently.
Grey’s mouth falls open and he tries to hide his rapidly increasing heartrate. He can’t imagine how long he’s wanted to hear you say those words. Maybe not those words exactly, but they’ll do. After realising how clammy his hands have become under your cool and flirtatious gaze, he moves to delicately lay the deer hoof necklace down. As he straightens back up to his full height, you notice that his washboard abs were rising and falling with his chest. Grey wiped his sweaty hands onto his jeans before taking a deep breathe.
“Ye-yeah, I’d love that. Uh, there’s a barbecue this weekend. Do you want to go together…?” he said, failing to hide his nerves under his usually calm demeanour.
Your smiling cheeks pull up to frame your sparkling eyes as you gaze back at him. Swaying on your feet slightly. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.” You lean up on your toes and press a soft kiss into Grey Cloud’s cheek before practically skipping away in joy.
Grey stands there for a moment, his breathing completely stopped, face redder than a tomato. Suddenly, he feels eyes watching him. Grey turns to find a flock of elder Matokan women, who – based on the smiles on their faces – had just seen the whole situation unfold. Grey Cloud then decides that for your second date, it’s best that he take you somewhere more private.
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nekrophoria · 7 months
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Bold the Facts - Serena
Thank you so much for the tag @nocturnalazure 💙
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[ PERSONAL]
$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty (she's broke af for the most part but she gets by)
✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable
✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other
✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other / high school dropout (she barely managed to finish school and doesn't really have any qualifications besides that though)
✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed
[ FAMILY]
◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children
◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased (she still considers herself pretty close with her brother, although there are some tensions between them)
◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents / not applicable (switched between being raised by her mother and being raised in a children's home)
[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES]
♦ extroverted / introverted / in between
♦ disorganized / organized / in between
♦ close minded / open-minded / in between
♦ calm / anxious / in between (depends on her mental state)
♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between
♦ cautious / reckless / in between
♦ patient / impatient / in between (she can be patient but it's not really an easy task for her)
♦ outspoken / reserved / in between
♦ leader / follower / in between
♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between (she has the potential to be a vicious bastard but chooses not to be)
♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between
♦ traditional / modern / in between
♦ hard-working / lazy / in between
♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown
♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown
♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown
[ BELIEFS]
★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic
☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious
❀ Philosophical: yes / no
[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]
❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual
❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless
♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious
❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious
⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
[ ABILITIES ]
☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
[ HABITS ]
☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic (she drinks beer pretty frequently but only drinks hard liquor on special occasions)
☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker (she smokes less than the average smoker but still fairly regularly)
✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict (she smokes weed every now and then but nothing beyond that)
✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess (she used to take antidepressants every day and now takes sleeping pills and/or a low dosed sedative whenever necessary)
☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater
$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic
♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler (microtransactions don't count in her book)
Tagging @drawing-way-outside-the-lines @veone @sillypotcookie @bast-sims and @mainlyjustthesims
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ebaeschnbliah · 2 years
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THE  GOVERNOR  AND  HIS  WIFE  -  revisited and expanded
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While writing on the ‘Tapestry of Sherlock BBC’ series, I picked up again my previous interpretations regarding the Five Tasks of Sherrinford. The attempt to summarize Eurus’ first task in some short sentences and linking it to the first series of the show, simply wouldn’t work out smoothly. Although I basically still agree with most of this first interpretation, the feeling was undeniable that something (isn’t there always something?) wouldn’t really fit. Therefore I started to mull over that problem in order to reach a more fitting conclusion. Apparently, the distance of several years resulted indeed in some new ideas and perspectives.
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TBC below the cut .....
Sherlock BBC is dominated by a ‘pattern of five’, that has been noticed very early on by several people. To name just a view:  Good things come in fives by tjlcisthenewsexy (now @debussy-reverie),  A series of five by @thepineapplering ,  5 Pips by @waitedforgarridebs and @sagestreet​ has connected the Five Tasks of Sherrinford with the four existing series of Sherlock BBC, along with the prospect of a possible fifth and final one. Which would be great and very much appreciated because the story, as it is now, feels quite open-ended. In any case, I couldn’t agree more with @sagestreet regarding the possible relation between five series and five tasks of Sherrinford (although I prefer a slightly different reading of some character mirrors).
As mentioned in previous posts, I tend to view the whole story told in Sherlock BBC on a metaphorical level, as something that happens entirely inside the great detective’s head. In TAB it is mentioned that Sherlock is able to create complex scenarios, even whole worlds, inside his mind palace. It seems only reasonable that he uses this extraordinary gift as a means to understand and solve his clients cases. That he uses the same methods when he tries to solve his very own case - the pink one - would then also be quite plausible. The investigations and deductions, necessary to explore his own persona, could very well happen on - what I like to call it - a mind stage. Like a director Sherlock writes the scripts for his plays and casts different characters for different roles to understand either the motives behind criminal cases, strange mysteries or the workings inside his own mind and body.  In this old post I played with the idea of Sherlock BBC as a metaphhorical prism, created to make the different aspects of Sherlock’s personality visible, like rainbow colours occur when white light is sent through a prism. That actually ‘anyone’ inside this story is Sherlock, or more precisely, represents a certain part of him, is something @sherlockshadow suggested very early on. 
The first task of Sherrinford
A possible interpretation based on metaphorical reading:
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SHERRINFORD ISLAND - is a high-security government facility on a prison island and - the way I interpret the story - a metaphor for Sherlock’s innermost core. It represents the deepest part inside his mind, the place where he keeps everything under lock and key what he deems too dangerous or too painful to deal with. This high-security facility is under the supervision of the government, represented in this story by Lady Smallwood, Mycroft and the island’s Governor David (no family name given). It is mentioned that the mysterious Uncle Rudi had been the first one who took care of (his niece) Eurus and brought her to Sherrinford. Later Mycroft thought it best to continue what Uncle Rudi began. It might be of interest that the Hebrew name ‘David’ means ‘beloved’ or ‘uncle’.  
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JOHN - he is the central part of the story, the crux of the matter, around whom everything else rotates. In the original story about the Musgrave Ritual one crown and two kings of the same name are involved. This might be another indication that not only cyphers come in pairs. I wrote about that topic in: Two times - John, Faith, Charles, pairs, therapists, John’s stamp. Either way, there are some indications that two versions of John are involved in this story:
Dr John Watson, the century old traditional eternal just-friend, the fixed point in a changing age, who constantly assures in this adaptation that he’s not gay. He represents Sherlock’s supressed and desperately unspoken love for his best friend, an unfulfilled desire that almost kills him. 
John, a changed and new version of this character, openminded and vibrant, a man who is able and excited to become Sherlock’s lover. PILOT-John gives the impression to be ecaxtly the man whom Sherlock desires. 
John in TFP seems to be on a good way to become that man ... not because the character per se has changed. Much more important is that Sherlock’s attitude towards the problem, that the John-character represents, has changed. John - on Sherlock’s mind stage, isn’t a ‘real’ person, like all the other characters he is an imagined ‘actor’ and represents a certain attitude (for lack of a better wording). More pecisely, if the theory of the ‘two Johns’ is correct, two possibilities can be associated with that character ... eternal friend and future lover. And it is Sherlock’s decision to see and to choose, which of the two attitudes he is willing to engage with in real life, outside his mind palace. Because if ‘real’ John is the man he seems to be in PILOT, it will certainly not be him who stands opposed to the ‘lover-attitude’. It will be solely Sherlock’s move to change his own literary history. Will he be bold enough to ‘get involved’ ... or not? One thing is certain, Sherlock has changed enormously from ASIP to TFP and has become a very good man by now. ‘Real-John’ could hardly get a better one ... :)
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JIM - the virtual stationmaster and ticking clock of the experiments conducted in Sherrinford is called ‘Eurus’ revenge’ and represents, as he himself says in TRF ‘I’m Mr Sex’. The changeable criminal mastermind is also the one who hides in plain sight as ‘Hamish’ behind the ‘H’ of John’s middle name. When five years ago Eurus noticed Jim’s interest in Sherlock’s activities, Mycroft took a calculated risk and brought Jim to Sherrinford as a Christmas present for Eurus. It turned out that Jim and Eurus - sex and emotions - ‘got on like a house on fire’. And apparently this ‘five minutes conversation, five years ago’ had been THE trigger for everything that happend afterwards ... ‘It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us.’  The way I interpret the story, this can only be the moment when Sherlock laid first eyes on John Watson. Suddenly Mr Sex raises very intrigued his head and the long neglected, disparaged and locked-up Emotions react to that entirely unexpected situation and desire to know more about that ‘special condition’. As a consequence Emotions finally want to break free from their prison ... or, to put it in metaphorical words: “there’s going to be a terror strike on London (Sherlock) - a big one ...”   (And suddenly everything changes   The first time ever I saw your face)
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Jim, Mr Sex, has been chosen by E, the ‘avenging sister, to be ‘her revenge’. With so much revenge and avenging on the table - associated with emotions and sex - inevitably the title screen of the Unaired Pilot comes to mind with Anteros (Eros’ brother) at centre stage. In Greek mythology Anteros is the god of requitted love, punisher of those who scorn love and the avenger of unrequitted love. 
So he is in love, but he knows not with whom; he does not understand his own condition and cannot explain it; like one who has caught a disease of the eyes from another, he can give no reason for it; he sees himself in his lover as in a mirror, but is not conscious of the fact. And in the lover’s presence, like him he ceases from his pain, and in his absence, like him he is filled with yearning such as he inspires, and love’s image, requited love [Anteros], dwells within him; but he calls it, and believes it to be, not love, but friendship. (From Cupids: Eros, Anteros, and Greek Interpretations by @fandeadgloves​)​
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EURUS - she represents the ‘other one’. Sherlock’s supressed, neglected and almost forgotten emotional other side - locked-up deep down at his innermost core and under the strict surveillance of the government, the brain. I’m going by the assumption that all the criminal gangs, all the terrorist groups as well as TABs 'invisible army, the monstrous regiment’ - established and led by the avenging ghost-bride and faithful sister Emelia - ‘ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote’ - that all those opponents actually represent Sherlock’s revolting emotions. In TFP this ‘league of furies’ seems to have been compressed into one single character - Eurus - of which two versions (they always come in pairs) appear in this episode:
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The adult woman and high-security prisoner who is incarcerated deep down in Sherrinford, surrounded by an ocean of water, until she breaks free and takes control of the island. 
The frightened little girl high up on a driverless plane, surrounded by sleeping people, who calls for help and is the motivator for Sherlock’s, John’s and Mycroft’s co-operation.
This seems to indicate that Sherlock’s persona is neither united in harmony nor fully developed. While one part of him, although grown up, is locked in a high-security prison cell, vengeful and furious - another part, although flying high up in the sky, is still trapped in childhood, alone, overstrained and terrified. 
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MYCROFT - big brother represents Sherlock’s rational side, logic and reason, the mind, just-brain. His immediate superior is Lady Smallwood who also opperates under the code name ‘love’. This could be a possible reason for Mycroft’s janus-facedness regarding his brother - sometimes he’s cold, emotionless, even cruel and then again constantly concerned, protective and caring. While in the previous episode Mycroft, as usual, monitores and controlles everything, this changes noticeable in TFP. Suddenly ‘big brother’ seems to have lost much of his former omnipotence. Now it is Sherlock who sets the pace and leads the way. Maybe the reasons for those changes in Mycroft’s personality have to do with Lady Smallwood’s invitation for a drink (a small shot of chemistry?). She gave Mycroft her number ... one wonders if he ever called her back. The question is, will the chemistry of love overrule the pure rational mind in the end? This conflict could become an important confrontation if the story continues. 
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THE GOVERNOR - he is Mycroft’s subordinate and therefore can be viewed as the extended arm of the government ... the brain. Shortly before Sherlock, Mycroft, John and the Governor find themselves locked in Eurus’ former prison cell, the audience learns that the Governor of Sherrinford disobeyed the orders of the government, regarding Eurus. He contacted her, spoke to her, even evaluated her and as a consequence the man got compromised. It is John who notices the Governor’s ‘enslavement’ by Eurus but it is already too late. The red alert goes off and Jim enters the stage via speeker system and TV screen. Metaphorically this seems to indicate that - caused by the yearning for love and sex - a certain ‘subordinate’ part of Sherlock’s mind grew curious. Against orders he took a closer look at the concept of emotions, got compromised and as a consequence started secretly working for the ‘other one’. It turns out that this forbidden involvement has serious consequences for the Governor as well as his Wife. 
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THE WIFE - informations about that character are sparce. There are recorded tapes on which Eurus can be heard talking to the Governor about his Wife. Eurus asks him to meet her because 'I can fix her for you’ and she promises to give her right back ‘good as new’ afterwards. The Governor hesitates. He thinks it’s not right what Eurus is proposing. Then Eurus asks the man repeatedly if he really trusts his Wife. The Governor wants her to stop saying these things, which he considers ‘completely inappropriate’. 
In a nutshell:  Eurus wants to ‘change and fix’ the Governor’s Wife. The husband hesitates and fears that such a change could be not right, even completely inappropriate. The man’s trust in his Wife seems also to be of great importance.
As mentioned above, I view the Governor as part of Sherlock’s rational mind, compromised by emotions, resulting from a lack of love and sex. In my opinion, the Wife can then only represent traditional John, who lives in a ‘legal’ relationship - a just-friendship - with Sherlock, thus the marriage. Eurus, Sherlock’s emotional side, wants to change that character - this situation - into something new, something that could still be interpreted by some people as ‘not legal’. The curious and compromised part of Sherlock’s mind fears,that such a change might be not right, even completely inappropriate. What else could that be than a metaphor for Sherlock’s desire to change John from ‘legal’ eternal just-friend to ‘illegal’ lover?
Eurus’ challenge
Imprisoned in Eurus’ former cell, Sherlock, Mycroft, John and the Governor are confronted with the first task. Eurus, Jim and the Governor’s Wife are connected to them via TV screen, the little girl on the plane via audio. The Governor’s Wife can be seen sitting in a chair, handcuffed and gagged, while Eurus announces that she will shoot the woman in about a minute ... unless ...
‘You want to save the Governor’s wife? Choose either Doctor Watson or Mycroft to kill the Governor. You can’t do it, Sherlock. If you do it, it won’t count. I’ll kill her anyway. It has to be your brother or your friend.’
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That’s a clear demand. In order to save the Governor’s Wife, the Governor himself has to die and Sherlock must decide who shall kill the man ... Mycroft or John. Without any hesitation the Governor is willing to sacrifice his life for his Wife. Mycroft refuses rigorously to shoot the man. John tries to do it but also fails in the end. In his desperation the Governor takes the gun out of John’s hand and shoots himself. This sacrifice doesn’t save the Governor’s Wife though. Sherlock wasn’t able to accomplish the task as demanded and so Eurus shoots the Governor’s Wife as threatened.
My reading of that task: Sherlock has to decide if the compromised part of his brain should be erased either bei his rational mind or by his supressed desires in order to enable the further existance of the ‘legal’ relationship, the eternal friendship with John. This turns out to be impossible. And so the compromised part chooses to erase himself. But Sherlock’s emotional side doesn’t allow him to back away from this important decision and erases the eternal friendship anyway. 
The first task and Series One
The first task of Sherrinford is definitely linked to Series One. The eloquent and talkative serial killer in A STUDY IN PINK, Jeff Hope, who is sponsored by Jim, persuades Sherlock to follow him. There is a strong motive of curiosity that finally overrules Sherlock’s rational mind and his common sense - the orders of the brain - until he willlingly puts himself in great danger just to understand the WHY and the HOW (’I don’t like not knowing’) ... all of this mirrows the interaction between the Governor and Eurus, who calls herself ‘Jim’s revenge’. 
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‘It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides, they’re killings’ ... the same can be said about the first task of Sherrinford. The Governor kills himself, he commits suicide but actually it's murder. 
’I didn’t kill those people, I spoke to them and they killed themselves’ ... that’s what Jeff Hope tells Sherlock about his victims. The Governor of Sherrinford tells that Eurus once talked to a doctor and as a consequence the man killed himself and his family.
 ‘If I wanted to understand, what would I do?’ - ‘Let me take you for a ride.’ - ‘So you can kill me too?’ - ‘I don’t wanna kill you, Mr. Holmes. I’m gonna talk to you ... and then you’re gonna kill yourself.’  ... apparently the Governor was driven by the same motivation as Sherlock. He got curious about Eurus, wanted to understand her. His curiosity grew stronger than his common sense and then he talked to her. 
But ASIP isn’t the only episdoe of Series One from which certain motives turn up in the first task of Sherrinford. There is also THE BLIND BANKER. This outstanding episode gives the impression to be the user manual for the whole show (About series one). As mentioned in this old post, the showdown in the Black Tramway Dragon Den presents two Johns and two Sherlocks. This happens because of a missunderstanding. General Shan mistakes John for Sherlock and this turns John - for that particular scene - into a Sherlock-mirror while ‘his pretty doctor companion’ Sarah becomes a John-mirror. 
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In the Dragon Den John as well as Sarah are bound to a chair and both are threatened to be shot. While Sarah sits in front of a massive crossbow armed with an arrow, General Shan aims her gun at John’s head, even pulls the trigger, but there is no bullet in the chamber.
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The way the Governor’s Wife sits bound to a chair in TFP, gagged and threatened to be shot, recalls the showdown in The Blind Banker with John and especially Sarah, who is also gagged. And because of the extraordinary mirroring in that scene both characters represent John (while John is at the same time also a Sherlock-mirror), which means that in this quite similar situation in TBB two Johns happen to sit bound to chairs, threatened to get shot. 
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General Shan is quite interesting as well, especially regarding her name (’the clue’s in the name’ says Jim in TGG). The Chinese character ‘shān’ means ‘mountain’ and its pictograph  山 is meant to show a series of mountain peaks (X). Only one quarter turn is required and that pictograph suspiciously looks almost like an E. How much of a coincidence can it be that Sherlock’s secret ghost sister is first introduced as ‘E’? Then she turns into Faith,Elsa/Eliszabeth and later reveals herself to be Eurus before she aims her gun at John and shoots him ... immediately after he stands up from a chair.  
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What also comes to mind is the small ‘printing error’ regarding the ‘explosive’ glycerol molecule formula in TRF, which should, correctly written, depict three times ‘OH’ but acutally shows OH-OE-OH (Under the microscope 2). A quite similar letter-turning-game can be played with M&W and there’s also that big E that turns up on a promo shot for S1.  (source)
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Beyond Series One
As mentioned at the beginning of this post, linking the first task of Sherrinford to Series One fits perfectly on a first glance. There are clear connections with ASIP and TBB. And yet, that comparison doesn’t work out entirely smoothly because there’s something more contained in Eurus’ fist experiment, something that doesn’t happen in Series One. While ‘Saving John Watson’ is clearly a main theme of the show from the start, there is another very strong theme addressed in the first task of Sherrinford, something that emerges only beyond Series One. I’m refering to the SACRIFICE-MOTIVE that starts playing a main role only in Series Two ... The Reichenbach Fall. On Bart’s roof Sherlock has to choose between his own life and the lives of his friends, above all John’s. 
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'Oh, just kill yourself. It’s a lot less effort. … Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don’t.’ - ‘John.’ ...  this is exactly what the first task of Sherrinford addresses as well. In order to save the life of the Governor’s Wife, the Governor has to die and ultimately he kills himself. 
Like the Governor of Sherrinford in Eurus’ first task, Sherlock too chooses to sacrifice his own life in that scene on Bart’s roof, to save the ones he loves. It is Jim (Eurus’ revenge) who forces that decision on Sherlock by taking his own life first. Both characters manoeuvre themselves in a deadlock position by talking each other into suicide. They are ‘killing with words’. That’s the same method Jeff Hope uses in ASIP and Eurus in TFP. 
Same methods ... and then ‘the Government explodes’
As mentioned above in the character description, Mycroft seems to represent Sherlock’s rational side, logic, reason, the mind - the brain. Applying this metaphor to the story told in Sherlock BBC, some interesting connections and motivations become visible. And it looks like all of them have to do with Sherlock’s fear that - under certain circumstances - he could ‘lose his mind’. There are some characters involved, who decide to end their lives in a very similar way ... by destroying their brains. 
On Bart’s roof, Jim takes a gun to his mouth and shoots himself. He sacrifices his life in order to force Sherlock to do the same, if he wants to save the ones he loves.
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Sherlock sacrifices his own life and although he chooses a different method, the outcome is the same - head bashed in and blood on the pavement.
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Emelia Ricoletti wants to make her death count. Her suicide in TAB - both fake and real - mirrors Jim’s, Sherlock’s and Irene’s (although in ASIB there are no visuals of the Woman, respectively of her doppelgänger in the morgue). Emelia’s death becomes the birth of the ‘league of avenging brides’ and later of ‘ghost-sister’. 
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Blood on the floor, a destroyed brain and a gun beside his hand applies also for the Governor of Sherrinford when he sacrifices his ‘compromised’ life for his wife. 
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‘I’m remembering the governor’ ... with these words Sherlock decides to go the same way as David, when he tries to back out of Eurus’ fourth task, because it’s impossible for him to erase either Mycroft (rational mind) or John (his desire for the eternal just-friend). 
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And of course, the massive bomb inside the Underground train compartment at Sumatra Road - the station which was closed before it ever opened - the bomb that threatens to destroy the Houses of Parliament in TEH should not be forgotten either. It’s his highly ‘explosive transport’ with which Sherlock is dealing in this adaptation, after all. :)
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This imagined explosion - stopped and prevented by Sherlock in the very last second - is mirrored in TST, when Mycroft reminds Sherlock of his old, rewritten childhood story 'Appointment in Sumatra’. The scene ends literally with Mycroft’s head - and the queen’s picture - exploding and shattering into pieces  (And then the government explodes). 
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Those pieces then merge into the transition of the shattered plaster bust, owned by Mohandes Hassan. That man’s first name is linked with a winged god of love and lust, armed with arrows, while his family name is linked with an Irish deer. (The plaster bust owners)
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All those destroyed brains seem to point at one and the same problem and Sherlock explains that ‘problem’ in quite clear words in The Reichenbach Fall, when he talks about ideas planted in heads and the impossibility to erase them again from that place - the mind:
“You’re gonna have to be strong to resist. You can’t kill an idea, can you? Not once it’s made a home ... there.”
That’s what all those ‘killings’ and sacrifices and shuttered brains are about, in my opinion. Sherlock wants to erase a certain idea from his mind. He is at war with himself over this problem because a part of him considers that idea ‘not right’ maybe even ‘completely inappropriate’ as the Governor puts it when he talks about Eurus’ suggestion ‘to change and fix his wife’. Sherlock is driven by his long neglected emotions to change the traditional relationship with his eternal just-friend into something new. The idea of a romantic and sexual relationship with John has made a home inside his brain and whatever Sherlock tries to do to erase that idea .... it’s completely futile. That particular idea seems to be simply indestructible. If you can’t kill the idea, destroy the head ... before you lose your mind. And that’s a deadlock position in itself. 
The first task and Series Four
From The Reichenbach Fall onwards the SACRIFICE-MOTIVE moves significantly into focus. Saving John Watson, even at the cost of Sherlock’s own life, is the main theme that runs from now on like a scarlet ribbon throughout the story. Though heartbroken, Sherlock marries John and Mary in TSOT to protect his eternal friendship with Dr Watson. He murders Magnussen, the keeper of (his own) secrets and scandals, also to protect eternal friend and facade and he willingly goes away on a suicide mission, never to return. But then in TST Mary (his facade) - who secretly works for Mycroft - throws herself in front of Sherlock to take Norbury’s bullet.  Sherlock’s facade breaks and crumbles and now everything starts to change. Without facade, Eurus, his emotional side, can’t be contained any loger.
‘Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock. It’s up to you. Save him. The only way to save John ... is to make him save you. Go to Hell, Sherlock. Go right into Hell, and make it look like you mean it. Go and pick a fight with a bad guy. Put yourself in harm’s way. If he thinks you need him, I swear ... he will be there.’
This is Mary’s last advice for Sherlock at the end of TST. Stricktly speaking, one can summarise that whole paragraph in just two words: ‘trust John’. That’s exactly what Eurus wants to know about the Governor’s wife ... ‘do you trust your wife’. And in TLD, the very next episode, Sherlock puts precisely that advice into action. He picks a fight with Culverton Smith, a talkative serial killer who has quite striking teeth. Sherlock lets himself be abducted by that man in order to get killed. John is the ultimate reason for Sherlock’s hazardous plan in the first place. None other than John brings Sherlock into that situation. Using Jim’s words from TAB: ‘Doesn’t this remind you of another case? Hasn’t this all happened before? There’s nothing new under the sun. What was it? What was that case?’  Of course, Jim refers with those words to occurrences in ASIB and TRF. Using them in this context, I want to point to the close connections between the Jeff Hope case in ASIP and the Culverton Smith (father of Faith) case in TLD. It’s hard not to notice those Serial-Killer-Connections that take the story backwards to its beginning ... although the ending of both episodes differs quite interestingly.
In ASIP John shoots and kills Hope, the talkative serial killer who had been sponsored by Jim. 
In TLD John is shot by Eurus, who calls herself ‘Jim’s revenge’ and the talkative serial killer Smith (father of Faith) goes to prison.
Taking all those connections into account it becomes clear that the first task of Sherrinford isn’t linked exclusively with Series One. It stretches across the whole show on to Series Four. And just like S1 & S4 are linked, the first & the fourth task of Sherrinford are linked as well. In both cases the same characters are moved into focus - Mycroft and John - the one represents Sherlock’s rational mind and the other his supressed sexual desire aimed at the best friend. Both tasks end with a slightly different shooting - same as the relevant episodes in S1 & S4 (ASIP&TLD). 
Sherlock has to decide who shall do the shooting ... Mycroft or John.
Sherlock has to decide whom he himself shall shoot ... Mycroft or John.
In the end it turns out that neither of them is able to erase any of the other parts and when Sherlock tries to erase himself (in exactly the same way as the Governor in the first task), Eurus intervenes and catapults Sherlock right away into the Musgrave Riddle ... where the dog lies burried ... wo der Hund begraben liegt ... where the crux of the matter lies. Redbeard, Victor, John in the well. 
Therefore the Musgrave Riddle - Sherlock’s fifth task in Sherrinford - should point to the Fifth Series of Sherlock BBC .....
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PS:  
Some musings about ‘living’ and ‘dying’ in Sherlock BBC
‘Each Sherrinford task gives us the same challenge as the corresponding season, but shows us the exact opposite outcome’ ... wrote @sagestreet​ in the above mentioned Sherrinford Meta. That’s what I see as well. For example:
In Series One ASIP John shoots Hope and saves Sherlock’s life and Sherlock rescues John and Sarah (John-mirror) from getting shot by the Black Lotus Gang in TBB. The third episode, TGG, is quite special in itself, because of its five-case structure that, just like the five tasks of Sherrinford, also strongly points to five possible series of the show. Therefore not the last case - John’s abduction by Jim and the following swimming pool showdown, interrupted by Irene’s (the naked truth’s) phonecall - should be taken for a Sherrinford comparison. Instead the fourth case is here the relevant one, the one with the fake Vermeer painting about the exploding supernova and the lost child, who cries for help like little Eurus on the plane and Victor in the well. Sherlock is able to prevent the explosion of the fourth bomb and save the child. Everyone lives, only the blind old lady dies, who might represent love, because ‘love is blind’ the saying goes (Love, actually).
The first task of Sherrinford, on the other hand, ends with the death of both, husband and wife, who represent Sherlock and John. 
The big question now is ... what outcome is the good one and what the bad one? In real life, of course, dying would definitely be the bad thing .... but .... on a metaphorical level, where ‘dying’ and ‘death’ can be translated into ‘fallin in love’ or ‘having sex’ (la petite mort), the same thing would then stand for something good, wouldn’t it? When Jim and Sherlock meet on Bart’s roof, the consulting criminal greets the consulting detective with this words, while ‘Staying alive’ from The Bee Gees plays on the phone in his hand:
"Ah. Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock, and our problem – the final problem. Stayin’ alive! It’s so boring, isn’t it? It’s just ... staying.”
According to Jim, the final problem is ‘just staying alive’ and this state of being seems to be extremly boring for Jim, who calls himself ‘Mr Sex’. If Sherlock considers sexuality as a copletely unnecessary, while distrubing influence - just dispensable transport - as one would expect from a traditional Holmes interpretation .... how would his neglected sex drive react in case someone gave Mr Sex a voice to express his own view on the matter? What extremely boring existance it must be to play the role of Mr Sex, when Sherlock chooses to live a celibate life, because all that matters to him is the work. Especially when Sherlock is living in close proximity to John Watson. Staying alive under these circumstances must become a real challenge for Mr Sex. No wonder Jim longs for revenge and turns into a criminal mastermind just to get Sherlock out to play a great game with him. And most likely Anteros is also very not amused about such a love and sex scorning behaviour .... :)
Another scene that comes to mind immediately is the one in TLD, in which Culverton Smith tries to suffocate Sherlock. The dark John-mirror can only confess his scandalous secret in the presence of people who are under the influence of a memory inhibitor and not able to remember anything afterwards. Before Smith takes any action he demands from Sherlock to say ‘I don’t want to die’. The way Sherlock utters those words feel entirely honest and heartbreaking. One wonders which version of the great detective is here afraid of dying .... 
the traditional Holmes, who would rather not change anything because he lives in fear to lose his eternal friend forever if he tells the truth or
the modern, liberated Sherlock, who desperately wants to break free from his prison but is still not allowed to and forced again into silence
And which version of John breaks into the hospital room and saves once again Sherlock’s life? It seems to be traditional Dr Watson, who represents Sherlock’s desperately unspoken desire for his eternal friend, the part of him who shys away from any change. That rescue-scene with the fire extinguisher is the counterpart of the one in TRF, in which Jim breaks open the glass cabinet and ‘frees the crown jewels’. Which break-in can be considered positive and which one negative? Is freeing and helping themselves to the ‘crown jewels’ good or bad? Is it good or bad when traditional Dr Watson saves Sherlock’s life again and again and again? 
‘”Liberty in death” – isn’t that the expression? The only true freedom.’
 That’s what Sherlock says in THOB, when he refers to the origin of the HOUND aerosol that triggers fear and terror - in other words: the chemistry of love is in the air. Could therefore a metaphorical ‘death’ be the way to Sherlock’s and John’s final liberation? If there are two versions of John and Sherlock - a traditional, closeted pair & a future, liberated pair - wouldn’t it be only logical to assume that one of those pairs has to die, to enable the existance of the other pair. In that case ‘dying’ is also an ambigious aspect in Sherlock BBC. Good or bad depends solely on what version will die and what version will live. 
.
Thanks for reading that far and thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.
July, 2022
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fishcemetery · 6 months
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♫ Missis Sara, sail me seas ♫
The rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below that apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!
(i'm going to amend the rules and italicize the tags as well, because i can never for the love of god tell which words have been bolded on mobile, unless i squint really hard.)
Tagged by @bunnybananasims! Although Camille is a formidable herald of damnation and game errors, Sara is still THE queen and icon, so the choice was kinda obvious. I admit, it's my fault so few people even know about her, but I'm going to fix it soon. I promise. There are A LOT of screenshots.
A couple things to note: first, with the way my storytelling goes, Saramesses Coppuroplise is basically a Sims version of an original character of mine, and for the most part her personality and backstory stem from there.
That's kinda necessary, because second, she's been randomly acquired in the course of gameplay and has no actual in-game backstory... except that when my starter sim and I found her, she had been meticulously hacked into several pieces and scattered all over the planet, and we had to put her back together with love, care, black magic and some industrial-grade glue.
In other words, she's my mummy. Or at least used to be.
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$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty
✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable
✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other
✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other - on the job (haven't bothered with installing University yet, but as the town's resident Mad Scientist, she's at least qualified enough to blow up the lab every week and still keep the job)
✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes (?) / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed (they wouldn't have massacred my 3000-year-old girl like that for nothing, so someone must've done something)
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◒ Children: has a child or children / has no children and doesn’t want any children / wants children
◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased
◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent / not applicable
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♦ extroverted / introverted / in between
♦ disorganized / organized / in between
♦ close minded / open-minded / in between
♦ calm / anxious / in between
♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between
♦ cautious / reckless / in between
♦ patient / impatient / in between
♦ outspoken / reserved / in between
♦ leader / follower / in between
♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between
♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between
♦ traditional / modern / in between
♦ hard-working / lazy / in between
♦ cultured / uncultured /in between/ unknown
♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown
♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown
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★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic
☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious
❀ Philosophical: yes / no
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❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual
❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless
♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious
❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious
⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female/ agender / other / none / all
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☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor/ none
✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
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☕︎ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic
☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker
✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict
✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess
☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater
$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic
♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler
。˚ ✧ I tag... random followers who don't seem to have done it yet. Here. Pick anyone, and have at it. Have an extra burden on your shoulders. Or don't – who am I to tell you?
@simsanctuary, @tsims, @ares-in-a-jar, @blossom-sims, @nikkeisimmer
And if you really really wanna do it, but no one's tagged you yet – just tell everyone I did, and go forth, champion! I'm rooting for you and your pixel people.
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[ PERSONAL]
$ Financial: wealthy / moderate /poor / in poverty
✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable
✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other
✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other / high school dropout
✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed (Stealing hearts amIright?)
[ FAMILY]
◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children
◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s)/ not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased
◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents / not applicable
[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES]
♦extroverted / introverted / in between
♦ disorganized / organized / in between
♦ close minded / open-minded / in between
♦ calm / anxious / in between
♦ disagreeable / agreeable/ in between
♦ cautious / reckless / in between
♦ patient / impatient / in between
♦ outspoken/ reserved / in between (for the most part he might seem more reserved, but he will definitely speak up when he feels it's necessary)
♦ leader / follower /in between (none of them really)
♦ empathetic / vicious bastard /in between
♦ optimistic/ pessimistic / in between
♦ traditional / modern / in between
♦ hard-working / lazy / in between
♦ cultured / uncultured / in between/ unknown
♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown
♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown
[ BELIEFS]
★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic
☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know/ don’t care
✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care
✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious
❀ Philosophical: yes / no
[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]
❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual
❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral /sex favorable/ naive and clueless
♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral/ romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious
❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious
⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all
[ ABILITIES ]
☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good/ moderate / poor / none
≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
[ HABITS ]
☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic
☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker (Was never addicted to smoking) Recreational Drugs: never /special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict (he really tries to leave it for good)
✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess
☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater
$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic
♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler (every time he's in Vegas for sure. And he has a thing for Pacman machines when he's drunk)
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tell me about 'ain’t warming babe, the world gone up in flames' pls! and if i somehow accidentally picked one of the ones that's not about astrid, i would also like to know about a random astrid wip <3
hgfvhsdf I always forget I have that one and realized while making the list 'ah fuck, that's gonna get somebody' not an Astrid fic!
ain’t warming babe, the world gone up in flames predates Astrid fics, because it's about Ophelia Mardoon burning down The Gentleman's criminal empire and bringing his head to Marion Lavorre
There is a small moment of clarity in which Ophelia realizes what she’s done. The head. The city. The entire crusade. She falls to her knees, the weight of it and what hung in the balance suddenly too much. She wouldn’t blame Marion for rejecting this. This vengeful rage she had never asked for. She lifts her chin to look at Marion, wordless question on her parted lips.
That's the paragraph that started it and it hasn't grown much since, but someday... I rolled some dice about the random Astrid fic, got 'what love could get this vicious?' which is nice because its one of the ones I've been picking at lately. Right now the pitch is 'Nobody taught the wizard assassins how to love and they’re doing an interesting job figuring it out now that they have Bren back.' The opening is very sweet and then it quickly devolves into hurt people hurt people and some very bad no good ideas about consent and what love is. I simply think the wizards are fucked up, your honor.
The way Ikithon tells it, it’s as if Bren simply woke up one day. They don’t trust it, but they can hardly ask their necessary questions when Bren is standing right there. He doesn’t even look like their Bren. His hair is longer than he’d ever let it go, wild and matted. His eyes are still hollow, the rest of him just as gaunt, but they do focus again. The first time they do so on her, Astrid isn’t entirely convinced he isn’t casting some sort of mind reading spell in secret. Listening to every last one of her uncertainties, her doubts, about him. They take him home regardless. Stuff him in a warm bath just the way they used to, comb and wash and trim his unkempt hair, swaddle him in their nicest towels and one of Eadwulf’s too large bed shirts. They remind themselves to move slow, that they don’t trust it. That this may still not be their Bren… They still cover every inch of his face and hands and anywhere else he’ll allow in soft kisses and more than a few tears. They have to. It’s as much finally being allowed to grieve their loss as it is rejoicing at his return.
[WIP Ask game! List is here!]
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puppiekit · 1 year
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You know what seeing my tumblr homies talk about their ocs has really motivated me to do the same. So im going to ramble about the cast of my comic LOL
Firstly, on to the worldbuilding...
The world of my comic takes place in the far future, long after global warming has taken its course and messed up a good chunk of modern society. All of the rich have long fled to Mars, out of attempt to escape the consequences of destroying their home planet.
A few centuries later, however, they realize their attempts at survival are futile and attempt to return back, much to the anger of those who were left behind, and managed to rebuild all on their own. To say the least, their conflict quickly became violent.
To reflect the hard societal reset that happened on Earth, a lot of the setting and technology present is 70s / 80s / 90s inspired, with a fancier polish to reflect their place hundreds of years in the future, of course.
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Inspiration...
Now, the world of my comic is inspired by many things!!! To help you gather an idea of what I have in mind, i'll list them here:
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Now on to my silly skrunkly characters!!!
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This is Laika, weird cat-dog thing, local societal menace, and genuine war criminal. Hes in his 30s, a short king (only around 5'3), and has all the pent up rage and anger to show for it.
In spite of his sad emo childhood backstory, I have crafted him specifically to be the most insufferable (in the most lovable way) character to ever exist on planet earth. Hes cruel, selfish, aggressive, short-tempered, and prone to violence (derives pleasure from the harm and vulnerability of others, really). He has 0 self awareness and loves to play the victim in every given scenario.
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To put it in simple terms, he never mentally developed beyond his traumatized childhood self. Hes under a constant state of survival and self-preservation.
Now in his adult years, he works for the government to develop nuclear weapons. Despite his shitty attitude, he is incredibly smart, especially in regards to science / physics. Still, however, I think it is a rather dumb move on the governments part to hand a ticking time-bomb like him literal nukes. Might just be me, though!
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These are Laikas coworkers. They do not have any individual references just yet, so sadly I must rant about them together based off of this puny sketch!
Goose:
Albino raccoon , he/they , Lead Engineer for the Government war effort. Also... Laikas ex! Awkward! This fool is 6ft+ and a walking brick wall of flesh and muscle, but lacks the self awareness necessary to come off as anything beyond mildly intimidating. He comes from a long line of Aviators, Engineers, and Pilots, birthing his life-long fixation on the subject.
Goose is air-headed, and endearing to those who only know him by passing. But in reality hes equally as insufferable as Laika. He's selfish, egotistical, and has a multitude of narcissistic tenancies. He will find any reason at all to passively-aggressively drag others down in meaningless, petty ways, just to make him feel better about himself. His tendency to place himself on a pedestal is almost entirely fueled by insecurities he refuses to acknowledge, which directly bounces off of Laikas hate-fueled enjoyment of picking at others.
He and Laika were childhood best-friends, High-School sweethearts, and lifelong partners... Before they both reunited after Laikas time on the battlefield, however, and realized they had both grown into something they can no longer tolerate. And yet their burning hatred has circled back around into some weird, toxic form of passionate love... Still hooking up and all over eachother, same as before!
Paradox:
Weird coyote thing, they/them, late 30s / early 40s ... Develops chemical weapons for the Government. VERY passionate about their work. Super into conspiracies. This scrawny canine is simply unhinged, to be totally honest. They couldn't be bothered to open up about their family or past, leaving their peers to wonder how exactly they became the way they did.
All that is known is that Paradox's chemical burns... Are most certainly caused from some past self experimentation. (They 100% DIY'd their own top surgery btw. They are indeed that genre of Transgender Scientist). Like the rest of the cast, Paradox is an ass, in one way or another. They lack total care of empathy for others. They have, and will, throw a baby in an incinerator for science.
Paradox lives in the basement of their workplace, pretty much, spending the good majority of their days working away at new weapons, committing unethical science experiments on Prisoners of War, or trying to frantically piece together proof that the moon landing was fake. (yes, even despite the fact that their entire War effort... IS IN SPACE). They are simultaneously stupid and genius, which is why I adore them.
Juno:
Borzoi / Afghan-Hound , she/her , 50s. A lot of people who see this woman call her... a MILF. And perhaps she is. But she is a very EVIL one. Your time with her will not be enjoyable brother. Besides, shes married, unfortunately for her husband. Juno develops Biological weapons for the Government. She was once a Biology teacher for a local Middle School, but lost her job after fighting a student.
Juno is ... A Karen. Mean, selfish, overtly-controlling, and will never pass up an opportunity to complain or jab at those she views beneath her (which is everybody ever, to be honest). If you ever see somebody yelling at a minimum wage worker for something stupid, that is her. If you've ever had to deal with a nosy, bitchy coworker, that is her.
Juno is very spiritual (the embodiment of those christian girls on Instagram who spew out bigotry with sweet bible quotes in her bio), she very much believes in the whole 'this crystal will ward off evil energy' thing. Shes also a vegan, and views feral animals as above society as a whole. She views her fellow man as pests, leeches on the Earth, who are cruel to the innocent animals that inhabit it.
She derives pleasure from using her live for biology as a means for harming/killing her fellow man, and usually in the most unethical ways possible. She has planted Termites in the homes of many of her enemies.
To make a long story short... This entire comic is about assholes living the most painful inconvenienced lives ever possible. It is hilarious. You should ask me about them btw pspspsps come here pspsps
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cosmicangel888 · 9 months
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When All You Can Do is Forgive....No words
For years I have offered my story,
The discrimination, the 'God Complex' that some think they have simply because they knew me, had a relationship with, or think they are in the same vocation, and that somehow, in spirituality there is 'competition' and when underground groups, spell casting, defamation and falsifying was not enough, and the readings, confirmations coming out now has been mirrored to my stories on my youtube over the past 5 years, what I have had to put up and with and every time I bring forth, there are discriminatory blocks, hurdles, deceit, narratives to veil and give leeway and bowing to those that are the corrupt, deceitful, and thieves.
I have no words but that in all the years of our offerings, all is validated; none of what has occurred was necessary - all is healable - and such deep insecurities, entities attached to such people, cult-like energy work, withholding, dominance and control tactics; can turn something that could have been a simply 'I am sorry here's the money that is yours, and here is the mail that is yours' and 'wow, nice to know and accept someone that is a healer, and truth teller of the divine' ~ rather than accept someone for who they are - the damage was done;
Was it all worth it?
youtube
There is profound double standard;
someone can take your mail, federal offence, withhold monies, simply because they use it as a control tactic, until you do, act, and give them what they want their ego to be fed by
if you have the money you would not remain with or near them, or leave them behind;
so poor behaviour, felony offences, taking, binding another with finances that is rightfully not even theirs but held and holding over another's head to limit their activity, and when the debts, legal fees are so great, any monies even returned will go all to debt;
Do you think these controlling, dominant misogynists that spell cast anyone, everyone involved, use ESP, mind projection, and abuse energy - which they will deny, but do so and know how to use others in the systems to pay to silence the false statements, underground activity to keep 1 light worker bound that did nothing but ask for a divorce and bring truth to an entire community that is veiled in corruption by false elitist that use, abuse, harm the innocent
While your family, children, others think and were told 'your not mentally there' because you are calling everyone on their ludicrous behaviour and wounded corruption to 1 person that did nothing to any one - that is beyond criminal and deviant - and psychologically what I have to live with, deal with every day - isolated and pushed out and the balls of any to think 'I am supposed to come and make my leaving right' with those that treat people like things, toys, enslaved garbage, and when we stand in our light, truth, and speak it, we are sent false clients, fake spies and stalkers - to see what and how much I know of the monies taken, stolen, and using my business, FansOnly, or whatever other misuse, misappropriation of my name, energy, light - none of which ever had permission, and authority to and is criminal
I have done my research and for someone that 'crazy' like the injustice to those like Brittany Spears of how controlling arrogance and false entitlement some think they have because they once knew you and treated you like crap - but gives them some sort of power to continue treating you like a slave and thus create plans, schemes to see how far they can test you and how grand your faith is -
youtube
Human Experiments - abusing energy, spell work, voodoo, mental manipulation, withholding money, all tactics of mind-scraping, deconstructing of the inner self; is deep deep abuse - and is criminal - all know the part they all played -
All I asked for was my basic human rights - and I have to fight for even this - and still to this day
not 1 penny, not 1 apology - and I am the one that is not balanced?
All will see, know, be shown; every one of these people have mental, emotional, vibrational imbalance due to not only the backfire of all the magic, mental controlling games backfiring, but the diseases within that mirror the depths of their lies; tests will prove what I have said over the years
I know who I am - now all have to sit with who they are
Just when you think that unjust, unfair treatment did not get any more unbelievable - this occurs on a daily basis when women seek their refuge and gain strength to leave situations that are clearly imbalanced, when red flags, and denials, narcism and things going on around the home that continue to be lied, deceive, swept under the carpet, finances and questions left unanswered, so you don't go looking where forensic accounting will validate every hunch and asking; Spirit never lies, and when spirit says 'they are stealing from you' they are fucken stealing from you - and any bold face lie that any person of 'title' says to your face, and uses their job, their role, as clout - look further and deeper -
I forgive all - simply there is nothing to say about the unnecessary damage and harm done, the loss, the mental, emotional, spiritual, and psychological damage done to me, my family in such actions -
I have only spoken truth, light, healing offerings - I walk with God, and speak a light language of codes, and creational reality is manifested - no different than Daniel or Darryll and any other great channels.
Why?
Blessings and light
Joanna
#truth #enlightenment #awakening #Healinghumanity
#ascension #healing
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5 times Merlin noticed Arthur’s odd reactions to things,
 +1 time he could start on the road to helping.
TW: Graphic descriptions of child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks/flashbacks/disassociating.
1)
Merlin notices things. He always has done, ever since he was a child. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the ingrained fear of being snuck up on (as a Bastard child, as a citizen of Essetir, and as someone with magic) or maybe it was just some odd, innate skill. It doesn’t really matter: Merlin is observant, he has keen eyes, which is why he notices Arthur’s sudden change in disposition.
It was a normal afternoon, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from the first hunt of the spring and were filling The King in on how it had gone. Well... Arthur was, Merlin was just sort of stood there. 
The servant was annoyed that Arthur had dragged him along, both to the hunt and to the meeting, but The Prince had been so excited (not that he showed it too much) at the prospect of telling his father how well everything went, he conceded easily. It was rare that Arthur got his father’s approval; Merlin had only been serving him for a few months, so maybe it was stupid of him to want to see Arthur happy, but oh well. He may be a prat, but he meant well and he loved his people, he deserved a little happiness occasionally.
Uther was in fact proud, and Merlin had better luck than Arthur at holding his grin in, though that changed quickly. 
Arthur was looking out of the window and making casual comments on when he planned on going out next, and Uther, stepping quietly without even realising it, manages to move to the space just behind him without Arthur noticing. He claps a firm, but proud hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and if Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur would deny it later, he would accuse him of jumping a foot in the air. He turns around quickly, eyes wide and barely focusing as Uther gives his son another congratulations, as well as a terse “Make sure you keep it up.”
The sudden tightness in Arthur’s shoulders and his clear discomfort at having Uther so close do not go unnoticed by Merlin and he frowns, making a split second decision that could very well get him put in the stocks:
“Sorry to interrupt, My Lords, but The Prince mentioned wanting to join the evening patrol. Sir Leon and his partner will be leaving shortly.”
Uther whips his head around disapprovingly, and his anger at Merlin for interrupting whatever it was he was about to say translates to a tightened grip on Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince flinches slightly, but carefully steps away from The King, speaking before he can order the servant punished:
“Right you are, Merlin. If you’re happy for me to take my leave, father?”
Uther looks back to his son, confused, but approving of Arthur’s sudden eagerness to join extra patrols:
“Very well. I expect you to keep up the hard work, Arthur, I shall be disappointed if you start slacking again.”
Arthur nods and bows, but doesn’t say anything, his jittery demeanour getting worse with The King’s vaguely threatening tone. He walks stiffly from the room, and Merlin follows with a confused frown, making sure to keep his distance and step loudly on the stone floor; apparently Arthur was feeling jumpy today.
Arthur, still in his armour, leads them down to the courtyard where Sir Leon and another knight were indeed preparing to leave. The Prince doesn’t say anything to Merlin, simply nods in his direction before joining the others, and Merlin thinks he must have done the right thing if Arthur wasn’t shouting at him for giving him extra work that he hadn’t intended to do.
He stores this new, odd information in his mind for future reference, reminding himself to stay away from The Prince’s back and warn him of anyone approaching.
2)
The next thing Merlin notices doesn’t come from a specific incident, more from a series of odd happenings over time.
When Arthur had been released from the dungeons after Merlin’s miraculous survival from being poisoned, he was a mess. At the time, Merlin had smugly suggested that it was because Arthur was worried about him; his hair was similar to a bird’s nest, as if The Prince had been running his hands through it and pulling it on a near constant basis, and the shirt he was wearing frankly stunk of sweat.
Arthur had rolled his eyes at that and slunk off to sulk in his chambers—once Gaius had assured him Merlin would be fine—and the young servant had taken that as confirmation.
The first time Merlin actually witnesses Arthur’s quick, shallow breath and wide panicked eyes, they’re rushing through the narrow servant corridors. The Prince’s grip on his sword looks uncomfortably tight and the sweat on his brow seems a little odd: they weren’t running that fast. Merlin figures that Arthur is just stressed out from trying to catch the sneaky arsehole assassin who was trying to do in as many councilmen as he could before getting away. 
Which is an understandable thing to be stressed about.
Merlin only takes actual note of it when, after the assassin had gotten away, The King had demanded Arthur retrace his footsteps back through the castle to see if the criminal had dropped anything or hidden anywhere. Arthur practically freezes up at that, his wide eyes and pale skin making Merlin frown in confusion, only for his frown to deepen when Arthur stutters through his suggestion of having another knight lead the internal search whilst Arthur heads out into the city.
The relief on Arthur’s face when Uther agrees is, though brief and immediately hidden, immense. 
Merlin thinks back on the state Arthur had been in after he’d quested for Merlin’s cure. Perhaps... perhaps Arthur had been such a mess because he had spent a night in the dungeons, and not because he had been worried about Merlin.
As much as Arthur might like to think Merlin’s an idiot, the servant makes quick connections, pieces things together easily, like a children’s puzzle. At least when it comes to Arthur.
The servant is also reminded of the way Arthur insists that Merlin leave a few candles lit in the evening. At first, Merlin thought it was because Arthur was sneaking out of bed to get more paperwork done (Uther may rarely see it, but Arthur works ridiculously hard), but he checked the paperwork one morning and nothing had been added or altered. Then he though that it was maybe so Arthur could see any attackers coming in the night, because he was paranoid like that, but the candles always burnt out after a couple hours anyway, so it wasn’t like they were lasting through the night.
Merlin figures he was probably just reading into things too much (plus, he knows that accusing Arthur of being afraid of the dark or tight spaces would get him nothing but a slap up the head and, depending on The Prince’s mood, a visit to the stocks), though Arthur refusing to stay in Merlin’s tiny bedroom for any longer than necessary, and insisting on multiple torches being lit whenever they ventured into caves, forces Merlin to reconsider.
It was after one such adventure in one such cave that Merlin took advantage of the castle’s funds being available to him, and heads down to the market to buy some larger candles (and if he cast a spell to make them last longer... well... no one needed to know). Arthur gives him an odd look when he walks into The Prince’s chambers that evening and begins setting up and lighting them without acknowledgement; Merlin answers his questioning hum without looking at him:
“I know you like to be able to see just in case attackers make it into your chambers: these ones should last all the way until the morning. I set up a standing order with a merchant in the lower town.”
Arthur frowns confusedly, knowing that no one had managed to sneak into his chambers in months; it was definitely odd that Merlin had suddenly decided that this was a good idea. Still, Merlin doesn’t look back at him as he casually moves around the room, lighting the new candles and hoping that Arthur wouldn’t notice him leaving the curtains open by about an inch. He notices, though he doesn’t mention it in his response:
“Hmm. It seems you’re finally putting that brain of yours to use, Merlin.”
Merlin finally turns to look at him, glaring half-heartedly as he sarcastically laughs. Arthur just grins at him, glancing at the strip of moonlight on the floor for only a moment before climbing into his bed, muttering for Merlin to go ahead and get an early night.
From then on, Merlin packs extra torches in his pack when they go adventuring, and if he has room, a candle, in case they end up in an inn. If Arthur notices any of that, or the fact that Merlin always opens the window whenever they’re in the tiny Physician’s chambers for more than five minutes and always keeps him company on the now-rare nights Uther is angry enough to lock Arthur in the dungeons... well... neither of them point it out.
3)
The next odd reaction doesn’t happen until years later.
Of course Merlin keeps noticing Arthur’s aversion to surprise touch (especially from knights and his father) and general dislike of the dark/closed spaces, but dealing with it and adjusting to make things easier just sort of becomes part of their routine, without either of them really realising.
Arthur has been King for a few weeks when it happens. It's warm, too warm for armour, so the roundtable knights are practicing their hand to hand instead of using swords and shields. Arthur usually sits out for these lessons, teaching and observing from the side-lines as opposed to taking part in spars. Merlin had always thought it was odd, but the one and only time he had brought it up, years ago, Arthur had forced him to join in on the lessons. He had a lot of bruises that day.
But today was not a usual day apparently; Arthur joined in. He seemed reluctant at first, like he was unsure if he actually wanted to, but his first weeks as King had been going well and he’d had a successful meeting with some of his Lords the previous day, so he’s in a good mood. He finally caves when Lancelot offers to spar with him; there was something about the gentle man that just makes everyone in his vicinity feel a little more at ease.
The sun was shining, but heavy rain the previous week means the grass was bright and soft; all in all, it was a lovely day, but Merlin’s focus was still on Arthur and the way he and Lance dance around each other. All the knights were holding their strength back a little, the purpose of sparring is rarely to go all out, but practicing form and technique and footwork is always a good idea.
Arthur falls into the rhythm of the spar, dodging and side-stepping and blocking with ease, neither he nor Lance were eager to speed things up in the heat. He was moving automatically, running on instincts and just a little bit of adrenaline, which is probably why he freezes up when confronted with something so terrifyingly familiar.
A glint of sunlight off something metallic caches his eye, and his gaze moves away from the fight for barely a split-second, but when he looks back all he can see is shortly cropped brown hair, a bright red tunic, and a fist swinging for his face.
Lancelot yelps when Arthur doesn’t block like he had expected him to, and Merlin is sprinting over before The King’s head has even finished rocking to the side. The other knights go to crowd closer, worried for their leader, but Merlin waves them off harshly and they keep their distance, trusting him. Lancelot looks horrified, but dutifully steps back as Merlin puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and uses the other to tilt his chin from side to side. 
Merlin’s frown deepens when Arthur just lets himself be manhandled. Even in his worst injuries he was reluctant to let people check him over; Merlin quickly notices his wide eyes staring vacantly and the breathing that was far deeper than it really should be. He tries to get The King to look at him as he speaks lowly, so the others can’t hear him:
“Arthur? You with me?”
Arthur gulps, blinking rapidly and meeting his gaze, though Merlin can tell that he still isn’t really seeing:
“I... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean... I wasn’t...”
Merlin can only just hear Arthur’s whispers, and he’s grateful for the fact that the others definitely can’t hear them. He moves the hand on Arthur’s shoulder down to grip the other man’s hand and squeezes, and uses the other to shield his eyes from the sun as he mutters:
“Arthur, it’s Merlin, you’re out on the training field with members of the Roundtable, it’s late Spring, and you were crowned King three weeks ago. Arthur?”
It’s only then that Arthur’s eyes come into focus. 
Merlin has never been grateful to have the bones in his hands almost break, and he doubts he’ll ever be grateful for it again. Merlin’s squeezes back, digging his nails in just a little as a subtle “please don’t break my hand”. Arthur loosens his grip and Merlin raises his eyebrow slightly in question; the blonde groans slightly and lifts a shaking hand to rub his eyes:
“What happened?”
Merlin glances at the huddle of knights behind him and gives them a reassuring smile before he looks back to Arthur, speaking so everyone can hear:
“You took quite the well placed hit from Lance, got a mild concussion and lost yourself for a minute. You’ll probably be fine by this evening, but I want to get you in the shade just in case, ok?”
Arthur seems surprised at the explanation, but nods wordlessly, letting Merlin guide him up towards the castle without a fuss. That just worries Merlin more, and he speeds up slightly as he yells over his shoulder:
“Leon’s in charge!”
Leon just chuckles, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be paying them the slightest bit of attention if Arthur was even close to being seriously injured, but Gwaine just tilts his head and frowns:
“I love the guy but since when does Merlin decide who’s in charge? If he had said Elyan was in charge would we have just... gone with it?”
Leon shoves him playfully and tells him to get back to work, giving Lancelot a comforting pat on the shoulder as they all look away from the servant-King duo.
Merlin doesn’t take Arthur to the physician’s chambers, but goes to The King’s bedchamber instead; Arthur wasn’t actually concussed, but his mind had been elsewhere for a moment, so much so that he hadn’t recognised Merlin and spoke to him as if he were someone else. He sits The King down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, hands on his knees as he frowns:
“Arthur? Still with me, or gone again?”
Arthur takes in a sharp breath, making eye contact with Merlin again as he straightens his back and answers confidently, his voice wavering only slightly:
“Yeah, yes, I’m with you. Sorry, lost in thought. I don’t feel concussed, are you sure?”
Merlin nods and stands up, leaving Arthur on the bed as he moves to open the window and get him a goblet of water:
“Hmm, I lied, I don’t think you are either, you weren’t hit that hard to be honest, but you weren’t really... with it, thought it best to get you away from the others.-”
He turns around the see Arthur tense and angry-looking, though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it’s not aimed at him:
“-You probably just got dazed by the hit, that and you’re overtired, you’ve been staying up late the last few nights. Drink this, maybe have a nap, or at least stay out of the sunlight for a few hours, you’ll definitely be getting a headache at some point soon and I don’t want you to make it worse.”
He hands over the goblet of water, holding it slightly out of Arthur’s reach so the other man has to stand for it. He manages to stand on his own two feet with no issue, and the shaking in his hands is lesser than it was before, though not gone entirely, so Merlin makes a mental list of all the chores that he could finish here, in Arthur’s presence. The King drinks the water absent-mindedly, leaving the goblet on the side table as he mutters:
“Overtired... yeah, probably.”
He wanders towards his desk, collapsing in the seat and staring half-heartedly at the paperwork spread all over the place. Merlin relaxes slightly, deciding that maybe there was a reason Arthur never joined in on hand-to-hand.
4)
Merlin wasn’t fond of Arthur’s current visitor, Lord Algere, but he was pleased to note that Arthur didn’t seem all that fond of him either. He was an old supporter of Uther’s, which meant the occasional snide remark about how Uther would’ve handled certain situations differently, followed by deferential admissions of being “a close friend and advisor to the former King.”.
He was just friendly and kiss-ass enough that he couldn’t be kicked from court, that Arthur still had to be polite to him, but he rubbed pretty much everyone up the wrong way and Merlin couldn’t wait until he left to go back to his estate, thankfully situated on the furthest edge of the Kingdom. 
It's the day before he’s due to leave when he says it:
“You remind me of your father a great deal, you know, you’re very similar.”
Arthur freezes up at the so-called compliment, but recovers quickly, giving the Lord a tight smile before excusing himself so he wouldn’t be late for the city border patrol he was undertaking. Normally Merlin didn’t go with him on these patrols, he’d only be gone for a couple hours at most and he was joined by a partner; it gave Merlin time to finish up some chores, but the servant felt the need to be there today.
The King is silent the entire time, which is unusual considering he's riding alongside Sir Leon today, and those two always have something official to talk about. He doesn’t even spare Merlin an annoyed glance when the servant drops his bag and has to dismount to pick it up, only halts and waits for him to catch up again. Though he's sure The King had relaxed slightly at the beginning of the patrol, when Merlin mentioned that he fancied tagging along, and if Merlin weren’t so worried he’d be immensely proud at his apparent ability to put Arthur at ease.
Leon gives Merlin a worried grimace as they ride back into the citadel, but Merlin shakes his head and smiles, his meaning of “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure he’s fine” obvious in the action. The two of them have gotten quite good at silently communicating over the years, God forbid Arthur find out that they were trying to look after him.
They made the journey up to Arthur’s chambers in continued silence, though Merlin really starts to really worry when Arthur just wanders over to the window and stares down into the courtyard. He only does that when he’s feeling particularly pensive. Merlin lays out the work he knows Arthur had wanted to get done this afternoon and perches on the edge of the desk, facing Arthur’s back with his arms crossed:
“Arthur, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”
Arthur nods, but doesn’t turn away from the window, staying silent. Merlin purses his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he thinks might be wrong. He moves across the room and sits himself down at the dining table, casually starting on the polishing he had left there earlier as he speaks, trying to keep his tone as neutral and absent-minded as possible:
“I’ve no clue what Algere was talking about earlier, he either knows nothing about you, or didn’t know your father nearly as much as he says he did.”
Arthur finally turns from the window, fixing a curious frown on Merlin, who forces himself to keep his gaze down:
“What makes you say that?”
Merlin still doesn’t look up, but knows that he’s on the right track. Arthur has been able to admit, especially recently with his changing opinions on magic, that his father was not a good man, though he still struggles to admit that he wasn’t a good father:
“Well, from what I’ve seen, you look way more like your mother than you do Uther, and you don’t act like him at all, you haven’t picked up on any of his mannerisms or anything.-”
The servant finally looks up at Arthur, his words true but his nonchalance false as he continues with a confused frown:
“-To be honest, I’ve always thought you act more like an odd mix of Leon and Morgana. You’ve definitely got Leon’s sense of chivalry and respect and his knightly traits, but your... how do I say... fiery attitude when it comes to your sense of right and wrong, that’s definitely Morgana. Uther was quick to anger, you’ve got fairly good control of your anger nowadays. Uther was set in his ways and refused to change no matter the consequences, you bend traditions all the time, improve things in ways that Uther would never have dreamed of doing.-”
The servant shrugs and looks back down to his polishing:
“-I just don’t see the similarities, and I certainly know you better than Algere. I’ve a feeling I knew Uther better than Algere as well.”
Arthur hums non-committedly, but sits down at his desk instead of turning back to the window. Merlin feels the tension leave his shoulders, but doesn’t relax fully when he notices Arthur staring at his folded hands instead of working. Apparently it had only partially worked:
“Arthur?”
He doesn’t look up, just shuffles slightly in his eat as he lowly answers:
“Do you think I might... turn out like him? In the end? People say he was kind and gentle when he was young. If... if I ever have children...”
The question goes unasked, but the fear in his voice is palpable, and Merlin has to stop himself from sprinting from the room to burn every painting of Uther he can find. Instead, he puts the armour down on the table softly and stands, making sure to step loudly and clear his throat as he leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk again:
“Arthur, you’re a wonderful King, a wonderful knight, a wonderful man, and I guarantee that one day you’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t stress, you’ve out done your father in every other aspect of your life, I’m sure you’ll continue to do so.”
Arthur looks up at Merlin with a slight frown on his face, though it’s more thoughtful than anything. Merlin holds his gaze with a soft smile for a few moments, content to wait for Arthur to give him some sort of cue; Arthur just rolls his eyes and shoves him from the table, picking up a quill and finally beginning to actually work:
“Try not to insult the former King too much in one sitting, Merlin. And that armour won’t polish itself.”
Merlin just laughs quietly and moves back to the table, understanding and accepting that that was probably the best he was going to get. He makes a mental note to mention Arthur’s similarities to Leon next time the three of them are together; Arthur will be relieved, though he won’t show it, and Leon will be flattered beyond words. 
He dares not do it with Morgana. Both of them would be secretly be pleased, though they’d kick up one hell of a fuss trying to deny it.
5)
Thankfully, the two of them are in Arthur’s chambers when it happens.
Merlin’s not entirely sure he could use the “concussion” excuse like he did last time, not with the length of time it lasted.
It’s late, the curtains are drawn—with the traditional inch wide gap allowing a strip of moonlight to fall across the floor and over Arthur’s bed—and Arthur’s special candles have been lit. He’d been made aware of the spell Merlin had cast on them a few months ago, and though he was annoyed that Merlin had put himself at such risk, he hadn’t asked him to remove the spell, which the servant took as a good sign (both that Arthur wasn’t too mad about the magic, and that it had been a good idea).
The King sits at his desk, doing his normal pile of evening paperwork and trying to fit in as much as he can before Merlin snatches it away and manhandles him into bed, Merlin who is generally pottering around the room tidying. Arthur thinks of it more as just... moving the mess around, but he let’s him be; Merlin’s quiet company is much appreciated, especially with all the difficulties Arthur is having with repealing the ban on magic.
The King lets out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Merlin notices, because of course he does, and wanders over, a concerned frown on his face as he sits in the chair opposite him:
“You alright? Hit a snag?”
Arthur hums but shakes his head, opening his eyes but staying slumped in his seat; Merlin makes plans to get him to bed at some point in the next half candle mark at least:
“Hmm. No, just tired. This whole thing is draining, I wish I could just force them to see sense.”
Merlin knew that the them Arthur speaks of is the council. Currently, The King has about half of them on side, not including Leon, Morgana, and Gaius, but they need a majority by a significant margin before they can move forward, and Arthur refuses to act in any way that isn’t democratic.
Merlin nods, smiling softly at his lap as Arthur closes his eyes again:
“This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-”
At first, Merlin doesn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes fly open, nor the way he slowly sits up straight, nor the way his shoulders tighten and his skin grows pale and his eyes go vacant.
“-but I think you’re doing great, don’t be too hard on... Arthur? Are you alright?”
Merlin frowns when he finally looks up to see The King sitting ramrod straight and staring into the middle distance, his breathing ragged and his blue eyes glassy and unseeing. He stands slowly, moving around to Arthur’s side to crouch there and wave a hand in front of his face.
He doesn’t react.
Merlin shakes his shoulder slightly, hesitating only momentarily before touching him, but even then, Arthur doesn’t respond. The servant gulps, glancing over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was locked before touching a hand to Arthur’s forehead and muttering a spell; he normally uses this spell to wake up unconscious people, but it has no effect on The King other than sending a slight shiver through his body.
Merlin calls his name a few times, but it expectedly has no effect. He tries to test Arthur’s pain awareness by pinching the underside of his arm, and whilst he flinches away slightly, he doesn’t come to, still stares blankly at the opposite wall. Merlin thinks of calling for the guards and asking for Gaius, but somehow he doesn’t think the elderly physician will be able to help; there was no magic at play here, and he certainly hadn’t been poisoned. In all honestly he just looked a little zoned out, like the time Merlin had lied about the concussion, except it was clearly lasting longer this time.
Merlin frowns but tries his best to keep the panic at bay, it had only been a few minutes now, but other than breathing Arthur hadn’t moved an inch.
The servant takes a deep, relaxing breath, or at least what he hoped would be a relaxing breath. It’s not. He uses magic to slide Arthur’s chair away from the desk slightly, and moves into the space it leaves, shuffling all of the paperwork away and leaning on the edge. Once again, he puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and takes his hand with the other, squeezing slightly.
He waits.
After another ten minutes or so, Arthur’s breathing gets slightly more frantic, and he begins squeezing Merlin’s hand back. Merlin moves closer, crouching in between Arthur’s legs and shaking his shoulder again, but he stops when Arthur begins muttering:
“Didn’t... I... I’m sorry. Not my.... didn’t... didn’t mean to... sorry... disappointment...”
Merlin’s frown deepens at the barely audible whispers, especially when he notices the tears gathering in Arthur’s eyes. He shakes his shoulder again and forces himself to speak, just about managing to keep the waiver from his voice:
“Arthur, there’s no one else here, it’s just you and me, it’s just us, just Arthur and Merlin. It’s the evening in late Autumn, it’s almost time for bed, you sparred with Percival this morning and had a long, annoying council meeting this afternoon. You’re sat at your desk in your chambers with me, no one else.”
Arthur’s eyes come into focus, slowly at first and then all at once. He blinks and stands suddenly, almost tipping his chair backwards in his haste as he reaches a hand to his sword-less hip. Merlin moves back quickly, grimacing as he bumps harshly into the desk. Arthur’s gaze whips around the room desperately, as if searching for a danger that he was certain was there, before his eyes finally land on Merlin. The servant holds his hands out placatingly, not relaxing even as Arthur takes a deep breath and seems to calm down.
The King slumps back in his seat, rubbing the tears from his eyes with shaking hands; Merlin crouches down again, but doesn’t dare touch him, not quite yet:
“Arthur?”
His head whips up, but he relaxes again when he sees Merlin sat in front of him:
“Yes, sorry, I... must of dozed off or something.”
Merlin frowns, but nods one, speaking slowly, his tone low and even:
“Hmm. Must’ve, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I woke you. Time for bed, I think.”
For once, Arthur actually agrees with him, not bothering to argue like normal as he stands on shaking legs and heads to where Merlin has neatly laid his sleeping clothes on the bed. Merlin’s concerned gaze follows him, but he doesn’t move too far from the desk, deciding that he and Gaius definitely need to have a chat about... whatever the hell that was.
Half a candle mark later, Arthur is quietly wishing his manservant a good night and dismissing him. He was obviously distracted, Merlin normally can’t be frowning for more than thirty seconds before The King is hounding him about what’s wrong, but thirty minutes pass with not a question from Arthur, and Merlin makes his way to the Physician’s Chambers hoping that Gaius is still awake.
Thankfully, the elderly physician is still pottering around, tidying away various bits and pieces and generally preparing the room for a new day tomorrow. He immediately notices Merlin’s peculiar mood and gestures for the younger man to sit opposite him at the table:
“What’s bothering you, my boy?”
Merlin sits slowly, biting his lip and trying to decide just how honest to be:
“What does it mean if someone... zones out, completely, for extended periods of time?”
Gaius raises an eyebrow:
“I’m going to need a little more than that, Merlin.”
Merlin huffs but nods, shuffling in his seat slightly but responding:
“I was with someone earlier today. We were just chatting whilst we worked and suddenly they just... weren’t there anymore. Stiff, eyes glazed over, ragged breathing. They responded slightly to pain but it didn’t snap them out of it and they just... sat there, utterly blankly, for about twenty minutes. Eventually they started muttering to themselves, but it didn’t make any sense, then they... woke up, I guess, and thought they had fallen asleep. They definitely weren’t asleep, but they weren’t... I don’t know, conscious?”
Gaius frowns but nods, clutching his hands tightly on the table as he explains, his voice grave:
“Hmm. Sounds like an extended disassociation episode. I gather that I’m not to be told who this was?-”
Merlin shakes his head slightly, and though he looks slightly annoyed, Gaius nods and continues:
“-This happens mostly to people who experience something extremely traumatic, though it also happens in victims of extended abuse, especially if the abuse was in childhood, the younger the victim, the worse the reaction. Occasionally it can happen randomly, though it’s mostly triggered by something in their surrounding environment.”
Merlin’s frown deepens, and Gaius would easily hazard a guess at saying he looks angry. He doesn’t point it out though, just waits for his ward to continue:
“What can trigger it? And what other symptoms will child abuse victims display?”
Gaius takes another deep breath, but slowly responds:
“Anything can be a trigger really, something they see or smell or hear, something someone else does or says.-”
(”This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-” pops into Merlin’s head.)
“-As for other symptoms, aversion to touch, occasionally fear of being alone, OR fear of being in another’s presence. Some experience trouble with regulating strong emotions, difficulty in regulating long term relationships, platonic or otherwise, trouble with self-esteem. It varies from person to person, there is no strict list of obvious signs. Might I ask... why?”
Merlin shakes his head and stands, moving towards his bedroom with clenched hands and tight shoulders. Just before he shuts the door behind him, he turns to look at Gaius over his shoulder, brow furrowed and voice low:
“What... what was Uther like? When Arthur was a child?”
Gaius closes his eyes briefly, letting out a weary sigh and trying his best to hold in his grief:
“Strict, extremely difficult to please. He never... he never hit Arthur, not in public anyway, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he was violent privately. As a child, The Prince was terrified of the dark, and the dungeons. I got the impression that Uther forced him down there on more than one occasion. Arthur is... the one your concerned about?”
Gaius knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes when Merlin wordlessly nods before shutting the door behind him.
+1)
A few weeks have passed since Merlin had figured it all out.
He didn’t dare bring it up to Arthur, and shuts the conversation down any time Gaius mentions it. The conversation is for Arthur, and Arthur only, and Merlin wasn’t going to force it. 
Besides, they’ve been extremely busy with the transitions; The Kingdom was going from anti-magic to pro-magic, and Merlin was going from servant to a member of court. Arthur had tried to force nobility onto him as well as his position as Court Sorcerer, but Merlin had put his foot down at that, insisting that he wouldn’t become some stuck up wealthy arsehole, not even if his life was on the line.
Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana had grinned at that, Arthur and Lancelot rolled their eyes, Mordred continued to insist on calling him “My Lord” anyway, and Leon had looked marginally affronted as he mumbled something along the lines of “I’m a Lord you know, technically.”.
They aren’t lucky this time around, and it all comes to an explosive head in a quiet, though still habited corridor in the middle of the afternoon.
Afterwards, Merlin absent-mindedly considers the fact that they could’ve been in the courtyard or the throne room or somewhere equally busy, and thanks the Gods for just this little bit of luck; only two servants, one guard, and the... the noble and his son were in the corridor at the time.
Arthur and Merlin are making their way to the council room, preparing themselves for a busy meeting: it was the first since magic was officially legalised, and the first that Merlin (and Gwen, though that was another matter entirely) would officially be sitting in on. Though, in all honesty, pretty much the whole Kingdom knew that Merlin had been advising Arthur privately for years.
Merlin frowns and Arthur stiffens slightly as they spot the noble gripping his young son’s collar and aggressively whispering at him. The boy can’t be more than ten summers old, but the tears in his eyes display his utter terror clearly enough; no child should ever have to be that scared, especially not of their parents. Merlin resigns himself to just magicking the pig’s trousers down when no one was looking his way, but barely a second after he makes that decision the man raises his hand, and slaps the boy across the face.
Everyone in the corridor freezes as the boy cries out, and the noble doesn’t seem to notice the way the guard looks frantically between him and The King, waiting for instruction, or the way the servants and Merlin were staring, horrified. Arthur breaks out of his shocked stupor first, striding towards him with his fist already raised and his eyes blazing:
“How fucking DARE you?!”
His knuckles make violent contact with the man’s mouth, and the spray of blood from a busted lip and loosened teeth is what spurs Merlin into action. He runs forward, scooping the distraught boy up in his arms and quickly handing him over to one of the servants:
“Take him to Gaius, swear that you will not utter a word of this to anyone bar the Court Physician?”
His eyes flash golden as the servants’ both nod, and they rush off in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. Merlin, satisfied that they will be unable to break their promise, turns next to the guard, momentarily ignoring the way Arthur has shoved the bleeding noble against the stone wall:
“Fetch the Lady Morgana and Guinevere and tell them to go to Gaius and the boy, stay with them, swear that you will inform no one bar those three what has happened?”
The guard nods, understanding the magic implicitly as Merlin’s eyes flash gold again. He spares The King and his deserving victim one last glance before running towards Morgana’s chambers.
Merlin turns, finally, to Arthur, almost-but-not-quite recoiling at the tears on his cheeks as he lands another punch to the noble’s jaw. His face is black and blue at this point, and Merlin pulls Arthur back just as he raises his fist again; he thrashes in his grip, but quickly sags as his breathing deepens. The noble falls to the floor, unconscious in all likelihood, and Merlin clicks his fingers, banishing him to the dungeons with nothing but a shower of golden sparks.
Arthur breathes deeply, leaning all of his weight on Merlin as he clamps his un-bruised hand over his mouth, his wide eyes staring intensely at where the boy had been stood moments before. He doesn’t respond to Merlin’s calls, and with another flash of gold, they disappear, reappearing in Arthur’s bed chamber.
Merlin shoots Mordred a quick message over their mental link as he lowers Arthur to the floor, leaning him against the edge of the bed and moving around to be crouched in front of him. The King’s breathing has gotten dangerously deep and dangerously fast, the tears streaming down his face as his hands clench and unclench around nothing. Merlin quickly intertwines their fingers in an effort to stop Arthur hurting himself, but that just freaks the other man out even more as he desperately scrambles to get away from the contact.
Merlin lets go and moves back, eyes wide and desperate as he watches Arthur bring his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms and rocking slightly. His cries are muffled, but Merlin can still hear the heart wrenching sound; the Warlock takes a moment to breath before he stealthily moves around the room, lighting candles, locking the door, and shutting the curtains (bar an inch), before moving back to sit beside Arthur, a foot or so of space between them.
After a few minutes of no change, Merlin starts humming. He can’t remember any of the words, but it’s an old lullaby his mum used to sing when he couldn’t sleep, when he was scared of his own magic and his own friends and every shadow that moved in the dark. Arthur’s breathing slows, though he still hiccups occasionally, and Merlin rests his hand on the stone floor between them: an offer, not a demand.
Arthur doesn’t take it, instead shuffling over to lean his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes, not daring to put his arm around the other man as he continues to hum; he must’ve circled back and restarted the same song six, seven, eight times before Arthur nuzzles in further and sniffs before muttering:
“You’ve a good voice, Merlin.”
Merlin huffs a gentle laugh, leaning his head on top of Arthur’s softly as he quietly replies:
“Runs in the family, my mother used to sing to me, though I don’t really know any other tunes I’m afraid.”
Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, turning into Merlin’s chest slightly as the Warlock hesitatingly wraps his arms around the other man; he stops being so hesitant when he notices Arthur’s eagerness. Merlin pulls him close, sighing but letting Arthur settle in before he says anything. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the pain shooting up his spine at being sat on the stone floor for so long, but he decides he doesn’t really care, if this is what Arthur needs.
After a few more minutes, he rubs his cheek into Arthur’s soft hair and speaks, his voice gentle and loving:
“Feeling better?”
Arthur stiffens slightly, but quickly relaxes, nodding into Merlin’s chest and mumbling:
“The boy?”
Merlin smiles at Arthur’s worry:
“Safe. He’s with Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, under protective guard.”
Arthur nods again, tightening his hold on Merlin’s tunic:
“And his... father?”
“Bloodied up and locked in the dungeons, far away from his son. Mordred let the guards know that he is not to leave under any circumstances, told the council that the meeting had been postponed until further notice, and then went to relieve the guard in the Physician’s chambers.”
The King relaxes, and so does Merlin, though only slightly, he knows that this is where that terrifying conversation has opportunity to rear it’s ugly head:
“Arthur, are we going to talk about this?-”
He rushes to carry on when Arthur’s breath hitches and his hands pull on Merlin’s tunic slightly:
“-You can say no, Arthur. I swear, I will never, ever ask, not if you don’t want me to.”
Arthur doesn’t relax, but he shakes his head, gulping before replying, his voice thick:
“No, it’s fine, I should probably... talk about it, right? Morgana is always on my arse about being less repressed or whatever.-”
Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair rhythmically. Arthur lets out a deep breath, humming contentedly at the gesture and leaning even more into it:
“-My father was... difficult to please. His default was anger, no matter what, and it was... rare, for him to be anything but furious. He never... not in public, and never left marks where anyone could see.-”
Merlin struggles against the urge to hit someone (preferably Uther, though unfortunately he was dead. He supposes Uther’s old supporters would do in a pinch), but he makes do with taking a deep breath:
“-When he was especially furious he would lock me in a storage closet, or the dungeons. He... he would order that all the lights be put out, and all the windows covered, so I couldn’t see. Merlin I couldn’t see anything. I still... I can’t stand the dark, but I’m guess you figured that out?-”
Merlin knows that he’s referring to the candles and the perpetually open curtains and nods, humming in agreement:
“-How pathetic is that? A grown man, a King, afraid of the dark.”
Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur and shakes his head:
“It’s not pathetic, Arthur. It’s an automatic response, a defence mechanism that your brain puts in place to try and protect you from being re-traumatised. To this day, I’m terrified of fire, even though I have no reason to be anymore, even though it can’t hurt me as a Dragon Lord.”
Arthur gulps, but relaxes slightly, though his voice is quiet, almost ashamed as he continues:
“I can’t look at Lancelot’s turned back, I struggle to spar with him as well. He... he doesn’t even look anything like my father, he just... he always wears red and has the same hair as my father when he was younger and they’re the same height. Sometimes I feel like I’m a child again, everything around me just disappears and I’m back in that dungeon, or my father is stood over me screaming. How am I meant to be a good King when I’m scared of my own shadow?”
Merlin sighs, staying silent for a few minutes as he attempts to put an answer together in his mind. Arthur sniffles again, and Merlin is suddenly made aware of the wet patch where Arthur’s head rests on his tunic:
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as many times as you want: you are a wonderful King. You’ve delivered a Golden Age upon this Kingdom, your friends love you, your people adore you. You’ve never just been a good King, Arthur, you’ve been the best this Kingdom, and this world, has ever seen.”
Arthur loosens his grip again but huffs a quiet laugh against Merlin’s chest, which the Warlock definitely counts as a win:
“Kiss-ass.”
Merlin laughs this time, though he doesn’t stop carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair:
“Nah, when have you ever known me to kiss ass? I speak only the truth, My Lord.”
They both fall silent again, and Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s chest. Merlin drops his arms immediately, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable, but Arthur just takes one of his hands and goes back to sitting by his side, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence is long, but comfortable, and it’s dark outside by the time Arthur speaks again:
“Merlin?-”
The Warlock doesn’t make a sound, but squeezes Arthur’s hand in acknowledgement:
“-I thanked you for all the big stuff: saving my life, and saving the Kingdom, and all that. But I never thanked you for the small stuff. The candles and the endless support and the excuses.”
Merlin frowns slightly in confusion, not that Arthur can see:
“Excuses?”
“You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? You started years and years ago. You always seemed to notice when being with... with my father, or the knights, or anyone really, was getting too much, you always had some excuse ready. Sometimes you outright lied, even if it would get you in trouble, just to get me away from people. I don’t know how you knew... no one else ever realised. Saying I had paperwork when I didn’t, or a patrol when I wasn’t scheduled for one, or a concussion just to give me some privacy. Thank you.”
Merlin smiles slightly, squeezing Arthur’s hand again:
“You were too busy looking after everyone else, someone had to look after you. I’m grateful it was me, Arthur, I-”
He pauses and sits up slightly straighter, though it doesn’t jostle Arthur too much. He lifts his head anyway, staring at Merlin in concern with tired eyes:
“Merlin?”
Merlin looks to him suddenly, but smiles:
“Hmm, sorry, just Mordred. Updating me on the kid and asking if you’re alright.-”
Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, but Merlin’s smile grows as he shakes his head:
“-Don’t worry, no one knows about... this, just that you went berserk when you saw a Noble beating his kid, and punched his teeth out.”
Arthur relaxes and nods, humming thoughtfully as he looks to the floor. He stands up, wobbling only slightly after being curled up in the same position on a cold stone floor for several hours, and Merlin follows him confusedly:
“Do... do you want to go check in on them? The kid’s been asking after you apparently, wants to thank you.-”
Arthur looks conflicted, almost as if he were worrying that he wouldn’t actually be welcomed, so Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles, waiting until Arthur looks at him before continuing:
“-We can leave it until morning, if you like, but you saved that boy, Arthur, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Arthur nods, but doesn’t move until Merlin wipes his face clean with his sleeve and smooths out his clothes. If he uses a little magic to make the two of them more presentable, then neither of them mention it as they walk purposefully to the door.
Merlin looks to Arthur stood next to him, his hand hovering over the door handle:
“Ready?”
Arthur smiles at him, taking his hand and squeezing it, but not dropping it as he opens the door and steps into the corridor:
“Ready.”
~
THE END!!!
As angsty as it was, I really enjoyed writing that😅. I couldn’t help myself though, I had to give it a happy ending :D
I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I love y’all!!
My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peeks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!
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fismoll7secinv · 2 years
Text
OC time
Or how I used these two tropes as a schtick for one character (plus tips about playing a balanced "evil" character)
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Blame @zinkul 's reply to that post
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Anyway, in short I used to play this Changeling character whose personality split in two in Arcadia.
Before she got kidnapped by fae, to the world she was an energetic and passionate archer. By night, however, she wore many masks to spy or assassinate. She was used to shutting off a part of her conscience when she was out on a hunt for the target, so it wouldn't hinder her job. Thus, when she got thrown into her fae's city of endless night, she automatically shut off her emotions, to not lose herself while doing the fae's bidding. She spent enough years there to almost bury those parts of herself completely, becoming a cold, efficient puppet.
Until a chance to escape appeared.
Just as efficiently as she worked, she slipped away from Arcadia's grasp without a trace. However, the closer to her prior sunny world she got, the more her mind was becoming foggy and clattered, as if something tried to break free.
The moment the first sunrays hit her deathly pale face, she was no more.
A wide smile stretched her mouth, pulling the skin and breaking the dried up lips, causing a few bloody cuts to shine on them. Her tongue swept the red away as she stretched her arms lazily, before yanking the ribbon which held her hair tightly bound and shaking her head to feel the dark silky strands cascade around her like a spider's web.
She turned to a few companions she met on the way through the Hedge, all traumatised cast outs without homes, who got used to her cold reserved self and now stared at her with wary expressions.
“Hi! I'm Aira, nice to meet you ❤"
----
Anyway, not to prolong, when you wanna play an "evil" character you have to balance it out so it doesn’t get overbearing for other players and doesn't hinder the story with unnecessary shows of your "evilness", or going on rampages etc. So for this character, which I decided to go yolo and give her two personalities, I balanced them out in this way:
Kaira - terribly efficient, very reserved, doesn't have a conscience but also doesn't possess unnecessary maliciousness. The type to just do whatever they deem the most sensible, and is focused on survival. She could kiIl an enemy without batting an eye, but would do so only if it was necessary, and it'd be a quick death. Judges others coldly but when she bonds with someone and considers them a family, she won’t let anything happen to them.
Aira - all the energy of the original pre-Arcadia self went into her, additionally boosted by years of repression, making her a colorful ball of chaotic energy. What she also got from the original was the wicked bloodthirst which drove her into leading the criminal second life in the first place. However, just as her repressed emotions grew more vibrant, her conscience and empathy became stronger as well, holding the fascination in death and pain in check. Thus, if it ever came to dealing with an enemy, there is a chance her restraint would snap and she could become a ruthless sadist, but she wouldn't walk out of it unscathed mentally, and for the restraint to be broken she would need to be pushed really far, where her conscience's voice is too weak.
And where does the schtick come into play? Well, Kaira keeps the hair away from her face in a long ponytail because it's more practical, while Aira hates to bind it and keeps it down and free. So whenever someone sees her bind her hair they know that she's now the most efficient and no-bullshit person in the room, and when they see her loose the ponytail they literally don't know what to expect so they prepare for any chaos to ensue.
Random additional trivia
They know about each other and have a deal to have a more or less equal time in control, both are conscious and know what's going on while the other is in charge (so it's easy to play and not have to constantly explain what happened to the other when they switch)
Aira is the primary personality tho
Aira is scared of the dark so she’s in charge during the day, Kaira feels more comfortable at night anyway so she comes out when it gets dark
They’re a Darkling able to communicate with ghosts and spirits, during their time in Arcadia they were tasked with gathering spirits for the spider queen
After settling in in the human world again and feeling safe, Kaira got interested in solving mysteries, so she became a detective
Their names come from the original's name - she was named Aira but used a nick K for her assassin self, so the daylight self stayed with the original name (Aira) while the night self combined the two (Kaira)
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candycityy · 3 years
Text
—shoutout to @avadescent for inspiring me to write offended-attention-deprived levi. because why not right? right.
Levi isn't an unreasonable man.
Rude, sure. Neurotic, well, maybe. He's aware of his flaws, thanks, but as far as he's concerned, unreasonable has never been one of those.
And yet—looking down at the hopeful expression of his subordinate, he feels the irrepressible urge to say something wholly unreasonable. Something like no.
"It'd be a really good opportunity," Petra says, as usual catching on to his thoughts far too quickly for his comfort. "The Military Police has never showed any interest in us before, this could be a real chance to rally some support—"
"Some extra coin, you mean," Levi interjects drily. Far too used to her captain's cynicism, Petra presses on, unperturbed.
"Besides," she adds, "it's just for a week. And the commander—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Levi waves an irritated hand. "The Military Police is in town, they finally manage to get over their massive fucking egos long enough to realise how shit their fatality rates are against actual titans, as opposed to the scum—"
"Captain."
"Criminals," Levi amends, "that they waste their time chasing after, most of the time. And now they want a tour guide to show them around. Fine. But why you?"
Petra levels a glare at him—the only one of his soldiers who'd have the guts to do so—and he feels a stab of grudging respect. "Are you insinuating that I'm not qualified, sir?"
"Just asking why."
"In that case, sir, I'd wager that the commander," she enunciates the world pointedly, "nominated me because I'm nice and friendly and have the second-highest kill count in the Corps. And unfortunately, the soldier with the actual highest kill count has approximately the charm and charisma of a dead slug."
He narrows his eyes at the soldier, who immediately schools her expression back into one of wide-eyed innocence. "You're an insubordinate brat, Ral."
"I'm saving you from having to deal with the MP yourself, sir," Petra says patiently. "You know that if you don't give me permission, Commander Smith is going to go after you next."
They stare at each other for a few seconds, locked in stalemate. Finally, Levi sighs.
"Fine," he mutters. "You can be their tour guide, as long as you keep up with your training in your own time. And, Ral?"
"Sir?"
"For fuck's sake don't be too nice to them."
Petra's answering grin is wry and knowing, even as she lifts her fist to her chest in a flawless salute. "I'll try, sir."
==
The lounge is unnaturally quiet.
Apart from the sound of his pen scratching onto the seemingly endless pages, and the occasional murmured curse from Auruo whenever Gunther takes yet another one of his pawns, there's a strange, heavy silence permeating the ordinarily cheery room.
In his corner, where he's aimlessly folding bits of newspaper into a series of increasingly complicated figures, Eld exhales loudly. "I miss Pet," he declares, morosely tossing a miniature bird into the trash can across the room and missing by a clear metre.
At Levi's glare, he goes to collect it quickly enough.
Auruo snorts in a show of derision. "What for? The peace and quiet's a nice change." He steals a quick, hopeful glance at Levi, who obligingly pretends not to notice.
Privately, Levi agrees with Eld. The squad has been unusually quiet without its sole female member, and he's on more than one occasion during training found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Petra's lithe form at his back, ready to sweep in for an assist.
And. even though he'd sooner stab himself with a blade than admit it, the tea he's been forced to make in her absence—as careful as he's been with his technique—just isn't the same. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose with annoyance.
"It's only been two days," Gunther says absently, ignoring Auruo's sound of protest as he neatly plucks a knight off the chessboard. "And she seems to be enjoying it."
"Is she?" Levi goes. He flicks off a stray bug with the tip of his pen, and savagely crosses out a misspelling.
"Yeah. An old friend from the Cadet Corps is in the lot that came in with the MP, she mentioned she'd been catching up with him."
"An old boyfriend, more like." Auruo hisses in exasperation when Gunther swipes yet another piece. "Michael, right? I remember him. Smug little slimeball, he was."
Levi stiffens. "She didn't mention that," he says, as casually as he can. Gunther shoots him a curious glance, which he ignores.
"Yeah, well, why would she?" Eld yawns and gets to his feet, stretching. "This blows. I'm gonna get some sleep. Later."
Levi sips at his tea, feeling violently and inexplicably irritated despite the would-be comfort of the familiar brew. The feeling doesn't fade, not even when the chess game ends with Gunther's resounding victory and both men traipse out of the room, leaving him alone in the quiet.
He dots an i with more severity than strictly necessary and decides to call it a night, too.
==
Petra continues to spend the better part of the next week flitting off to attend to their unwanted guests. With every activity that she doesn't turn up at, Levi finds his mood turning a shade fouler. Training isn't as productive. The whole squad is off their game.
Also, he misses her.
That evening, the lounge is empty. The rest of the squad has gone off to town for a much-needed drink, leaving Levi alone behind to tackle yet another stack of paperwork.
He's worked himself into a monotonous rhythm when the door swings open and Petra steps in, looking exhausted but content. Against his will, Levi feels his mood lift a fraction, although he keeps his scowl firmly in place.
"Captain," Petra greets with her usual smile, flopping down on her favourite spot at the sofa, "where's everyone?"
"Town," Levi replies shortly.
"Oh?" Her smile turns into a yawn, and he notes with an odd feeling the shadows under her eyes. "I need a drink, too. The MP visitors have been a handful. Did you know that most of them have barely touched their 3DMG after graduating? They're so rusty, they make Hanji's gear look positively shiny."
Levi has to stop himself from snickering; the squad leader is notorious for failing to maintain her gear, much to her second-in-command's constant despair. He has to force his expression to remain icy. Petra looks at him curiously.
"Anything the matter, captain?" she goes. He shrugs.
"Not really."
"That's not the same as no," Petra observes. Levi casts her a dark glare.
"Insubordinate," he mutters. "Just...hasn't been the best week."
"Because of me?"
Levi stares down at his paperwork.
"Maybe," he finally replies. Still refusing to meet her gaze, he asks, casually, "So, did anything exciting happen?"
He's still not looking at her, but he can hear the frown in her voice as she shakes her head. "Not really."
"That's not the same as no," Levi echoes. His subordinate rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
"One of my old squadmates, back in the cadet corps, was being annoying throughout," she admits. Levi tries to keep his expression composed, even as something in his chest seems to lift, for whatever reason.
She clears her throat, seemingly eager to move on to the next topic. "Apart from that, the most exciting thing was probably seeing the captain of the MP almost lose his lunch after we showed him Hanji's lab."
Levi finally allows himself to snort. "Shitheads."
"Shitheads," Petra agrees. Her lips quirk into a tentative smile. "I missed the squad, though."
It's phrased like a sentence but sounds more like a question.
He makes the mistake of looking at her. Her cheeks are red, and there's a light in her eyes that seems nervous, almost shy. Yet she meets his gaze with a kind of determination. Questioning. Hopeful.
It's an unusual look for the girl who cuts down titans without batting an eyelid. Something in the back of mind tells him that her words are layered, but he forces himself to focus on the outside.
"The squad wasn't the same without you," Levi finally replies. It's not nearly enough, even he knows that.
Still, it's sufficient to make her whole countenance brighten and her smile shift into something different, whole. He realises belatedly that the dark, irritated cloud that has persisted in the back of his mind for the past week has dissipated almost entirely.
He shoves away the realisation quickly. Petra just smiles at him, seeming to know his thoughts before he can even begin to wonder at them. As usual.
"It's good to be back, captain," she says softly.
"Good to have you back, Ral."
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