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millie-ionaire05 · 4 years

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A Shadow’s Light

Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fae AU ♕ Monarch Yoongi ♕ Fantasy AU ♕ CEO Yoongi ♕ Soulmate AU

Summary: The approaching solstice reminds Yoongi that his time for remaining Monarch without a kindred soul is running out. As each day goes by, the shadows around him become more unruly, and his emotions become harder to control. Even as his right hand, he’d never considered you as someone to court, not until he realized your light could tame the shadows. Oh, but your light brought more than that, it brought a burn that had desire curling deep within him. A desire that he won’t allow to slip away.

Word Count: 4,130

Rating/Warnings: M for Mature (+18); Monarch Yoongi; Confidant Reader; Female Reader; CEO Yoongi; Slightly Dom Yoongi(?); Office Sex; Unprotected Sex (wrap the schlong before you sit on the dong); Oral (f receiving); Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Bottom Yoongi; Top Reader; Squirting

Author’s Note: I’ve dreamed of this Yoongi quite a few times over the last few years, and so I finally decided to write it. Albeit, this is a completely shorter version than the original one I started years ago, but I think it’s fine as I ease my way back into the writing scene. Thank you so much to @dee-ehn for the amazingly beautiful banner; it’s absolutely stunning! Hope you guys like it 😊

The feel of cold paper against his fingertips is almost a welcomed reprieve compared to the monotonous drone of the head of marketing, an older man with a pinch in between his eyebrows and a smug expression. Yoongi’s mind is filled with a million other incessant thoughts, ones that are far more pressing than the steps on appealing to the board of directors.

For one, the solstice was tomorrow, and the primal hunger for a kindred soul to be at his side was becoming even more difficult to deny. He knew if he was unable to find someone this year, the Elders would begin to question whether he truly should be the Monarch for their kind. His kind. Just the notion has his wings twitching in anger before it is dwindling to a burning frustration, his fingers reflexively crumpling the edges of the paper he held.

“Sir?”

He turns merely a centimeter towards you, his eyes forcefully focusing as they make contact with your own. You seem almost taken aback by his gaze, your lips having parted and your eyes wide. He must not have realized how hard his expression had been, but he quickly softens it, a rumble of an apology carrying its way to your ears only. Your gentle eyes turn sympathetic, your mouth curling up to show a bright smile, and it almost blinds him.

It was no secret within the world of Fae that he was the first shadow chosen as Monarch, much to his surprising dismay. It was not so much a surprise that he was chosen per se, as he had been groomed for it during most of his childhood, but it was the fact that he was groomed at all that surprised him. Even as Monarch, the Fae were wary of those ‘cursed’ by the shadow. It was not only uncommon amongst their kind, but it was also dangerous if not controlled properly, and it could rarely be controlled. Before his ruling, parents would often tell stories of shadow monarchs who grew out of control, their shadow swallowing the settlement whole.

Whether parents continue to tell their children such stories is lost on him, as he very rarely is included in conversation when the settlement gets together. He wouldn’t be surprised though, as he, too, worried for the safety of everyone around him.

You on the other hand, he was the least worried about. You were the complete opposite of him, as you were blessed with the light. A rare gift. It was always said that the light could tame the shadows, but he only feared you would make his grow, like how an increase in light source could cast a stronger shadow of a human figure. Especially if it got too close.

But regardless, you were also groomed similarly to himself as a child, so that you would be by his side. A loyal….assistant….if he had to title it. You were his confidant, his right hand man (or technically woman), so to speak. The Elders had thought it wise to have you close to him, and while the thought had initially made him uncomfortable - the shadows around him twitching in disgust at the light you brought - he had grown fond of your company within the last several years. The shadows around him had ceased their fury long ago when you were near, and he was grateful for at least that respite.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you carry on, oblivious to his internal torment. “Would you like me to escort you out of here?”

He can’t help the twitch of his lips, an eyebrow raising as he allows his body to turn towards you, his chair barely squeaking at the action. He watches the way your cheeks flushed at his stare, your eyes casting down to your lap as your fingers fiddle with non-existent lint. His eyes roam to your wings, watching how the beautiful white seems to shimmer as they fluttered slightly. He knew he could fluster you - he often found it entertaining - and quite frankly he also found it adorable. The shadows around him groan.

With a tsk, his lips twitch down, and you immediately sense his shift in emotion. You were so perceptive to him, and yet still so obliviously unaware of how his shadows reacted when you shined so bright. In those moments it was very painful, and while he could usually muster through the pain, he found that it was actually difficult for him in that second.

Fear zings through his body as his shadows laugh, their forms swiftly quivering in excitement at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to stop them, that he wouldn’t be able to prevent them from consuming what was around him. His body becomes rigid, his eyes closing as he works to compose his emotions, his mind fighting with itself as his heart thuds within his ears. He can faintly hear you calling out to him, but he is too busy focused on his task.

A sharp sting envelops his hand, and his eyes snap open to find your own hand against his, the shadows retreating to the furthest recesses opposite of your shine, and his heart stutters. Never have the shadows withdrawn so quickly, no matter how many lessons the Elder’s had given him, he has never been able to control them. Not to say they are controlled per se, because he knew they could never be controlled, but they were tamed for the moment. Your hand continues to burn against his, and he slowly pulls back from your touch, his eyes meeting yours once again.

A small nod of his head is all you need, your body instantly moving as you announce their departure, your figure guiding him back towards his office. His eyes never waver from your wings, watching how they are so delicately beautiful and white, a complete contrast to his sharp black wings. Your wings were round, many swirls intricately woven in various degrees of white, sparkling no matter what time of day. While his wings were sharp edged, and of the deepest of blacks, a color that portrayed an endless void. He’d been told, more often than not, that his wings seemed invisible if he flew around the city at night. It didn’t just stop there though, as the shadows also allowed him to blend in to the darkest corners, keeping him out of sight if he wanted.

He was such a contrast to you, not just in wing shape and color. It was normal for women’s wings to be larger than men’s, just like a female bird was larger than a male, but your wing size complimented you so well. Everything about you and your gift suited you. Your gift gave you the ability to travel at the speed of light, not that he’d ever seen you use it. He supposed there hadn’t exactly been any reason to use it, so of course he wouldn’t have seen you. Or maybe he hadn’t seen you because you were simply too quick for him to catch, he wasn’t entirely sure. He made a mental note to ask you one day.

“Would you like me to clear the rest of your day, sir?” you ask, watching him as he moves around his desk to his chair, your eyes wide with concern.

“Yes, please,” he murmurs, his eyes closing as you rattle off into your phone for all of his meetings to be cancelled.

The shadows are still in the corner of his mind, having shifted so they were completely opposite of your presence. Yoongi’s heart races with the speeds of a thousand mustangs, the beat traveling up his neck and into his ears, and he isn’t sure what to do. You had stopped the darkness, which had seemed to be even more out of control lately, but you had done it. His eyes can’t help but open to stare at you, your body now resting on the chair across his desk, completely oblivious to his gaze as you scroll through your phone.

With a simple command, he orders the shadows to close his office door and lock it, and he watches as they are quick to avert your presence and complete his task. He wonders if they fear the torture of the light again, and whether that is why they are so compliant. Nevertheless, he has an image in his mind that couldn’t be wiped, and that image was you. In all his years of life he had not looked at you in any way more than a friend, a confidant...until today.

He smirks at the way your body jumps, your head turning to see the office door closed before your gaze whips back around to look at him. He knew how you felt about him, because while he was quiet for the most part, you were like an open book. Your emotions were as plain on your eyes as your heart was on your sleeve, open and bared for him. You didn’t cower from your feelings towards him, but you also weren’t jealousy possessive when the Elders ordered him on many courtships with other women. No...you stayed by his side and supported him, even as each of them failed to subdue his darkest demons.

Slinking from his spot, he slowly makes his way around the desk, stopping until he has leaned against it in front of you. Your body instinctively shifts back against your chair as your gaze lowers, though he knows this was out of respect as the Monarch, he doesn’t want you to pull further away from him. His hand still burned at your contact, and a deep part of him begged to feel it again, begged to feel the pain.

“Stand up,” he orders, and watches with satisfaction as you instantly comply, your body a mere few inches from his.

The shadows quiver at the proximity, which only brings a shaky breath from his lips, his hand reaching forward until the tips of his fingers graze your cheek. Your eyes rise to meet his, confusion trying to mask the culmination of fear and desire he knew you felt, but the words of your open book practically scream at him. Beg him.

In one swift movement his hand grips the back of your neck, his fingers burning, but he doesn’t care as his lips meet yours. And oh, how soft your lips were against his, it had to be a crime. He had been with sparingly few people in his life, but nothing compared to how you felt against him, how your light seared him in magnificent ways. A moan escapes from your velvety lips and it can only be accompanied by the groan from his own as he shifts his head, taking advantage of the new angle to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Oh, had he known how compliant you would be under his touch, he would have tried this ages ago. So soft and supple, yet you burn hotter than a thousand suns as the shadows practically whimper at the onslaught, yet the pain was quickly becoming something he relished. Something he needed. An addiction that he wasn’t sure he would be able to fulfill. Your pretty moans only further the tingles in his body, their assault almost unnecessary since his pulsing cock was tightly confined to his work slacks, but it only furthered his need for you.

Pulling back swiftly, he practically melts at the whine that escapes from you, your gaze hazy as you stare at him in a mixture of confusion and disappointment. It almost makes him lose it. Almost.

“Please tell me you want this,” he states, his breathing heavy as his chest heaves to allow more air in, but it seems almost futile.

Your face contorts into an expression he can’t seem to understand until it shifts into understanding, a soft smile falling on your lips. Your hand comes up, cupping his cheek and his heart jumps at the contact, the burn intensifying. Your eyes silently consent, but he wants to hear you say it. No…he needs to hear you say it, and he can see it in your eyes that you know that.

“I want this,” you whisper, and that’s all he needs.

The room envelopes in a darkness like no other, the pure desperation in your eyes as he swiftly swipes his hand across his desk, items clattering onto the floor. You squeal in a mixture of delight and surprise as he unexpectedly throws you onto the now cleared desk, the chill of the wood bringing goosebumps onto your skin, and he doesn’t miss it. No, he sees you so clearly, it is as if all the noise in the world has cleared away to provide the perfect picture that is you. He can’t keep calm as your back arches, your chest practically begging for him to come closer, to ravage you.

Reaching forward with trembling hands, his fingers deftly unbutton your blouse, his eyebrows rising when he’s met with the most complimentary color of silk that cups your breasts. Your skin is illuminated with a flush as he continues to stare, his moves slow and methodical, and he takes note of the clench of your thighs as you attempt to relieve the pressure. He doesn’t speed up in his ministrations though, slowing even more as he allows his fingertips to trace from your neck down to your hips, stopping right above the barrier of your tight pencil skirt. He relishes in the way you quiver as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the skirt, finding the clasp and button with ease and opening it before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

He thanks the Heavens that you hadn’t chosen to wear pantyhose this day, because he would feel guilty having to tear them off your body. Well...only slightly guilty. He can’t continue the thought process though, because a deep groan is pouring from his lips at the sight of your matching underwear, his cock now at full attention and already weeping through his pants. His teeth grips at his lower lip as he forces his body to remain at a glacial pace, but with every second that passes, he’s finding it utterly difficult. Your panting did nothing to calm him, your breaths coming quick as your blown out pupils stare at his hands, your tongue coming out to moisten your reddened lips.

Oh he needed something on his mouth, and he needed something on them now. Discarding your skirt to some unknown spot across the room, his hands grip right behind your knees, fingers tightening so he can forcefully spread your legs. He can feel the muscles in your legs resist as you try to snap them together again, but he doesn’t allow it, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of you. So pretty, so beautifully created, and the burn against his hands strengthens. Grunting at the pain, he is practically salivating as it mixes with the pleasure, the shadows quivering around him, but they remain compliant.

And you remain compliant, too, your wide eyes moving to meet his own. A smirk claims the corners of his lips before he leans forward, allowing his hot breath to seep through your underwear. Your legs are trembling within his grip, and you try with all your might to bring his mouth closer to where you want it. Where he knew you needed it. And he is content on giving it to you. Moving his hands from their spot, he uses the angle to spread your legs further apart, his hands coming to your hips. The cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth is pure bliss, your body clearly stiff with shock at the sudden action of his fingers having pushed your underwear to the side so that they could flick your clit.

Yoongi’s mouth salivates at the sight of your entrance, completely wet and dripping. He wants to ask if it’s because of him, but his body is working faster than his mind. His mouth begins to suck at your juices, his nose bumping into your clit and you jump, his hands swiftly moving to hold your hips down. Oh how sweet you were. Like the sweetest of treats, but a rapidly addicting taste that he isn’t sure he can stop. He is sure you don’t want him to stop either, considering how your hand has desperately moved to his hair, fingers gripping at his locks. You tug when he purposely licks your nub, a mumbled whine of his name falling from your lips, and he can’t help but groan.

With all thoughts of a glacial pace flying from his thoughts, he allows himself the pleasure of wrapping his lips around your clit, alternating between sucking and licking in hopes he could hear you call his name once more. At least once more.

Oh but he doesn’t have to wait for long, his name practically pours from your lips in rapid succession as he continues his actions, the tremble in your legs intensifying. Shifting in his spot, he blocks your leg with his shoulder so that he can free a hand, the tips of his fingers promptly prodding at your entrance. Earning an anguished whine from you as he leans away from your pretty pussy, his heart thrums at the way your eyes roll back when he shoves a finger inside of you, quickly following it up with another.

There isn’t much he is proud of, but his fingers are one of them. He doesn’t miss the way your back instantly bows off the desk when he curls them and finds your sweet spot.

“Y-yoongi,” you cry out, beginning a new song of his name with explicit curses that sound so sinfully sweet, his jaw is aching.

Desperate to see how quick he could get you off on his fingers, he leans forward again to provide unabated licks to your clit. The light behind his eyes is almost blinding as your bodies remain connected, the shadows sticking to the far walls away from your shine, but quaking at the pleasure they feel through him. He wasn’t even undressed, and he felt as if he could cum on the spot, just on the feel of you against him. Of the mix of pleasure and pain as he refuses to lose any form of contact with you. And you must have felt the same, because you basically wail your impending orgasm a mere second before it comes crashing.

But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. He continues sucking at you and savors the battle your body has, conflicted on whether you should withdraw from the overstimulation, or stay under his tongue as the pain rolls into renewed pleasure. All Yoongi can think about is pleasing you, devouring you in every way he can because this is nothing he has ever felt before.

Your grip in his hair tightens painfully, and he moans at the way you try to stop him. Finally caving in to your demands, he pulls back from your clit and looks you in the eyes, a growl tearing from his chest at the look on your face. You had to be as far gone as he, possibly further gone considering your pupils had practically consumed the iris, your wings spread taut across the desk. His own wings twitch at the sight, and it only takes him a mere five seconds to pull his clothes off and throw them across the room with yours.

Five seconds seem like too much to him, and possibly to you too, because you are standing in front of him by the time he finishes. You have managed to remove your bra and panties on your ascent, your hands coming forward to grab his shoulders, a flash of your wings switching your positions. His vision all but careens at the intensely quick motion, unable to keep up with the change as the room spins. When his eyes are finally able to focus, you have him lying against the desk, scrambling to climb on top of him.

His cock twitches at your juices dripping onto him, each drop tingling against his skin until your flesh makes contact with his once again, the sheer pleasure of pain zinging through him. Reaching forward, his hands grab hold of your hips, desperate to bring your entrance against his member. Your mind seems to be in sync with his, as your hand shoots down to grip his cock, bringing his head to your dripping core. He growls at the onslaught, his thighs tensing for fear that he would lose if before he could get himself in you.

You waste no time in letting his thick cock slide in, your neck becoming exposed as you throw your head back, a cry echoing in the office. The shadow’s tighten their position, absorbing your moans as you beg him to release his grip on your hips, desperate to move so as to allow the tip of his dick to rub over your spot. But his grip is ruthless, the onslaught of pleasure and pain putting him at the edge, and he was not going to lose it now.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks as you meet his gaze, your eyes widening as you observe the slithering shadows wrapping around his neck, quivering in hopes he would lose control in this moment of fragility. Your hands move towards the shadows, the tips of your fingers connecting with the skin at his neck as they retreat, the thrum of his pulse accelerating beneath your fingertips. All control flees from him as his hands grab yours, your fingers intertwining before he thrusts, a silent command to move.

Oh, how you felt above him. Pure bliss. Your hips snap as you grind against his cock, your back arching as you try and move faster. He can feel the shake of your thighs, the shivers as goosebumps travel down your body, turning your nipples into hardened nubs. He lifts himself slightly to take one of those buds into his mouth, groaning against your skin as you practically cry his name. A constant tune of his name on your lips, collective curses intertwining between your bodies as your grip on his hands tighten.

He forces his eyes to remain open, unwilling to lose contact with your body above his, his eyes flitting to all parts of you. He never wanted to forget how beautiful you look above him, how well you balance him as your skin made his burn in all the best ways. Your walls tighten around him, signaling your fast approaching release, and your cries of pleasure grow in volume. Digging his feet into the desk, he lifts his lower half in hopes it will give you more leverage against him, but it was also his desperate way to be closer to you in all the ways he could be.

Your back curves as you halt above him, your walls spasming against him as your juices gush out, the push of your orgasm almost causing him to slip out. He grits his teeth as he forces himself to stay inside of you, his grip unmerciful as you continue to squirt on his cock, soaking his lower abdomen.

Desperation consumes his body as he watches you unravel above him, and his grip on your fingers release, his hands moving to your hips as he adjusts his stance. He revels at your cry of surprise when he begins to slam himself up into you, your chest coming forward to rest against his own, changing the angle in which he enters you. Your lips rest against the thick vein in his neck, your teeth nibbling at his skin as your hands run up his arms before slipping through his hair. If the pain was intense before, his body was practically aflame as your fingers grip at his hair, your walls remaining clenched around him. His thigh muscles scream as he chases his high, frantically speeding up further when he feels the end near. His wings twitch, pitching forward as they comfortably make contact with yours, the bond of a thousand lifetimes pushing him over the edge.

It takes him a moment to realize you’re both in the air, his wings having carried you both off the desk, and you both softly float back towards it. You remain on top of him, your eyes searching his own as your wings stay connected, cocooning your bodies as the bond is finalized.

“I found you,” he whispers.

A small smile claims your lips as you stare back at him, his heart swelling at your reply.

“I found you.”

#Bts #Bts smut #Bts Yoongi #Min Yoongi #Yoongi #Yoongi smut #Min Yoongi smut #Yoongi x Reader #Fae Yoongi #Monarch Yoongi #CEO Yoongi #Fae Reader #A Shadow's Light #btscreatorscorner #bangtanhq #ficswithluv

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luffyrose · 3 years

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Hello! Can i learn more about your god au? I find it really interesting and would love to hear more about it!

I saw this while I was heading to school so I thought about this au the whole day so far, so here’s some more info!!!

More characters and what they are first! (The possibly some design ideas and/or more world info!)

First two are the ones that @clovley helped me figure out!

Eret, a human King that Dream is currently fixated on watching. He is very kind and his kingdom is prosperous thanks to how he runs things and the blessing of a god.

Niki is the God of Love! She represents and can control all forms of love. She generally just chooses to give people a nudge in the right direction instead of directly involving herself. She also gets easily attached to people so she doesn’t interact with humans since their lives are so short to them.

Puffy is the God of Beasts! I was struggling with Niki being this then I realized her and Puffy’s characters were canonically dating and I could have the two of them work closely together since I imagine Niki would want a friend instead of living alone.

I may have their characters be dating but I’m unsure. It would only be their characters though. We don’t ship real people as that can make them uncomfy and it’s just kind of weird if you aren’t like their super close friend. And I only say that cuz me and my friends from school are comfortable with us saying they’d look cute with blah.

Back to characters!

Fundy is a spirit! And a quick thing about spirits, they were humans in a past life. So if I say spirit I mean they were reincarnated or revived into a magic being. If I say monster/creature, humanoid or not, they were born like that and not a human before.

More about Fundy though. He didn’t know Wilbur in his human life but Wilbur found him wandering after he passed and revived him with the help of a mermaid. Sally! The two raised him as best they could but Sally had to leave and Wilbur was left with Fundy. Who is a Kitsune by the way.

Little story info: Fundy currently lives in a shrine in a city not too far from the ocean. He is worshiped by the people that live there and seen as a messenger of the sea god. The humans don’t know they are father and son though.

Another little thing. Spirits are common to see around, it’s just uncommon to interact with them much as they are technically deceased. It is also rare to worship them but not impossible to happen.

Schlatt! Now you’re probably wondering what I have for him and I actually really like what I came up with! He is the God of Corruption! The thing is, he wasn’t corrupt, he managed the balance of good and bad by taking corruption and moving it to other places. He can create and destroy corruption but usually chose not to.

Now here’s where his story shifts though. He was exiled and disowned by the elder gods, aka the assholes that don’t actually have characters connected XD. But Schlatt was exiled and changed. I won’t say how as that is actually a big plot point and one of the only plot points I have an idea for XD

Quackity was created by Schlatt with the help of Ranboo with the purpose to help Schlatt maintain the corruption. He worked well until Schlatt was exiled and hated. Then he had nowhere to go so he went to the humans, blending in fairly well.

Karl is a human that both Sapnap and Quackity have taken an interest in. I have no idea why yet, but he lives in the kingdom Eret rules. He is a simple herbologist that runs his practice at cheaper prices for those who can’t afford expensive medicines.

Ranboo is the God of the Dead/Spirits. He generally just watches what happens and travels around to make sure there is no outburst of spirits as too many in one area can create an unwanted imbalance of power among them. Spirits have the ability to consume others and take their power, hence why he must watch them.

He does enjoy giving spirits a chance to make friends not only among themselves but gods. He himself is looked over as a god most times but he doesn’t mind because he befriends the nicer gods.

Sam is the God of Justice. He stays neutral for the most part but sympathizes with those that are unjustly accused or treated. He has stepped in very few times but each time he has those that were wronged got what they deserved while those that wronged them were punished.

Antfrost is a demon that works in the castle under Skeppy. He is technically a soldier but tends to just guard the castle.

Okay! That’s all for the characters. A little about the world itself.

As I said earlier, spirits aren’t that rare to see, they just aren’t interacted with as often. Monster/Creatures, whether humanoid or not, are a little rarer as they most commonly are beasts that fall under Puffy’s control.

Gods are either almost never seen or appear so much in history it is strange when there is a gap of time without them there.

There are a few gods that are seen more than others, but all are still respected and feared.

A small design idea I had while thinking about this is that among humans, Fundy takes a more humanoid appearance with ears and tails as his most prominent fox features. When among gods he takes a more fox-like appearance with the head of a fox.

The reason he does this is that among humans, the more animal-like appearance of spirits or gods usually means they are dangerous while the more human-like usually means they are kinder.

The old cranky gods prefer the animal form of spirits and gods alike because it shows that they are above the ‘lowly’ humans. If a god doesn’t have a human form then just changing size to be larger and more intimidating or making it obvious they are a god is expected.

Puffy and Techno are the two gods that have animal-like appearances as well as their more human forms. Puffy is a ram and Techno a pig obviously. They can switch between the forms with ease.

Puffy is more usually in her human form as she likes to go to the humans and travel on pirate ships. The pirates refer to her as the God of Pirates as well but it’s just a title like Blood God for Techno.

Techno will more often be in his animal appearance as it is more intimidating but changes back when around his family for two reasons. He looks more like them which makes him glad and when he first met Tommy, his animal form scared him and he felt bad so he subconsciously avoids it while around Tommy.

Antfrost also can take a human form but it is more an illusion than a second form as if he is knocked unconscious, greatly distracted, or feels too strong of a negative emotion he will appear as his cat demon form.

I really loved having to think more about this au so please keep asking me things! I’ll probably be thinking of connections between characters and some backstory to where the ‘plot’ lays in time the next few days so ask questions about that if you want more detailed responses!

(Also, I see the other ask, I just need a bit to respond to it as well ^^)

#dream smp #dream smp au #Technoblade #Eret #mcyt #mcyt au #niachu #captain puffy #fundy #quackity #karl jacobs #jschlatt #Schlatt #ranboo #awesamdude #antfrost #god au

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dweemeister · 3 years

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The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

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For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T #The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T.#Dr. Seuss #Roy Rowland #Peter Lind Hayes #Mary Healy #Hans Conried #Tommy Rettig #Allan Scott #Stanley Kramer #Frederick Hollander #Rudolph Sternad #Cary Odell #William Kiernan #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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yukipri · 4 years

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On the Baratie, Prologue - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Thanks to everyone who sent in their opinion on the East Blue stories poll! I think Sanji’s had the most, so we’re starting off with more Baratie!

While there’ll be a continuation, here’s a bit of prelude, because they need a different reason to go to the Baratie. The ASL Pirates already have a cook after all!

Like a prologue to On the Baratie, Part 1

When Thatch makes up his mind to accompany Ace back to East Blue, he knows that there's one place he wants to visit no matter what.

He's only been to East Blue once, and it was honestly ages ago, and he doubts there'll be another chance in the near future. Not many opportunities to visit the weakest Blue as a commander in an Emperor's crew, after all.

And while Thatch doubts he'd travel halfway around the world for the sole purpose of visiting this spot, he's lucky. Because on this particular trip, it's practically along the way. They're passing right by the area on their way back to re-entering the Grand Line, so there's no way in hell he's letting this slip by.

It's the only request Thatch has made on this journey, and Ace and Luffy, who are the Captains and therefore technically get to decide where they go, have no objections. Luffy's already bobbing up and down in excitement, despite their guides estimating that they still have a ways to go.

"The Baratie, huh," Ace grins. "Never heard of it, we didn't pass by our first time through, did we Deuce?"

"You've never heard of it because you lived in the middle of nowhere, in a jungle with barely any contact with human civilization," Deuce says pointedly. "Most people in East Blue at least know of it, it's kinda famous."

Ace just shrugs, and Luffy whoops as the movement of his shoulders momentarily boosts her higher. Ace indulges her and repeats the movement more aggressively until she's bouncing, and Deuce sighs. The two captains' attentions have shifted, and now they're preoccupied by the most important topic of all: food.

"Food~!" Luffy sings, hopping from one arm to the other as Ace switches to spinning her around, and Deuce has to duck to avoid her tail. "Yummy yummy food at a restaurant! It's gonna be amazing!"

"It really will be amazing, if Zeff hasn't lost his touch," Thatch agrees, and Luffy and Ace cheer. "I've never eaten at this restaurant of his, but I was a fan of the Cook Pirates when I was a kid."

His expression darkens, and Ace stills, recalling that Thatch mentioned they all died or something.

"Sucks what happened to them," Ace offers.

But Thatch just shrugs. It was around a decade ago, and shit happens out at sea. "I'm just glad Zeff survived. He'll have trained the new cooks well, and it'll be funny to see the old man actually settled down as a civilian."

Thatch was still a teen the last time he saw Zeff, who was Captain of the infamous Cook Pirates back in the day. They were always picking fights, and picked the wrong one with Pops, and predictably lost. Pops let them live, and they had a grand party, and Thatch remembers being captivated by their culinary expertise.

Thatch chuckles to himself, and the two brothers look at him curiously, blinking with adorably similar expressions.

"I just remembered, Zeff tried to scout me. Pops wasn't thrilled."

Ace barks a laugh, hefting Luffy into a more comfortable position before she suddenly squirms out of his arms. Luffy makes a grabby motion towards Thatch, and Ace obligingly if reluctantly moves closer to let her swing up onto the taller man's shoulders.

Thatch perks up at the sudden attention, because it's not every day that the little mermaid chooses to climb someone other than her brother. Thatch knows she doesn't need it, but offers her a hand to get settled more comfortably, which she takes with a pleased little purring sound that makes his heart skip a beat. Thatch pointedly doesn't look at Ace, but he can still feel his burning gaze.

He's not sure what prompted the sudden transport transfer, but suddenly Luffy's leaning forward over his shoulder to peer directly into his face, and she's close. Thatch tries very hard not to blush.

"But if the Zeff-dude cooks are that good, are they better than you, Thatch?" Luffy asks, eyes wide. "That can't be right, because Thatch's food is the best in the world! Better than even Makino's!"

Those words do make Thatch flush crimson, and Ace snorts. Thatch ignores him, too busy trying to control the warmth bubbling up inside his chest.

Thatch doesn't think he's arrogant, but he also isn't unused to his food being praised. As ungrateful as most of his brothers back aboard the Moby usually are, he's still the head chef who leads the culinary division of their entire fleet, and it's a position he's earned. He's personally trained and assigned all of the cooks on every Whitebeard ship. He knows he cooks well.

But there's something special about Luffy's unique brand of painfully genuine praise. Even though they've been traveling together for a few weeks now, she never gets bored of singing her appreciation at every mealtime with, if anything, increasing enthusiasm. It's like every time is her first time trying his food. Thatch in no way needs her compliments to adore her, he was besotted far before she even knew he was a cook, but boy does he appreciate them, and he doubts he'll ever really get used to them.

Thatch has been called the "Best Cook in the World" by many, and he'd accepted their words politely. But to hear them from Luffy feels like the highest honor he can ever attain.

Thatch feels unbearably fond as he reaches up to fluff Luffy's hair, and she leans into his hand, eyes curving up into slits like a happy kitten, her tail curling back and forth at his back.

Ace cheerfully ruins their moment.

"We'll just have to see, Lu, and maybe if you like their cooking better, we can ditch Thatch and kidnap one of their cooks." Ace leers like the evil little shit he is, and Thatch gasps with exaggerated indignation.

"No, no!" Luffy boos her brother, clinging to Thatch like he's the embodiment of all the meals Ace had threatened she'd lose, before she swings her tail around to smack at Ace none too gently until he grudgingly raises his arms in surrender.

"If we like their cooking, then we can keep Thatch AND kidnap one of their cooks!"

"Lil Seastar, you're not satisfied with just me, even if my food is the best in the world?" Thatch teases, and sticks his tongue out at Ace when he scowls. The young Captain isn't so thrilled with Thatch's new nickname for his baby brother, and Thatch thinks it's fair revenge for him being mean.

"Thatch's food is the best!" Luffy cries again, and Thatch glows. "But if we steal a Zeff, then we have two cooks, which means more food!" She nods, pleased with her conclusion. "More food is always good!"

Well, she's a little confused, but her point is made. They hopefully won't steal Zeff himself, as Thatch doubts he'll be happy to part with his beloved restaurant, but perhaps nabbing one of his assistants isn't a terrible idea.

While handling even Ace and Luffy's appetites is no problem for Thatch, who's used to feeding the entire Moby Dick, some company in the kitchen might not be bad.

(And, a voice whispers in his head, that they'll need a cook that Thatch approves of when he inevitably has to leave to return to Pops. It's a voice Thatch ignores, so that he can enjoy this moment, for now.)

I don't think it's actually ever officially stated whether Thatch's Division is actually in charge of dining, but there are other divisions that are specified, so I thought it would be interesting, so I made it that way ^ ^;

(Edit: Actually it IS explicitly stated that the 4th Division is in charge of dining, this is canon and not just a headcanon whee~!)

And if Thatch as the head of the cooking division, then to me it makes sense that he'd be insanely good at it, not just your average chef. Because I mean, they're the Whitebeard pirates. And sure, they're not as food-centric as the Big Mom Pirates, but the WBs always have quality. Cooking, I feel, is a lot more subjective than say, "Strongest Swordsman in the World" but I don't think it'd be a stretch to say that Thatch is Up There.

This isn't at all to shit on canon!Sanji or his cooking which is probably also insanely good, but Sanji's a lot younger, and the places he's been, the people he's learned from, and the people he's cooked for are far more limited. He, like everyone else, is learning rapidly by stepping out into a far larger world.

Thatch, in comparison, has been on the Grand Line for a loooooong time, traveling with the most infamous crew currently in existence, and probably has picked up a LOT of things from a lot of people. While he doesn't have an official canon age, given the ages of the other Commanders (Marco 45; Jozu 42; Vista 47), I'm putting him at 41 here. That's decades of difference in experience.

It's one of the reasons why I think exploring Thatch and Sanji's mentor-rival relationship in this AU could be so much fun, because think of how much Sanji could grow with someone like Thatch in the crew.

Luckily, Sanji's dream is to find All Blue, not to defeat the cooking equivalent of Mihawk in Iron Chef Grand Line, so outside of fighting for the heart of the love of their lives, I think they can get along quite well ^ ^;

(also do u like his nickname for Lu. I had to consult a friend. But I think it's beginning to stick for me ^ ^;)

As always, any thoughts or comments make my day! Thanks for reading <3

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: 👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 1

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid Au #Thatch #ThatchLu #AceLu #Portgas D. Ace #Monkey D. Luffy #One Piece #text headcanons #longpost #long post #YukiPri replies

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viroro-kun · 3 years

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My Review of the Pokémon Sun & Moon Anime (2019)

[The following post is a repost of a thread originally published on Reddit in November 17th, 2019, titled “My final review of the Pokémon Sun & Moon Anime”, which I’m sharing here again for archival purposes. I may eventually do a new one and this post is meant to only reflect my thoughts at the time. It will also not be updated with later information to keep it consistent with the original] About two weeks ago, the Sun & Moon series of the Pokémon Anime concluded after a run of three years, ending up as what's probably one of the most controversial entries of the show, with fans either loving it as a fresh take on the series or disliking it for several issues that cropped up over time. Now, after reviewing the series for the length of the aforementioned three years and at the eve of the beginning of the newer series, I'd like to pass my personal, final judgement of the Alolan series. Now, first of all, I think a preamble is necessary: all of what I will explain is my opinion and nothing else, and this isn't meant to be senseless bashing of the Sun & Moon series, either. I treasure striving to be objective and analytical above all else, and while I of course can't claim mine will be an absolutely perfect and objectively correct review, I will do my best to share my thoughts on the matter, while explaining why I feel this specific way.Secondly, I'd like to address an argument I've occasionally seen brought up, that due to Sun & Moon's seeming focus on comedy and slice of life it's not possible to compare it to previous seasons. And while that may apply for some specific choices it made, I don't believe that's the case: it was still set in a new region of the Pokémon world, still had Ash undertake the local region-wide challenge, still had a structure involving unimportant self-contained episodes (which we could call 'filler' in an useful but technically inaccurate definition) surrounding the plot-based ones, and still ended up with a League at a climax for it all. Therefore, at least on a structural and plot standpoint, there are enough commonalities to make a comparison possible, and that's where I plan to dig in particular to explain my stance.

Before I move to the meat of it, however, I want to spend some words of praise for some things I feel this series did right or at least deserves some compliments for, overall. First of all, I think that Sun & Moon does great in mantaining a chill, comfy atmosphere which to a degree makes it stand out from previous seasons, and I understand why this was appealing for some previous fans of the series. Most of the cast is pretty likable on the whole with particular props to Ash's Alolan Pokémon team managing to mantain lots of expressivity in all situations, and the series has a decent willingness to explore some concepts previous seasons only lightly touched on. The show also foregoes a lot typical Team Rocket shenanigans for different kinds of plots, making it great for people who find their usage stale and played out by now, and the simplified art style allowed for some pretty good sequences both in battle and out. At its best, the series can produce some of the best moments of this Anime as a whole, and it was at least the first series to let go of some limitations that were just weighting the show down at this point. While I think several of these pros also have indirect cons attached to them (especially in terms of tone and character usage), these are all things I feel need to be pointed out in positive for the series.With that said, I'd like to begin my proper dissection of the Pokémon Sun & Moon Anime.

Pokémon Sun & Moon - A Pokémon Anime in an Identity Crisis

1. Plot Pacing and Development: The Problem of the Stationary Setting and the "Happy Bubble"

Everyone who has heard of the Sun & Moon Anime is probably aware of its biggest break from tradition: rather than being an adventure series, this entry in the long-running Pokémon series decided to take place in a single location with occasional detours by having Ash enroll in the Pokémon School, shifting the general tone of the series towards a more slice of life approach. This had a significant effect on how the story developed, but in my opinion, if there's a fundamental issue of the Sun & Moon series, it's probably this one. Because rather than committing to the change, the writers appeared to want to have their cake and eat it too.

Specifically, adventure series and slice of life have radically opposed mission statements: for the first, progression and rising action are an important, consistent story engine moving the plot forward; the second is instead far more laidback, focused more on enjoying the moment and offering low stakes and drama more often than not, especially Sun & Moon's chosen brand of it that's closer to a sit-com than a proper slice of life. Pretty much, adventure series have a degree of development in them, while slice of life is defined by the lack of said development.

Now, I'm not saying Pokémon characters were always amazing examples of character development, or that every series prior was well-written. But the structure itself was sound, as you had Ash embarked in a defined goal of winning the League as part of his vague dream to become a Pokémon Master, having filler adventures on the way, but always undertaking rising action from the first to last Gym and occasional rivals, until the climax of the journey at the League (and in Kalos' case, the Team Flare arc). We see Ash, and occasionally his friends, actively train, fight or improve on the path to their goals, while the narration itself always reminds us of what the current major objective is. Even when the episode doesn't actually contribute to the larger story, the viewer always has a reassurance that the next objective will be reached eventually.

The structure of Sun & Moon, by comparison, is inherently more passive more often than not, as you have Ash and the others waiting for the plot to happen to them. Instead of having Ash actively seek a new challenge, you see him sitting down and wait for something specific to make him go and progress, and so does everyone else, with only rare exceptions. The characters are effectively static until the plot decides to move them, and while this could superficially resemble the previous structure (as both have a progression that could be defined as arbitrary), the Sun & Moon series barely, if ever, reassured the viewer to still remember the goals it set up, or even what the next one to come is.

Now, inherently, the characters being passive recipients of plot isn't a bad thing, it's just how slice of life stories tend to work. The problem of Sun & Moon, however, was that beyond the vague and SoL-friendly concept of Ash at the Pokémon School they still had Ash pursue the Island Trials (and in fact, he's impressed by the concept of mastering Z-Moves before he even enrolls in the school), which gave the show a problem: it wanted to be a chill story focusing more on small time hijinks than big adventures, while still taking on a structure that demanded to follow the rules of an adventure series, creating an inherent contradiction.

What I mean is that, since the Island Trials were still part of Ash's stay in Alola, the show was still supposed to abide to the rising action leading to a climax, giving the show a direction that it had to fulfill by its end rather than have an open premise with occasional plotlines (example: GeGeGe no Kitaro, where the open premise is 'Kitaro deals with evil Yokai' with every other longer plotline spinning from there). It's something that pretty much prevents the viewer from fully enjoying the more quiet romps, because in the mind of a viewer expecting progression, these are just a diversion over the more important goal Ash has in the region. Now, in fairness to Sun & Moon, the show seemed aware of the tension and made sure to tie each Trial Ash did into either school trips or wanting to get specific Crystals, but beyond making it seem like Ash didn't care much for something he claimed he wasn't interested in (especially with wanderlust being a previously estabilished character trait of his), this ran into another big issue of Sun & Moon: rather than a sense of rising action, pretty much every Island Trial Ash did was narratively unrelated to each other, especially once it was revealed that Ash didn't need to complete any of them to access the Alola League, in contrast with how every badge was important and necessary in previous regions.

This specific issue wasn't however unique to Ash, but rather a persistent problem in pretty much every element and story arc of the series: be it Ash's quest, Guzma's struggles, Rowlet's rivalry with Hau's Dartrix/Decidueye, Lycanroc's rage issues, Lillie's goal to be able to touch every Pokémon again, the Necrozma and Aether arcs to even the Alola League and anything in between, almost all of them had only the bare minimum of buildup and either ended as soon as they got teased or happened to be sidelined for a large amount of episodes before they got their due focus, if not both at once. While some of these arcs ranged from alright to pretty great (Litten's pre-capture arc dealing with Stoutland's passing, or the Guzma-related segments of the Alola League), there are quire a few (chiefly Necrozma) that were ruined by a combination of lacking setup work and the feeling that, simply put, nothing mattered that much. Sure, the arcs could be mentioned here and there, and some can set up things for the future (like how Aether leads to the Ultra Guardians), but on the whole, the arcs are effectively done-in-one in terms of lasting impact. Unlike how in previous shows you could've had stuff like Ash's and Dawn's intertwined journeys, here you have Stoutland lose relevance in terms of influence to Litten as soon as he dies, where save for Stoutland brief cameo as a spirit on Poni Island his storyline got shifted in the unrelated rivalry with Kukui's Incineroar.

This last example, in particular, brings up another of the big issues of Sun & Moon, one that can be divided in three parts: plot pacing, plot segregation, and the "happy bubble".

In regards to plot pacing, one of the most notorious problems brought up for this series is the fact that, to put it simply, each plotpoint will only progress when the show decided they have to, which led to things like Lillie going almost an entire real time year between getting her Z-Crystal and then her Z-Ring, or Ash doing absolutely nothing about his Lycanroc's raging issues for getting dirty for close to thirty episodes before they happened again in the Ula'Ula arc, during which neither character gave any hints of even thinking about these lingering elements in any way even if it was clear setup to be followed on. This, coupled with the aforementioned lack of a constant reminder of the next destination, just made for a frustrating waiting game in terms of the next major point of progression.

A related issue is the plot segregation, or specifically, how each major arc is effectively removed from the others, from Kiawe and Sophocles' occasional focus episodes to more important stuff like Lillie's Pokémon phobia, her and Gladion's later interest in finding their father, Lana's desire to create a balloon to explore the ocean with, Ash's Island Trials, and so on. It made these characters feel like they exist in their own separate paths, never to intersect, something the evolution episode in the Poni Island arc somewhat exemplifies since Sophocles' and Lana's efforts happen on completely distinct plotlines and locations. As I explained above this also happens with major arcs, like how the Necrozma arc's only contribution to the wider narrative was sending Poipole home (and given its later offscreen evolution and power up, one could make a case the arc had a negative impact on the series). The segregation also had the effect of having the plot act like something flat out doesn’t exist unless it has been directly showcased, leading to such goofiness as Kukui's best friend Molayne not being invited at his wedding in spite of being Sophocles' cousin, or how absolutely no one was in Poni Island during the Manalo Festival buildup. A good example of the difference, I feel, is this: in previous series, we could've had Serena relate to Ash with her Master Class loss at a significant point of his character arc during the Winding Woods episode; in this one, Mallow only revealed her mother issues after Lillie's entire arc revolving around her mother was resolved, with the two never comparing notes. The closest we get is Ash relating to Lana for his problems with Lycanroc using Continental Crush in Ida's first episode and Lillie trying to help out Ash during his fallout with Rotom, both of which refer to things that happened to them either mostly offscreen or entirely there.

The plot segregation was, in particular, noticeable with the decision to associate three of Ash's Alolan Pokémon (Torracat, Dusk Lycanroc and Rowlet) to specific characters as rivals, with the Pokémon driving the rivalry rather than Ash himself (who had otherwise rather civil, mostly friendly interactions with Kukui, Gladion and Hau). On paper, this should've guaranteed that every Pokémon had their moment to shine, but effectively, it meant that each of them were restricted to mostly their specific rival in terms of focus post-Aether. Lycanroc got Olivia's Grand Trial, the Ula'Ula arc to itself and then the rivalry with Gladion's Midnight Lycanroc, but no other significant usages; Rowlet got roles in the first two Grand Trials, but then spent almost one hundred episodes before its second focus episode, and beyond his friendship with Meltan it only got Hau's battle and a part against Kukui to itself; Torracat was the one absolutely done dirty here, as beyond the Stoutland appearence in Poni Island and the Totem Lurantis battle pre-Aether, all his following focus moments rely on the rivalry with Kukui's Incineroar, with only occasional minor scuffles to its name and a bit of the Guzma battle to its name. That would already be bad enough, but the fact that until the League there's no battle that requires Ash to involve more than two Pokémon (with most of them requiring him only one), Ash's team never actually gets to act as a team until the very final battle of the series, furthering the lacking sense of cohesiveness. Year two of the series was particularly bad in this sense, as most major battles were fought with either Pikachu or Lycanroc while Torracat and Rowlet barely did much.

And lastly, one persistent result of both the plot pacing and the plot segregation was a phenomenon I like to refer to as the "happy bubble," or the tendency of the Sun & Moon series to confine major conflicts and bad moments for the characters only to their specific focus episodes. In previous shows, you could have moments of self-doubt or worry linger even outside dedicated episodes (Dawn's depression for her losing streak, Ash's rivalry with Paul affecting him, and his increasing worries in the latter part of XY being clear examples), but due to Sun & Moon's commitment to fun times before everything else, it means the characters aren't allowed to have any conflict or moments of darkness to later conquer unless they're the focus, and even then resolving them quickly. See how bubbly Lillie is even when she's scared of Pokémon unless the episode is specifically about her, how she never even thought about her father until Gladion reminded her, how Ash's confidence and his relationship with Lycanroc are only focused on in Ula'Ula and then never again, and most noticeably the fact Mallow's dead mother was treated as something that tore her for years but it was only ever directly dealt with in one episode, to the point she's the only family member on Bulbapedia listed under characters of the day. The problem of this bubble is that it pretty much makes it hard to invest in the emotional struggles of these characters because they end up feeling like throwaway moments which are then functionally forgotten, with no sense of constant growth. Characters get their moments, the audience gets invested, and then it's forgotten, with only few and far-in-between moments of exception, and that's another thing making each conflict feel segregated from each other.

If I could sum up everything in one sentence, I'd say this: Sun & Moon is composed by a myriad of pieces, some excellent, some average, some awful and everything in between, that all exist mostly in a vacuum. I'll return to this topic in a bit, as there's another important aspect to touch first.

2. Characters and Their Development: Too Many, Too Little, Too Late

Another aspect of Sun & Moon that's often brought up is the decision to have a main cast of six counting Ash, with the game Trial Captains Mallow, Lana, Kiawe and Sophocles alongside plot-important character Lillie turned into Ash's classmates. These characters have been as much a point of praise as they were of criticism, with some fans absolutely loving this group while others couldn't absolutely stand them. I feel the best way to tackle this is to first list how I feel each character was handled in terms of planning and development, before going into their relationships and the rest of the cast, starting with the humans and then going through Ash's Pokémon before closing on Ash himself. I will say to start with, however, that none of these characters is inherently unlikable the way they started as, and most of their later issues came solely from their handling down the line or flaws in how they were approached.

2.1) The companions

Among the companions, Sophocles was probably the one that made the poorer first impressions, as beyond sharing the same type specialty, his game background as an inventor and his Anime presentation as a programmer that sometimes built things gave him a number of unfair comparisons with Clemont, not helped at all by an introduction episode that ranks among the worst ones of this group. That said, I feel by the end he actually ended up being one of the best characters of the group in spite of heavily scattered focus, for one major reason: he's one of the few characters of this group to have a consistent character growth that plays in his dream and that's easily noticeable as the story unfolds. Early on, he starts as the timid, insecure kid that gets easily scared of the dark and needs people and Pokémon's support over everything, but between his first few episodes and the later clarification of his interest in space, it's clear that his development was actually aimed towards him growing into a more independent and confident person and trainer. He goes from being unable to tell his friends that he's not actually leaving Alola after a misunderstanding and only getting his second Pokémon as a gift from Ash to slowly take an interest in rising Charjabug, first with a race and then by evolving it, then deciding to gain a Z-Crystal and a Z-Ring, learning to use it, and ultimately take part in the League in spite of knowing to not be on the same level of his friends, yet still putting his all, with a nice interlude where he takes things into his own hands during the Celesteela mission, and with the race he does to gain his Z-Crystal leading him to confront and surpass his fear of the dark. While still pretty scattered and sidelined, I feel he's a character that's been developed well-enough and that in his post-series aim is actively working towards his dream in a new but productive way by visiting Mossdeep City's Space Center, and definitely my favorite of the Alolan kids as he clearly developed into a better person by the end through a straightforward, traceable progression.

Lana is probably up there with Sophocles in terms of being one of the best characters of this group, and I'd go as far as saying she's probably the best non-Coordinator/Performer Pokégirl out there. While Sophocles ranks high due to getting good personal development, Lana ranks high because, while on paper her dream of creating a big balloon to explore the ocean with is simple and a tad silly, it is something she puts clear effort into and that she never loses track of through the whole series, even with a fairly noticeable void of attention in the mid-series stretch. Between being the first of the non-Kiawe classmates to get a Z-Ring and a Z-Crystal, learning how to use Hydro Vortex, then evolving Popplio to Brionne and then Primarina (while dealing with a Kyogre along the way) while also getting Oceanic Operetta, she's consistently focused on her improvement, and always the best female battler of the bunch. The only thing that really penalizes her is that while her dream is technically achieved, she ultimately gets Oceanic Operetta with offscreen training and they never make a point to highlight that as a big moment, and while her skill development is solid, she remains exactly the same character throughout the series from the first and last episode. An entertaining character for sure, but one that just gets stronger and not much else. Still, she's easily one of the best female leads this series ever had, and a good example of how to make a non-Coordinator-esque female character work well after the pitfalls Misty and Iris fell into.

Kiawe is not far from them, with a pretty solid run slightly marred by a few issues. Specifically, he's probably the best battler of this group that isn't Ash, but he's distinctly characterized as having two "modes" as a character: either the serious, spiritual follower of Alolan traditions, or the one that started popping out more often later in the series where he's an overreacting ham to rival Cilan. I personally feel Kiawe's better moments tends to come from the first mode, not only because he stands out better in a funny sense by being the straight-laced guy in a cast of wacky people, but also because he's the best character to explore the more spiritual angle of Alola, the element that truly makes the region stand out compared to previous ones featured in the series. Unfortunately, beyond the fact the slice of life romps tended to favor his wacky angle more than the serious one, Kiawe is penalized by not quite having a true arc to develop through: he wants to become a stronger trainer and claims so, but all his episodes ultimately end up involving unrelated matters: he catches his Marowak, learns to use a Z-Move with him later on, and ends up getting his Charizard back into working shape after he undertakes Fini's trial to save Ash, but while each of these are overall good showings and he's probably got the best League run of the cast in terms of prowess and skill, they tend to remain isolated instances. It also doesn't help that while his hot-blooded rivalry with Ash can be fairly entertaining and it's teased from episode 2, it ultimately culminates into an underwhelming showdown in the penultimate episode that barely feels like an afterthought. I'd hardly call him a bad character and he still does pretty well even with his issues, but one that could've been handled better on the whole.

A far different story is Lillie, a character that, I feel, suffered from several different issues all at once. To address the elephant in the living room first, let it be said that while they share traits, Anime Lillie and Game Lillie end up being fairly different characters by the end, and while I think Game Lillie is probably one of the best creations of GameFreak, my opinion on her Anime self couldn't be more different, and it's not due to straight comparisons between each other. Now, Lillie doesn't actually start badly: the fact that she has a phobia of touching Pokémon from an unknown source at first actually gave her a nice direction as a character in a way similar yet different from Lana, but it didn't take long for Lillie's major issue to show itself: things happen to her rather than her working towards stuff proactively, and the majority of the time her struggles are resolved by feeling sad or believing really hard with extremely few exceptions. This started already before the Aether arc, where while her episodes were good, they all relied on the exact same formula of Lillie unable to touch Pokémon, being unable to do so and feeling sad about it until she can in a spur-of-the-moment situation, which started to make her episodes feel stale.

The Aether arc seemed to finally change things as it heavily revolved around Lillie, but to anticipate some things I'll delve into more detail later, the changed circumstances ended up weakening both the conflict and her character, making her come across as too unlikable. But beyond that issue, the problem of the Aether arc is that it ensured that Lillie was completely healed of her phobia due to the actions of others rather than herself, which killed off all her character potential and left her with nothing to do for the rest of the series (while the conflict with her mother was completely brushed under the rug after this arc introduced and hastily attempted to resolve it). Sure, she 'grew stronger', and got a Z-Ring and Z-Crystal, but the majority of important things of the Mohn arc were actually dealt with by Gladion, while her own help ended up amounting to still, once more, feeling really hard rather than active work. But the biggest problem of her character is that all of her major achievements derived from either someone else (Silvally healing her phobia by saving her, Gladion actually defeating Totem Kommo-o, her Z-Ring being borrowed from her father, Gladion finding Mohn's Zoroark) or facilitated by outside assistance (her one victory in the League's Battle Royale coming from effectively killstealing a Salamence Kiawe weakened, her battle with Tyranitar having the assistance of a Totem Sandshrew) which made it hard to think she earned her development or truly grow stronger when she ultimately always ended up relying on someone else, especially given her tendency to never act unless prodded (see how she seemed perfectly fine not touching Pokémon for years until Mallow and Ash actively tried to get her to do it, nor try to learn why she has the phobia in the first place, nor thinking about where her father may be). This, alongside the tendency of the series to play up game moments like the Lillie and Solgaleo moment or her change in dress and hairstyle to show her resolve while sapping all the meaning they had in the source material and the habit of the characters to praise Lillie for anything she does no matter how minor or trivial, ultimately made her a character that was borderline insufferable to follow, especially for the classmate pushed as the most important beyond Ash.

The worst of all main characters, however, is without a doubt Mallow. While I have several issues with Lillie's handling as a character, at least her faults come with how the show decided to approach her, while I feel by contrast Mallow was only allowed breadcrumbs of just about anything, something already shown by how she had to wait until episode 18 for her first true focus episode. Back in the earliest episodes I thought her interest in making Aina the most popular restaurant in Alola could've given her a drive as a character similar to the one Lana and at the time Lillie had, only for the story to be content with leaving her where she is. Between the fact her Bounsweet evolved twice in ways that were respectively too sudden and rather unrelated to her and the habit of her focus episodes past her first to focus away from her more than on her (having to share screentime with her brother 'Ulu and Oranguru, specifically), it felt like she was added to the cast because they had to, and while the last year of Sun & Moon tried to put a patch on the problem by giving her emotional moments with her mother and her League match with Lana, said patches had the effect of not feeling very genuine since her mother, as I mentioned above, only really figured in one episode, while Mallow suddenly being afraid of Tsareena getting hurt when she fought in Ultra Space and in other instances just fine just feels like an awkward attempt at giving her an emotional moment that doesn't gel with her characterization too well. If we add onto it that she only mastered her Z-Move during the League itself, her Z-Crystal was gained just by making a burger, and the Shaymin she cared for after meeting her mother effectively did nothing afterwards until its deal was resolved at the last possible second during the final credits of the series because 'Ulu found some Gracidea with no input from Mallow proper, Mallow ended up feeling like the most mishandled characters of this crew, whose character and development felt more like isolated moments than anything cohesive.

The Pokémon of the cast outside of the major ones don't really warrant much talk, the best of the bunch being Kiawe's Marowak for his vibrant personality and good feats, while everyone else ranges from pretty much not too focused on (Turtonator, Charizard, Tsareena, Togedemaru), useful for development but otherwise kinda dull more often than not (Primarina, Vikavolt, Snowy), cute but pointless in spite of heavy buildup (Sandy), and pretty much useless (Shaymin, Magearna outside of being a McGuffin), mostly getting occasional cute moments than anything substantial or productive for their trainers.

2.2) Ash's Pokémon

Beyond the classmates, there's the matter of Ash's Pokémon as well, and I'd like to spend a few words on the Rotomdex. On the whole, he was never the most important character, but I'd say the best way to describe him is that he's a likable character that happened to star in some rather poor episodes: while his overreactions could get annoying sometimes, for the most part he was likable enough, and his existence ensured that Ash would lose his oft-criticized trait to scan Pokémon he already saw that made him come across as dumb, and some of his moments and hobbies made him pretty endearing. His only real problem is that his focus episodes usually tended to focus on rather stupid plots aimed only to comedy, and while three of them are at least arguable, his last true focus episode happened to be one of the worst episodes of the series due to how out-of-character Ash acted under the possibility of Rotom leaving. None of the issues of these episodes were Rotom's fault, but as a minor character, it was somewhat unfortunate for him to receive such a short end of the stick focus-wise.

Going back to Ash's actual Pokémon, beyond the eternal Pikachu, I'd say the one most worth of consideration overall is Torracat (or Incineroar, but he never fought under the form), both in terms of praise and criticism. I say so because, before his capture, Litten seemed to be given unusually large focus, including being the first of Ash's Alolan Pokémon to debut and appearing for several episodes even between his major pre-capture arc, which being among the most tragic and involved capture circumstances seemed to point towards Torracat being the 'ace Pokémon' of the region, only for things to change once Lycanroc entered the picture. To put it simply, Torracat has some rather solid episodes and a personality that very much matches Ash's own, but he often feels like he's only given breadcrumbs of focus. Between only taking part in one minor trial and no Grand Trials, not getting his own associated Z-Crystal until right before the League and having it used only twice counting the test run of it, and his rivalry battle being the only one in the Alola League to happen in the middle of a match rather than at the end of it (which lead to a rather goofy division of him getting declared winner and then fainting after evolving just so it couldn't technically be considered a tie even if it functionally was to preserve his triumph), it feels like the poor Pokémon is never given enough of his due, and while I enjoy his drive to surpass Kukui's Incineroar and especially the way the plotline was figuratively used throughout the Ash VS Kukui battle, it just seems like Torracat is always last in priority in terms of Ash's Pokémon, which makes even his good moments feel like afterthought even with nice bits like his relationship with Lycanroc, especially with how, as touching and well-executed as it was, Stoutland's effect on Torracat is forgotten as soon as it happens, between Fire Fang being mastered exactly one episode later and Stoutland himself only being brought back twice, once as a thought by Ash and only in the second with Stoutland meeting Torracat again in Poni Island, mostly for the purpose of teaching him another move. So, in my opinion, Torracat is a case of a conceptually solid-enough character, that's however penalized both by how little the narrative gave him focus, and the fact that his arc with Stoutland and his later rivalry with Incineroar are pretty much unrelated (for why I consider this a flaw, consider that fellow Fire starter Infernape was able to have a memorably tragic backstory that did dovetail into his major rivalry perfectly, so just asking for a degree of connection isn't outside the realm of what this show can do).

And then there's Lycanroc, the Pokémon that the series wants us to consider the regional ace, which had several issues associated with him. To put this simply, I feel like he was a much better character as a Rockruff than he was after his evolution, mostly for being the perfect mix of adorable, focused, and having actually pronounced rage issues that occasionally popped up but were treated completely seriously, alongside having a pretty good showing in the Olivia battle as a rare final bout to completely not involve Z-Moves in a period where their usage was starting to become excessive. However, after the evolution (which is treated as a rare, one-of-a-kind event due to Rockruff evolving during a rare green flash yet is never actually remarked on beyond very occasional comments that he looks odd that are never treated as much), his handling changes for the worst, specifically for two of his rather ace-worthy moments: its rage form arc, and the way his rivalry with Gladion's Dusk Lycanroc was handled. The first is overall the biggest issue, because it's also symbolic of Sun & Moon's tonal issues since his major challenge to overcome as a Pokémon is the fact that, whenever his fur gets dirty, he goes on murderous rampages, always after acting goofily shocked in a way intended to be humorous, creating a whiplash effect that doesn't make clear how the viewer should find the scene given it first asks us to laugh at Lycanroc and then to be scared of him. This is also only introduced once in the middle of the Aether arc and then never revisited until the Ula'Ula arc, where it's ultimately solved by Ash bringing back memories of how Rockruff used to act about getting dirty that happened completely offscreen, only for the writers to then milk the drama some more two episodes later by now handling the rage mode completely seriously in terms of reactions and using actual rage as the trigger instead of just specifically the fur, in an episode that ultimately relied on Ash not trusting his Pokémon (when he was already somewhat out-of-character by being scared by Lycanroc's rampage after he was willing to hug his blazing Chimchar to calm him down back in Sinnoh). It's all handled in an extremely brief arc and then never again, feeling like an arc that takes elements from both the Infernape and Ash-Greninja arcs while missing the slow buildup and non-regressive development that made those two arcs work (and I'll elaborate more on it in a bit). Beyond this, his rivalry with Gladion's Lycanroc suffers of being extremely sidelined in spite of being the 'major' rivalry of the series: while the two Pokémon did fight three times, the first time was interrupted by Team Rocket (something they stopped doing for major rival battles for quite a while beforehand), the second relying on some very weird resilience by Midnight Lycanroc by not only tanking completely Dusk Lycanroc's Splintered Stormshards to seemingly no damage but also snapping out of confusion to deliver a finishing Z-Move of his own, and the third relying on a battle that was overall not too bad, but felt more like a mid-series squabble than Ash's victory at the Alola League (which is then completely outclassed in spectacle by Ash VS Kukui). Dusk Lycanroc's rivalry isn't actually too bad, but considering how Gladion's Lycanroc is the only major opponent Ash's ace got to fight post-evolution outside the Ula'Ula arc, Kukui's Pokémon (none of which he defeated) and occasional training bout, it did restrict a lot of his feats and ended up with him feeling more like an okay Pokémon than the powerhouse the writing wanted him to seem like. Coupled with a lackluster personal arc, this makes him closer to the Krookodile tier of 'possible aces' than one of the major ones like Charizard or Infernape.

And then we get to Rowlet, the last of the major Alolan four counting Pikachu, and probably the most problematic of the bunch. Much like Torracat and Lycanroc, Rowlet isn't inherently a bad Pokémon, with the first episodes neatly estabilishing two things: yes, he is dopey and loves to sleep a bit too much, but he's also a serious and competent fighter in battle that never fails to impress, making sure that neither side ultimately hurt or diminished the other. His problem is ultimately revolving around two things: he's spent a long time out of focus, and his later focus didn't exactly paint him in a good light. The first is probably the major issue at hand: while both Rowlet and Torracat were heavily sidelined midway into the series, Torracat did at least get a few token episodes to himself, while Rowlet's first real focus episode after his capture one only really comes almost one hundred episodes later. While in the early series this was mitigated by having Rowlet take part in two minor trials and two Grand Trials, this focus is all but forgotten by the second year of the series, with Rowlet reduced to solely a gag Pokémon whose greatest achievement ended up being learning Razor Leaf by sitting on a magical tree. This had the adverse effect of making his gag tries, which previously only showed either in minor matches or not during serious parts of battle, to slowly become more and more prominent. The other issue is that Rowlet had without a doubt the weakest rivalry set up and buildup of the three major Pokémon Ash obtained in Alola, as Hau and his Dartrix only appear in one episode before the League and two of the three battles Ash had with Hau involved major, non-strategy related writing contrivancies to reach the desired outcome (Ash slipping his Grassium-Z and getting distracted to fetch it for Rowlet to lose for the first one; Rowlet's Decidueye hoodie tanking a Z-Move, the overturned loss, and the sudden learning of a Feather Dance that doesn't act like the one Rowlet was trying to master for Rowlet to win in the final one). The way Rowlet acted in the Ash VS Hau battle is kinda emblematic of this, as the oft-debated overturned loss moment involved him falling asleep in the middle a match he was supposedly fired up for just for the sake of a joke and nothing else; regardless of how one wants to justify it, it doesn't change that such a thing never happened before in the series, and it ultimately involved Rowlet betraying the trust Ash put in him just for a scene the writers deemed funny, in what was supposed to be his finest hour (while Rowlet fell asleep in the Hala Grand Trial, it was only after his part of the match ended). Considering also that two of the moves Rowlet learned required the help of his adoptive flock without as much input from Ash and he ultimately ate an Everstone just for a variation of Seed Bomb that turned out to be more a liability than asset throughout the series, not even a cute relationship with Meltan and the fact that he won his last important matches of the series makes up for some of the worst excesses of tonal imbalance and inability to let jokes go in a context that absolutely have no space for his brand of incompetence-based humor.

With the major Alola captures gone, there's just the other two latecomer to discuss, and I'd like to start with Poipole/Naganadel, specifically because he's probably one of the worst handled Pokémon Ash ever owned. While the second year of Sun & Moon had several issues, none are as glaring as Poipole being the major Pokémon of the period, only to not actually do much of actually important. Starting with the fact that Ash only bonds with Poipole by proxy to begin with since Poipole interacts with and loves Pikachu before Ash even actually enters the picture, Poipole's biggest contributions to the series afterwards are acting silly for the majority of episodes and never actually getting involved in serious fights beyond one small bout with the Team Skull trio (which is estabilished as even more pathetic than the Team Rocket trio), making the fact that Ash captured him feel like a waste, especially when his focus episodes dealing more with his emotional side end up being just two, and ultimately not doing much of helpful during the Necrozma arc except leaving at the end in what at the time felt like a rather permanent farewell (as he was stuck in another dimension rather than somewhere Ash can readily access). Now, if Poipole's story ended there, he would've been odd but not too bad all things considered, but the problem comes from the fact that Poipole eventually returned right at the end of the series for no adequately explained in-universe reason during an unrelated Guzzlord attack, not only evolved but also presented as a competent and useful battler in spite of the fact none of it happened either onscreen or by Ash's efforts (unlike how Gliscor and Goodra, Pokémon in similar situations, did prove their worth onscreen before being put aside for a time), making this turn come across as an undeserved boost for Ash just so he could have six Pokémon, alongside removing the beauty of the permanent farewell Ash had with Poipole because the sheer coincidence of Naganadel's arrival and then his departure means that they may as well see each other again in the future. Among Ash's Pokémon in Alola, Naganadel is probably the crowning example of the series wanting its cake and eat it too in terms of wanting to be cute and fun and then rushing to make battles matter without the required buildup.

Meltan shares a lot of issues with Poipole, but overall to a lesser degree, mostly because his biggest problem is just coming way too late in the series and, much like Poipole, he only really bonds with Ash by proxy due to starting to like Rowlet first. Much like Lycanroc, his existence is supposedly important as a new discovery but this trait of his is barely called to attention, and coming too late in the series he only gets a few battles to his name with his contributions mostly amounting to gags rather than skill and serious fighting, alongside having the dubious honor of being the only Pokémon of Ash's Alola team to never use Z-Moves in spite of Ash fetching a Steelium-Z as a result of his final Grand Trial for no other reason than the out-of-universe one that Melmetal has never been in a game where you could use Z-Moves. Adding to the fact that Meltan only evolved right before the League finals for reasons outside Ash's guidance or influence conveniently before the last match for the victory, only to give indirect help at best and then winning a battle against a Pokémon with no feats, it's hard to consider Meltan's power boost earned and even harder to tell if he even had a significant power boost to begin with considering how little feats we have for both him in particular and Alola battles in general. All in all, a Pokémon that's been more shortserved by how late he came than actually any inherent issues.

2.3) Ash, Pikachu, and the Team Rocket trio

And with all those characters breached, we have to move on to the Sun & Moon take on Ash himself, which is, to put it simply, rather complicated to discuss. Another one of Sun & Moon's biggest talking points was the decision to amp up Ash's typical childishness to higher degrees than usual, with even his voice actress Rica Matsumoto confirming in an interview for the next series that she was explicitly instructed to play Ash as younger than usual for the Alolan series. Now, yet again, Ash having a goofier and more relaxed personality is neither unprecedented (as he was always silly to a degree, even in XY) nor inherently bad, and the problems mostly came from how the series decided to handle him later. One good thing at the start was that the take this series seemed to go for was Ash being a battle shonen-esque hero stuck in the wrong genre, with his typical behavior clashing with the more relaxed nature of the setting, which actually worked well in ensuring he didn't feel reset while fitting the new mission statement of the series. The problems really came up with how, ultimately, Ash became the series' biggest target of butt monkey-related humor (with the rest of the cast either being treated far more seriously or only occasionally being given the same treatment) and his initial competence in battling lead the way to an overabundance of 'silly regular kid'-related humor with even battles treated as mostly laughing matters, something later battles and important matches overturned to a degree that started to make Ash's handling feel arbitrary.

And arbitrary is the best way to describe Ash in this series: he can either be as good a trainer and master planner as he always was (Ash VS Olivia, Ash VS Misty, Ash VS Kukui), a heroic young man willing to go to good lengths for people he cares for (Tapu Koko rematch, most of the Guzzlord arc) while being scared and intimidated by his own Pokémon (Ula'Ula arc), a regular kid screwing up on daily tasks and willing to cheat his homework (Sophocles' early focus eps, the open school episode), a whiny little kid (the Stoutland treasure hunt episode, the Rotom farewell episode), a surprisingly thoughtful and serious boy (Stoutland's death episode, Minior episode) and everything in between, with the changes being so jarring that it feels less like this show is attempting a nuanced take on Ash and more like the show is simply not caring to stick to any portrayal depending on what the episode requires, especially when as I said above the entire premise of the show hinges on Ash not falling for his typical wanderlust (which is the inability to sit still for long and explore the world, so 'school and daily life adventures' doesn't cut it) without ever adequately explaining how, and seeming strangely uninterested in looking for new chances to grow stronger unless they happen to come his way. Arbitrary is also a great way to describe his impact on both his friends and the region, where in spite of appearing in every single episode, it often feels like Ash is irrelevant to his own show: he has nothing to do with either of Lillie's family deals, nor Sophocles' growing independency beyond occasional sidelines support and kickstarting it indirectly with the Charjabug gift, he barely did anything to support Lana's achievements beyond being there when they happened, his rivalry with Kiawe was nice but ultimately wasn't given his due, and Mallow and him barely got to have significant interactions throughout the story. Most of his rivalries in the region were carried more by his Pokémon than himself as he only shared amicable relationships with all of his supposed rivals with no real competitivity at their core (aside from Kiawe, which as mentioned was done dirty), and even when he got to be a hero it was either as part of an effort by everyone (Necrozma arc, both Guzzlord instances, technically most Ultra Guardians episodes), relying on questionably justified plot devices (Aether arc, and once again the Necrozma arc), or ultimately moving the focus away from him and his influence when you'd think the story would do the opposite (Guzma's parts in the Alola League). Adding onto that that the amount of times his Pokémon gained moves in the heat of the moment without training (a series staple that previous series tried to downplay with more onscreen training) and how his Pokémon ended up learning moves more for the actions of someone other than him than because he helped them, and Ash's handling in this region really adds up to strangely inconsequential, which is particularly bad considering how the League tried to go the other way, making his eventual achievement at the end feel hollow in the face of lacking buildup in the region and the several boosts and narrative aids he got to get there.

There's also the elephant in the living room that is Ash's development. Early in Sun & Moon I've seen people claim this series was more about Ash developing as a human being than as a trainer, which would be true... if not for the fact stuff like Ash doing chores was also alluded to and shown in previous series like AG and DP, and that during the Alola League (which should be the culmination of the series) none of it is actually remotely involved except for Ash talking of his love for the region during the final attack, while it never actually showed in previous matches (even against Guzma, which should be where this should come up given Ash's declaration at the start of it, the narrative wants us to stay in Guzma's head instead). The 'love for the region' thing also seems weird to bring up to me considering he actually spent less time exploring the region and more being holed up in one city with very occasional detours, with most of the plots ensuing around him being the sort of thing you'd see in "filler" episodes (like taking part in some competitions, taking part in a play, etc). It feels more like the series wants us to pretend the typical filler hijinks now are part of character growth rather than being just small adventures for fun. If we consider that learning to love the region, then Ash didn't really do much of different from previous series beyond sitting still this time around. And ultimately, the fact that Ash is back to adventuring now in a similar way to previous series means that if Ash ends up winning a League again in the future (which is not unlikely now that the ceiling was broken through), none of the reasons given to make his stay in Alola significant would really age well. The only arc that I feel actively tried to develop Ash as a trainer was Ula'Ula, and that still relied on some very significant moments of out-of-character behavior from Ash.

2.4) Relationships, and Everyone Else

I think at this point one recurring issue has cropped up: specifically, there are so many supposedly important characters that none of them truly got their due in terms of focus, either having to be satisfied with a number of focus episodes that barely amount to an arc or with their involvement into things reduced to just their specific deals and barely little else, especially with how this was the first series to not have all of Ash's friends necessarily involved in every episode. I feel this had a pretty adverse effect on the series' dynamics, as the already diluted interactions between the cast due to the large group ended up being even less focused on given that not all the characters were always there. As a result, we barely know stuff like Mallow's or Sophocles' relationship, or Lillie's and Kiawe's, and so on, with their own relationships to each other mostly falling into basic friendship (the ones with Ash in particular mostly falling into respect, friendliness and occasional snark at his expense), with only a few like Kiawe's competitiveness with Ash or Lana and Mallow being revealed halfway in as childhood friends having particular focus, otherwise being content with splitting the cast into 'the boys' group' and 'the girls' group' whenever they needed focused attention, and the rare occasions where the characters had some interactions. For the most part, perhaps emblematically of this series, characters mostly shared moments rather than actual relationships.

All that's left to discuss in this area is the rest of the cast, and let it be said... for a series supposedly about exploring the people of Alola, the majority of the non-main cast ranges from forgettable to rather dull, especially once we move to the lesser recurring characters. Lusamine's reduction to an overworked mother who only gets involved in matters explicitly tied to her children and occasionally the Ultra Guardians missions was a rather noticeable waste of an interesting game character, and while Kukui does have a nice presence and good usage throughout the series, the same can't quite be said of his wife Burnet, who beyond some good presence in the Aether arc and minor bits of exposition when dealing with Ultra Beasts (and in particular Necrozma) is effectively sidelined in housewife position for most of the series as Ash's 'second mother' (a position that, unlike Kukui who actively acts the part, mostly seems to come from cooking for him and being married post-Aether) with most of her funny moments coming from being a Royal Mask fangirl. Wicke has very little going for her, while Faba is probably one of Sun & Moon's worst misfires in that, after making his villainy far worse than his game self, the story acts like he should be forgiven while never actually learning his lesson, in spite of the show telling us he caused trauma to Lillie for years and how most of his contributions to anything end up boiling to minor help at best, and attempting to cheat his way to what he wants (the League) at worst. It's a horrible lessons for kids to have, and I'm not sure what the writers had in mind with this aside from keeping him around because the games' more snively and heinous Faba (even accounting for his more evil USUM iteration) also did.

Then we have the Kahuna, which are for the most part okay bit characters (even if Olivia's take was pretty weird, coming from her game self), with Nanu as the obvious standout even between the issues of the Ula'Ula arc as a jerk trainer with a point that doesn't really get 'taught his place', close enough to his game characterization, and Hapu having a decent track to development in the Poni arc (even if much like Olivia, it sacrificed her game characterization along the way). The other Trial Captains not part of the main cast run the gamut between nice to see but not particularly deep (Acerola, to a degree Ilima) and pretty much borderline pointless (Mina). Ash's rivals are a similar deal, with Hau being nice but having not too much to himself with how late he enters the series, while Gladion is an alright character whose rivalry with Ash mostly suffers of being a tad vanilla: they're on friendly terms, are strong, and like to battle each other, but beyond that Ash doesn't have much of a reason to be a rival (something even Alain had by being interested in facing Ash even if he was as separate otherwise), like the student-teacher relationship Sawyer had, or the foil status Paul shared with him, or simply being an old friend he wanted to surpass the way Gary was. Their lack of connection alongside the fact that Gladion would barely think about him unless the plot required him to only contributed to them feeling a tad distant from each other, and why their final bout at the League felt for many viewers just 'okay' rather than the earned culmination of their relationship.

And then there are the lower tier recurring characters, ostensibly Sun & Moon's selling point as, unlike previous series, only rarely did the series happen to introduce 'characters of the day' that never came back afterwards. The biggest problem is that, ultimately, all of these lower tier characters are still as flat as the characters of the day of yesteryear: in spite of appearing several times, all we know of Anela the old lady is that she used to be a dancer and likes Litten/Torracat a lot, Ulu is pretty much an even more flanderized Brock that seldom pops up, Anna the reporter mostly stuck to that role, most of the parents and relative of the classmates that weren't Lillie's remained minor characters with little of note to themselves, and so on. The only noticeable recurring guys among the bunch are probably the Skull trio (which mostly acted as a second rate Team Rocket while was even less recurring than they were in this region) and Viren as a recurring antagonist, mostly for being the kind of villain you usually saw punished at the end of the series in previous series (like Dolan the Pokémon merchant) except made recurring in spite of being arrested in his previous appearence, with no real explanation beyond 'kids' show logic'. Even supposedly important characters like Ida and Horatio mostly remain rather regular mentors and rivals with not much else to them, and are unlikely to stick to anyone but the most diehard fans. There are of course some good characters among this bunch, especially the borderline characters of the day like two-episode-wonders Dia and the Kanto weaboos in the Malie City arc, but overall, if Alola truly wanted to make this a lived in and more developed region than previous series, its inhabitants didn't give this aim any real favors, in my opinion.

3. A Dissection of the Series: What Went Wrong, How, and Why

With the biggest parts of important elements of the series analyzed, I'd like to use this final part of the review for some extra analysis of how the series went down and why, in my opinion, it ended up changing for the worse as it went along, since there's one important thing to point out: Sun & Moon, conceptually and fundamentally, wasn't a bad series. But what it does have is, beyond some big flaws, several small ones that continously added up.

Now, let's start to dissect everything, dividing everything by their year of airing.

3.1) Year One: Beginnings, Akala Island, Aether Foundation

When I say that, I have to start with saying that my opinion of Sun & Moon wasn't initially this negative, and in fact, the first twenty-to-forty episodes were actually pretty nice: while the setup is slightly different than usual and humor is definitely prevalent (in particular the oft-mentioned 'funny faces', which would go on to become one of the defining elements of this iteration, far more than any prior series), there's a steady influx of plot-important episodes, development and setup for the future to help making the series a breezy watch, with each slice of life romp feeling either productive or simply fun diversions. Among the good things estabilished here that stand out as good even at the end of the series there's definitely the spiritual angle of Alola, an angle that whenever explored truly does make the region feel different than previous ones and like Ash is effectively experiencing something he never did before, and with stuff like the first trial and Grand Trial alongside Litten's capture arc and Gladion's introduction help keeping ther pace going even in the absence of a more overarching goal in the League. Now, this stretch is hardly perfect, considering that it already shows several cracks that later expanded: Ash only decides to move to the Island Challenge when he happens to remember about it in episode 9; a lot of battles end way too quick and barely get focus except for Trial and Grand Trial (which still have a somewhat lethargic pace); Gladion's decent rival setup is ruined by an unnecessary Team Rocket attack; some Idiot Plots and empty episodes that are just dull to watch happen; certain setups and developments are rushed to the finish way too fast; and, most importantly, the removal of Trial Captains from the lore and Team Skull as a consistent presence beyond occasional moments ended up removing tentpole parts of Alola's nature in the games that the show barely fills adequately, and it opens the door to call anything the show wants a trial, no matter how unrelated to battling it is, giving a feeling that the Island Challenge is hapzardly put together. But, during these early episodes, the problems are negligible or made up for, and even nowadays, I'd heartily reccomend everything up to Stoutland's death as legitimately good.

The first crack, overall, comes from the Akala arc. At the time of its airing, it looked to be a breath of fresh air as it finally moved away from Melemele Island after a rather noticeable dip in plot important events for more filler-y hijinks, and due to prior experience with the series, it was easy to assume the cast would've remained there for a while. However, that didn't end up happening, the arc ending mere episodes after it began, after rushing through equivalents of the three in-game trials (with Ash only effectively taking part in the Grass Trial from the games while Kiawe and Lana ended up gaining his Marowak and her Z-Ring and Waterium-Z instead) until it culminated in Olivia's Grand Trial, with one extra episode dealing with evolution-related issues for Lycanroc culminating into Dusk Lycanroc. This arc already started on a bad note by only allowing Ash one of the in-game trials for a Z-Crystal, which while to a degree understandable on the reasoning of wanting him to only have Z-Crystals he'd effectively use and the seeming decision at the time to not have overlapping Z-Crystals among the main cast, ended up solidifying the 'whatever counts' feeling of the Anime Island Challenge, and a first proper episode that seemed to relish into making Ash into an even larger butt monkey than usual, including him crying like a baby upon losing in a way that would've been immature for his OS self. Kiawe's episode was the standout of this batch, as it focused on him confronting an opponent he couldn't beat and with Ash giving him support into improving, estabilishing a good challenge to overcome in a way that had become rare for the series and was good to see again. Lana's own Trial wasn't bad either, but suffered of having more challenge put into it during the fishing part than the battling part, and Ash's Grass Trial being a battle that suffered of both misplaced comedy (an example of tone imbalance I'll address more later) and an opponent that barely even moved in Totem Lurantis. Olivia's Grand Trial was also probably one of the best battles to come out of Sun & Moon, putting a focus on strategy even in an extremely slow battle and with a more-than-decent finish, with the only blemish being that Rockruff's signs of evolving only really come one episode before they develop further into him evolving, and the already-mentioned problem of Dusk Lycanroc being supposedly a new discovery that nobody paid much attention to, after which we moved back to Melemele to resume the rhythm of seeming slice of life (with at least three episodes of good importance and one nominally important).

After another brief stretch, we moved briefly to Kanto for an arc that was ultimately just nostalgic fluff for old fans bringing back Misty and Brock, which was nice even if transparently OS-pandering (to the point Misty's Azurill and even Tracey were not even as much as mentioned during the episodes), with the only really important contributions to the series beyond two cool fights in the second episode was the first mention of the Alola Pokémon League (with Kukui being reminded he'll need badges, something he seemed to not pay much attention to later) and Misty and Brock getting a promise of a visit to Alola that didn't really do much for the series beyond further fluff. After this, however, we finally moved to one of the first truly major arcs of the series: the Aether Foundation arc, or, in my opinion, where the series really started to fall apart.

At first, the arrival of the Aether arc seemed to be rather promising, seemingly keeping the slice of life nature of the series but starting to delve into the elements of the games for what people presumed to be a slow burn to a payoff loosely covering the game events. Except... that's not really what happened. Instead, this entire arc turned into about a dozen of episodes harshly abridging the entire villain arc of the games and cutting everything they couldn't fit, while seemingly following the conflicting mission statements of making the arc as loosely close to the games as possible while trying to be as different from them as possible, and this was clear from the very beginning, with the introduction of Lusamine as an overbearing mother with none of the deviousness of her game counterpart. This, however, isn't necessarily a problem as the Anime has often rewritten game characters before, but what the problem is is the fact they changed the conflict of Lillie dealing with the emotional abuse Lusamine inflicted upon her into Lillie simply being annoyed at being treated as a child and, most importantly, being annoyed at how her mother evolved her own Clefairy, something Clefairy itself didn't have a problem with, that makes her come across as a spoiled brat and losing most sympathy (especially when no one but maybe Burnet reprimand her for her callous behavior), especially when Lusamine is treated as legitimately loving her and just being too busy rather than having any malice. The problem is also that, throughout the arc, the only one blaming Lusamine for never wondering how did Lillie develop her phobia of Pokémon is Gladion, while true to form Lillie doesn't seem to hold her mother accountable for it, and in fact, only wants to uncover the truth after Nebby teleports her near Type: Null by sheer coincidence, reverting her development from her focus episodes. Nebby is another big issue, as its ownership moved from Lillie to Ash for no reason other than giving him a reason to be involved in what would've otherwise been 'the Aether family show', yet the episode wants to still play into the game by implying Lillie and Nebby have a special relationship when they share their moment.

What I feel was the biggest issue of this specific arc, however, was shuffling the actively villainous role of the plot towards Faba, where he actually manages to be menacing for a brief while before the show decides to fully portray him as a silly villain hard to take seriously (including a magical girl routine to activate an Ultra Wormhole-creating machine) even as he's responsible for Lillie's trauma in his attempt to make Lusamine happy and finding an Ultra Beast for her and tried to wipe out Lillie's memories when she seemed to be able to reveal what happened. In the midst of a sea of confusing plot holes by adaptation (why was Type: Null fitted with the mask when as Silvally he did exactly what he was asked to do and Lusamine seems unaware it even exists? Where did the RKS System ROMs come from? Why the heck did a random Solgaleo and Lunala entrust their child to Ash to begin with?), the biggest problem of this arc comes from how, in Faba's aborted attempt to wipe out Lillie's memories, Silvally's attempt to save her reminds her of what really happened when she developed her phobia (a mere two episodes after it was revealed what caused it), giving her back the ability to touch all Pokémon again, making her previous attempts to do so feel retroactively pointless and only there to milk viewer sympathy for when she lost the ability to again, alongside ensuring to keep her development path directionless after this episode barely one third of the way into the series.

The biggest problem after this, however, comes from Faba's subsequent plan that ends up with Lusamine defending her children from a Nihilego and ending up dragged into Ultra Space due to her act of selflessness, with Lillie, Gladion, and subsequently everyone else moving on to Poni Island to rescue her. Along the way, Lillie changes into what the games called her 'Z-Powered Form', which in the games symbolized her moving away from her mother's shadow, while here it means... pretty much nothing, voiding it of its significance and making it come across as either a game-pandering move or something just done because the source material did it. Another significant issue of this stretch is Ash's upgrade of his Z-Ring into a Z-Power Ring, under the absolutely important reasoning of his Solgalium-Z not fitting in his regular Z-Ring. Meaning that Ash needed a magical, seemingly important ritual to obtain something whose usefulness boils down to borderline cosmetic reasons, especially as we later see Z-Power Rings doled out regularly like they're nothing important (including one to Team Rocket and Gladion's regular Z-Ring turning into a Z-Power Ring with no one remarking about it), which is probably one of the most blatant cases of marketing dictating plot flow in the history of this series.

We then moved on to the final battle, which was admittedly decent enough beyond some strange issues of power creep (like Sophocles one-shotting Lusamine's Milotic) and some occasional bits of tonal imbalance (Teether Dance hula in the middle of a serious mission by Sophocles, Mallow and Lana), but was marred by two issues of significance: one was the decision of having Lillie's big moment with her mother possessed by Nihilego involve her giving a speech of how she hates her and how she allowed herself to be possessed by an Ultra Beast for how self-absorbed she is, which while definitely meant to come across as "the mother I respect would never fall for it" has the problem of Lillie and Lusamine never getting a softer reconciliation before this moment (with said softer reconciliation seemingly happening offscreen after everything was over, which we never heard of until almost episode one hundred), which just further makes Lillie unlikable. The other problem is the grand debut of 10,000,000 Volt Thunderbolt, a move that was only used three times that was either poorly explained or never actually received an explanation depending on how you interpret the part where it's employed in the very last major battle of the series, completely out of nowhere except for perhaps Ash's Electrium-Z shining briefly a lot of episodes ago, which was never fully explained, as is the fact Ash's Pikashunium-Z reverted after use.

And thus, after a wedding between the four-times-dated Kukui and Burnet and with Nebby deciding to leave for no adequately explained reason, with Lusamine estabilishing a task force for Ultra Beasts which involves the classmates and Lillie in the closest thing this series gave them to an onscreen reconciliation, after an arc where Lillie supposedly grew... things returned to be for the most part exactly like they were in previous episodes, almost like this arc never happened, including Lillie reverting to her regular clothes. Pretty much, this supposedly character-focused arc ended up coming across as ultimately not so important, especially when Lillie's personality remained roughly the same with the only real problems she developed from being the ones this arc itself introduced, except for now being able to touch every Pokémon.

Things seemed to just return to normal, even if this was just a prelude towards the structure of the series completely collapsing on itself.

3.2) Year Two: Ultra Guardians, Ula'Ula Island, Necrozma

Year two is the one to which I, personally, trace most of the problems of the Sun & Moon series, as the major focus of the series throughout this period ended up being the 'Ultra Guardians', a Sentai-esque team formed by the main cast under Aether Foundation supervision tasked with dealing with Ultra Beasts, and the biggest problem of this arc is that it really wasn't an arc so much as it was a loose connection of monster of the weeks plots that occasionally was brought up outside of them, but was otherwise completely separate from everything not just in terms of structure, but also in tone, as a parody Sentai with barely threatening monsters clashed heavily both with wanting to be a chill slice of life Anime and with wanting to be a battle-based Pokémon Anime. It's an arc that never fully gelled with everything else (the only I'd save being Celesteela, a good Sophocles episode and a rare character-driven Ultra Guardians romp) and ultimately ended on a pitiful note with a rather dull episode with no real oomph to it, but ended up taking the 'main arc' position and leaving the rest of the series pretty much directionless, with several major arcs stalled and, beyond Lillie obtaining her Icium-Z and an Ice Stone that then disappeared completely, Torracat and Steenee evolving, and the Ula'Ula arc for Lycanroc, and Poipole leading to Necrozma, pretty much little of major happened. Teams remained frozen, and development seemed to hit a dead end, beyond officially introducing the Masked Royal.

Between the Ilima episodes (which felt like a waste considering his main purpose at the League ended up being effectively jobbing to Guzma) and the beginning of the Ula'Ula arc proper, the viewers and the students were properly acquainted with the idea of Alola soon getting a Pokémon League, with both Ash and Kiawe expressing interest in it. This didn't send any weird looks yet, as Kiawe was estabilished as the other major battler and to have taken the trials, but this was in hindsight an important omen of things to come. In the meantime, however, Ash departed for Ula'Ula in what turned out to be a solo arc, and one that started up promising only to run into big issues along the way.

I already mentioned part of it when talking of Lycanroc, but the problem of the Ula'Ula arc is that it works on the assumption that Ash would be scared of Lycanroc's rage issues to the point of not acting, with Tapu Bulu's training giving them a moment to surpass those issues that, even with Rowlet suddenly learning Razor Leaf by sitting on a magical tree, could've even worked if it wasn't for the fact that to calm down Lycanroc and reaffirm his trust in him Ash ended up involving a flashback to Rockruff that we never saw before, making the whole affair come across as insincere. After an interlude where Ash undertook a 'Trial' that was technically the in-game Ghost one but was effectively a phony one involving Team Rocket (just furthering the 'whatever goes' sense of the Anime Island Challenge) that resulted in no Z-Crystal, the debut Electroweb, and a strange appearence of 10,000,000 Volt Thunderbolt again in spite of the whole thing being a relatively down to earth affair even with Team Rocket about to win with Mimikyu's Z-Move, this arc reached its conclusion with Ash VS Nanu, a battle that's been in equal part praised and mocked, and which I had a friend describe in the most accurate way as a well-written and interesting battle... for anyone but Ash Ketchum.

Seeing a battle taking on a more psychological bent with Nanu toying with Ash and trying to force him to give in to Lycanroc's rage mode is an admitedly interesting choice and Nanu is absolutely the best part of this battle for it, but the problem is that this requires the assumption that Ash would unconsciously not trust his Pokémon after they put the rage mode under control with trust to begin with, alongside the battle being rather visually boring and with a 1 VS 3 set up that makes it more seem like Nanu is weak than Ash being strong (especially with Tapu Bulu tossing in a Sitrus Berry mid-match). This is supposed to be Ash's big development moment as a trainer in Alola, but it requires Ash to have a regressive mindset that doesn't fit how far he's come (something Sun & Moon does in quite a few things big and small, like completely forgetting Jennies and Joys are families of clones after the Kanto episodes) and, much like the Aether arc before it, begins and ends in the few episodes it takes to happen, I already covered Poipole's issue in his character dissection, so I'd like to move on to the most important part of this year: the Necrozma arc, which among the major arcs of the Sun & Moon series it's probably the most irrelevant. Coming in after only minimal foreshadowing (including a fairly interesting hint of a connection between Nanu and Giovanni that the show never really dealt with adequately), this arc was effectively as standalone as it gets, involving events that were only briefly mentioned after it (Rotom depositing the data of Necrozma in the Stufful episode, Naganadel's return, the stadium where the League was held being called Manalo Stadium), and that tried to make a big dangerous deal without actually having much happening: beyond the biggest damage of the episode being adults feeling comedically down as a result of absorbed energy, the introduction of an Elite squad of Team Rocket led by Giovanni's secretary Matori (here revamped as a Team Rocket trio hater in spite of originally being the one reccomending them to Giovanni in DP's last episode) that ultimately did nothing significant except maybe causing injuries to Nebby that wasn't clear if they happened or not with how stiff the animation was, the baffling and unexplained return of Nebby alongside an out-of-nowhere Lunala, and a general sense of big deal where nothing much of dangerous for the cast happened (and that bafflingly replaced the Ultra Recon Squad and Ultra Megalopolis with a talking Naganadel and a generic quarry that achieved effectively the same purpose), this arc ended up feeling like a snoozefest that only resulted in Poipole staying behind in his now healed world in an overall beautifully permanent-feeling farewell, except that, in the light of future events, this choice felt like one that effectively harmed the show in the long run. Also, with Matsui being the headwriter, one might think resolving the arc with everyone sharing their energy borders on self-plagiarism considering she was also the headwriter of Dragon Ball GT, which had a similar climax (itself inherited from Dragon Ball Z).

Thankfully, even if this year was really not the greatest, the following one brought as much improvements as it did other problems to deal with.

3.3) Year Three: Poni Island, Hints of Mohn, Alola Pokémon League

The third year of Sun & Moon did not start on a good note, as after the Necrozma arc the show ended up on a shortage of things to look forward to, with several arcs still stalled and only the still no show Guzma and the League left to check out. During this period, perhaps to lead into Let's Go marketing, we started getting some shorts at the end of each episode dealing with an Eevee getting to Alola, which everyone assumed would eventually go to Ash, only to unexpectedly go to Lana in a move that made some fans sour. Sandy didn't end up doing much else but being cute and possibly allowing Lana's arc to resume by giving her another cute Pokémon to hold in Popplio's stead, but that was it for a while alongside Hau's debut as a character, in an episode infamous for being at the same time an okay rival introduction where Ash lost a fight by fetching his Z-Crystal and getting distracted to take it back, and where Rowlet ate an Everstone for a move that turned out to be more trouble than it was worth.

Beyond Misty and Brock visiting an Alola (which involved an episode where Brock's womanizing gag was blown even further than ever before) and an actually pretty decent arc starring Ash tossed into a post-apocalyptic alternate Alola to deal with Guzzlord in a rare instance of an Ultra Beast being presented as an actual force of destruction, the show finally started to move again with the Poni arc, or as some people called it 'the ultimate development arc', as the focus of this arc seemed to be the opposite of Ula'Ula being an Ash solo act by putting the focus back on the neglected companions, giving them either a new character direction, Z-Crystals evolutions, new Pokémon or in Ash's case his final Grand Trial, all tied together by Hapu opening up to the crew after starting standoffish and distant. Overall, Poni isn't on paper a bad arc, and there are quite a few episodes that are actually pretty good (Kiawe's trial among them for sure), but cramming all this development on the same island one after the other only had the effect of feeling jarring (unlike how Akala was not only still early enough, but only gave significant new things to Ash, Kiawe and Lana), most noticeably by cramming two completely separate evolution plots in the same episode in a move that slightly hurt both of them (Sophocles' feeling a tad impersonal, while Lana's lost the actual training part of it), Shaymin was effectively even more irrelevant than Sandy in the series, the Mohn arc estabilished here had some problems I'll get into soon, and the Hapu Grand Trial ending up as one of the worst 'Gym battles'-like matches Ash ever fought by utilizing the same strategy to victory as the extremely derided Brock battle by dousing Mudsdale and using an Electric attack on it, only adding the patch that 'it was just like Soak' even if no Pikachu can access that move. Ultimately, a well-intentioned arc that felt a bit too little, too late, and came at the expense of Ash's own focus before his final Grand Trial (to the point unlike the previous islands he didn't even do any unofficial trials before this one).

Following this, the next major episode (excluding a two-parter introducing Ash's Meltan that arguably ran one episode too long) was one that was both long awaited and caused some issues and improvements for the series going forward: Guzma's debut episode, alongside the formal announcement to the world of the Alola Pokémon League... and more specifically, the fact that it would be open to everyone with no requirements whatsoever, on the justification that it's not important who wins. Now, I've seen way too many debates on the topic, so I'll put it simply: regardless of if you think an open League is a good idea or not, it does mean that the various trials and Grand Trials Ash took on lost a lot of their meaning since they became self-sustained achievements that don't mean much outside their bubble if Ash didn't need to do any of them to enter the League, and this structure did cause several problems that lowered the general quality of the Alola League for a decent part of its length. When Guzma is being painted as the bad guy for considering the League just a schoolyard fight between weaklings, the viewers shouldn't be inclined to agree with him.

Another big issue of this decision is that, otherwise, it caused the structure of the series to come under scrutiny: before, and usually, since Ash is the only character taking part in the League, it's only his growth in skill that is under scrutiny, and everyone else is free to be as strong or as weak as necessary, but opening the door to everyone to join in also meant that everyone in the series came under scrutiny, and to put it simply characters like Mallow just weren't made to be involved in it even under the guise of a League for fun, something that showed in the actual execution of the Alola League and that I'll get to in a bit.

The episode after this one started the further estabilishment of the Mohn arc, and let me just say... this arc is, on the whole, probably the most disappointing of the various arcs of Sun & Moon, and that's saying something after everything I explained so far. Specifically, the biggest purpose of this arc was for the Aether family to find out about the whereabouts of the seemingly dead patriarch of the family, and supposedly show Lillie as being 'strong' after the events of the Aether arc, but in actual concept, it was just a convenient way for her to get a Z-Ring after conveniently ignoring the possibility for almost one real life year, getting it 'on loan' for almost getting a Z-Move to work in spite of everyone else requiring to pass a real trial to get theirs, and with her contributions effectively ending up still needing Gladion's help and amounting, once more, mostly to feeling sad to catch audience sympathy, while Gladion gets a Zoroark to be only used in one round of the League. But the worst part of all is that this arc, to put it simply, doesn't end. After Magearna finally wakes up and we get the not explained reveal that it knows where Mohn is, the Aether family embarks on a journey to find him... only for the series to end at that point. After spending six months teasing this storyline, just leaving it hanging like this is poor storytelling, and even with the justification that Pokémon 2019's world-hopping premise would mean the new show can end it for Sun & Moon, the series shouldn't have to rely on another one to resolve its own plots, especially one on which supposedly significant moments of the late series hinged on.

The rest of the series, however, does gain something from the open League premise, and that something is a consistent direction by having everyone get boosts in preparation for the League, which at the very least leads to some alright moments for Sophocles that play nicely in his arc and the technical resolution of Lana's arc, among a sea of strangely persistent legendary appearences that only got more and more contrived as the series went on considering they were entirely separate from each other, even the ones that led to ultimately good episodes (like the one where a Celebi led to Ash and Torracat meeting a young Professor Kukui), since it felt like a move to ensure attention that was wholly unnecessary to the story being told. But over time, everything came to a close with the start of the Alola Pokémon League, probably the most talked about arc of Sun & Moon, for good or ill.

The Alola League is unique in several aspects, both in terms of the Sun & Moon series and the Anime as a whole: for the former, it's a battle-focused arc in a region that didn't want battling to be the focus as the climax of it; for the latter, it's the longest League arc in the series' history. clocking at roughly sixteen episodes. Being a tournament arc, you'd think such a good length would benefit it, but the way the series decided to execute things left a lot to be desired, most specifically because Sun & Moon has a very mixed track record in terms of battles and for the decision to show every battle of the tournament even if just partially. There is a lot that could be said about this arc, but I'll try to aim for the big ones first: for starters, beginning the League by reducing the contestants to just sixteen using a Battle Royale was a rather poor choice, as not only that's a format that allows characters to reach high positions by just surviving rather than being strong (as seen by how James got to the Top 16 even if he explicitly didn't face anyone), but confining it to just one episode meant that pretty much every battle of it was reduced to just a series of one-hit KOs from every major characters, with all of them ultimately surviving. After that, another problem was how a lot of the early rounds of the arc ended up averaging between okay to poor battles, with the dubious honor of having Ash's first battle being completely for laughs against Faba, the only character beyond Jessie and James to get one in this League in spite of being the eventual winner. I already mentioned the specifics of Mallow's attempt to quit her match coming out of nowhere from a character standpoint and the issues of Ash VS Hau, so I'll just say that Lillie's battle against Gladion was okay but done dirty for what was supposed to be a huge moment for her in terms of development, and that Sophocles', Lana's (sans Mallow's) and Kiawe's battles ended up being okay to great on the whole. However, the fact that the first two rounds of the League only used one Pokémon each didn't help the sense of escalation at all, nor the sense of Guzma being correct in describing this League as 'a schoolyard fight between weaklings'.

From the Semifinals onward, the League improves in quality due to only good battlers remaining, though it does run into problems of a different sort: Guzma, which was built up as the major threat of the League with Ash vowing to stop him due to what Alola did to him, is not only dealt with in the penultimate round rather than in the finals, but in a battle that makes that statement ring a tad hollow since the perspective we follow during the fight isn't Ash's, but rather Guzma's, shedding some light into his confidence issues and his Golisopod's habit to use Emergency Exit whenever scared (which beyond being only halfway foreshadowed, also ends up with the bad side-effect of giving Ash a free win through Torracat, turning Ash VS Guzma into a 2 VS 1 in Ash's favor), but effectively making Ash interchangeable as a result. It's a good fight with some nice moments, but it just makes his build up as possibly ruining the League for everyone ring hollow when his presence didn't seem to ruin the League for anyone in any way, and the threat wasn't even considered worthy of the finals. Kiawe VS Gladion, by contrast, is mostly a good fight with not much else to it. However, one thing that starts to be noticeable in this part of the League is the sheer reluctance of the show to start any matches before the halfway mark or close to it, padding the airtime as much as possible with not always necessary scenes and stretching the battles along two episodes even when not necessary.

The finals having three Pokémon each meant that Ash VS Gladion ended up having a bit more meat to it in terms of battling, but Ash once again ended up getting another boost in the form of Meltan's evolution into a supposedly powerful mythical Pokémon, which would already be bad since he shouldn't be getting these kinds of boosts at the very final stage of this story (and yes, just to be clear, Kingler's deal was poor writing back in OS as well) but also comes after a gag battle rigged in his favor, a battle that required several contrivancies on his side to be won with Rowlet, and another battle with a facilitated victory in Guzma, making it feel like Ash ended up getting into each of these matches with the writing rigged on his side. The Gladion battle has some fairly good moments both from a character and battling perspective, but between the unearned evolution right before it and just the way they built up to things, Ash's victory here ended up not really feeling as impressive as you'd think this first League Conference victory should be, all things considered. A battle that just ends up as 'okay' rather than the amazing it should've been.

However, after a somewhat dull interlude involving a Guzzlord attack that's probably comprised of more stock footage than action just so Naganadel can come in to make number, we moved on to Ash VS Kukui, probably one of the best battles of this series. That said, while it is pretty good and better written than the majority of them, especially in terms of how Torracat is handling for its first three episodes, it is knocked down by being an exhibition match, meaning that beyond 'fun' and offering a good fight, Ash doesn't need to win this battle (unlike how every other major battle at this stage usually comes with adequate stakes), and most importantly how Tapu Koko forced his way in in place of Kukui's last Pokémon (after Kukui allowed Naganadel in on the pretense of being part of the family, ignoring that three-to-four of Kukui's Pokémon in this match were never seen before and his supposed Pelipper was completely excluded just because the local deity wanted some fighting), which given how Koko wasn't part of this particular equation comes across as scrunching two battles to save time. It also doesn't help that then Tapu Koko interrupts the match again just to allow Kukui and Ash to use Z-Moves again, with Ash ending up using 10,000,000 Volt Thunderbolt for the final time while praising the region, which while making for a cool finisher it ultimately makes Ash's supposed aim to master Z-Moves to defeat Tapu Koko resolved in a poor way when he only won using the Z-Crystal he never actually trained to use and that only conveniently showed up whenever it needed. Accounting for yet another boost in the form of Naganadel's return, this battle is ultimately marred once again like most of the League by the writing apparently wanting him to win at all costs and look good while doing so, strategy and skill be damned along the way.

After this followed two episodes of closure, that had some good moments (especially in regards to the Team Rocket trio) but ultimately involved a lot of contrived instances (like an Ultra Wormhole for Naganadel to return home coming just above Kukui's house) or poorly executed moments, most importantly the completely offscreen adventure of Ash and Nebby in Ultra Space, the way Mimikyu decided to let go of his killer instinct towards Pikachu, and most importantly the fact that Ash decided to leave his Alolan team behind for reasons the viewer wasn't made privy to, and which ended up having negative implications for either the Alolan team or the previous Pokémon depending on how you read it.

And that's ultimately how Sun & Moon ended up feeling for me, with several small issues that kept adding up, until the show just couldn't handle them anymore.

3.4) The Problem of Themes and Other Technical Issues

Before to move on the closing statement, I'd like to quickly address something I've often seen brought up in Sun & Moon's defense, generally its themes justifying a lot of what it does alongside exploring the region of Alola by having Ash live there. Usually, the biggest themes I see brought up about this is that Sun & Moon is about family and meeting a world and learning from it... but while the first might have some merit, the second is very much what the show has always been about, arguably moreso than Sun & Moon has been since Ash actively travelled to meet said world rather than wait until the world came knocking at his door, and there were a lot of family-oriented moments in previous series, be they siblings or relatives. I'm sure there are other, different themes that one could bring up here, perhaps some that are indeed unique to the Sun & Moon series, but there's something important to say about themes: no matter how good the message you want to spread or explore is, if the narrative has issues, you can't excuse them on the pretense of themes, especially if it starts to be applied to every single imperfection one finds in a story. Themes are embellishments that make stories better, not substitutes for good writing.

And in terms of narrative issues, Sun & Moon has, in my opinion, quite a few of them, not just the ones I explained in the first paragraph but also some important ones involving both the way episodes are written, and how battles were handled, including the way the generational gimmicks were used. In regards the way the episodes are written, there's the fact that several of them end up involving a strange structure where the plot doesn't actually begin until the halfway mark, and while this may perhaps help with a slow pace and relaxed atmosphere, it does have the side effect of making quite a few of them feel dull to watch, especially older fans used to the rhythms of the series before this iteration.

Bigger, and most pressing, are the problems of battle writing this season ran into, which go deeper than just the absolute downgrade in battle presentation, but go straight into how the battles were written. One noticeable thing that feeds into how slow the battles ended up being is the fact that commentary became just as commonplace as it used to be in the earliest series, constantly breaking the action on a regular basis rather than letting the scenes flow more often than not. Beyond that, the biggest problem is that, more often than not, the battles aren't decided by skill or strategy (though there are occasional skill-based bouts), but rather who feels a bigger drive to win or happens to fire their Z-Move last, which coupled with the removal of most of the minor battles that could go either way to mostly focus on the big ones that have to absolutely be resolved a certain way, leading to such gems as the already mentioned battle with Hau where an otherwise good Ash ended up slipping his Z-Crystal just so he could be distracted and lose due to it, or one where Gladion managed to completely tank a Z-Move only to reply by his own, out of nowhere new Dragon-type Z-Move. It made battles dull to follow more often than not, especially with battles often falling more on shows of strength or exchanges of moves with no real rhyme and reason rather than giving the impression that the trainers had any real plan behind their orders (Ash constantly falling back on relying on an incompletely learned move in Ash VS Hau being a particularly blatant case of it showing).

And relatedly, another major issue of the series overall is the way it choose to handle Z-Moves. Compared to Mega Evolution being a fairly consistent 'have the stones + have the bond = Mega Evolution' in the previous show, Z-Moves depend on several factors, from getting the pose right to having a correct amount of focus and bond with the Pokémon to if the Pokémon used them before, and as a result, the entire idea of mastering Z-Moves feels wholly inconsistent: sometimes you can have characters with perfect relationships with their Pokémon completely failing at using their Z-Moves, sometimes characters like Mallow that first chided others for not getting the Grassium-Z pose right and then ended up unable to master Bloom Doom well until the League match, sometimes you can have characters that get Z-Moves right with Pokémon they never even saw before, and everything in between. It feels extremely arbitrary, and makes 'mastering Z-Moves' feel less down to the characters' agency and more down to whether the writers feel like having them master them or not.

But, if I may say, the real biggest problem of the series is that, simply put, it often raises questions it never manages to answer satisfactorily, just creating a situations were things are left so vague everyone has to either remain confused at what happened or supplant it with their own headcanons. Counting just some of the important questions: Why did Ash choose to go to school instead of a typical journey? Why was Tapu Koko so interested in Ash? Why did Ash receive Nebby from that Solgaleo and Lunala? Why did Nebby leave at the end of his arc? Why do Giovanni and Nanu know each other so personally? Where did that Lunala come from? What's the deal with Dusk Lycanroc and Meltan? Why does the Pikashunium-Z manifest? Why did Naganadel return? Why does Magearna know Mohn's location?

I have no clue. And frankly, I'm not sure if Sun & Moon knows, either.

4. Conclusions

And with this, I reached the end of this long dissection. It probably got pretty ranty, and it may sound excessive considering this is all the result of overanalyzing what's ultimately a kids' show, but I think I covered most of everything I wanted to. So, in the end, with so much said, what are my final impressions of Sun & Moon? Well, I'd say the amount of fun you'll have with it will depend exactly from what you want of it.

In spite of all my critiques, I'm fairly aware of how people just looking for a good time to cheer themselves up with occasionally emotional moments will find definitely stuff to like. Less critical-minded viewers will also definitely find something for everyone in there, and perhaps enjoy what the series has to offer. My personal opinion is that, ultimately, at its best Sun & Moon can be one of the best entries of the Pokémon Anime, while at its worst, it can be even worse than entries like the Best Wishes series. And as someone who likes consistency in terms of what a series has to offer, I found Sun & Moon a quite irritating watch to do, and probably my second least favorite entry of the series even with its good moments.

Overall regardless of which opinion you will have ended this read in, I hope you found my thoughts interesting to read about, and whatever opinion you hold of the Sun & Moon series, I respect it, and, in case you enjoyed it more than I did, I'm glad you did.

As for me, I officially consider the Gen VII Anime a closed book. With the new series starting soon enough, I'm optimistic that things will only look up from there. Not just for me, but for every other watcher as well.

So, regardless of what the future may hold for this show, I'm looking forward to continue my journey reviewing it with all of you, hoping in better stories to be told.

#anipoke #pokeani #viroreviews #archival post #sun & moon #series review #long post

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comicaurora · 4 years

Note

What are the months in this world, and what kind of “woohoo it’s not winter!” festivals are there? (Is there an equivalent to the maying?)

Ooh, I get to show off the calendar!

Aurora’s year is 380 days long. (Days are still roughly 24 hours.) The Ancients divided the year up for practical purposes, and while the days have gained additional associations over the millennia (most feast days now honor specific global conceptual deities), the base structure has remained unchanged.

Due to a combination of a noticeably elliptical orbit and an axial tilt, each hemisphere experiences a half year of temperate weather (the “long spring”, where the heat or cold of the axial tilt is offset by the cold or heat of the variable orbit), followed by an intense summer and then a sudden shift into an equally intense winter (where the heat or cold of the axial tilt is augmented by the heat or cold of the variable orbit).

The year is divided into thirteen twenty-eight-day intervals called sindahlan, a word roughly meaning “two-hand-pass”. It refers to the fact that the small red moon, Sword, makes exactly two full orbits in that time, describing it in terms of a combat maneuver where the sword is passed behind the body. Each sindahlan is further divided into four seven-day intervals, each called a sef. The days in a given sef are Wayann, Sinunn, Hemunn, Jifedann, Jauann, Jesann, and Sefann, which roughly translate to “first sun”, “second sun”, etc., up through “seventh sun”.

Each sindahlan begins with a feast day that is not considered part of the regular schedule. There are thus thirteen feast days, each followed by 28 regularly scheduled days, and this schedule of 13 29-day intervals accounts for 377 days of the year. Three days are left over, and serve to close out the year with a three-day festival before the schedule restarts with the new year.

The first sindahlan begins with The Feast Of The Scales, a festival that honors Wys, god of balance and temperance. The larger moon, Shield, is always full on this day. It heralds the beginning of winter in the northern hemisphere, though in the southern hemisphere it just falls in the midpoint of the long spring. In the northern hemisphere, crops are harvested and bonfires and feasts are held to celebrate and prepare for the coming cold. In the southern hemisphere, it’s a more generic festival, but the party atmosphere is maintained, and new beginnings are celebrated.

The second sindahlan begins with the Feast of Liunn, a festival in honor of Liunn Keen-Eyed, goddess of inspiration. While mostly considered a fun public holiday with lots of bonfires and dancing, for artists and creatives this holiday is much more personal. They present their current unfinished work for public scrutiny, in the hopes that the mortifying ordeal will draw the eye of Liunn and grant them a burst of inspiration to help them make progress. For chefs, this tradition has morphed somewhat, and many use this as an opportunity to taste-test their newer, more experimental creations, some attempting to one-up each other with more and more wild creations. It’s often considered unwise to eat any suspicious festival pastries, and the more mundane they look, the more dangerous they might be.

The third sindahlan begins with Ishva’s Turn, a festival that honors Ishva, The March Of Stars, deity of time and decay. In the heart of northern-hemisphere winter, families celebrate at home with a hearty meal and an exchange of gifts. Some children honor Ishva by constructing effigies from snow - as they melt and deteriorate, it is seen as a reminder of Ishva’s inevitability. The southern hemisphere has no snow at this point, but honors Ishva with a special drink - a hardened sugar candy shaped into an effigy of Ishva is stirred into warm milk and allowed to dissolve, a delicious reminder of life’s impermanence.

The fourth sindahlan is led with Twin’s Turn, a festival the Ancients celebrated to honor The Twins, the only gods the Ancients seem to have deemed worth notice. This sindahlan sees many animals reproducing in advance of warming weather, and the new life is celebrated with specialized pastries and bonfires among the melting snows. The southern hemisphere celebrates similarly despite nearly being in summer by now - the Ancients never colonized that far south, so the holiday traditions migrated later without really adapting.

The fifth sindahlan begins with Hesta’s Embrace, a festival honoring Hesta, The Open Hearth, goddess of compassion. In the northern hemisphere it heralds spring, while in the southern hemisphere it heralds summer - the whole world embraces the coming heat with a festival of dancing and song. In honor of Hesta, all food is shared with at least one other person.

The sixth sindahlan begins with Pendulum’s Swing, a festival in honor of Graiann, god of justice. Shield is full on this feast day, and it is seen as a turning point in the year. This is a grimmer holiday than some, and the festival is a more subdued affair. Debts are repaid or forgiven, a tradition which in some areas has evolved into a symbolic exchange of gifts. Also, sometimes seekers of vengeance will choose this day to take their revenge, hoping that Graiann will favor their endeavor.

The seventh sindahlan holds the exact midpoint of the year (the 15th day of the sindahlan, specifically, which is technically the equinox as well as the point where the planet's distance from the sun is exactly midway between its two extremes), and thus its feast day was considered too significant to dedicate to a single conceptual god. Instead, it honors the sun itself. The sun does not have a god (at least, not one anyone on the planet has ever seen) but it is sometimes personified in literature and artwork as Yanna the Golden, a shining figure with indistinct features. A wide assortment of pastries and fruits are eaten on this day - anything is permitted as long as it’s round and yellow-to-golden-brown. Some specialized desserts are also made for the occasion, creatively called “sun-cakes” - though their only defining feature is the stylized sun stamped on them, and the exact recipe can vary a lot from region to region. Some are even savory or spicy. Lots of outdoor festivities.

The eight sindahlan marks the beginning of winter in the southern hemisphere, and begins with Lyssandra’s Turn, a festival honoring Lyssandra, She Who Finds A Way, goddess of survival and adaption. While the northern hemisphere is deep in the long spring at this point and enjoys a typical relaxing holiday with a few specialized dishes, the southern hemisphere celebrates by harvesting the crops and sharing a feast of cured meats and very solidly-baked bread - the leftovers are stored to help survive the coming winter.

The ninth sindahlan begins with the Feast of the Storykeeper, a festival honoring Shanyasi, goddess of music and stories. Poets and bards sing tales of monsters, gods and heroes, plays are performed, etc. Supposedly, Shanyasi incarnates in disguise and shares a story nobody’s ever heard before - though the truth of the story is highly dubious, as it’s in a story’s nature to change, and Shanyasi has never been very invested in the truth. This puts her at odds with Sennaia Word-Seller, goddess of knowledge, who ALSO supposedly incarnates on this day to try and fact-check Shanyasi before she misleads any mortals. Some of the older bards insist that this is just how they flirt.

The tenth sindahlan honors Emnis, god of dreams, and begins with the Feast of Rest, a relaxed celebration with some low-key public festivities and soothing mulled beverages. Emnis is a very old god, supposedly worshipped before humans and elves even left the caves, so this festival seems to be a very ancient holdover from something celebrated before their civilization properly began. Revelers hope for sweet dreams and uninterrupted sleep, and some share their most interesting or wild dreams - which handily tend to lull listeners to sleep. But some also remember to honor Emnis’s less-liked sister, Erebas, the Nightmare Queen. While Emnis brings restful, pleasant sleep, Erebas more often brings warnings of future dangers, and so some remember to appease her as well, to ask that their nightmares be more than just unpleasant. Erebas is honored with a bitter drink mulled with a mild hallucinogen.

The eleventh sindahlan begins with the Feast of Serenis, a festival honoring Serenis Bright-Eyed, deity of love. This sindahlan marks the end of southern-hemisphere winter and the beginning of the long spring, and the beginning of northern-hemisphere summer. Spirits are high, and an air of togetherness permeates this festival. While many would-be couples take this opportunity to confess their feelings, Serenis appreciates honest expressions of love in all its varieties, and many revelers simply spend time with their friends or families.

The twelfth sindahlan begins with Siodha’s Turn, a festival honoring Siodha Swift-Footed, deity of safe travels. With the world warm and temperate, many people travel in this sindahlan, and some trade routes reopen in earnest here. Siodha is honored casually, with very few public festivities, but anyone planning on traveling in this interval leaves a drink outside for Siodha to quench their thirst. If the cup is emptied by the following day, it’s seen as a good sign for the hopeful traveler.

The thirteenth and final sindahlan begins with Learner’s Lesson, a festival honoring Brenn Ever-Changing, god of learning and wisdom. On this day, people reflect on the lessons of the previous year and what they’ll do going forward. Some pray to Brenn to help them internalize the lessons they've learned and develop better habits. Many treat this as the last chance to make good on their resolutions for the previous year, too. Public festivities are common, and many revelers engage in a form of self-deprecating humor where they explain the funniest, most slapstick lesson they learned that year.

The final three days of the year aren’t dedicated to any one god, and are celebrated in a myriad different ways around the world. Usually they’re dedicated more to local gods or spirits, and in regions where such things are rather less relevant, these three days mark a general period of rest, relaxation, and contemplation.

#aurora #asks #worldbuilding

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 7)

Bakugo x Reader

Who let the dogs out!

Words : 2489

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

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You had your headphones in. Listening to a podcast while you did your daily physical therapy. You were almost done. Only a week left and you could technically be cleared for hero work. Key work being technically.

It was something you and Bakugo had been discussing at great length recently. For obvious reasons he would be totally okay if you retired from being a hero, but he knows that he can’t put you in a bubble nor should he keep you from your dream job.

You were proud of him for even considering it an option. He understood what it was like to be a hero, and he understood how hard it would be to quit. He also knew first hand how hard you had worked to get to where you were and it’d be a shame for your career to but cut short.

The thing was.... you weren't sure. You absolutely loved being a hero, but you were sill having a hard time with the psychological repercussions of being shot. No matter how hard you tried you still freaked out over loud noises and you hated going outside alone. You just had this weird irrational fear that they were going to come back and finish the job.

You hadn't voiced these worries to anyone. You were nervous that if you said it out loud they would think you were unstable and then you would be permanently benched. Doomed to desk jobs and paperwork.

You wrapped up your workout and headed back to the apartment. You kept your headphones in while you walked which Katsuki scolded you for constantly. Saying it was dangerous and anyone could sneak up on you. But you couldn't help it. Drowning out all the noises of the city that made you jumpy was imperative to make sure you got home without having an episode.

Usually once you got within a mile or two of home you would just teleport. Ever since you woke up your range had been much larger. You decided that it must be like a muscle. The more you used it the stronger it got. Teleporting all those girls out that night had pushed you into the miles range now. Although you have no idea how you ever managed 15 miles, let alone how you did it on accident.

Today was a nice day though so you decided to just walk.

You were probably a block or two from home when a hand came out of no where and grabbed your shoulder. Panic seized you for a few short moments before your instincts kicked in. You raised your arm and swung out to hit your attacker. But it did no good because they just caught your arm with one hand and ripped your headphone out with the other. “And that is how easy it would be for someone to attack you when you walk around with headphones in.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar red head as you teleported to the other side of Kirishima. “And that’s how easy it is for me to get away... Did Bakugo ask you to do that?”

He just chuckled, “No he didn't, but he did send me to tell you his phone got destroyed today while he was chasing down an arsonist. He’s going to be late tonight and might possibly pull some extra hours and work a graveyard shift.”

You pouted slightly at the thought of being home alone the rest of the night. “Well I was going to make some dinner, you are more than welcome to join.”

Kirishima narrowed his eyes at you, “Say we can order in and I’m down. No offense but I’ve heard stories about your cooking and I’m not really in the mood for food poisoning.”

You leaned over and started slapping his shoulder repeatedly, “Bakugo is a fucking liar! I am a perfectly good cook! He just never lets me!”

Kirishima started laughing as he acted like he was going to put you in a headlock, “Whatever you say Y/n. Lets just order anyways. It’ll be my trea- AHH!”

Kirishima let go of you in an instant as you looked down to see a small german shepherd that was probably no more than a year old with his teeth sank into Kirishima’s pant leg. “What the hell! Where did he come from?” He shook his leg a few times. Not really bothered by it considering it didn't break through his hard skin. When he finally shook the dog off it immediately backed up until his butt was practically between your legs facing Kirishima almost as if it was daring him to come any closer. “Well would you look at that? I think you have a friend there Y/n.”

You tentatively reached down and scratched the dog on his head. He softened at your touch and his tail started to wag. “He must have thought you were trying to hurt me... He doesn't have a collar.... Maybe I could -”

“Y/n so help me if the next words out of your mouth are take it home.. Bakugo will flip.”

You smirked, “Well thats what he gets for leaving home alone. You know I’d call and ask him, but wouldn't you know it, I don't think his phone is working.”

“Oh boy... you’re lucky he loves you.”

It took no coercion to get the dog to follow you home. In fact all you had to do was say “Come on boy” and he followed you the whole way home like the literal puppy dog he was.

Once you got him inside you made a little makeshift bed for him out of and old blanket of yours. You used a damp towel to get some dirt off of his paws. Katsuki was very compulsive about keeping a clean and organized home. If he came home to muddy paw prints on his hardwood floors it would be game over.

You sat on the floor and the pup ran over and plopped down in your lap. His tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth while his tail was going a mile a minute. “Who’s a good boy? Huh? Is it you? Are you a good boy?”

He flipped over and showed you his belly and gave a soft woof as is to confirm that he was in fact a good boy.

“He already seems to be attached to you.” Kiri had a worried look on his face.

“Well good because I’m already attached to him too. And I’ve already decided I don't care what Suki thinks. We’re keeping him.”

Kirishima just rubbed his neck, “If you say so. I’m going to order us some food. You want me to order him some white rice or something?”

“Oh! Good idea! With chicken too! Make sure you tell them no seasoning though. Completely bland. We don't want him to get an upset tummy. We need to make a good first impression and I don't think pooping on the floor would be the quickest way to Katsuki’s heart.”

“Well if there's anyone who knows the secret access codes to Bakugo’s heart it’d be you. Just do me a favor and don’t get your hopes up too high. I know he loves you and all. But you and I both know he doesn't like surprises, or messes.... or anything that cant take care of itself...”

You snorted, “Well I guess we’ll consider this practice for a baby.”

Kirishima dropped his phone... “Baby? Did you just say Baby? You're not like...” he motioned to his stomach with wide eyes.

“Oh no! Sorry no I didn't mean like right now. But you know eventually I’d like to have kids. This could be good practice for him.”

He looked relieved, “I hate to break it to you I don't think Bakugo has a paternal bone in his body.”

You shrugged, “I didn’t think he had it in him to be a good boyfriend either yet here we are. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He seemed to think that over a bit, “Yeah I guess that’s true. I always knew you two would end up together though. He never shut up about you at UA. He was always, ‘Did you see y/n today at training? She looked so good!’ ‘Hey do you think if I asked y/n to study she would think it’s weird?’ and my personal favorite , ‘If one more fucking extra looks at her ass I swear to god I’m blowing the place up!’”

Your eyes widened, “Okay fist of all that is probably the best Bakugo impression I have ever heard. Spot on my friend. And second of all.... NO FUCKING WAY? Was he really like that? All I remember is him pushing me around and yelling at me in training.”

“Oh he was smitten from day one. He could hide it from everyone but me.”

Your food arrived and you and Kirishima continued to swap stories from UA. You telling him all about the behind the scenes gossip you and Mina would get into about him and he told you about all the times Bakugo almost asked you out but chickened out. It was a good night.

He walked outside with you as you let your new, still nameless puppy go potty. Then he took off to go home. Saying he couldn't wait to tell Mina all the new things he learned about her. You just chuckled and waved goodbye.

Now it was time for the tricky part. Every time you would crawl into bed the puppy would hop up as well. He would curl up to your side and it was so cute. But you couldn't push your luck so you would pick him up and put him on his blanket on the floor. Then a few minutes later he was back in the bed.

The cycle continued for a while before you finally just got on the floor and cuddled with him until he fell asleep. Then you gently go up and snuck into bed. Not that it mattered because right as you fell asleep he jumped up and laid down near the end of the bed. Keeping your feet nice and warm. Everything was going alright until around 5 am when your boyfriend finally got home.

“OI! What the fuck is this?”

You bolted upright to see your dog now standing over you protectively, head bowed low as he followed Bakugo’s every movement with his eyes.

“Hey don't yell! He doesn't like it.” You gave the dog an affectionate pat on his head and he seemed to calm down a bit.

“Oh well forgive me if I hurt some random ass dogs feelings. Where the fuck did it come from? Who does it belong too?”

You started to look anywhere but at Katsuki. Mindlessly petting the dog as your nerves settled, “Well Kiri walked me home as I expect you asked him to and we were kinda play fighting and this dog came out of no where and basically attacked Kiri to get him away from me because he thought he was hurting me. But he's actually really sweet and he seems to really like me and -”

“Y/n... what the fuck where you thinking? Do you know how much responsibility a dog is?”

“Well Katsuki I was thinking that now that I’m basically at home alone all day, stressed the fuck out may I add, that it would be nice to have some company. Not only does he like to cuddle but he’s also a perfect guard dog! Wouldn't you feel better on overnight shifts knowing that he’s here to help keep me safe?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Y/n....”

“Please Suki... We’ve already bonded. Honestly I think he would really help with my anxiety. I haven't really told you because I didn't want you to worry... but I’ve been a little... uh nervous.. leaving the house. And I feel like It would be easier if I had him with me. Pleaaaaaaaaase”

He sat on the edge of the bed and scratched the dog behind the ear, “Have you named it yet?”

You beamed at him, “No not yet, I wanted your help. I’ll name him Lord Explosion Murder if you want I don't even care I just want to keep him...”

He smirked, “That won't be necucesaay... What about Lucifer? Because I swear this dog is the devil. He tried to corner me in my own apartment when I came home.. You were right about him being a good guard dog.”

“Does this mean we can keep him?!” You practically held your breath while you waited for an answer.

“Uh I guess. But you’re the one that needs to take care of him. I already have to take care of you. I’m at my limit..”

You lunged at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Oh my gosh! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you so much! You're the best boyfriend ever!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. So what are going to call him?” Katsuki climbed in bed next to you and pulled you to him. The dog settling in by your feet again.

“Not that Lucifer isn't a great name babe but you know I was kind of thinking about Zuko. He’s our favorite character from Avatar the Last Airbender and he’s a fire bender kind of like you so... I don't know. I guess I just kind of liked it.”

He huffed, “I don't bend fire y/n. My sweat explodes. Hence the name Lord Explosion Murder.... but yeah.. I guess I could get on board with that.”

Later that morning you could hear the door softly close as you assumed Katsuki took Zuko out to go to the bathroom. Already doing exactly what he said he wasn't going to do. When he came back inside you could hear him talking to Zuko as if he were a human.

“Alright so I’m only letting you stay because she likes you. As if she really thought I was going to tell her no. She took three bullets for me and thought I’d tell her she couldn't have a dog... yeah right. I’d give her ten dogs if that’s what she really wanted.”

The sound of him filling up a bowl of water echoed from the kitchen, “But don't get too comfy because you have a job to do. You need to be the man of the house when I’m not around. And don't for a second think you can steal my cuddle time when I get home at night. You have her all damn day. When I get home it’s my turn... You got that?”

There was a faint sound of Zuko panting as if they had gone for a run, “I guess you are kind of cute..”

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo imagine #bhna #bhna bakugou #bhna imagine #bhna x reader #mha #mha bakugou #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia

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somedrunkpirate · 4 years

Text

in the dark we travel (geraskier scifi au part III)

The first night is always sleepless.

Be it the rambunctious nature of a group of people having made it out from whatever they’re running from— you do not use these kinds of ships if you’re not running from something— or getting used to the movement of the ship, the rumble of the engines and the thrum of ventilators.

Geralt doesn’t even bother laying down. He sits on the far edge of his grate, one leg dangling over the edge and his back leaning against the wall. He hadn’t had much time to pack for the travel; he’d had to leave his larger case behind, but he isn’t bothered by the cold.

As such, he takes off his jacket and sits on top of it, a measure more comfortable than the iron on its own. But after a while, he takes it, folds it, and puts it behind his head, one loose sleeve over his nose. That way he can at least pretend it’s filtering out some of the stench.

By some miracle, the passengers down below start to quiet down in earnest three hours into the journey. Maybe the rush has left them all more exhausted than usual. It’s been barely three days since the Magistrate let Enforcers into Erilisis Boulevard. The riots are still going, as far as Geralt knows.

The Sovereign Wastes have not been all that Sovereign lately, at least not the planets and cities that border with the UNC. A new fervour of anti-augmentation has come out of Novigrad, led by their most fearsome priests on the pulpit. Raving on and on about their beliefs, inexplicably convinced that anyone else should give a fuck about them as well. The everlasting fire will purify the masses, and so on and so forth.

Geralt’s fingers curl into his palm of his own accord. The cool lines of crystal and metal weave between patches of labour-hardened flesh. He breathes, makes a subtle sign in the air. Igni.

It’s only a flash of flame, ignited by the mechanisms in his fingertips, the fuel stored in a divet between his wrists. At least, that’s the story. It’s mostly true.

But if the priests already wish to tear out the technological, Geralt can’t even imagine the way their eyes would bug out of their heads when they discover that even without it, he’d be able to produce flame. Not as much, not as controlled. But still.

For all Ancienthunters are called, hypocritical isn’t one of them. They’ve worked hard to keep it that way.

Geralt produces another flash of light— for warmth, for something to do, when movement catches his attention.

A figure, at the mouth of the space between the containers.

He was distracted, and the figure has already stepped into the dark.

Well, it's no matter. Roach will handle it.

He sends her a quiet warning and feels her stand at attention, ready for anything. She’ll start with intimidation, but she’ll be prepared for anything if there is a threat, if someone dares to come to close to her—

She sees the target, recognizes him, and relaxes at once.

Geralt has to pull himself out of it, tumbling into the sensation helplessly, muscles slacking and breath coming too easy. A warmth of delight. He pushes it all away and grabs his blade. He shifts, leans over the edge, trying to see below, when he hears—

“Good girl, Roach. Now, can I go up that ladder?”

Roach huffs.

“Thank you.”

Geralt stills and closes his eyes for a moment. He sighs through his nose.

Jaskier clambers up the ladder with anything but subtlety. His movements make the steel clank and groan under his weight.

Geralt doesn’t need light to know that he’s grinning, the moment his head peeks over the edge.

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t push me off just yet. I’m not here to bother you.”

Geralt can’t help but huff at that.

Jaskier throws something at him. It’s soft, heavy— a thick padded blanket.

“Figured that is better than nothing,” he says, and begins to climb down again.

Geralt stares at the fabric in his hands. Questions rise up in his mind but none of them find their way into his throat, and he’s left there, stunned, rendered mute, at the sheer inexplicable action of giving something— something of actual use — without demanding anything in return.

Jaskier is half way down the stairway when he calls out. “Geralt?”

Geralt tenses— here it comes.

“If you change your mind torturing yourself for no reason I can discern, I’ve a cot with your name on it— well, technically, one with my stuff on it, but I suppose it will survive lying on the floor. You can even drag it away from mine, if the illusion of privacy means so much to you.”

Sideswiped by the lack of— expectation, pressure; Geralt blurts out his surprise before he can stop himself.

“You’re not in a bunk?”

“No? Why should I? I don’t need one. Not as much as Skosa, or you.”

Since when has anything been about necessity, in places like this.

Jaskier reaches the ground. Geralt can hear him stumbling in the dark.

Roach sends him a vague thought impression— snout pressing against a back. Gently. Leading.

Geralt sighs.

Jaskier laughs softly the whole way, as Roach softly pushes him back to the light.

He thanks her, and wishes both of them a good night.

Roach sends him another thought— a young Amaureen, the newest one in the stall. Brash, confident, but uncertain. Out of place. It had to be taught how to belong.

Geralt isn’t sure if she’s right. Jaskier is out of place, yes. If there is any honesty to his disposition, he shouldn’t be able to survive. He shouldn’t have made it to this point at all. But he does belong, in a strange way. Or rather, he seems to trick others in believing that this is a place of belonging. That everyone does.

It’s a fantasy. A false belief that will shatter the moment the darkness comes. No group of strangers can be held together by one man, no matter how bright he pretends to shine. He’ll burn himself out trying.

And yet, Geralt finds himself hoping that he doesn’t learn. That he doesn’t have to grow bitter, after this. He lies down on the blanket, watches Jaskier return to a group of eclectic species, circled in the gentle glow of an emergency light.

Geralt doesn’t dream— doesn’t sleep at all, but he dozes, a little, wondering despite himself what it would have been like to follow him down. To enter that circle and be welcomed.

Stupid, of course.

It wouldn’t do to break Jaskier’s carefully constructed illusion of sociability so quickly.

For all his mastery of the ways of people, he seems to be blissfully unaware that even the presence of Geralt in his circle would scatter it into pieces.

Ironic, really, that refusing him could be considered a kindness.

Not that Geralt has any intention— any need, to join him regardless.

There is no space for him there, but he also never expected there to be one. Never desired to have one.

He had his place in Ka’er Mor. He has his place now, with Roach, anywhere he wishes to go. Anywhere he can be useful.

He doesn’t need anything else.

He doesn’t want the responsibility of keeping it, once he finds it— to deal with the irrevocable consequence of losing it, the unerring awareness that if there is a mistake to make, a misstep to take, he will find it and have no hope of preventing himself from doing it. He’s proven that much.

He doesn’t want to deal with any of it.

Geralt is free. He won’t be if he’s holding on to something.

Or someone is holding on to him.

And he’s become very good at making sure no one wishes to keep him.

It is only a matter of time before Jaskier learns that too.

Geralt doesn’t sleep, but he makes himself stop watching.

He tries to think of nothing at all.

The following two days are almost normal.

Normal, in the sense that they’re excruciating. Geralt does not, in fact, get used to the smell. There is something about the specifics of this batch that clings onto every surface and every fabric. The air dews onto the walls, sparkling droplets of utter disgust, and seeps into his blanket, his jacket, his clothing, until they’d be better suited for the containers than on his body.

Geralt spends the time curled up and shivering— fleeting memories of before the Trial of Glass encompass his mind, ones he’d forgotten entirely after the change. His mother, a vague image, pressing cooling packs against his forehead. Gentle words of encouragement. Music— lullabies at first, and then longer songs, some lasting hours and hours. Lyrics in shards and pieces, half remembered, half imagined.

And she stood on the way side, swaying in line

The stars of infinity before her

Sunlight shines brightly, a traitorous friend

Her home, her childhood, she doesn’t look back

Forced to flee her planet’s end.

Her voice, curling around the words. Her laugh— no, that isn’t right. She wouldn’t have laughed. She was worried, then. Back when he could still get sick— when he could still die from it.

This is normal. Geralt knows the burden of his senses, shakes and sweats but knows he will live through it. It’s only a matter of time.

In the dark, no one can see him.

Only Roach knows.

Her pacing is like a rhythm. Her unrest is only tempered by Geralt’s acceptance. By the familiarity of it all.

Geralt breathes, and listens to the music down below. He’s annoyed to find that it helps, a little— the kind of stimulation that has a measure of sense to it. A pattern he can follow.

But singing is not all Jaskier does.

On the evening of the third day, two nights without sleep, Geralt senses a change in Roach’s footsteps. A line, instead of a circle.

Geralt groans and sits himself upright. By the time Jaskier crests the edge of the grate, he’s regained control of himself— no trembling, no shaking. His fists are clenched.

“Jaskier.”

“Ah, you’re still alive, I started to wonder.”

He climbs on top of the grate, sitting down with his legs crossed.

Geralt is too tired to argue— too hungry, too desperate, for anything to distract him. His senses have gone haywire, so sensitive that he can feel the creaking of fabric when he breathes— that he can feel Jaskier’s breath, hear his heartbeat.

He almost closes his eyes to it.

Every night, Jaskier has come here. Sometimes to bring water, or food. Sometimes for an attempt on conversation. Every time Geralt managed to get him to leave within ten minutes. But he already knows that this time will be different.

“Corron, you know, the Decalon, makes a mean stew from those dehydration packs. No clue what he puts into it, but I traded him some in exchange for a few song requests, so if you’ve been wanting to carve out my eyes because of those ballads, hold off for a moment and tell me if it wasn’t worth it.”

With that declaration, he pushes a bowl into Geralt’s hands, lid open.

For a single moment everything melts away as Geralt’s focus is entirely enveloped by the scent of actual, edible, warm food. But Geralt would have to put his face in it for the smell to linger, and he hasn’t lost that modicum of dignity, yet. Instead, he begins to eat it, trying desperately to block out all his senses except taste.

Jaskier, of course, doesn’t let him and continues speaking.

“Oh and Skosa has been working on these things.”

Even with Geralt’s darkvision, he can’t make out enough details to discern what objects Jaskier is digging out of his bag.

“You shouldn’t be near her,” he says, low. A sentence that has somehow become well worn in only a few days.

“Yes because she’s really going to turn around and shoot me while fixing these—“

Suddenly there is a flash of light. Geralt almost drops the bowl at the shock of it and closes his eyes. His head throbs.

“Shit, sorry, should have warned you. There is a setting somewhere—“

The light flashes again, but then dims a little. When Geralt opens his eyes again, he sees Jaskier grinning at him, electropulse-torch in his hands.

“Karoline found them in the Piles looking for more shot glasses. They were completely busted but Skosa knows her way around broken tech. That T-1 Blaster of hers was also… a project, lets say.”

Geralt closes his eyes again but this time less from the light and more out of the sheer force of stupidity that the universe manages to confront him with. “The Sketh has a recently repaired T-1 Blaster on her person.”

“She’s tested it extensively, she says—“ Jaskier begins, sounding slightly defensive, but then he suddenly cuts off. “Oh fuck, Geralt.”

Geralt snaps his eyes open, hand to his blade, looking for the treat. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say you were sick?”

Jaskier is staring at him, mouth agape, and that is when Geralt realises that the torches have more dangers to them than being allegedly fixed by a trigger-happy mercenary.

Geralt has lost the shroud of darkness.

“Geralt.”

“Get out.”

“The hell I will. What the fuck—“ Jaskier is shaking his head, pulling himself forward, his eyes searching Geralt’s face. “What is wrong with you? Were you already sick when you got here?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

“We have already established that you’re a special case.”

Jaskier reaches out a hand— it's going— going to his forehead. The intention of a gentle touch— checking temperature. Worried.

Geralt responds as if it’s an attack. He can’t help it. He snatches Jaskier’s hand away and growls, “Don’t.”

Jaskier’s breath catches and he drops the light. It tumbles over the edge of the grate and shatters on the floor.

Roach gives an affronted noise.

“Geralt.”

For the first time, Jaskier sounds uncertain. Not scared— not yet, but on his way to be. His fingers go slack in Geralt’s grip. He’s— he’s holding Jaskier’s wrist too tightly. Geralt can sense the blood being unable to push through, a persistent throb against his palm.

He lets go as if he’s been burned.

Jaskier yanks his arm back, his other hand curling around where Geralt had held him.

Geralt imagines the skin— red, bruising — and his jaw locks together. It takes a mountain of effort to pry them back open and say, “It will be better, once I get some sleep.”

Jaskier doesn’t respond for a moment. He’s sat back, leaning a way a little, eyes still wide.

It makes Geralt a little sick, in a different way this time. He should’ve— he should’ve never let Jaskier up here. He’d known this would happen. He’d known and— indulged himself anyway.

“Is there anything I can—“

Still. Still.

Geralt wants to grab him by the collar and shake him— wants to yell, “Why do you do this? Why, after I hurt you, do you still insist on helping. Don’t you see this is why, this is why I can’t?”

He’s so tired that he isn’t sure if he’s done it. The image is so vivid in his head. But when he blinks, the world reorientates around him, and Jaskier is talking, still worrying the skin of his wrist like no time has passed.

“— the problem. Every time I’ve been here, you’ve been awake. I mean, have you even slept at all?”

Geralt does not say anything. It’s an answer regardless.

“Wait, really?”

“I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah, it really looks like you’re handling it. My wrist agrees with that assessment.”

Geralt can’t suppress a flinch. He lets his head fall back against the wall, hard. It's so much easier to be miserable when there is no one to see it. He just wants to be alone.

“I’ll leave you, now, because I can see you’re one wrong word away from pushing me off—“

Geralt imagines it— one movement, one snap decision and then Jaskier would fall, scatter, break. Just like the light. Bile gathers up his throat.

“--so I’m going now. But if you haven’t slept by tomorrow night, you’re gonna fucking get in that bunk, you hear?”

Geralt suddenly feels a strange kinship with the Sketh— Skosa. This is how she must have felt, overwhelmed with wild emotion, dangerously close to enacting some measure of pain, and then confronted by this strange creature that seems unable to prioritise his own safety above his stubborn fucking sense of what is right.

“Fine,” Geralt grates out. He doesn’t mean it. He’d say anything to get Jaskier out of here— to be able to fall apart, finally, without a witness.

But then Jaskier says, “Thank you,” with such naked relief and gratitude, that Geralt already knows he won’t be able to go back on it. He’s excruciatingly aware that it must be the mod— he feels the pull of it, the delicious warmth of genuine care that cannot be anything more than a nicely flavoured lie. Jaskier is kind; he is even kind in using his abilities to convince Geralt, but he can’t truly care like this. Not in this short amount of time.

Geralt feels himself being persuaded and hates himself for it, but he’s going to let it happen anyway.

Except if he is able to sleep. He doesn’t have to listen, if he sleeps. That’s the deal.

By whatever fucking power in the universe, Geralt will convert to any if he just can fucking fall asleep.

He lies back down and shakes and shakes and shakes.

He doesn’t sleep at all.

His vision begins to blur and shift. There are strange shapes in every corner. Figures, sometimes. Roach stops pacing and starts twitching erratically, trying to find the enemies that Geralt’s mind is carving out of a thick cloth made from pure exhaustion. He tries to show her, to calm her down. There is nothing there. It’s all false.

Her breath comes more rapidly when one figure, a tall elongated humanoid rises up in the shadows, looming over Geralt. It’s fingers are long and thin. His torso is all bones-- too many of them, dozens of ribs, protruding out of paper thin skin. Geralt almost laughs at it. It’s a good impression of something terrifying. Vaguely familiar, even. Dragged out of nightmares, past memories, or even his teachings at Ka’er Mor.

But it remains funny to see a creature so imposing, completely without a head. It reminds Geralt of a butchery-- chickens walking on their last legs. A horrific comedy.

The creature reaches out, and when its finger is about to touch Geralt’s forehead, it disappears.

See, Geralt tells Roach. Not real.

Roach huffs, sceptical, but for the rest of the night the visions stay away.

Sleep does too, but what's new.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #witcher #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #witcher fic #myfic #cw hallucinations #cw sleep deprivation #in the dark we travel #angst #angst in space #hurt/comfort #incoming #ive just started with chapter 5 so we be plotting along

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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

Text

promise

and here we are, my first ever transformers fic! i devoured mtmte and ll at a friend’s recommendation, loved it, and was immediately possessed by a need to write a little more about these two. i love them a lot! (❁´︶`❁) enjoy! you can also read it here on ao3. comments encourage content! (•ө•)♡

The light is there, shimmering away not five mechanometers from his dirt-stiffened digits. Pink, like the energon sticks glowing in sweet bundles in the market stalls lining the streets of Cybertron. His favorite, he thinks distantly. He drags his shattered body over rocks and rubble, forward, he must go forward, but the light never comes closer, never becomes brighter, and the earth begins to close in, swallowing the light and—

Tailgate’s optics blink online. He does not move, not even to unclench the hard fists his servos have formed. Silvery darts of light glisten like crystal dust through the huge window, just missing Tailgate’s berth and instead striking the expansive backside of Cyclonus. He wonders how many of those stars are the same ones he knew six million years ago. Maybe a few had found their time since then, but there still has to be at least some that are still blazing away. He wonders, then, which ones they are.

The gentle rumble of the ship smoothes the rough edges of his fading nightmare. When those are gone, leaving Tailgate with nothing but a chilly, faint sense of panic, it chases the final dregs away too. When those too finally fade, Tailgate is completely online. He hates this feeling, this, this tension this nightmare always brings him. It’s a gross combination of the exhaustion and crankiness of being dragged out of an otherwise perfectly pleasant recharge, plus the hot needles of terror and desperation still buried deep in his spark. It makes his energon froth and bubble frantically within his tubes and channels, but it never spills over. He isn’t really sure if that’s a good thing or not.

He sits up, dimming his visor as he draws his knees up towards his spark chamber. Stupid crummy recharge cycle. Stupid nightmare. He should have known something was going to be off when Cyclonus actually said, “Good night,” back to him last night instead of grumbling noncommittally. At the thought of him, Tailgate’s gaze slides from the wall across from him to Cyclonus.

Even offline, Cyclonus strikes an impressive figure. The starlight casts deep shadows into the grooves of his armor, giving him the impression of being much larger and sharper than he is. A single horn glitters like a blade piercing the dark as Cyclonus shifts slightly. For a brief second, Tailgate wonders what would happen if he crawled right up to Cyclonus and curled up in front of his chest plate. The thought is banished immediately. It’s ridiculous, so ridiculous Tailgate can’t even laugh at himself for ever allowing it to cross his mind.

He vents a huff, sort of wishing he had a mouth instead of an intake port so he could scowl properly. It would feel appropriate given this is the seventh time this decacycle he’s had this nightmare, though it is the first time he’s had it two nights in a row. It’s always the same thing; he’s back in the crumbling tunnels beneath the Mitteous Plateau, eternally crawling towards his energon rations to initiate a rescue attempt. He never makes it before the tunnel collapses, burying his spark once and for all.

He’s tried to convince himself that that’s not what happened. He survived—proof of that is engraved into his chest piece. Proof of that is recharging next to him. Proof of that is that he’s contemplating all of this proof here, on the Lost Light. But he would appear he finally has to concede this particular plan of attack is simply not working. The nightmare keeps coming back, and it leaves him worse off with every occurance. Tailgate draws his knees in a little tighter. The issue, he decides, isn’t what had literally happened to him. What is it then? A mental thing? An emotional thing? He supposes that makes a bit of sense. Living—surviving, really—for six million years in the abject terror of being forgotten without ever being known would have its impact.

Deep in thought, Tailgate does not notice Cyclonus’ vent cycle hitching and speeding up until red optics begin to glow in the corner of his vision.

“Tailgate.”

Tailgate startles, then slouches miserably over himself with another long exvent. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Cyclonus sits up, unswayed. “Something is bothering you.”

Really? Tailgate thinks scathingly, and then is immediately taken aback at his own cynicism. “Mm. Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I’ll—I’ll get over it.”

With that, he twists to lay facing away from Cyclonus and offlines his optics completely. Hopefully, Cyclonus will follow their old routine and ignore him so they can both return to recharge. Then Tailgate can at least take comfort in knowing he hasn’t successfully bothered anyone else with—

“Talk to me.”

Or not.

“Seriously,” Tailgate says to the wall, “it’s nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with you.”

Tailgate pauses. He genuinely cannot tell if that was supposed to be insulting or not, so he turns back around to ask. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You care too much. About everything. Very little does not matter to you.” Cyclonus lifts his legs and swings them around towards Tailgate to set his pedes down on the floor in a deliberate one, two . “I won’t ask you again. What’s bothering you enough to be able to rouse me from recharge?”

“You technically never asked the first time,” Tailgate reminds him and, alright, now he’s just being catty. Cyclonus is very generously offering his help, and Tailgate is being cranky. “Ugh. Sorry.” Cyclonus waves the apology aside with a smooth movement of his servo. Tailgate trails it hazily before he exvents another sigh. “It’s just—just this nightmare I keep having,” he admits. “About when I was stuck underground.”

Cyclonus leans forward. “What about it?”

Even as he runs what he’s going to say through his processor, he can’t help but feel it’s redundant. This is Cyclonus he’s talking to. He’s seen everything under the stars—so many horrific, spark-shattering events Tailgate couldn’t even imagine, let alone dream about. A nightmare about something that didn’t even happen is no doubt going to sound foolish no matter how dramatically he spins it.

“I dunno…” he begins lamely. “It’s always the same thing. I’m back in the tunnel I fell into under the Plateau—legs gone, T-cog shot, that whole thing—and I’m trying to get to my energy rations so I can detonate them and call for help. But no matter how long I crawl towards them, I can never reach them before the tunnel collapses, and I—” Tailgate shudders hard enough to rattle his armor. “It’s dumb.”

Cyclonus’ engines hum. “It isn’t ‘dumb.’”

“I mean, it kind of is. The whole thing was—” A flare of humiliation burns through his EM field before he can smother it. “Do you want to know why I even decided to try to take the Plateau as a shortcut? I forgot to set my chronometer the night before my unit left.” He barks a humorless laugh. “And they told me, ‘Tailgate, we’ll leave without you if you’re late,’ and I said, ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ and then I did. What part of that isn’t dumb? Who gets stuck in a hole for six million years because they forget to set the alarm? I should have just stayed in recharge that day.”

“Tailgate,” Cyclonus says seriously, but he does not sound angry. Or rather, sound annoyed that Tailgate is wasting his time. “You were still very new to Cybertron as a whole when that happened. You never could have known what dangers—”

“Except I should have,” Tailgate exclaims, “because I heard only about a billion different stories about how dangerous the Plateau is.”

“I will not make excuses for you,” Cyclonus says levelly. “It was an admittedly rash decision. There likely were indeed many more options that you overlooked in your haste.” Tailgate bristles, but Cyclonus cuts him off with a flare of his optics. “Listen to me. I stand by the fact that you could not have known better. Most of Cybertronian life must be experienced; it cannot simply be told to you second-hand and be expected of you to understand it completely. Desperation and your… youth made for a dangerous combination, neither of which is your fault. You must not berate an inexperienced version of yourself which only exists in your past.”

He’s right, in his own cold-cut, clinical way. It doesn’t really make Tailgate feel any better, though. “Thanks,” he says anyway, because at least it’s something.

But Cyclonus seems to reach the same conclusion, as he turns away and mutters, “Hm,” as a response.

They fall silent for a few nano-kliks. Tailgate fidgets. Cyclonus is still with thought.

“May I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.”

“Is that what’s truly what’s keeping you up? Wondering what your life could have been had you simply set your chronometer?”

Tailgate curls in tighter around himself. “No.”

Cyclonus does not press. He watches instead, and watches, and keeps watching, as though he can undo the few layers of Tailgate’s being with his gaze alone. If he does it long enough, he might. Tailgate wishes he would say what he wants to say instead of doing whatever this was. Waiting. Expecting.

“I should not have intruded—”

“It’s just that I was so—”

They both stop, then say, “No, go ahead,” at the same time. Cyclonus huffs. “What were you saying?”

Tailgate hesitates. Then, in a small voice, he asks, “Is it…” He whorls his intake shut. “Is it bad of me to wish I hadn’t been alone down there?”

He almost thinks Cyclonus didn’t hear him for the length of time he is silent. “I do not believe so,” he finally says just as Tailgate is about to dismiss it. “You did not wish for them to share your fate. You wanted company. That is a crucial difference and a reasonable request, in my opinion.”

“Primus, no, I don’t want anyone going through the same thing I did.” The quiet. The loneliness. Tailgate stills. Millions of years worth of memories trickle back in from behind the door he had shut on them in the efforts of pushing the nightmare out of his mind. Memories of hopelessly staring at the energon cubes, of beating back voice after voice telling him to give up, of hating himself. The brightening of his visor is nearly painful in its intensity.

“Tailgate?” Cyclonus asks, alarmed. “Have I said something wrong?”

“There was—there was nothing there,” Tailgate starts abruptly. “Not even an antroid. All I had were my readouts calling me an idiot over and over again. Sometimes I thought I could hear some jets flying overhead, but none of them ever detected my signal. Or—or they ignored me. I’ll never know. But I couldn’t—I-I couldn’t help thinking about if I did die down there.” A strangled laugh escapes from his vocalizer. “No more Tailgate. There wouldn’t have even been a ‘more’, there was so little of me to begin with.”

The words are practically falling from him now, senseless and wild like a frenzy of storms clashing together, his vocalizer spasming with hiccups of static. “But the worst part, the worst part was that I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a nobody I was. I never told anyone I was leaving, and no one ever came looking for me. If I died, I wouldn’t even be the smallest bit of co— hic —ding to someone’s memory, I would never get to make my mark on anyone or—or anything, ‘nd it wouldn’t have been a-a-a very big mark, but at least it would have been something! Just a little one,” he gasps around a sob, “a little was all I ever asked for—”

His voice stutters as he abruptly finds Cyclonus in the space on the floor he’d been staring at, kneeling before him with his arms held open wide and though his expression remains uncertain, his EM field radiates warmth and comfort and safety. Tailgate whimpers and tumbles ungracefully from his berth into Cyclonus’ waiting arms. They immediately close around him, pulling Tailgate close to the soothing pulse of Cyclonus’ spark. It thrums steadily beneath his mess of loud hiccups and choppy gasps and strangled sobs—he never had been a pretty crier. He pushes his faceplate in, crushing himself against Cyclonus’ body as though he could shield him from the whole universe.

“I am here, little one,” Cyclonus murmurs against his helm. “Do you hear my spark? I am here.”

Tailgate’s own spark swells until his chamber aches. He cannot respond, so he nods frantically instead. They stay on the floor like that for breems, Tailgate weeping into Cyclonus’ chest and Cyclonus holding him until slowly, oh so painfully slowly, the sobs begin to dissipate. They retract at first into violent shudders that shake Tailgate’s whole body, then into shivers, and finally into that exhausted stillness that comes only after one has released every emotion they have to run wild through the cosmos. Cyclonus hums some song Tailgate does not recognize the whole time, one servo gently stroking the back of Tailgate’s helm. It’s warm , he thinks. Cyclonus looks like the type of mech whose vents only produce frost and chill, but up close, up close he is so, so warm.

Time passes as an unsteady stream, jerking between syrupy slow to desperately quick in the same moments. Cyclonus stops singing as Tailgate quiets. He can’t figure out how to ask him to keep going, so instead Tailgate tries to match his vent cycles to Cyclonus’ deep, slow ones and eventually dares a glance upwards. Cyclonus’ optics are dim, but focused on him. When he sees Tailgate peeking, he smiles. Something ferociously powerful has settled between their two EM fields, linking and holding them together. Tailgate can’t quite name what it is, but it feels something like a promise.

“I’m going to stand up,” Cyclonus finally says after another breem slips by.

“Okay,” Tailgate rasps, voice fuzzed with static.

The world lurches slightly as Cyclonus stands, still cupping the back of Tailgate’s helm as though he is something precious. Something worth protecting. Tailgate clings ever-tighter to Cyclonus even as he begins to gingerly settle them both down into his berth. He whines pitifully when Cyclonus moves him away, “Don’t go, please don’t go,” but it’s brief, and it’s only to rearrange him more comfortably over his chassis. Cyclonus shushes him gently, bowing his helm over Tailgate’s form.

“I will not leave you,” Cyclonus rumbles. Tailgate more feels the words through his body than actually hears them. It’s shocking how much comfort that brings him. Already, his optics are dimming and the tension in his joints is slipping away beneath Cyclonus’ touch with every pass of his servo. “You can rest here. I will stay with you through the night, and through the day—as long as you need me, I will be at your side.”

Tailgate’s spark warms with a brilliant burst and with it, the lasting chills of the nightmare are finally dispelled. He takes his first steady vent in the past two groons and fixes his gaze upon Cyclonus’ face. “I—Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, Cyclonus, thank you, thank you .”

Cyclonus smiles. It’s soft, private, something reserved only for his most vulnerable moments. He allowed one of those moments to happen for his sake, Tailgate realizes. Impossibly, his spark swells even bigger.

“Of course,” Cyclonus says, as easily as anything.

“Sorry for getting… slag all over you.”

“Do not concern yourself over it.” They share a couple of quiet vent cycles. “You should rest, little one.”

Rest. That sounded good. “I like it when you call me that,” Tailgate murmurs as he goes through his list of systems to shut down. “It’s sweet.” An embarrassed glow enters their shared EM fields and Tailgate chuckles sleepily. “What? It is.”

Cyclonus grumbles something in dissent, but Tailgate can’t hear it. His audial systems are already offline—whether or not this was to avoid Cyclonus’ argument is entirely subjective. Soon after, he slips into recharge right there in Cyclonus’ arms.

He’s back in the tunnel.

He curls his servos into fists, crushing a few unfortunate stones in his grip. He had hoped—he had hoped, that with Cyclonus’ help, his promises, he could be free of this fragging tunnel for just one night. But Cyclonus is not here. This is his fight, and his alone.

He is alone.

As despair crushes his spark, a familiar warmth curls itself around the back of his chassis. He stills. The warmth does not speak, and does not move either, but somehow he can still tell what it is saying.

I will stay at your side.

Night and day, for as long as you need me.

You will never know loneliness again.

Cyclonus never said that. But that feeling, that powerful, all-consuming feeling, that promise—this was it, wasn’t it?

He looks up. The energon cubes glow before him. They are much closer than they ever have been before.

Tailgate reaches forward and above him, the sky blooms.

#cygate #tf fanfic #transformers #maccadam #tf #whump #nightmares #hurt/comfort #my writing #please let me know if I tag something incorrectly!#im not familiar with the etiquette

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

Text

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Eight | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4,000

Chapter 8/24

Warnings: Just a bad word or two. Otherwise, intense amounts of fluff!

AN: This chapter gave me all sorts of fits and is nerve-wracking for me to post. Mostly because I’m putting a ton of pressure on myself. But whatever. Huge shoutout to @lucyyannabel for being a precious human being and beta-ing for me and helping me fill some plot holes. You da bomb.com. I also pulled a ton about cars from this helpful article and this article was referenced for the Harlem Hellfighters. Let me know what you think?

Chapter Seven

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

Bucky checks your distinctive handwriting for what feels like the thousandth time, double checking the address of the garage. When he thinks he’s only got a few blocks to go he picks up his pace. There’s really no need to rush, he’s going to be on time. After seeing you in his dreams and talking about you all day, intentional and not, he really just wanted to be with you.

A freshly-painted white building comes into view, the numbers on your note matching the ones painted in red block letters on the side. There’s several driveways leading into the garage; even with the rolling doors down, he can still see a flurry of activity through their windows. On his way to the front door he passes shiny cars parked out front underneath a sign proudly proclaiming “Durst & Co. Automotive”.

Cautiously he enters the sparse waiting area, unsure where you’d be waiting for him. It’s clean, tidy, with bare-minimum furniture of chairs and a reception desk. Looking out a window leading into the work area he sees a large room filled with popped hoods, tools scattered, and workbenches covered in spare parts. After a minute of awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in the empty room he hears a roar of laughter from a door behind the desk. Checking his surroundings one more time he slides around the desk. Hoping the door leads to the actual garage and not something terrifying or inappropriate, Bucky takes his chances and pushes it open. The chatter and laughter grows louder. He hears your voice and suddenly his feet are moving to follow it.

Seems to be organized chaos, Bucky thinks to himself. Looks were deceiving because the activity inside hinted at a much larger operation than what he had expected. The cars he passes aren’t junkers, they seem to come from a solid, well-paying clientele. Cars are on lifts, some engines have been raised out of the bodies. . . the only thing missing was people.

He rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks. You’re leaning against a car that’s hood is popped, one saddle shoe-clad foot resting against its grill. Your stained shirt matches the bright red bandana wrapped around your head. Hands are in the pockets of your denim overalls, sass painted on your lips. Mechanics in coveralls surround you, attention arrested by your story.

Again, the garage is filled with howls of mirth - a reaction to a witty punchline, he’s sure. He can’t help but admire you from afar. You’re more relaxed than he’s ever seen you yet you still maintain an air of assuredness that holds its own among the group of men. A smile comes easy to your fresh face. All you really need is your sparkling eyes to highlight your naturally stunning self. And then those eyes meet his and the sparkle seems to intensify.

“Oh hey, Bucky!” You wave him over and then he’s encircled by strangers and a wave of uneasiness washes through him. All eyes are on him, obviously sizing him up. Bucky makes a conscious effort not to puff out his chest. “Boys, this is my. . . this is Bucky. Bucky, these are the boys.” He receives a litany of greetings from the large group to which he tries to smile and memorize all the names he can.

“Alright boys, back to work. Sassafras has distracted us long enough.” A gruff voice breaks through and prompts the other mechanics to drift back to their tasks. A man with a head of salt-and-pepper - well, mostly salt - steps forward, Bucky noticing a slight limp to his otherwise confident walk. “So this is the guy I’ve been hearin’ about.” He smiles a big, teeth shining bright white against his dark brown skin. Towering over you, he slings an arm around your shoulder in a familial hug.

“You’ve barely heard a thing, Harve,” you retort, leaning in to his embrace.

“Is that the way you’re supposed to treat an old friend when he’s doing you a favor? No. Your momma taught you better than that.” He turns back to Bucky, eyes wrinkling kindly behind his spectacles. “Harvey Durst.” His hand moves from your shoulder and h offers it to Bucky, who grasps and shakes it.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. Heard you served, right?”

“Was in the 107th for a while, moved into special ops the last few years.”

Harvey tosses a thumb at himself. “Served in the 369th Regiment from ‘17 ‘til ‘19.”

That number, why is that number familiar. “Wait,” Bucky’s brow furrows. “You were a Harlem Hellfighter?” Blatant pride beams from your features as you watch Harvey bob his head reluctantly. “My father’s unit was in France around the same time, he said y’all were tough as nails. Never lost a trench, right?”

“Or a man to capture or a foot of ground to the enemy,” the veteran recites, as if he’s spoken the same information time and time again.

“Colonel Chester Phillips always spoke highly of your regiment. You’re the stuff of legends, sir.”

“The same could be said about you, being Captain America’s right-hand man.”

Your eyes immediately drop to examine the floor while Bucky feels heat in his cheeks. Seems like Harvey had heard a thing or two. Clearing your throat, you step away from Harvey and slightly closer to Bucky.

“Just kept him out of trouble, mostly. Nothin’ special.”

“I hear that. I fought alongside Miss Sassafras’ Grandpappy in the trenches,” Harvey points to you. “Talk about bull-headedness.”

“Sassafras?” Bucky asks, eyes flitting to you as his apprehension gives way to a grin.

“Oh yeah. When she was a youngin’ and I visited to chat with William she was always gathering up sassafras flowers and bringin’ ‘em to me as a gift. Was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Then she really grew into the “sass” part.”

“I’ll say,” Bucky directs his grin back to you.

With an eyeroll you explain, “My grandfather enlisted right before he would’ve aged out. He’d owned the shop way before the war, my mom practically grew up here. Harvey has been around as long as I can remember.”

“Only out of the kindness of your grandpappy’s heart.” Harvey shifts his focus back to Bucky in explanation. “Once we got shipped home, I was out of work and William offered to teach me his trade. He graciously passed the shop on to me when he retired. Thankfully the neighborhood put a lot of stock in William’s character so I wasn’t totally run out of business when I took over.” Bucky grimaces in sympathy.

“Good thing people had the sense to see a good man who does good work,” you mutter, a bite to your tone.

“Alright ‘Fras, don’t get worked up. It’s not worth it, darling. Almost all the other mechanics here are veterans, so if you ever need anything just ask. We’ve got each others’ backs here too, ya know?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Now,” Harvey’s voice drops an octave as he peers over his glasses at Bucky. “You keepin’ everything all honorable between the two of you?”

You choke on air before planting your hands to Bucky’s chest, urging him to take several steps back. “Thanks Uncle Harvey, we’ve got work to do, talk to you later!” Several more steps away and you groan. “Sorry about that. He can be a little protective.”

Bucky shakes his head, not sure whether he wants to laugh out loud or have the earth swallow him whole. It was a toss up. “‘Uncle’, huh? So he’s practically family.”

“I’ve known him my whole life. He’s not old enough to be my grandfather’s brother, too old to be my mom’s brother. Uncle just suits him best, ya know?”

“You didn’t tell me I was meeting family today,” Bucky teases, knocking a hip into yours.

“Steady on, he’s not technically family.”

He scoffs. “Technicalities.”

You face Bucky completely, taking him in for the first time that day. “Hi,” you hum.

“Hi,” Bucky practically beams. “Glad to see you again.”

“We were together less than 24 hours ago, huh?” Your lopsided grin whispers bashfulness. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Y’all gonna stand there giving each other googly eyes or are you goin’ to work on my cars?” a shout from Harvey reaches you both from his office.

“Mind your business!” You holler back before burying your face in your hands. Bucky can’t help but chuckle, his own relaxed state puzzling him. Seeing you a little embarrassed was more endearing than he thought it would be. “Anyway,” you perch your hands on your hips. “Let’s get you an apron and get to work. We’ll start with the basics.”

Passing a workbench you snag him an apron as you approach an engine that’s been lifted out of a car by chains. Trailing behind you, Bucky ties the apron strings and stops on one side of the machinery, you rounding the other side.

“How much do you know about engines?” you ask, zero judgment in your voice, only asking a basic question to find a jumping off point.

“Next to none. I know math and science are involved, which I’m okay at. But treat me like an idiot.”

“You aren’t an idiot, Bucky.”

“Never said I was. Just told you to treat me like one.” He winks at you which only earns a narrowing of your eyes.

“Anyway. . .” Your tone turns all business, motioning to the engine. “Cars have internal combustion engines, right? So it takes a fuel source, gas, and combines it with air. It compresses and ignites the mixture. A bunch of little explosions happen that cause these pistons,” you point toward a row of metal cylinders, “to move up and down. The pistons are attached to this crankshaft.” You move your hand to gesture the connection. “That motion makes the crankshaft turn. Then the crankshaft transfers that energy to the transmission, which ultimately powers the wheels to the car. Got it?”

“Got it. I think,” he amends, turning the process over in his mind, pieces falling into place after a few repetitions. “Okay, I got it.”

“Good. Now onto the fun stuff,” you smile a little wolfishly, signalling to Bucky that he was in for a long day of lots of information.

You run through the more technical version, explaining the physics and practicalities as well as the failings of the engine. Next, you explain what a tune-up would look like for a typical 1940s model. Soon you’ve drug him over to another car, making him clumsily replace the spark plug with your smaller hands guiding his. Next you set the mixture on the carburetor, fit new plug wires, and remind him these things should be checked on every 30,000 miles.

Currently he’s watching you struggle with a particularly rusty bolt, arm muscles straining as you finally break it free with your wrench. Your hair is a disaster, to put it kindly. Flying this way and that, becoming more untamable by the moment. But you’re so charming in this role of teacher that it only enhances your allure. Shaking his head, Bucky reminds himself to listen to your well-intentioned stream of information.

“What’s being produced right now are basically 1942s with tiny modifications. As you know, almost all production of civilian vehicles was halted in favor of supporting the war effort. So designers were stuck with getting something “new” on the assembly line as soon as peace was official. They’ve added some new body colors and a fancier bumper. We told them in the factory for years that they needed to seal the ignition so water can’t leak in and they’re just now starting to listen based on that brand new 1946 over there,” you wave vaguely behind you, nose still stuck beneath the hood.

“So what was your training like?” Bucky inquires, handing over a tool you’d asked for, hoping it was the right one.

With a hum you start, “My learning process was accelerated because of the war. It involved a ton of reading and studying, as well as a couple weeks of intensive training at a factory upstate. Usually a mechanic would need to find a shop where they could work at the lowest level doing the most rudimentary of repairs, like replacing the spark plugs like you did earlier. As they’re doing that they keep studying and move up through the system. Some people start at the bottom because they want to own their own shop or become a salesman. But most of the guys here just want to work with their hands and make an honest living doing something they don’t hate. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what it would look like for you to start down this track.”

Leaning back you gratefully accept the rag Bucky offers, rubbing some excess oil off your hands.

“Was this too overwhelming? I know I just threw a ton of information at you. Hope it didn’t scare ya. Here, triple check my work for me.”

Bucky bends to the engine. “Overwhelming, yeah. Scary? Not really. You replaced this belt, right?” At your assent his fingers trail over it, inspecting it’s fastenings. “It’s interesting work. Don’t really know how to move forward with it, if I’m being honest.”

“Don’t forget about the third attachment,” you remind as he starts to back away. “I think someone here mentioned that the V.A. provides job counseling to veterans.”

“I think you may be right. They tell you that stuff when you get discharged but at that point all I was thinking about was Ma’s cooking and hugging my sisters. Worth asking about though.”

A smile graces your lips. “I don’t blame you one bit. All good?”

“All good,” he affirms. With Bucky’s help you set the hood in place, propping your elbows on the surface to take a breather.

“Then that’s all I really had in mind for today. There’s a lot more but you’ll pick it up fairly quickly.” He thinks it’s only been an hour, maybe two at the most. Then he notices the shadows at his feet and realizes the sun is slanting through the garage windows. You must notice Bucky looking outside because you follow his gaze. “It can’t be sunset already. Have we really been here that long?”

“Guess so.”

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, leaving a giant smudge of grease in its stead. Bucky finds it too endearing to tell you anything. After a glance around the garage you say incredulously, “When did everyone leave?”

Bucky doesn’t remember when the garage had emptied either. Neither did he recall the shop becoming so clean - almost spotless. Someone had turned on a radio; the crooning of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet floats toward you from a neighboring table. The sound of Harvey shuffling around his office is the only other sign of life in the building.

“I feel like I’ve done a full day of PT,” Bucky groans as he arches his back. “Who knew leaning over an engine all day could hurt so much?”

“There’s one way to loosen up sore muscles,” you hint cheekily. You hold out a hand, waiting for him to take it. “Dance with me.”

He grips your fingers but resists your tug away from the car. “I dunno, I’m out of practice.”

“C’mon, it’s just a sway to a sweet song.”

Bucky hesitates. His last few attempts at dancing were more akin to a stumble than anything else. He can vividly remember his first night out on the town in a peaceful New York City. He can see the blonde who’d herded him to the dance floor, her grimaces as he crushed the tops of her brand new shoes. She’d been kind enough to his face but had excused herself only a minute into the song. He hadn’t danced since.

He gulps. “I might step on your toes.”

“That’s alright,” you shrug animatedly. “I may step on yours.”

There’s something so genuine, so earnest about you that he can’t help but follow your lead.

Timidly he wraps an arm around your waist, reminding himself to keep a respectful distance. Your other hand grips his bicep lightly as you step into him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to each other. Breathing the same air, sharing space. It should feel awkward. But it only feels right. His hand on your waist snakes further across your back bringing you chest-to-chest. You lean a head to his shoulder, respectful distance be damned.

S’just a dance. He reminds himself.

Taking your suggestion, he simply sways back and forth to the tune. Shifting from foot to foot you follow his feet in a slow circle.

It’s effortless.

No one’s toes gets squished. In fact, Bucky feels like he’s floating on air.

You share a sweet silence. He looks down and notices your eyes are closed. If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to answer why his chest felt so tight.

He sighs your name, prompting your eyes to open. “I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than a week.” The words slip out almost involuntarily, like an impulse. For a moment his chest tightens even more, afraid you wouldn’t react kindly.

You continue to gaze up at him and say softly, “Technically we’ve known each other longer than that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. . .” your voice goes even softer, “I really do.”

Fear releases its grip on him prompting him to pull you ever-so-slightly closer.

Neither of you know when the song ended but you are jarred out of your reverie when the radio host’s jabber breaks the spell. Moments later a new, upbeat song starts up. Sounds like Glenn Miller, Bucky thinks, foot already tapping to the bouncing trumpets and steady tap of the bass.

With boldness flowing through him like adrenaline he gives you a cheeky smile. “Let’s see if we have more than a sway in us, huh?” He pulls away from you only to give you a quick turn so your back is to his chest, arms connected and crossed over your stomach.

“What happened to being out of practice?” you sigh over your shoulder.

“Only way to be in practice is to practice, right?” Your only response is a giggle and you twirl away before coming back to him - feet flying across the concrete floor.

It is by no means perfect. Every once in a while you bump into each other or take a turn too hard. But your laughter soothes the hesitancy in him, reminds him that dancing isn’t about being perfect with someone, but just being with someone.

The song is swelling and muscle memory leads Bucky, sending you into spins over and over and over again, just enough to make you a little dizzy.

“Bucky, the oil-!” It’s happening before he can stop it. He’s spun you directly into a puddle left behind from a leak. Your foot flies through the slick, disrupting your already precarious balance. Down you fall - hard - taking Bucky tumbling with you to the ground.

He helplessly watches it happen in slow motion. Feels your woosh of breath escape when his full weight lands squarely on top of you. Rolling to the floor he scrambles to his knees beside you, words rushing out of him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay, did you hurt anything? What a fuckin’ idiot, I shouldn’t’ve - are you alright?”

Your chest is heaving, doing its best to recover some of the air that had been knocked out of you. Slowly you nod in response to his question, lashes fluttering as you seem to steady yourself.

Then you’re laughing.

A deep, unbridled, straight-from-the-belly laugh that brings Bucky back down to earth, reassures him that you can’t be hurt too badly. It doesn’t stop there - he’s fairly sure you snort in the midst of your giggles but he’s too overcome with his own chuckles to be certain. Your joy is infectious and soon he’s out of breath himself.

As the laughter subsides his hand clasps yours to pull you up to a seated position, watching you closely for any signs of discomfort. You seem fine, maintaining the grip on his hand as you join the vertical world again. You’re smiling that small smile of yours. The smile that caught his eye in the first place.

Your thumb swipes over the back of his hand and it registers just how close you are. Close enough for him to see the depth in the color of your eyes. To see every individual eyelash, to count each freckle he finds.

In a similar fashion your eyes rove his face. No doubt thinking what he’s thinking, wanting what he wants.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes raggedly.

“You better,” you gasp, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

Before he can lean down fully you’ve met him halfway, soft lips all his for the taking as your eyes slip shut.

Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss. A peck to the cheek, a smooch saying goodbye, a brief moment to show affection. Given freely, barely a blip on the radar. Kissing wasn’t something Bucky thought about often. He had enjoyed his fair share of kisses, sure.

But this. No other kiss has triggered the emotions swelling in his chest like this one. It’s almost as if he’s feeling sunshine on his skin for the very first time. Like a lamp has been lit in a room shrouded by black, glowing fiercely in darkness. Somehow he learns so much about you with this kiss. You’re soft to his chapped, pliant to his firm. Warmth to his breeze.

He leans back to catch his breath allowing his forehead to rest against yours. You hum contentedly, eyes still closed, mouth twisting sweetly.

“Hey lovebirds!” Startled, you jump away from each other. “I’m locking up, some of us have dinner waiting on us,” Harvey shouts from the office.

Grinning at your embarrassed moan Bucky helps you to your feet. “Since we don’t have dinner waiting for us, wanna catch a bite?”

With a raised brow you look down at your clothes. “I’m a mess and now covered in motor oil, no decent place would let me in the door.”

“Truly decent places welcome everyone.”

“Shut up.”

“Then at least let me buy ya a hot dog on the way home,” he compromises with a grin.

“No, it’s okay, my place is out of your way.”

“It’s almost dark, I’m not letting you walk home by yourself.”

“Bucky I can’t be that much of an imposition-”

He grabs a hand you’re waving wildly as you try to refuse. “Are you trying to get rid of me? ‘Cause it ain’t workin’.”

“Never,” you reply with a huff. “Fine.”

After your goodbye hug to Harvey, Bucky shakes his hand again before thanking him for his time.

“Get her home safe, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky ducks his head, fingers threading in yours.

Moving to leave the garage, Bucky stops you. “Hold on,” he snags a clean rag from a shelf. “May I?” he motions to your face. After you nod he gently wipes away the grease you’d relocated to your forehead during your work. He shows you the stain left behind, can’t stifle a grin when you look horrified.

“How long has that been there?” you ask incredulously then hold up a hand before he can respond, “You know what, don’t tell me.”

Spring may be on its way to summer but the evening still carries a light chill, tempting Bucky to keep you even closer than usual. Somewhere along the way you wrap your other hand around his arm, basking in the safety of being able to be this close to someone.

“I have a question for you,” he rasps.

“Yeah, Bucky?”

“Can I call you Sassafras now?”

“No.”

Chapter Nine

Tags:

@moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @barnesrogersvstheworld @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @handfulof-roses @bloatedandlonly @barnestruck @itsbuckysworld @captainsbuck @writemarvelousthings @havanaangel @animeflower26 @igotkatiepowers @clockworkherondale @iamthemaskhewears @buckybarneshairpullingkink @abovethesmokestacks @ursulaismymiddlename @hiddles-rose @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfiction @creideamhgradochas

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #beka writes #All We've Got is Time #Chapter Eight #james buchanan barnes

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rejectclone · 5 years

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[R] development dump

I just realized I never really said in detail [R]’s development stages on here, so here’s like a info dump of everything I came up with on my oc server + some extras I haven’t said yet!

‘Newborn’ [R]:

* Stage lasted through the moment he first gained consciousness after being removed from his vat, until his first ‘birthday’.

* Had ghastly pale skin, for the first few days of his existence it was almost translucent and was extremely frail.

* Vocal cords are deformed due to neck mouth, couldn’t speak properly for the first few months, only groans and whines.

* Has the physical age of 20~, the mental age of 1-3.

* Poor motor control over all of his limbs, could only use his ‘normal’ set of arms (the ones naturally placed to his shoulders) to grab items or to interact with Lawrence.

* Struggled to retain information, any information taught to him easily left his memory.

* Couldn’t handle common pathogens, so he wasn’t really given anything to do (blocks, books, etc) for fear of exposure. Lawrence didn’t want to risk exposing [R] to anything, hence spending time with him in the hazmat suit, thus having [R] view Lawrence’s appearance as ‘normal’.

* Struggled to chew anything, so was forced to eat nutrient paste in tubes, and only drank water, but had to be assisted.

* Spent time nude for the first week or so, was later finally clothed with caution, as they worried for his skin rubbing and breaking against fabric. Needs assistance in getting clothed, dislikes putting on pants due to how complicated it is due to his messed up lower torso.

* Had to be gently bathed, as water was somewhat painful for him, even at lukewarm temperatures.

* Struggled to walk or even maintain standing up, spent most of his time sitting or lying down, and crawled to move around. [R] typically didn’t move far until stopping due to fatigue or panic.

* Cries a ton for unknown reasons, but it is a common ‘issue’ with all of the other freshly made clones. Lawrence can only assume it’s [R]’s mind getting overwhelmed with the concept of existing, and originally having the mental capacity to only handle having a ‘normal’ amount of body parts, while ironically having a body with a surplus of parts.

* Only has very basic and rudimentary emotions, such as joy, fear, and sadness. Hasn’t experienced any developed or intense emotions yet.

* Mid and lower sets of arms tend to be wrapped around [R]’s waist, as if he’s holding himself in the same position he had while germinating in the vat.

* Doesn’t know any colors except for white, yellow, blue, the same colors of the secured room he’s in, Lawrence’s hazmat suit, and his yellow shirt.

‘Young’ [R]

* Stage lasted through after his 1st ‘birthday’, the transport incident, until his 3rd ‘birthday’ while at the station.

* Skin tone has finally developed more, is still incredibly pale but not as translucent-like anymore. Is incredibly fragile to natural light or harsh light, getting burned is incredibly painful and numbing for [R].

* [R] can finally speak, but is terribly poor at it. Has developed a heavy stutter and slur, can barely finish a sentence without completely butchering it. Knows a decent amount of vocabulary and terminologies, but is still incredibly naive of ‘outside speaking’. Can be seen as having a elementary student’s depth of writing.

* Physical age is still 20~, but mental age is now 7-12, a large increase from his former stage. Later on after spending three years at the station, his mental age became 15-17, after being exposed to more.... mature topics and ‘outside’ culture.....

* Finally developed better motor control over his limbs. Second set of arms (underneath the ‘normal’ ones attached at the shoulders) is now just as dexterous as the first set. Third and fourth sets are still quite weak in comparison, both in terms of nerve responses and physical strength.

* Now retains information much more easily, but can get overwhelmed with too much info or experiences at once. [R] is more of a visual learner though, and enjoys reading books. Doesn’t mind being told stories and explanations by B055 though.

* Still somewhat frail to common pathogens. Wears the experimental high-end hazmat suit given to him by Lawrence that helped him greatly in terms of keeping him healthy and having a disguise to look ‘more normal’. Can handle being fully exposed to natural air for a few hours, but then must retreat to either his suit or constant sterilized room. His chances of getting sick are still high, and can be easily fatal.

* Finally learned how to chew on his own, but has a very strict diet of nutrient paste cubes. Due to his bizarre anatomy and size, his daily intake of vital nutrients is MUCH higher when compared to a normal human. The cubes help make him reach the (guesstimated) amount he needs, and avoids spending much on food. If [R] ate the amount he needed with ‘normal people food’, it would engorge him every day. Suffers from hunger pangs daily, due to eating so little physical matter thanks to the cubes, so he takes any chance to eat free food from the station’s office or if gifted food by Devon, Ren, B055, etc.

* Can clothe himself on his own, still struggles with putting on pants, as his legs are still quite splayed.

* Can bathe on his own, but still feels slight pain against his skin when showering. Favors bathing in the tub when he could fit. Is slightly hydrophobic due to heavy rain slamming against his suit during the transfer incident, thus imprinting the physical feeling and loud sound to his memory, thus having a negative reaction to water in genral.

* Walks somewhat normal, as [R] forces his legs to stay facing straight and not splaying to the sides (akin to a spider) when moving. Tends to knock things over by accident and also occasionally stumbles on himself, but hasn’t fallen over much at all.

* Doesn’t cry much anymore, and if [R] does, it’s out of confusion or shame. Tends to tear up while sleeping, it is unknown if [R] suffers from nightmares as he claims he cannot remember anything at all while dreaming.

* Finally started to experience and develop more deeper emotions such as anger, rage, paranoia, mania, regret, love, embarrassment, etc. Still tends to have a happy-go-lucky demeanor, thankfully.

* [R] soon realized that he’s developed a oddly sharp sense of sight, but only when all of his ‘additional’ eyes have been closed, leaving his ‘normally placed’ set open. He cannot fully explain what he sees, only claiming that things look more ‘detailed’ than usual, and he feels slightly lightheaded after each attempt.

* Cannot handle flashing lights or colors, [R] unfortunately learned this the hard way while being escorted by Devon through Times Square, where he had a faint memory of being there during the incident and felt the urge to be there again.

* Has developed a sense of creativity, as where before he froze up when presented with simple commands to ‘draw anything’. Typically only draws with crayon or coloring pencil, other mediums seem to be too hard for him to handle the complexity of.

‘Adolescent’ [R]

* Stage lasted only less than a year after turning ‘3’, the fastest stage of development [R] endured, but is certainly the most impactful.

* Physical age is now mid 20~, mental age is 18-20. Is more in tune with his emotions and actions, and thinks much more rationally than before.

* At first, Lydia just assumed that [R]’s physical growth was stunted. It seemed like that was the case, as he didn’t change much over the last 3~ years of his existence, and after reviewing the most she could off of his technically destroyed records, she told [R] that he should be reaching his peak soon. She was sorely mistaken.

* The first instance of [R]’s ‘puberty’ was the sudden increase in back pain. Soon, he started to talk about how strained he felt, along with suddenly feeling more heavy.

* About a month in, [R]’s health state started to dwindle more, he soon couldn’t fit into his suit anymore, as he’s grown two inches and the suit’s helmet doesn’t lock in place anymore. This soon marked the date where [R] couldn’t spend more time outside anymore.....

* Immediately becomes overwhelmed with migraines and other head pains, and no amount of pills or paste could help him. Became bedridden within a week after not fitting well into his suit anymore.

* First real change was height, as it seemed to be the initial cause of his sudden illness, Lydia documented his progression. Almost three inches or more every month.

* [R]’s body became more wide, as his muscle mass started to increase exponentially. He always had a frail yet lean physique, due to not having to exercise thanks to his diet and body nature. The growth was progressive, starting at his core, then upper torso, then finally making it’s way down his torso.

* After just six months, [R]’s body type shifted from being somewhat ectomorphic to extremely mesomorphic. [R] couldn’t move his limbs much, due to the increased mass and weight, and regressed almost to his ‘newborn’ phase in terms of motor control.

* [R]’s legs weren’t spared either, and if he could try walking again, it would be much, much more harder to keep his legs facing straight now.

* Now with a broader neck, his neck mouth has slightly warped to be much larger and wider, much to his dismay. It seems to be much more..... emotive.... as if it’s showing off his true repressed emotions, even if it’s not coordinating with the emotion he’s portraying on his face.

* Bone mass also grew alongside muscle mass, and [R] poorly readjusted to it, as it only added more weight to his body, and he mentally wasn’t used to it yet at all.

* Suffered from much more intense hunger pangs, even resorted to developing pica, much to Lydia’s horror. (Was caught eating his own clothes and the bed frame, and couldn’t properly explain WHY he did it) Caved in to letting him eat things out of his diet, but inadvertently making him crave much more physical food to consume. This, being a byproduct of his body using up so much energy and fuel to develop his physique more.

* Mental health soon drained afterwards, as days upon weeks upon months passed, with [R] being trapped within his dreadfully small room, with only visits from Lydia and B055, monitoring his development, giving hollow words of concern to calm him down. Just as he finally began to think more rationally, he quickly devolved back into thinking shattered thoughts and couldn’t focus properly anymore. Nightmares soon became more clear in his dreams, often of Lawrence and what [R] fears what he might become.

* Speech regressed, as his voice deepened suddenly, making him sound much more..... inhuman. Couldn’t come to terms with his deeper pitch and tone, and began to slur words along with talking over himself, breaking sentences while trying to relay his frantic thoughts to Lydia to record.

* Originally diagnosed with hyperdontia, his excess sets of teeth were removed during his ‘newborn’ phase to help him eat. It has come back to haunt him, as the source of the pounding migraines came from growing rows of teeth from where they used to be. This time, only larger and wider, for every single mouth. He bled for weeks.

* Lydia contemplated just..... putting him down. Seeing [R] in this torturous state was not only painful to watch, but deeply traumatic for her and B055 to see essentially their ‘son’ endure the overwhelming pain. Quite ironic, as she viewed him as a problem to hide, and never viewed him in high regard.

* Had a episode where he couldn’t take the room anymore and violently threw himself off of his bed, and tried to exit the room. Lydia wasn’t there that day, and B055 was in his office space. He soon realized [R] was moving, upon hearing his distorted moans, while the floorboards shuddered underneath every footstep he took. [R] eventually collapsed after just walking a mere foot from the bedroom’s doorframe. B055 could hear the moment he fell, and the hysteric laughing and cries that companied it.

* [R] eventually was put into a induced coma, against B055’s wishes. They now can only hope his body can stop going through this ungodly stage of puberty, caused in part of his forced growth development, the very thing that made him technically a adult upon his ‘birth’.

‘Matured’ [R]

* Physical age is still mid 20~, mental age has finally caught up, peaking at mid 20~.

* Unfortunately as a loss from his ‘adolescent’ stage, [R] has developed some..... issues that weren’t present before. Finally started to think rationally again, and acts much more mature than any of his phases. Tends to get overwhelmed during instances where ‘bad memories’ are brought up. Anger seems to be a more dominant emotion, but seems to stem from confusion or shock, than genuine rage. Isn’t as happy-go-lucky as before, but still REALLY tries to retain a positive daily outlook.

* Had to come with terms with his larger frame, and started to stagger a bit after starting to walk again. [R] can no longer keep all of his legs pointing forward, as he can throw off his sense of balance. Must walk like a spider now, something he loathes.

* Upper two sets of arms are now quite large and developed, but unfortunately his hands are too large for ‘normal things’. Not to mention that he also tends to accidentally crush anything he can hold in his grip.

* Lower two sets of arms aren’t as enlarged, almost retaining their previous appearance. Lowest set seems to be the most stunted, as they’re just the size of his ‘young’ stage, and seem more proportional to a normal human being. He can at least grab items easily with them, and doesn’t need to bend over much as they’re already quite low, nearing his waistline.

* Now experiences sexual urges, as before it was just having crushes. Due to his isolated nature (before accidentally meeting Cyrus) he was beyond frustrated and confused. Is mainly just touch starved though.

* Has gotten used to his deeper voice, but still stutters from time to time, a persistent issue still plaguing him.

* Still retains a majority of development from his ‘young’ stage, such as self-care, creativity, social understanding, etc, but is much more shy and concerned about his appearance now.

* Is back on his montoried diet, and has gotten to terms with the constant hunger pangs, but still occasionally gets away with ordering outside food, B055 just turns the other cheek.

#I’m pretty sure I’m missing stuff but I’ll edit this as I go on #[redacted]#my ocs #vinyl scratching

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dualitysdownfall · 5 years

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You have oc's? Can we hear abt them? :D

oh absolutely!! get ready for a very long post oof

first up we have my pride and joy, Nova

nova is quite similar to me in a lot of ways, but also they are significantly more able and willing to throw hands if the need arises, they’ve got a badass side to them ahaha. a fiercely loyal friend and partner, nova will do everything in their power to defend and to support the people they care about. their aesthetic theme is red and black modern style (that’s their wardrobe and their apartment) which i have a lot of fun with. they play guitar and ukulele, they write and sing their own songs… oh, and they were essentially created to be my slightly-altered-self-insert’s significant other. though i do hope to someday build a larger story universe for nova and their friends. i have basic visual ideas for said friends, who are named lucas, monica, and sophie, but their personalities are quite simple at the moment.

next we have cassie, a portal-specific character

awkward and anxious, but caring and curious, cassie is a bisexual aperture scientist who was relatively new but quickly grew close to her team (particularly virgil and wheatley) and to caroline, whom she has a major crush on. design-wise, i took inspiration from both the morality core and the curiosity core, hence her color scheme. this is meant to manifest in her ever-growing interest in not just her sector of the labs, but allllllll the facility has to offer, as well as her frequent (but quiet) disagreements with cave johnson over ethics and stuff.

there’s a little seed of an idea that i’ve had from the start that would, if put into action, ultimately come to cassie dropping all formalities and all but fighting cave and his plan to force caroline into an AI. however as we all know, cassie loses this fight and caroline becomes glados and cassie herself gets split into two cores. or, at least, that’s my idea. i haven’t done anything with it yet, but it’s technically canon for the au. if that makes sense.

let’s see, who else have i got…

let’s shift gears entirely. who likes fantasy? i’m developing an idea for an original fantasy novel called reverie of roses and here’s the basic idea

Rosalie Emberglow and her wizard father run a little potion shop in a small town. Rosalie’s father is a great magic user, but thanks to her undying dedication to studying magic Rosalie has become even greater. her dream is to be accepted into the royal academy of magic and work for the queen one day. and where her story begins, she is about to achieve just that.

however, her mother Alina (name subject to change), who is a goddess (immortals are a species in this universe it;s true because i say so and deities are different), has been absent all her life, partying it up 24/7 in the immortal realm with the other gods and goddesses, and has never once come down to the earth realm to see the man she slept with that one time, or the daughter she left him with. they only really converse via a magical song that transcends the realms, but alina simply was not willing to commit to being a parent and therefore has never assumed the role of one.

however in her magic studies rosalie discovers a way for a mortal to travel to the immortal realm without the help of an immortal, and she’s like holy shit i could actually see my mom for once, and the rest of the story is basically her, and also her archer girlfriend Hoshi, traveling across the kingdom to do the spell and at the climax she gets there and she finds out alina still doesn’t really care and she has to choose between her dream of having her mom, or the dream that she worked for by herself that she can actually reap the rewards of

reverie of roses takes place in what may or may not be a series that i’ve working-titled “the estelia chronicles” (estelia is the name of the kingdom). i’ve got a seedling of a second estelia chronicles book called “arcana’s cross” (again, working title) that doesn’t have much to do with rosalie at all. instead it features Kayo and Willow, a lesbian couple who have spent their late teens/early adulthood traveling the world by sea.

the group they are a part of is given a quest by a queen to retrieve an extraordinarily valuable magical artifact called the arcana’s cross (ooo, name drop) from where a band of Fucken Hooligans (that’s not how i’d word it in the book lol) are trying to steal it for themselves. kayo’s team must travel to the location and secure the cross, then safely bring it back to the queen so she can ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

but that’s not all. before the group is really able to start this mission, willow falls ill and suffers some permanent repercussions of the illness rendering her unable to travel that far (well she could but it would be really dumb to try). as one of the leaders of the group, kayo must still go on the mission, but willow stays home.

i haven’t quite gotten to novel-level plot structure yet, but that’s the basic premise i guess. i will say kayo and willow both live. i’m not quite to that level of angst in my original stories… yet.

i’m going to leave it there because 1) i need to sleep 2) this post is so many words and 3) i can’t really think of any other currently-relevant OCs of mine. however, feel free to ask me more about any of them, i’d love to share more about them!!! maybe it’ll convince me to like. develop them more and start writing a full book or in nova’s case a webcomic or something

#my ocs #melancholy answers #melancholy starlight oc #blease i'd love to feature my ocs more i really wanna make stuff with them and share it

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cantspellcharlottewithoutart · 2 years

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Week 7 Update

Hiya. I uh... I have a bit of a disjointed update for you all this week. I wanted to do more finalizing before today’s update, but uh--

yeah. So needless to say most of my day was spent dealing with that, and I wasn’t able to finalize most of my stuff. I do have some broad updates, but they’re all kind of like... half baked.

Technical Stuff

we venture pretty far into the weeds in this one so you can skim if you want

1. I’ve been working a lot on my camera specifications and build. There are a bunch of different things to consider, especially considering I am basically the first person shooting on this camera in like... multiple years. So I’m kind of writing the book as I’m going along. A part of this includes shooting lots of test footage. I already had some from a few weeks back, but I also shot more footage this week with a different build and in more light. I’ve since uploaded them both to youtube.

Here’s the old stuff and the new stuff.

I’ve finalized a much more solid build for my camera and that includes using the Cooke lenses! I shot four different takes with three different shooting formats (more on that later) and 2 different lenses, with those being the Zeiss CP2/3 and the Cooke Century Primes. Surprisingly, the Cooke’s actually shifted the color pretty significantly (you can probably tell by their yellowish tint.) But I really liked the way the vintage glass interacted with the grainy sensor of the D-21.

2. Recording format!! I tested out the three main formats on my camera, ProRes 4444 and XQ, and DPX files. The difference between ProRes and DPX is a lossless format that individually stores every frame, while ProRes is a video package that uses chroma subsampling to keep file size down. So ProRes is always going to have less quality, but it is objectively easier to work with AND can be used very easily with the deep dream programs I’m looking at. DPX files objectively look better but from my research, it quickly becomes a game of diminishing returns where I’m trading quality for significantly larger and harder to use files.

3. VQGAN+Optical Flow. This is a pretty quick one, but I tried to finally process my .mov test footage in the program. I spent about four hours the other night trying to get the code to work with my roommate, but sadly we weren’t able to actually get it to process any footage yet. More debugging is needed, but I hope I’ll be able to figure it out for the mid-semester check-in next week. I found an alternative program, but it’s way more coding heavy. (Also a very different aesthetic. Definitely something that needs more research.)

Narrative Stuff

1. I’ve been storyboarding :) I’ve been splitting my time between rough outlines, storyboarding, and a quasi-script, but I think that I’m going to try and stick to boarding this film the most, since it’s a very visual concept to me. Here’s the outline for the first cycle though:

Here’s the first page of the story boards:

(storyboarding in a busted car when you’re stranded downtown is a really fun experience btw if you ever want to try it.)

I’m not great with perspective but I’ve got a pretty dang good idea of what I’m looking to do with everything. These will be good enough for now and I know how to translate them into their final versions.

2. Eyeballs and dialogue. I don’t think I want much of them. Perception is a big part of this story for me, and I think it’s more important for the story to be wordless and focus on the visuals and sound design (shoutout to Knight for beginning to come up with Big Sound Ideas!) I think we won’t see the protagonist’s eyes until the end of the first cycle.

3. I am attempting to cast the main character. I simply do not know what I am doing. I don’t necessarily think I want to do someone who is super established in SOFA films, mainly because I think this kind of film is a completely different character and story structure. I guess I’m just gonna keep plucking away at it.

4. I AM SHOOTING MARCH 25-28. THAT IS ALL.

Anyways thanks for reading :)

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wellhellotragic · 6 years

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Dreaming of a Pink Christmas

Summary: Emma Swan despises the pink christmas tree currently living in her apartment. It's nothing short of an abomination. But when Emma decides to replace it with a freshly chopped tree of her own, Her bug gets stuck in a storm, and she'd forced to call the last person she ever wanted to see again. The man that broke her heart. Also on AO3.

Rating: Mature (there’s smut)

A/N: Imagine signing up for the CSSecretSanta and waiting patiently for a name to be assigned you, and when it finally come you're just like crap. Not because you've been assigned a person you don't care for, but you've been given someone who is just leaps and bounds above the cut in fiction writing. Someone whose work everyone in the fandom loves an adores. And then you realize that you have to write a fic for them. Ya, no pressure there.

So with that said, this is my CSSS gift for the lovely @alexandralyman. (Surprise!) She asked for angst and I hope I've delivered. There's a bit of humor tossed in too. I wasn't able to fit in forced bed sharing like you'd mention, but there is force cohabitation and definite bed sharing. I hope you like it Alex, and Merry Christmas!

I was mostly joking when I told people that this was going to be 10K, but apparently I have no self-control and it just kept growing and growing.

(P.S. If you've never seen Sandra Lee's Kawanzaa cake, you might want to check it out on youtube before reading this fic!)

Another A/N: I also want to thank @best-left-hook-jones first and foremost for kindly helping me polish this bad boy over. I had this vague idea of Emma hating on MM's princess themed tree that was inspired by a conversation we had on different types of Christmas trees. There were pink ones, white ones, upside down ones. There are even ones that look like dresses on mannequins. Then after talking to Alex, everything seemed to fall into place. 10K later, Best-left saved this fic from being tossed in the garbage.

I'd also like to thank @optomisticgirl and @distant-rose for helping me brainstorm. I've never been to a tree farm or to a tree chopping so I had no clue what I was talking about. Boston isn't exactly the prime spot for me to have set this story, as there aren't any actually forests with evergreen trees near by, but if A&E can throw logic out the window, so can I!

Have a Merry Christmas everyone (or whatever holiday you celebrate!)

Word Count: 10K+

Dreaming of a Pink Christmas

Emma lay in bed, waiting until the she heard the roaring of David’s engine fading down the street. As much as she loved her roommate, and even her roommate’s boyfriend, there was only so much of the sickeningly sweet couple she could take. On a normal day, Mary Margaret was someone who Emma felt completely comfortable around, but the holidays brought out the monstrously sappy side in her best friend, and with it an overly motherly quality.

Emma, I have this friend who would be perfect for you.

Emma, I can’t just let you spend the holidays alone.

Emma, there’s somebody out there for you. I just know it!

So when David invited Mary Margaret to come home with him to meet his mother, and Mary Margaret systematically invited Emma to tag along, Emma quickly came up with an excuse to remain in Boston. Family had never really been her thing - not that she’d ever had enough experience with them to really know. Her knowledge base came from watching her friends. The sentimentality of missing them in complete conflict with the reality of being trapped in a house for a week, tense dinners, arguing. None of it was her.

No. Instead she told Mary Margaret that she’d picked up some extra shifts at the stations so that a few of her colleagues could spend time with their families. Technically speaking, she’d offered, but her captain had told her that she had enough man power. Still, Emma had insisted on them leaving her on the oncall list if something came up.

And that’s how Emma Swan found herself hiding out in her room Christmas Eve morning like a coward. Once she was sure that not only were they gone, but also far enough out of town to not pop back in for something forgotten, she forced herself out of bed.

What greeted her downstairs was an abomination. There was no other term fitting for the montorous pink christmas tree Mary Margaret had purchased for their apartment that year. There had been mention of how it reminded her of a tree fit for a princess. Emma just thought it looked like someone had soaked it in pepto bismol. Standing at seven feet tall, it dwarfed the room, and no matter where she stood, it seemed to taunt her from it’s spot near the door.

She hated it. Plain and simple. Four more days. She just need to ignore it for four more days and then Mary Margaret would be home again dismantling the atrocity and preparing for the next holiday. Originally, Mary Margaret had wanted to keep it up through the New Years, but Emma had been adamant that it shouldn’t be there at all. As a compromise, David had promised that he would make sure it was down before their New Year’s party. For Emma’s part, she just had to let it stay in the apartment.

Frustrated, Emma marched into the kitchen, digging out a bowl and spoon for her morning cereal. She sat at the bar, facing away from the tree. If she couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. But as she sat there, eating her second bowl of lucky charms, her disdain for the tree grew.

Screw it.

She’d promised to let the tree stay in the apartment, not that she’d let it stay in the living room. It was a wonder that the bowl didn’t break when she tossed it into the sink. Pausing in front of the tree, hands on her hips, Emma took a moment to ready herself. It was a big tree and was going to take a lot of effort to move.

Her roommate had already strung lights and ornaments in the tree, so taking the tree apart and moving it in sections was out of the question. Instead, she walked to the backside of the pink monstrosity and began pushing it towards Mary Margaret’s room. It was heavier than she’d expected, and the stupid tree base may or may not have made a gouge in the old wooden floors. She’d have to remember to cover that up with a rug before anyone saw it.

She took a break halfway through to regain her breath. Her arms were scratched from the fake leaves, which only reignited her fury towards the beast. Refocused, she pushed it to the threshold of Mary Margaret’s room, where it quickly became stuck in the door jam. Try as hard as she might, she couldn’t get the whole thing across the metal lip, and after an intense battle, she conceded defeat. The pink tree would remain in sight, but Emma was content with it being much less prominent.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized just how accustomed she had become to the imposing pink presence, and the gap left behind was just a bit unsettling. It was another reminder of a holiday she had never been able to have as a child. Growing up in foster homes and group homes normally meant that Emma was shuffled around a lot. There was something about the holidays that made people want to spend time with their families - just their families - and she’d get shipped back before any presents could be wrapped with her name on them. There was never a tree, never a stocking, and never a santa. Just a sad lonely little girl.

Damn it.

She was almost thirty years old, and while there may not be some mystical grey haired man bringing her presents at midnight, she at least deserved to have a tree. A normal green freshly cut tree.

She quickly got bundled up in her warmest outfit and headed to her bug. It gave a groan of protest as she started it up, the engine sputtering loudly. It was only a matter of time before the damn thing gave up on her completely, but she wasn’t ready to part with it just yet. Once the dial on the dashboard had finally moved up enough to signal that the engine was warm enough to drive around without dying she set off for the hardware store.

The first one was a small mom-and-pop type store three blocks from her place. It was only after she’d parked and walked up to the door to find the shop locked down with all of the lights out that she remembered it was Christmas Eve and nearly every store was going to be closed. She ran back to the bug, willing the heater to work, and pulled up a search for ‘hardware stores’ on her phone. Luck was on her side; one of the larger chains was staying open until six for last minute shoppers, and it was on the way to the tree farm she’d read about at work the other day.

The hardware store was packed. She’d largely underestimated the number of people buying toolboxes, new appliances, and whatever else significant others gave each other to say ‘I love you’. It took her twenty minutes of rummaging around the store to find the saw, rope, and tree stand she needed, and another thirty minutes of standing in line before she was able to check out. The day was slowly slipping away. Not that she minded. She didn’t exactly have a schedule to keep.

According to the flier pinned up to the corkboard in the police station break room, the ‘Happily Evergreen After’ tree farm, was just ten miles from her place. With any luck she’d be home in less than an hour.

But, of course, Emma Swan wasn’t exactly a beacon for luck, and what the flier hadn’t advertised was that people had to pay $65 to chop down their own trees.

“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed, staring at the sign posted at the lot entrance. “I’m the one doing all the work!”

The owner of the farm, a man dressed like a medieval Robin Hood, hadn’t taken kindly to Emma’s ranting, and as Emma got in her care to make a show of leaving, she’d mumbled under her breath that they should be arrested for highway robbery.

Totally vexed by the con that were tree farms, Emma found herself on auto pilot out of the city. If she were going to do all of the work of cutting down the tree and tying it up to her bug, she wasn’t going to pay some astronomical amount.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later that Emma found herself coming to a stop on the side of the road. Off to the right was a forest, the perfect place to find the perfect tree - especially one that didn’t cost a bloody $65 to cut down. She parked her bug in the grassy area, as close as possible so she wouldn’t need to drag her tree too far.

As she wandered through the wooded area, she couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t what it was supposed to be like, at least, that’s what it was like in the movies. Instead, she found her boots sinking into deep pockets of snow, and she was sure she was spending more time struggling to stay upright than actually walking.

When she stumbled on the six foot evergreen, she knew it was perfect. It was taller than her, but not so wide that it would get stuck coming through the door. She may not have any experience with Christmas trees, but she was no Clark Griswold. Setting down the rope, she gripped the small saw she had purchased as started working on the base of the tree. Another thing she hadn’t anticipated; tree bases were not easy to cut through. The saw kept getting stuck and her hands were freezing cold. By the time the tree was finished, the temperature had started to drop and the sun was much lower than it had been when she set out.

It didn’t help that she’d made more than a few turns while searching for the tree and getting back to the bug wasn’t exactly a straight path. Not to mention the fact that the tree was deceptively heavy, and it was only due to the combination of ropes and police training that she managed to drag the tree along at all.

By the time she’d managed to get the tree up on top of her bug, the sun had begun to set dangerously low on the horizon. The snow fall had begun to pick up as well, and she knew that time was running out if she wanted to get home before the storm hit. She tied the tree down using the entire length of the rope, fastening it to the roof of the car in a way that prevented her from rolling the windows up all the way. She knew getting home with it was going to be miserable, but she’d been through worse.The bug groaned as it came to life, and once again she waited for it to warm up before she tried to pull back out onto the road.

Mother nature had other ideas though.

As her tires spun out she realized that it had been just warm enough during the day to melt some of the snow, but as the day drew to an end, ice had form in its wake, and she was stuck.She gunned the engine one more time, but the bug only slid around. Emma started to worry. There was no way she was going to make it home in the bug, and she didn’t have enough gas to keep the heater running all night.

Her options were limited, given that most of her friends had left town to visit family. In fact, she didn’t actually know if anyone was still in Massachussetts, let alone close enough to Boston to help her.

Pulling out her phone, she found Mary Margaret’s number and hit dial.

“Hey Emma.”

Her friend’s chirpy, optimistic side was the last thing she wanted to deal with in her frustration.

“Hey, I’m in a hurry, but do you know anyone who might still be in Boston right now?”

There was a pause, her friend obviously contemplating the answer.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I know Ruby is but she’s working the night shift right now. Have you tried Liam? I think he said he and Elsa weren’t heading out to Anna’s until tomorrow.”

Liam. Not her first pick, but there were certainly people further down the list.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll try him.”

Emma hit end on the phone before her roommate could ask what was wrong - or worse yet, suggest calling a different Jones.

Looking through her phone, she realised she didn’t have Liam’s number. Odd, since they’d been friends - or at least acquaintances - for years now. She did, however, have his fiancee’s number.

“Hello,” came a male voice. “Elsa’s phone.” Damn, she was really hoping her friend would answer instead.

“Hey Liam.” She hesitated. Clearly she needed help, but she had never been very good at asking for it. “Are you in town by any chance?”

There was a sigh.

“Sorry, lass, but we left early this morning. Elsa was worried about the storm blocking our path to Anna’s house. Why?”

“Um, it’s nothing really. Do you know of anyone else who might be staying local this weekend?”

Please don’t let it be him. Please God.

“You’re not going to like it,” No. “but the only one I know of is Killian. He was supposed to come with us but something came up at work and he had to stay behind.”

Killian Jones. The man that had broken her heart one year ago. The man she had vowed never to speak to again.

“And there’s no one else?”

“Afraid not.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She’d deleted his number from her phone in hopes of avoiding any drunken temptations to call him, but there was still one text message she couldn’t ever bring herself to delete, and with it, seven digits burned into her phone, unassigned.

One ring. Two rings.

“Swan?”

He sounded worried.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I just- you never call. I figured it was an emergency or something.”

True. She hadn’t dialed that number in over a year, having cut off all communication with him.

“Ya, well. Um- Are you still in Boston?”

She explained the situation and, without any of his usual teasing, he asked her to send him her GPS location and informed her that he’d be there as soon as he could.

As she sat in the bug, her traitorous thoughts drifted to him and that night. The night when everything had gone wrong. Killian and Emma had become close since he’d moved to Boston two years earlier. He’d finished up his degree in mechanical engineering at Stanford before taking a position at a local maritime company that designed boats. When a position had become available in Boston, he’d jumped at the opportunity to live near his brother.

Quickly, Killian had become a fixture in their group of misfits, and had become Emma’s best friend. The problem was that she’d fallen for him almost immediately, a fact that only grew more depressing as it slowly became clear that her feelings would not be returned. With his inky black hair and piercing blue eyes, he was beyond attractive. Women flocked to him in droves at the bar, and he was never lacking for companionship options. Emma would always make an excuse to leave before she had to watch him leave arm and arm with the newest flavor of the week, but judging from the way Victor Whale spoke, Killian had bedded half of Boston in their first year.

He was a flirt, she’d known that from the beginning, but after a while, she started to hope that maybe there was a chance that they could be more, that he’d see her as more. His eyes would linger on hers just a little bit longer each time the saw each other. He’d always wrap his arm around her waist as they’d wait for their turn at the pool table. And the night before the previous Christmas party, they’d nearly kissed. Ruby had interrupted them, and though neither had ever acknowledged what had almost happened, it had been enough to give Emma hope.

He was quicker than she’d expected, which could have only meant that he’d driven faster than what would have been deemed safe given the weather. He probably had other plans to get back to, someone else to get back to. That idea was enough to make her stomach twist.

As they worked silently in tandem removing the rope from Emma’s bug, she became hyper aware of his presence, of every accidental touch of hands and brush of shoulders. Together, they shifted the tree into the back of his truck and he re-tied it down in the bed while she grabbed the tree stand out of her back seat.

“I’m afraid the bug may be a lost cause tonight, but we can try to come back for it tomorrow if you’d like. Or I’m sure Ruby could bring you out if you’d prefer.”

It was the only thing he said as they both crawled into the cab of his truck. He started it up and shifted the truck into four wheel drive mode, easily moving back onto the street towards Boston. A few minutes later, Emma began to feel warmer than she had all night, only just noticing that he had turned her seat warmer on for him. They remained quiet the rest of the way back to her apartment as she replayed that night in her head.

Emma Swan was not a baker. She could cook enough to get by, but anything that required more than four ingredients was generally considered a lost cause on her end. So when she had come across a festive cake recipe online that was labeled as “semi-homemade” she’d jumped at the opportunity to try it. If she played her cards right, she might even be able to impress everyone at their annual Friendsmas party. Sure, the cake was considered a harvest cake, but it seemed festive and easy enough.

Killian had showed up early, halfway through her working on her cake. She’d paused the demonstration video just past the instructions on how to mix the icing. Killian had joined her in the kitchen and had narrowed his eyes as he’d watched her place the tan colored icing in and around the angel food cake.

It wasn’t until she had been opening a can of pie filling that Killian had seemed to take more interest in the cake, asking her what it was. She’d explained that she’d found it online and that it had over six thousand ‘thumbs ups’.

“Swan, are you sure about this?”

“Of course. Look at it. There’s almost two million hits on this thing. It’s like ‘the thing to make’ this season or something.”

She’d heard him mumble ‘or something’, but kept going, adding the acorns and pumpkin seeds, although her acorns looked different from the video, but she’d just chalked that up to using a different brand.

She had been just adding the last candle to the top of her cake when the doorbell had rung. She’d called out for Mary Margaret to answer it, but her friend had still been in the shower.

“Killian, can you grab the cake and move it onto the dessert table while I get the door?”

She hadn’t waited for his answer as she’d run to the door to greet Ruby. But when she’d heard the clatter of tin hitting hardwood, she’d come back to find the cake she’d been so proud of all over the floor. Her eyes had glanced up to Killian to see an apology on the tip of his tongue. But it hadn’t been real. He had been lying when he’d said it had been an accident.

“I’m sorry Swan. The candles set the balance off and I couldn’t catch it in time.”

He’d held his fake hand out as evidence, but Emma was unconvinced. She’d seen him do plenty with his prosthetic, and knew that he was more than capable with or without it. No, he’d done it on purpose. That much she was sure of. She just didn’t know why.

It didn’t matter, though. The damage had been done and her best friend had just lied to her face.

There had been an argument, words had been said, and in a tantrum, Emma had left the apartment, making sure not to return until she had been certain he’d left. It was the last time she spoken to him, the last time she’d heard his voice.

It was completely dark out as they returned to her apartment. The street lights in front of Emma’s apartment were out, just as they had been for the last three weeks - Boston wasn’t exactly know for keeping up with public works during the winter time - so Killian insisted on leaving his truck lights on so they could see where they were going. Together they hauled the tree inside the loft style building. Emma and Mary Margaret's apartment was mostly situated on the third floor of the building, but Emma’s room ran up to the fourth floor, and as with many older buildings, their wasn’t an elevator.

“Where did you want it?”

He’d taken the heavier end of the tree, and was clearly a bit tired from trying to finagle up to her floor.

“Hold on.”

Emma pulled the tree stand out of her bag and set it on the floor, moving it just slightly in every direction until she felt it was perfectly centered on the wall.

“There.”

While she’d been playing with the tree stand, he’d removed his coat, revealing his favorite red t-shirt over a green long sleeved henley. The shirt had come from his alma-mater - a graduation gift from Liam - and Killian always wore it proudly, especially at Christmas time. Stanford’s mascot was a worse for the wear tree of some sort that he said looked festive. She’d loved him in that shirt.

He lifted the tree and placed it in the stand, asking her to hold it steady as he screwed the trunk in place. She couldn’t help but notice the way his back muscles flexed as he worked, and she mentally chastised herself for noticing. There was no point in going down that road, not anymore.

“Okay, well you should be all set now.”

She should have thanked him, offered him something to drink. That’s what polite company would have done, but Emma was a mess. Memories had turned her into an emotional wreck and she just needed him out of her apartment as soon as possible.

“So I guess I’ll just get going.”

She simply nodded and when he left she locked the door behind him, hoping her longing for him would follow. The snow had picked up, not quite yet a blizzard, but she knew he’d have a hard time seeing more than three foot in front of him. The eighteen blocks to his apartment would probably take an hour. She’d text him and make sure he got home later. It was the polite thing to do she told herself, ignoring the part of her that wasn’t quite as ready to let him go again as she had wished.

She was startled from her thoughts a few minutes later when a knock came from the door. Karma. That’s the only word she could come up with with the man stood before her once more.

“I’m sorry to put you out like this lo- lass, but my truck battery seems to be dead. Is there any way I could crash in Mary Margaret’s room. I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning and you won’t even notice I’m here.”

Yup. Karma. All of that no good deed goes unpunished crap. She just wasn't’ sure if it was hers or his karma at work. As much as she didn’t want him to stay, as much as she worried what she’d do if she was around him for too long, she knew she couldn’t send him back out to freeze to death.

She opened the door wider and ushered him in.

“Mary Margaret’s room is just down the hallway.”

Idiot. Of course he knew where her room was. He’d been there countless times. She was just at a complete loss as to what to say.

He nodded back and headed down the hallway to keep his word of hiding away. But that damn pink tree had struck again.

“Uh, Swan. This tree seems to be stuck. As in, stuck stuck. It’s really wedged in there.”

She’d forgotten about that. Damn.

“Oh right. Sorry. I guess you’ll have to take the couch. I’ll go grab you some sheets.”

He thanked her and she bolted up the stairs to her room, needing a few minutes to pull herself back together. She couldn’t avoid him forever though, not this time, and with all of the courage she could muster, she made her way back down stairs, handing a spare set of sheets. His hand grazed her slightly as he took them from her and sparks blazed across her fingers where their skin had touched.

He set to making up the pullout couch while Emma started wrapping lights around her newly acquired tree. Even if the situation had changed slightly, Emma was determined to wake up to a decorated Christmas tree. The lights she’d found had been a few extra strand in years passed. Some of the bulbs were burnt out, and only half of them twinkled anymore but it would have to do as all of the other lights were trapped in Mary Margaret’s doorway.

Killian was quiet, but she could feel him behind her, feel his eyes on her. When she’d finished stringing the lights she plugged them in and stood back, taking stock of her tree.

“It’s lovely.”

She hummed to herself in response.

It was awkward. Being around Killian, but not speaking to him. No playful banter. It left her unsettled.

“It’s still early. Would you like to find a movie to watch?”

A tiny grin flitted across his face but disappeared just as quickly. They both understood the offer for what is was. A temporary truce forced on the from circumstance.

“Sure thing.”

She left him with the remote to find something on netflix as she went to the kitchen to grab some snacks. She had a bottle of his favorite rum stashed away above the fridge, the christmas gift she’d never given him, but even now, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would have been too much like them, and they were them, not any more.

She grabbed two beers from David’s stash instead and made some popcorn. When she joined Killian again he had the tv paused on the title screen for Die Hard. An old inside joke at Liam’s expense. It was too much. “Um, can we watch something else instead?

“As you wish.”

He handed her the remote and she scrolled through the Christmas section until she landed on Love Actually. Everything else reminded her of him, of sitting on that couch together watching Christmas Movie marathons. She needed something they’d never seen together before.

The credits played and they both settled in to opposite ends of the now bedlike couch. They drank their beers, pausing midway for new ones. Once or twice they both reached for the popcorn at the same time, Killian always insisting that she go first. If it had been a year ago, she would have thought it perfect.

As the movie progressed, and scene with the necklace played, Emma’s thoughts returned to that fight.

She’d been an idiot. She knew that. She’d completely overreacted. Sometimes she forgot that she wasn’t in the system anymore, that not everyone was out to get her. It was just her stubborn pride that had kept her out so late. She couldn’t apologize to him in front of everyone. Not when she had made such a big scene.

So she waited. She waited for him to leave. She waited until she woke up. And then she waited as she stood in line as the coffee shop picking up his beverage of choice and his beloved healthy bagels as an apology.

And then she waited some more for him to answer the door, but he never did. It was Tink who greeted her, Tink who was wearing his blue button up from the night before. A shirt Emma had purchased for his birthday.

“Emma?”

“Hi. Uh- Is Killian here?”

Tink looked behind her for a second before shutting the door a bit more.

“He’s in the shower right now. I was about to-”

She didn’t finished, but Emma didn’t need her to. Tink was about to join him. Because they’d slept together.

He’d lied to her, broken her trust, and shattered her heart. And she’d let it happen. Let herself believe that she was somehow special to him. But she didn’t. She was just like every other girl. Just another notch on the bedpost.

“No, um. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You don’t even need to bother telling him I stopped by.”

Tink closed the door and Emma threw the coffee and breakfast out into the nearest trash can. It had been a miracle that she’d kept it together long enough to drive back to her apartment. But once she was safely behind the closed door of her bedroom, she let it all out. She wept for her stupidity, she wept for the friend she’d lost, and she wept for the loss of hope.

She ignored his texts and calls for three days. When he didn’t get the hint, she sent him back one last message.

Go to hell.

“Swan?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you’d like another beer?”

She must have zoned out for longer than she had realized.

“No, that’s okay.”

She was worried that if she drank to much she do something stupid, like tell him that even after all that time she was still in love with him.

He nodded and stayed in his seat, toying with the label of his empty beer bottle.

“Careful, love. If you tune out like that again I might get ideas of what your daydreaming about over there.”

Her eyes snapped up to him, caught off guard by his brazenness. That was the old Killian. That was before.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, you did choose the movie. A slightly romantic one.”

She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but wanted to wipe the smug grin off of his face.

“Oh, that. I just thought you could relate to Alan Rickman’s character.”

She looked over just in time to see his jaw clench and a haze cloudy over his face. His eyes never left the floor, and in that instant she realized she’d gone too far. A small smile tugged at his lips, but Emma recognized it for what is was.

Defeat.

In the past, she’d always believed it to be some sort of smug smirk. Something that told the world to fuck off because he was better than everyone else. But thinking back, it had been a defense mechanism. The same look he got when Liam was chastising him for something, the look he got when he spoke of Milah, and the look he got when she’d told him to go to hell that night.

It was the look of a man who’d lost all hope.

And she was the one that put it there.

He was off the couch and grabbing his coat before she could even swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

“It looks like it’s died down a bit,” he started, gesturing towards the window.

The snow fall had died down but there was atleast a solid two foot of snow littering the sidewalks.

“I think I should be able to get home now so I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Killian-” She had to cut off her own words as she nearly stumbled trying to remove her legs from the tangle of blankets.

“Really, Swan. It’s getting late and I’m sure you have more important things to do than to entertain me.”

He was halfway out of the loft before she was able to catch him, wrapping her hand around his blunted wrist. He stilled, the muscles in his arm tensing beneath her touch.

“Killian, I didn’t mean you had to leave-”

“It’s not that far. I’ll be fine.”

God. How had this all turned around in her. Five minutes earlier she was seething over the memory of seeing him with Tink. Five minutes ago she was just hoping to get through the night without any more awkwardness.

“Is that really how you see me?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Is that how you see me? As an adulterous letch who only cares about himself?”

Milah.

How could she had been so stupid. When she made the off hand remark about Killian relating to Alan Rickman’s character she’d been referring to Tink, and how she thought that she and Killian had something, but all along he had his eyes set on someone else. She was bitter and spoke without thinking, and as inadvertent as it was, she’d knocked him over with a low blow.

Milah had always been a sore spot for him, but she’d just assumed it was because she chose to go back to her husband, that she hadn’t picked him. A bullet to his ego. But maybe there was more to it.

“Killian, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you see me, Swan? Because a year ago I thought things between us were great and then you suddenly just cut me out of your life.”

Her stomach sunk and the pleading in his voice.

“It’s complicated.”

“Emma,” he never called her by her first name. “Please, just tell me what I did to make you hate me.”

She wanted to run, but her hand was frozen in place, still gripping fiercely to his wrist, just above where the brace for his prosthetic hand rested.

“It’s not- I can’t-”

“Just tell me, please.”

“The cake.”

Yes, it was a complete cop out, but it was safer than the truth. A half truth that wouldn’t mean exposing her heart to him. Not again.

“The cake. This whole time it’s been about that bloody cake?”

His voice had risen and she’d never heard him speak with such anger, at least not directed towards her. She released his arm and took a step back. She could feel her own rage building inside her. He had no right to be mad at her. She was the one that had her heart broken by him. She was the one who felt like a fool.

“You did it on purpose and then didn’t even have to decency to feel bad about it!”

“I apologized multiple times that night. And how was I to know those candles would throw the balance off so badly?”

“You apologized? You know I can tell when people are lying to me and their wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in a single one of those apologies.”

It was the truth. He told her sorry over and over when it happened, but not once did he look truley regretful. His words were nothing more than a way to placate her, like a child trying to get out of being grounded.

“What’s with you and this bloody cake? Swan, did you even look at the comments on that blasted video you were playing?”

He had the audacity to look affronted, and from somewhere deep inside the fire rose, and Emma refused to back down.

“I told you Killian, it had over a million hits and six thousand thumbs up. People loved it. You know I’m not much of a cook, and I was proud of myself, but for some reason you saw fit to destroy it.” She had to stop herself before she added on just like everything else.

From her battle stance, with both arms crossed over her chest, she watched as Killian brought up his one good hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. It was what he did when he was trying to calm himself, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. She wasn’t ready to give up the fight though.

He didn’t say anything. Not at first. He simple reached down and pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping away with his thumb until he found whatever her was searching for. Then he held it out, facing her.

“Will you please just read what people said?”

It was a genuine request, his voice calm and steady as he asked.

Emma jerked the device out of his hand and started scanning the comment section, noting for the first time what Killian had meant.

Guilmon4703: Mmmmmm, a cake that looks like someone took a big shit on your plate.

FijiUnited: Clearly the decades of alcohol consumption have rendered her tastebuds withered and useless.

Maria Kazakopi: I...I...am...dumbfounded by this culinary blasphemy. It must've been during one of her 'Cocktail Times' that she came up with this shitty cake. This is really HORRIBLE!

G Hayes: I'm usually pretty open minded when I see cooking shows. There's a lot of people who like a lot of different foods across the world. But this cake looks so awful I want to barf. Angel food cake? Fine. Everything else is a magnificently disgusting combination. When she stuck those huuuuuge candles in the cake I thought I was going to pee I laughed so hard. Poor Sandra. She never stood a chance with this one.

Fuck.

When Emma turned back to look at Killian, she finally saw the sincerity in his eyes that she had been looking for that night, and a part of her walls started to crumble.

“Swan, I couldn’t let you present that cake to people.” He took a step closer. “I care about you too much to let you be humiliated in front of our friends, especially not when I knew that your heart was in the right place. I thought it would be easier if you were just mad at me for a little while, and that it would spare your feelings.”

There was something there, something in the way that he looked at her, just a glimmer that gave her hope of more. Hope that maybe he cared about her as more than just a friend. But she was just being stupid.

Damn him.

She could feel tears starting to well in her eyes, but she could let him see her cry. She couldn’t let him see how much he affected her, so she slammed her walls back up just as high as ever.

“If you cared about me so much, then how did you just move on? How did our falling out not have any affect on you?”

“Where’d you get that foolish idea? This last year has been hell for me!”

“Obviously.”

She hadn’t meant for him to hear that part as she mumbled it under her breath.

“Swan?”

She turned and started to walk away, not ready to have that particular conversation. Not now, not ever. But this time it was his turn to stop her.

“You know what. You’re right, the snow has let up. You should be fine getting home now.”

She saw him waiver briefly, debating what to do. He made his way back the door, and although it was exactly what she had wanted him to do, it wasn’t really. Not when the sight of him walking away from her caused her heart to constrict. Unable to breath, she was helpless to do anything but watch the door close behind him.

There. She’d really done it that time. She ruined their relationship, or whatever was left of it at that point, beyond any point of salvation. Finally, she allowed the tears to begin falling. God. She was an idiot.

“No.” She hadn’t even noticed the door open again through the curtain blurring her vision.

“You don’t get to do that again. You don’t get to just decided everything and not even give me the courtesy of knowing why!”

He was shouting and she couldn’t even bring herself to care, couldn’t force her walls up any higher, because he’d come back. He’d always come back, and it didn’t make any sense. Nothing about them made any sense to her anymore.

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even move her head to nod yes or no.

“Then tell me. Tell me why you really just brushed me off and told me to go to hell, because there’s no way this about a stupid cake. Emma, what did I do to you that was so terrible that you assigned me the role of villain in this little story of yours?”

Against her will, the word slipped past her lips.

“Tink.”

“What?” His head tilted to the side, but he didn’t try to come any closer, didn’t try to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

“You want to know what you did? You did her!”

Her voice was nearly broken and she hated herself for it.

“Swan, I didn’t-”

“Stop. I saw her.” She swiped her hand under her eyes, trying to erase all of the evidence of how much she’d let him affect her. “Killian, I saw her there in your apartment, wearing your shirt.”

“I don’t-”

No. It wasn’t his turn to speak. He didn’t get to try and turn it all around on her. He’d broken her heart, and if he really wanted to know why she was so upset, she’d make damn sure he knew.

“You almost kissed me, and then we had that stupid fight over the cake. I came by the next morning and she was there, in your shirt and nothing else. You kissed me and then slept with her. God, Killian. I felt so stupid. I thought-”

She let the words die off. She’d already said too much. Revealed too much. Now he knew, and there was no taking it back. There was no going back to the friendship she’d so desperately missed over the last year.

“Swan.”

“Killian, please just go.”

She turned away again, walking to the window, waiting to hear the door click behind him. But it never did.

“Emma, I don’t know what you saw, or what you think you saw, but nothing happened.”

She snickered. Like hell it hadn't. Later that month Tink had practically been living with him.

“That’s crap and you know it. You guys were living together!”

“Swan-”

“No. I don’t want to hear it.”

Something snapped in him. She saw a storm brewing deep in his ocean blue eyes. A storm so fierce it was reflected in the window pane.

“And if we had slept together? What would it have been to you? You made it perfectly clear where we stood the last time we spoke.”

She tried to run, to hide in her room waiting for him to give up, but he was faster, using his body to block the stairway.

“Ah no you don’t. Why did it matter what I did or who I was with?”

His voice was eerily calm and it terrified her. Even more so than when she’d seen Tink after their fight, more than when Neal had abandoned her, more than any foster home she’d ever been in.

She was broken, and with it, her walls started crumbling around her.

“You almost kissed me, and I thought-” Her voice cracked. “And then Tink was there and I realized that I’d built this whole thing up in my head. That I was no different than all of the other girls who fawned over you.”

“Oh, Emma.”

He was standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“And I couldn’t stand seeing you and her, or you and anyone. I couldn't get over my own pride, and I know it’s my problem, but-”

He cut her off, taking one more step in her direction, their chests almost touching. His right hand came up to cup her cheek as his thumb swiped away the tears that were still falling.”

“Swan, I have no idea what I ever did to make you think you were ever just another anything to me. You’ve never been “just” anything to me.”

“But Tink.”

God. She hated how pathetic she sounded.

“Aye, Tink was there, but not as anything more than a friend. That night, after our fight I attempted to drown my sorrows in the bottom of Dave’s bottom of rum. Tink took me home and stayed over to make sure I didn’t choke on my own sick. Some of which unfortunately got on her so she borrowed a shirt from me.”

Realization hit like a punch to the gut. She’d misunderstood it all.

“And then I pushed you away and right into her arms.”

Her heart fell.

If she’d just talked to him, answered any of his text messages, returned any of his voicemails, she wouldn’t have just lost the last year with him.

“Yes and no. I’ll not lie. You avoiding me hurt, but I didn’t find solace by shacking up with anyone.”

But they were living together. She saw the boxes.

It had been about two months since their fight. She still hadn’t spoken to him, and while he messaged her occasional, the messages had become few and far inbetween. In fact, it had been three weeks since his last one and she’d nearly given up hope that he was still trying. Silly as it was, given she’d been the one to shut him out, it hurt to know he’d finally given up on her.

It was for the best though. She couldn’t go through it anymore. Allowing herself to be strung along by a man who would never want her as anything beyond a bed mate, not that he’d even wanted that much.

It was getting easier not to think of him anyway. She’d buried herself in work, taking on extra cases. Anything to avoid going home to Mary Margaret and her constant questions. Anything to avoid their group gatherings where he’d likely be in attendance. It was easy to not return people’s phone calls when she was on a stake out.

But it wasn’t that easy, because his phone number was still sitting in her phone taunting her. More than once she’d had to give her phone to Graham while they were out drinking after a hard case. She new that if she’d held on to it, she’d call him somewhere around drink number four.

Graham was sweet enough, listening to her drunk ramblings about Killian and her broken heart. He tried to give her advice about moving on, and a few times she saw something in his eyes that suggested he wanted to be the one she moved on with. She always ignored it though. Even if she had felt something for him, which she didn’t, she refused to put herself out there again. She’d been wrong before, and wouldn’t let her heart fool her again.

Eventually August Booth, the newest detective, started joining them at the bar. It helped Emma feel less like she was on a date, and the guy was damn good at his job. And he didn’t beat around the bush the way Graham had.

“You know there’s an easier fix than giving us your phone every night right?”

Before she could process what he’d said, he was handing her phone back to her, with one less contact, and one less text thread. Her last link to Killian had been severed and she thought maybe she was free.

Three more weeks passed. Three uneventful weeks, and the pain was starting to fade. But then, as she drifted off to sleep she heard her phone chirp. She checked it to make sure it wasn’t work related, and seven little number stared at her. Seven numbers she’d once new by heart, but not anymore.

I miss you.

She tossed and turned that night, unable to get him off her mind.

The next day, she decided to stop by his place after work, if nothing else than just to hear him out, but when she got there her heart was ripped apart. Killian was helping Tink move boxes into his apartment. Boxes labeled sheets, pictures, clothes.

She’d let him break her again.

Sensing her confusion he continued.

“The lady Belle and Will Scarlett had just started dating, and new love and all can be quite loud when you have paper thin walls. Tink asked if she could crash in my guest room while she looked for a new place. She wanted to give them space, and keep some sanity in the process.”

“But.”

“But what?”

“But when I talked to her, she implied that you were together.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I gathered that she had a slight crush on me when she tried to kiss me. I told her that I didn’t share her feelings and suggested that perhaps it was time for her to find a new living arrangement. Needless to say she wasn’t happy about it.”

It made sense. Whatever had happened between them had been messy, with Tink saying some less than pleasant things about him, and while at the time she thought his lack of response was due to guilt, she now knew that he was just too much of a gentleman to say anything.

“Emma. Did you ever see us do anything affectionate like holding hands or kissing? Have you ever seen me that way with anyone?”

Admittedly she hadn’t. Her brain had told her that he was just smart enough to keep his affairs private. She shook her head no.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I moved to Boston. I haven’t been with anyone since the moment I met you, because it’s only ever been you, Emma. It’s always been you.”

There was no hesitation that time. No pulling back. When her hands found the lapels of his coat she yanked hard, pulling his body flush with hers. And when their lips finally met, it was as if the world had finally righted itself. After twenty nine years of giving her nothing but pain and suffering, it was finally giving her hope.

Everything happened so fast after that. The kiss deepened and on instinct, Emma felt herself pulling him up the stairs with her, never parting her lips from his. Once in her room, clothes began to litter the floor as they both hurried to explore each other.

She felt him gently press her to the bed, his chest hair tickling the tips of her breasts. His weight settled into her further as he nibbled at her pulse point. Something he’d quickly picked up drove her mad with want. His body shifted, lips moving down her torso, his tongue following the curve of her breast. Instinctively her back arched.

“Killian.” She whined, trying to implore him to hurry.

A year was long enough. Tired of waiting, she reached down, wrapping her hand around him, gently squeezing it as she twisted her hand.

“Love, all in good time.”

He had the audacity to chuckle at her. Moving even lower he peppered her stomach with kisses. Finally he slid from the foot of the bed, kneeling before her.

“Killian, I need-”

“Shhh, now. It’s come to my attention that in the past I’ve not succeeded in showing you just how much I want you, and only you. I’ll be damned if you leave this bed without me recifiying such an egregious error.”

His lilt left her a quivering mess, and if she hadn’t been so enraptured by the lust in his eyes, she might have let herself feel nervous at how exposed she was before him.

Then something changed. A shy smile replaced the smug smirk.

“Is this okay, Emma?”

There it was again. He’d said her name more times in the last ten minutes than in the entire time they’d known each other, and she understood what it meant. No more dancing around each other or playing hard to get. The time for games was over. He wanted her to know, to feel how much she meant to him. She’d been such a fool that past year.

Unable to say anything, she nodded her head, and it was all he needed. His prosthetic hand splayed out over her stomach, trying to keep her still as his lips and fingers toyed with her, bringing her to the verge of her release, but never letting her fall.

“So perfect. So bloody perfect.”

It was a whisper punctuated with kiss to her thigh.

When his thumb finally brushed circles of the place she needed him most, the one that finally gave her the release she’d so desperately needed, it was like time stood still. The explosion of light behind her eyes seemed to last for an eternity, stealing her breath away.

Eventually, she came back to herself, feeling Killian’s lips tracing their way back up to the hollow of her throat. Her hands cupped the sides of his face and pulled him to her. She tasted herself on his tongue, not minding when his tongue twisted just so.

“Killian. I need you inside me.”

She expected him to lunge, to push her legs wider apart, to do anything really. What she hadn’t expected was for his face to fall. Had she misread everything?

“Swan, I- Uh-”

“What?” She asked cautiously. There was nowhere to run.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting this turn of events when you called me this afternoon. I didn’t really come prepared for such an occasion.”

I’m always a gentleman.

Of course.

“Table drawer.”

She lifted her chin and nodded towards the nightstand to her left. He reached out, shifting his body so that it laid almost parallel next to hers. Her teeth found his earlobe and she gently gave it a tugged, hoping he’d feel as impatient as she did, but instead he pulled away a little. Her eyes followed his line of site, the the very full drawer.

It should have been simple. He just needed to grab a packet and rip it open. He’d been so eager before, so why was he suddenly apprehensive?

“Hey,” She started. “What’s wrong?”

He gave her a small smile, one that didn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s nothing, Swan. Really.”

“Don’t do that. Please, Killian.” She hoped her used of his first name would have the same impact on him that it had her. “What is it.”

“I-” He paused. “I’ll sound like a fool.”

She let the back of her fingers caress his face.

“Never.”

He tried to smile again, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

“I just- I know that we weren’t on speaking terms, and I have no right to feel this way, but seeing that drawer only reminds me of all that I missed. It reminds me that you’ve probably not been devoid of company in this bed of the past year. I told you, love. I sound like a bloody git.”

Her eyes fell back to the drawer and it all clicked. He’d been jealous of her using them with other men. He hadn’t known that she’d been just as gone for him as he was her, even during their fight.

“Killian, I-” He still wasn’t looking at her so she grabbed his chin, tilting it so that he couldn’t not face her. “I bought those last year, the morning of the Christmas party. We’d almost kissed the day before, and I thought that if I could just muster the damn courage to tell you how I felt, that maybe we’d get some use out of them.”

His face fell again, obviously upset at himself for allowing the misunderstanding. She was horrible at this.

“But if you were to count them, you’d find that they are all still there.” Well, except for the one Mary Margaret had pilfered the week before when she and David had run out. “I haven’t used any of them.”

His mouth came down over hers with such an intense force that she shrieked in surprise.

They’d ended up using three of the foil packets that night before they passed out from sheer exhaustion. He was warm curled up next to her, and had it not been from the rustling noise downstairs, she’d have been content to stay in their little cocoon forever. Unfortunately, the noise from downstairs continued, and as the groggy haze faded she realized that there were people in her apartment. Uninvited people. Her gun and badge had been left in her bug. Rookie mistake, she chastised herself.

As quietly as possible, she extracted herself from the covers, and Killian’s embrace, but it wasn’t quiet enough to not wake him.

“Swan?”

“Shh, I think someone is downstairs.” She whispered as she grabbed his shirt to cover whatever bit of modesty she could. Tackling a burglar while naked wasn’t high on her list of ways to spend Christmas morning. “Just stay here.”

Of course her words fell across deaf ears. He muddled around searching for his boxers, which had somehow landed on the window sill. Slowly they creeped down the stairs, Emma clutching a curtain rod and Killian holding plunger from the bathroom. Emma was really going to need to rethink apartment safety when this was all over. Just before they came to the exposed part of the stairs they heard hushed whispers. There were at least two of them and suddenly Emma was grateful that Killian had ignored her command to stay upstairs.

She moved down two more steps trying to get a look around the corner at the intruders when she heard a crash.

“What the hell is the tree doing in here?”

David?

Emma flipped the hallway switch that controlled the living room, illuminating a very confused and weary looking roommate.

“Emma? Did we wake you?”

“What the hell guys? I thought you were burglars! What are you doing back so soon?”

Emma relaxed, setting the curtain rod down in a corner, stepping fully into the large open space.

“We tried to call you but you didn’t answer. About thirty minutes after I talked to you the small snow storm turned into a full on blizzard. We got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic until the snow plows could clear the road enough for us to move. Ruth said that the roads leading into Storybrooke were all closed so we had to turn back.”

“Oh.” Emma flushed, looking around for her phone. It was still on the coffee table where she had left it.

“Emma?” David tilted his head. “What are you wearing?”

Shit. “Oh, this? I- Uh-”

She turned back to find Killian still hidden from her friends on the stairs, waiting for her lead.

Before she could decide either way she heard Mary Margaret gasp.

“That shirt! I can only think of one person who went to Stanford...”

David smiled, something closely resembling Ruby’s wolfish grin that signified he had something up his sleeve.

“Oh, honey. Do share with the class.”

“Guys.” Emma grumbled out, clearly embarrassed.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret called out.

Finally he slinked down the stairs, finger scratching just behind his ear. “Guilty.”

Mary Margaret just hummed in response.

“Well guys. It’s been a long day and we’re exhausted.” David looked like he was about to argue the opposite but the pint sized pixie elbowed him in the side. “I think we’re going to hit the sack now. David, remind me to tell Liam he owes me twenty dollars when he comes over later today.”

“Wait. Later today? Liam’s out of town.”

“Pardon?”

“Um, I may have called and told him to tell you that so you’d be forced to call Killian.”

“He bet Mary Margaret that you’d chicken out again and not tell Emma how you felt.” David added for Killian’s benefit.

Emma glanced over at him to find his face beat red.

“Oh and Emma.” Emma snapped her head back to her roommate. “Tomorrow you’re going to have to explain to me why there’s a scratch in the floor.”

Quickly Mary Margaret grabbed David’s arm and dragged him into her room, shutting the door behind him. The tree no longer in view. David must have been able to push it the rest of the way into the room.

“Swan?” He was holding a hand out to her. “If you’ll follow me, it’s officially Christmas Morning, and I believe there’s another present upstairs that needs unwrapping.”

His brows rose and he gave her a salacious grin. As she raced him up the steps she couldn’t help but think about that damned pink tree, and how maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

#cssecretsanta #Alex's Secret Santa #Dreaming of a Pink Christmas #wellhellotragic #cs ff

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