isabettershotthanyou: (They're totally fucking)
Bard the Bowman ([personal profile] isabettershotthanyou) wrote in [community profile] abstractborders2015-02-20 09:52 pm

Pacific Rim AU for my dear Thranduil~


No one expected monsters, nightmare-ish creatures unlike anything humanity had ever seen, to come from under the ocean. Sure, the ocean held secrets and was vast and most of it unexplored but no one had imagined it would house such terrifying beasts as what became known across the world as Kaiju. Humanity was defenseless against the creatures, completely unprepared for such enemies, and it wasn't until the development of the Jaeger program that there was any sign of hope whatsoever.

With a new line of defense, humans began to fight back against the Kaiju, brave individuals stepping up to the plate to pilot the immense robots known as Jaegers, most of them willing joining the rangers knowing that they may never come back home.

Bard was one such individual, the widower and father of three an excellent candidate for the program though it took awhile to find someone that was drift compatible. When his partner was found, the pair couldn't have been more different--though they shared a common trait in that they had both lost their wives and cared for their children alone. Many questioned just how they were drift compatible given that they butted heads more than they seemed to be able to work together but when push came to shove?

Their jaeger was a force to be reckoned with.

Seated on the catwalk that ran in front of said robot, Bard leaned on the railing as he watched the maintenance crew run their diagnostics, a few stitches crossing his brow and over his left temple from where the kaiju had caught them off guard. The downfall to being synced with their jaegers was the potential for injuries sustained because of damage to the robot itself but Bard never thought much of it.

It was just a part of the job.
thorencalenaran: (there is still anger here)

SCREAMS ABOUT THIS FOREVER quietly whispers about needed to watch this again now

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-21 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
When the first monster graced the earth with it's delightfully horrid self, Thranduil never thought that he might oneday be one of the people fighting against them on a day to day basis. He had a family then, a wife, a child, something of the perfect life. Tragedies and horrors like the Kaiju happened to other people, to other families, not his own.

At least, that was what he thought.

Just when things seemed as normal as they could get; evacuation, relocation, rebuild, the unthinkable happened. Thranduil lost his wife in an attack. And not even from collateral, but directly from the Kaiju, the damned thing crushing his wife as Thranduil scrambled to get their son, barely even five years old, out of the wreackage that formally their home. It was not a thing that the blond was ever going to forget. Or forgive for that matter.

So when the Jaeger program came up, there were no questions about it. Thranduil did everything in his power to get where he was, and his son, Legolas, following in his footsteps (he was too young to truly remember, but he knows his father, knows the scars it gave him, and he vows to not let the same happen to him). Thranduil figured that he would be compatible with his son, that they could, despite his misgivings, protect each other (he had tried arguing about the whole thing, but Legolas was his father's son, and there was no talking him out of something his mind was set on). And yet-- He son ended up with a Scot named Gimli, and Thranduil--

"You're a bloody idiot, you know."

There's probably still blood in his hair, and worry in his bones, but the blond ignores it to stare at his partner, Bard. The reckless, far too kind and far too humble pilot he was paired with. They were everything that Thranduil thought drift compatible people shouldn't be; they fought about everything, sniped at each other at every chance they got, and yet--

They were one of the best.

That still did nothing to quell the roiling feeling in Thranduil's gut when his eyes the stitches above Bard's brow. Remembers the echo of pain when he got it. The feeling of his stomach dropping to his knees at the blood in the cockpit, and the--

He dismisses the thoughts, focuses on the pilot before him.

"Do you mind explaining that little fiasco back there?" His tone is haughty, almost cold, but his eyes are ablaze.
thorencalenaran: (there is still anger here)

saME HEREEEE

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-21 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Well let me remind you again, perhaps it will linger in your thoughts a while longer: you are a bloody idiot, Bard."

There is emphasis on his name, a lingering of Thranduil's voice that passes as annoyance with the roll of the 'r' in Bard's name. A sound that coincides with the raise of Thranduil's eyebrow that would signify far more to the other pilot than it would to anyone else. It was like that with them, this strange connection that Bard claimed was an affect of drifting. Thranduil was not so sure himself, but he was at least aware there was a connection.

Sometimes all that flowed through it was anger and muted annoyance, but there was a connection nonetheless.

A noise awfully close to a growl rumbles in Thranduil's throat as he steps closer to Bard. He knows what the other was doing, or had been doing, but he didn't really know why. It bothered him when Bard took a hit that Thranduil could easily have handled himself, no matter what the other might claim. Despite his looks, Thranduil was no weakling, he was more than capable in combat in and out of the suit. He also knew that Bard knew that having been his partner for many a sparring match.

This was not the first time that such a thing had happened, and Thranduil was sure that it was not to be the last, but what was the most infuriating thing was, despite the drift, the link that was between them, there was still so much that Thranduil was still not able to make sense of in his partner. They danced around each other constantly, with sharp looks and sharper words, and yet-- then they would both (for Thranduil was not innocent in this case at all) throw themselves in the way of harm for the other. It wasn't simply because they were drift compatible, not at all, there was something else and it drove the blond nearly mad with the need to know.

"I am not some maiden you need to save. There was nothing in that that had to be done." He pauses, eyes drifting to the cut above Bard's eye, something fleeting in his gaze before the annoyance is back. "You are lucky nothing more than the filth's death came from that unfathomably stupid move."
thorencalenaran: (you have not the wisdom of age)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-21 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
The heavy sigh pulls an answering one from Thranduil. He was annoyed, yes, but there was something else, something that was clenching at Thranduil's heart that he refused to acknowledge. That is, beyond the fear of having to go through losing a partner while drifting together.

"Looking out for yourself would ease your partners mind a great deal more than this reckless need to put yourself in harms way." The blond loses a great deal of the anger in his voice, sensing how tired Bard was. He would say it just wasn't nearly as fun to irritate the other when his heart wasn't in it, but perhaps there was more to it. He leans against the railing, back to the robot and blue eyes focused on his shoes, mind racing. This was how it always was, a strange pushpull between them that often left Thranduil feeling as if he was one step behind something.

"I appreciate your concern, but if you think I am going to be any more pleased with you getting yourself killed in an attempt to look out for me, you have some serious reconsidering to do, Bard." His voice is perfectly neutral, the annoyance form earlier smothered, and the fear he might feel at the thought pushed away.

The blond holds out a bottle of pills, ones that he might have swiped without really asking, but he knows that the other must be in pain and, well, the is the least that he can do, and shakes it. "Do try not to do that again, yes? Otherwise, it is not going to be a thing that I move past so easily."
thorencalenaran: (Default)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-22 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
The apology has Thranduil a little startled, eyes blinking as he tilts his head and considers the other's profile. This was another one of those things that always had Thranduil wondering just where it was that they stood. Sure, they were in each other's minds, knew more dark secrets than any one else, but there were still times, times like this, when Thranduil had no idea what it was that was going on with the other.

A moment of silence passes before the bond reaches out, one hand on Bard's shoulder, squeezing lightly, as acceptance of the words. He himself was not so sure what to say in response, so he left it at that.

Between that and the accepted pills, Thranduil hopes that some of the swirling chaos that are his emotions, Bard manages to see just why he is as annoyed as he is. Yes, they put themselves in danger's way every day, but there was no need to make it even worse, not by a long shot.

"That would be lovely, I can remind you if you would like, along with the you being an idiot part. We can't have you forgetting that, now can we?" There is a hint of a smile in his voice, eyes not quite meeting Bard's as they studied him.

It was ridiculous, this waltz they had going. At yet--

Thranduil snaps his gaze to Bard, eyebrow raised and sarcastic quip on the tip of his tongue. Would he be bothered... And then, then he sees the look on his partners face and something shakes loose inside him. The sarcasm falls away to a burning honesty. "Does it surprise you? I do not wish to see you in harm's way any more than I would my own child, Bard."
thorencalenaran: (let me show you death)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-22 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
There was a sense of grounding when he was close to the other, and while he was not one to often touch, there were times, times like this, that Thranduil took the liberty to do what he could. He was sure this was an affect of the drift, of being so close, of being inside another so completely, that he found himself put at ease by the presence of the other. Even when they were slinging insults and arguing over the simplest of things (he could not, at points, figure out how Bard thought, despite spending so much time in his head). Right now, Thranduil still hand tendrils of annoyance (of fear) snaking through his veins, but they seemed to calm when his hand gripped the other.

He is reluctant to let it fall.

"As long as we are both on the same page. Perhaps once I get you to realize that, we can work on that hair of yours?" It was something that Thranduil liked to tease the other about; the tangled mess of near curls that adorned the other's head. Not that Thranduil disliked it, oh no, he just wished that Bard ran a damn brush through it once in a while.

The smile that had been crawling slowly across the blonds face falters at the honest words. He did not expect his own honesty to be met with such words. Thranduil leans over until his shoulder is against Bard's in a sign of camaraderie that was strange for him, surely if another were to see it they would question it. He keeps his eyes forward, much like Bard's on the jaeger.

"I know. I do, but do you not think of how I would feel if something were to happen to you, and your ridiculous hair, because of me?" The jab is weak, thrown in for the sake of it being there rather than for any other effect. Thranduil is in strange waters here, waters that he has been testing since he had been paired with the stubborn, talented pilot all those months ago.
thorencalenaran: (nor the steel of the heart)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-22 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
"I beg to differ, do you even know what a brush looks like?" Because the state of his hair would say otherwise. Thranduil moves his hand from Bard's shoulder to his hair, tugging on a straggly lock for emphasis. The fact that they had just been in the jaeger and in battle mattered little to him at this point, though even his own hair was looking a little worse for wear. What mattered really, was that Bard was okay, and perhaps that was why Thranduil was so touchy; it was reassurance.

He took comfort in the solid form next to him, the heat radiating form Bard almost as calming as sinking into the drift. Almost.

Thranduil huffs, not quite a laugh, almost more of a forceful exhale, at Bard's heartfelt apology. "Just keep the self sacrificial tendencies to a minimum, shall we?" There is unease between them, Bard's words stirring up the water in a way that they had been able to avoid for quite some time. Thranduil would be lying if he said he knew how to handle it. He was never any good at this kind of thing. "Despite your stubbornness and horrible sense of fashion, I would have no other pilot as my partner. I hope you know that."

They were a mess outside the cockpit most of the time, but Thranduil was more than okay with that.
thorencalenaran: (and distrust in these bones)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-22 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
The look you are getting right now could rust a jaeger, Bard. Thranduil cannot quite believe that such a thing could even begin to pass as an excuse, but at the same time, the blond is not at all surprised. He has known the other long enough to know what emphasis he puts on his looks. Which was a pity considering--

Thranduil shakes head had, dropping the hair from his fingers and snorting lightly. "We could terrify the kaiju right back to the portal with your helmet head." He pushes against Bard's temple lightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. He does not, despite knowing he should, pull back from the other.

Reassurance through contact was not a thing he usually initiated, but it was necessary after today.

"So long as you can then endure my ire, this should not be too much of a problem." It was not as if Thranduil was innocent of such acts himself, he was just a bit better at disguising his attempts. There was a control to Thranduil, something that he had worked on a great deal in order to become the pilot that he was today. And, no matter what Bard may think about who was more important, the blond would not agree. He had drifted with others before, piloted with them, and none came remotely close to Bard.

So when the other reacts with such surprise, Thranduil cannot help the brow that creeps upwards.

"You seem surprised. You are impossible I admit, but you are one hell of a pilot. I have drifted with many, few could match your skills. " He pushes himself off the rail, away from Bard. "And all but one had better hair." The infamous Thorin had hair that made Bard's look tame. That was also a disaster that, more or less, everyone in this shatterdome had heard about. Then again, they just might have heard the yelling matches between the two before they found more drift compatible partners.
thorencalenaran: (in these bones)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-02-27 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
Pity about that, Thranduil is going to have to get better looks then, ones that are not lost on the other pilot. Can't have him thinking he was above those looks, oh no.

"I do not think that I am exaggerating in the lest, there might actually be kaiju in your hair as we speak, and no one would be the wiser for it." It was nice, to be able to do this; a restrained banter that did not end in raised voices and simmering anger. And while it did not happen often, Thranduil tried to make it happen more often. It was not his fault that the other was so infuriating most of the time. "And I shall become restrained when you learn what a brush is."

The twitch of his lips means that he is clearly lying. There is little way that he would become restrained in anything that he did, aside from control his emotions. That, for him, was a constant must. He could not afford to be hurt as he once was ever again.

NOt even if, on occasions, he wished to trust the man beside him.

"I am not insulting, merely telling you the truth that you do not wish to hear. That is not an issue that I must come to terms with. " He raised an eyebrow, bright blue caught on the lines and angles of Bard's figure before shaking himself from his idle observance. " I dare say that, compared to that time you completely disregarded all textbook rules and nearly got yourslef killed attempting to defend the boarder, this is nothing."

Is there still some bitterness there? Why yes, there is. He does not, though he may not say it, want to lose you, Bard. He has never been able to drift or pilot so well with any other, and if him chewing you out after a particularly reckless move will keep you alive a day longer, even if it's mad at him, he shall do it.

There is a hand on Bard's shoulder as Thranduil plans to leave. He gives the other a rare smile, quirk of his lips if anything. " I fear that, if it were not for you, I would not have survived this long. So perhaps I owe you a thanks."
thorencalenaran: (let me show you death)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-02 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
"You never know, we would have to find it first in order to deal with it. And, in that mess..." He trails off, finger tangling in the locks once more for emphasis. It was strange for him to be so inclined to touch, to cross that line that was drawn so clearly between them. Between Thranduil and everyone else really. And yet--

There was always a chink in the armour, wasn't there? As much as Thranduil might wish otherwise, there was. He could not expect to drift with someone, to protect someone's back and know their innermost thoughts without growing at least somewhat attached to them. Much to his chagrin. This was not something that Thranduil ever wanted, but he was finding it harder and harder to fight it.

I do what needs to be done makes Thranduil close his eyes, hand dropping away from the brunet. Those words terrified him, because he knew the other man and knew that he meant it, no matter what Thranduil might try to convince him of otherwise. "Maybe you should do what it takes to live, Bard. For yourself and for others. I dare say you are worth far more alive, horrible hair and all, than you are a martyr."

The blond looks at the hand on his own and, in a strange moment of bravery (foolishness?) he toes at their line a little harder. "Come then, Bard of the Kaiju hair, let us drink away that headache I am sure you are currently suffering from."
thorencalenaran: (laughter since thought gone)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-08 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
There is nothing more that Thranduil wants than such a simple response. It speaks to him of a level of comfort that he knows Bard allows to few; he feels blessed to be one of those few. It was the same in return in truth there were few that Thranduil would cross that line with; few he would deem worthy of getting to know in any sense. Bard was, of the living, the only one. Even the ghosts of his past could not make Thranduil regret his actions.

It pleases the blond to note that his words have some effect on the other, that he considers the worth of his life rather than of his death. Thranduil understands the need to protect, the urge that consumes Bard, not only because they drift, but because he himself has it. Yet he also knows the weight that death brings, even in the name of protection. That is not something he wishes upon anyone.

Eyeing the brunet, Thranduil is pleased, for the moment, with that realization that he sees flicker in green eyes. He would like more, something more tangible than realization, but he knows that he will not get it now. Perhaps he never will, but he could hope.

Hope that flickers to life in his chest when Bard takes him up on his offer, the spontaneous thing that he thought so little of, but now was quite looking forward to. The blond nearly grins at the words, blue eyes amused at the thought. "It may upset you know know, that I am not the easiest to ply with liquor. " He turns, ponytail swinging with the movement. "I dare say that almost sounds like you wish to see me inebriated, Bard." He returns the teasing tone, flicker of a smile as he looks behind him.
thorencalenaran: (laughter since thought gone)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-09 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
Perhaps he would, but it was best not to bet things of importance upon it. Thranduil, for all his intelligence, was not always the brightest when it came to things that involved emotions. He was a fighter, had put up more walls since the beginning of this war than most, and he would take longer than most to tear them down.

For now, he would enjoy what he had, whether it was the ghost of the drift or not, and see where it lead him. Drinks would always help. The blond smirks over his shoulder at his partner, amusement in the arch of his brow. "Perhaps you would like to hear my melodious voice sing? I have been told it is something ethereal." Or perhaps he just wants to tease the other, to see what he could elicit with words and small smiles. Things that he was not, usually, inclined to share with the other.

Perhaps, Thranduil thought, he should try for such things more often if the coy smile that crept across the others face was any indication. They did not usually banter in such a way, with nothing but the threads of connection humming between them. It was... liberating for the blond. He tried so hard to keep his walls up, to keep all but his son at bay. This-- This was different.

But not unwanted.

Thranduil nearly looks scandalized at the accusation, mouth twitching. "Is that what you think of me? That I would stoop to such levels? My, Bard, I think I may be hurt." He pauses, head tilting. "A little bit. Perhaps."
thorencalenaran: (well isnt this a good jest)

horrible image of thranduil singing to a dying/injured bard. stop me

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-10 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
"I wonder, is that jest or do you truly wish to hear me sing?" He gives the other a grin, tossing blond hair over his shoulder. "You need only ask and I would indulge you, you know. " Which, for most, was not a truth. Thranduil was not one that would sing for no reason and it was only through very few drunken evenings and even rarer moments where someone had snuck up on him that others had ever even heard his voice. Though, for Bard, perhaps he would be more easily swayed.

Their exchanges, no matter how fuelled by anger or frustration, annoyance or irritation, Thrnaduil was well aware that the other brought about in him a level of emotion that far surpassed that of anyone else. And, it spoke volumes to-- to something, that his co pilot managed to draw from him not only ire but something that spoke of amusement. Of fondness in his own way. His son was quick to hide knowing smiles when Thranduil ranted about the other, a trait his mother would often indulge in when she knew, knew so much more than Thranduil.

It made his heart ache, but it also made him wonder what more there was to this connection.

"And what would I have to do to make you think otherwise, I wonder?" Not that he would. Perhaps it would be nice to see Bard without the suit of armour, to have them both, not in a jaeger and in each other's minds, but as people in each other's company.

Thranduil has a response on his lips, something playful and terribly out of character, but he is stopped by the endearment. My dear echoing in his head a moment longer than perhaps it should have. It is lost when Bard continues, but Thranduil will not forget it, forget the constriction in his chest at such a simple thing.

If he faltered, Thranduil regained his composure quickly, jabbing an elbow into the other's ribs. "I am one of the best, and you know it, darling." It's daring and crossing a line, but there is just enough sarcasm laden in the word, that Thranduil is willing to risk it.
thorencalenaran: (Default)

Re: asjdahksjdsa ;-;

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-10 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)

"I am most inclined to indulge you, Bard. Not guaranteed to indulge you. I would hope that, by this point, you are well aware of how carefully cultivated my demeanour is. I am not about to go putting cracks in it in the name of kindness." There is an edge to his voice; a fight in Thranduil's self as to just what he means and what he is saying. Surely he would not indulge the other in circumstances that would not benefit his own reputation? And yet, the blond was not so sure about that.

He could only hope that the words, said in a defensiveness that Thranduil could not quite explain, were taking in the wrong manner. It had taken them far too long to get to this point, it would be a pity that some ill thought words ruined it.

Especially when Bard says nothing of his comment, merely sways into him and gives Thranduil a bit more of the contact, a bit more grounding after the events of the day and steadies the blond even more. Perhaps he should try to reign in his temper more often if this was the result.

Then again, maybe not.

Thranduil growled, swiping (and missing, bloody reflexes) at Bard for the Thorin comment. If there was one human being that Thranduil could not stand, it was Thorin Oakenshield. The glower does not leave his face, even as Bard begins to walk before him; eyebrows in a stern line and face the perfect picture of annoyed. "He is a curse upon this institution and we are lucky he hasn't personally invited a kaiju into the Shatterdome yet."

That is a jest. Mostly. But it does encompass just how Thranduil felt about the other. " You are so very, very lucky that I like you, Bard. Very lucky."

thorencalenaran: (Default)

[personal profile] thorencalenaran 2015-03-12 03:24 pm (UTC)(link)

An eyebrow goes up at that, a clear indication as to what Thranduil thinks of Bard's teasing. And yet, there was still a softness to the action, something less harsh and judgemental than what might usually cross his features if someone annoyed him with such taunts. "As it should, you are a menace, Bard. A menace." There is a glower at the mention of Thorin again, the disdain that the blond held for the other something he could not always express in words. "You mention him too often and I might just start associating this burning hatred with you."

It is not a truth by any means; the differences between the two pilots was staggering and, for a moment, Thranduil nearly feels something like remorse for making the comparison. But he says nothing, and finds his ire diminishing in the face of Bard's grin. He reaches out to swat at the other, the sad attempt at violence a bridge almost.

"I am not sure of that, I doubt that I could strangle you. Though the whole kaiju in your hair idea could be an entertaining way to plot your demise if I so wished." Not that he would. There were few he wished such things upon and Bard-- Bard was not one of them.

This exchange, as strange as it was, was also liberating. He had not felt so connected outside of the drift in a very long time to anyone aside his own son. The blond side eyes Bard, mouth twitching slightly. "So what of yourself, shall I be serenaded if I ply you with the correct drink? Or shall my ears bleed?"