#But that kind of comes with the territory of bridging a canon game and a fanon prequel that also takes liberties with the plot and lore LOL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bumblebugwrites · 2 years ago

Text

chapter 1: nothing's new

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: After nearly two years of peace, you are called back to the Capitol only to find that the future they promised you was a lie.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Minor Character Death.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Coriolanus Snow is many things, he thinks to himself, but incompetent is not one of them. So there had been the Lucy Gray hiccup. Helping her cheat the Games only for her to die at the hands of Dr. Gaul’s snakes after he failed to slip the handkerchief into their tank was inconvenient, to say the least. As was his brief stint as a Peacekeeper as punishment for his dishonest tactics following the discovery of a certain compact with her remains. Still, he had learned a valuable lesson. Love is no more than a disadvantage, a distraction lodging itself like an unfortunate bump in his flawless plan. And now, he is back, having traded Sejanus’s life for his own advancement. It was nothing personal, really. Personal is a luxury, the only one he can not afford.

Sure, the loss had hurt, but the District 7 boy made a fine victor and one he could control with a far greater degree of ease, given the detachment he felt in regard to the kid’s safety. New year, new him, new Games, and this time, things would be different.

His proposals had gone through without much struggle, especially with Dr. Gaul practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He is the protege; his mentor is the kind of woman you do not cross without bearing the consequences.

And so, on this fine morning, as he stands with the casual grace of a cat, elegantly perched on the corner of his desk, he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face as he delivers the order he’s been waiting for weeks to give.

“Well? Go get them.”

It is a cold day in District 10, at least colder than most you think as you finish your daily sweep of the ranch and its expansive territory. You pull back lightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop.

“To name an animal, any animal, it’s counterproductive. Selfish even. Makes for a more difficult slaughter; always best to remain detached.” Your father’s words echo in your head as you dip your neck to whisper soft praise to the creature below, her hind branded with a string of three numbers: 039. Her label, to call it a name, would be to demean anyone granted the privilege of such a thing.

“That was good Bluebell, nice easy ride. Told you it would get better.” She is young. Young enough to spook with a fair amount of ease, but then so are you. Had been ever since your Games.

You dismount, hitting the ground with a soft thud before coming around to face the gentle giant and fishing a handful of sugar cubes out of your pocket. She nuzzles the food in your palm before beginning to eat, and you run a hand up and down the bridge of her nose. The world is quiet, dew still catching the light of the rising sun when you see it in the distance: the armored vehicle speeding towards the cabin housing the front office. It is not unusual for Peacekeepers to come and go from the building, but the night shift typically does not end until 8:00 am, and dawn’s colors still paint the lower half of the sky. Something is wrong.

Two men exit the vehicle, entering the small building before quickly reappearing at its entrance, a third companion in tow. He stands on the porch for one beat, two, a lazy hand draped over his eyes as he scans the field for something. Someone. And then he points. You. They are looking for you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your body screams at you to mount once more and ride as fast and as far away as you can, but you stay rooted. Frozen. You watch, helplessly still, as the car only comes closer, pulling to a stop on the other side of the fence, keeping the pastures separated from the open road. The Peacekeeper in the passenger seat steps out, boots scraping the gravel.

“Ms. L/N?” You only nod.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us; you’ve been called to the Capitol.” You feel like screaming, but your throat constricts, and all you can do is take slow, encumbered breaths as your body caves in on itself and you crumple to the ground.

“I– What?”

You do not mind the mud on your knees, and the slow chill that begins to spread from the places dampened by the wet grass is barely perceptible in your state of shock. Called to the Capitol. Your mind jumps back home, your brother and sister still tucked away, blankets to their chins. They would not rise for another thirty minutes at least. You picture your mother. Savoring a final moment of quiet in her busy day, sipping the coffee you’d left in the pot just for her. Your mind replays the goodbyes you had paid them this morning. Careless and quick, not like the day of the reaping. Just sloppy kisses pressed haphazardly to their foreheads and a gentle farewell on your way out the door.

“That’s not possible– It’s not– I haven’t…” There is an eerie stillness to the world at this time of day. One that only seems to press inwards, suffocating you. Distantly, you feel the soft pressure of Bluebell’s muzzle on your shoulder as though urging you to get up

Though the man in the driver’s seat seems annoyed by the inconvenience, his partner fails to shield the look of pity that flits across his face as he dips to pass through the fence, pulling you up and then back through the gap with him. He is not rough as he sets you in the backseat, not like the Peacekeepers you remember from your Games, or maybe he is; everything seems a blur as the car makes its way to the train station, and it is only as the compartment doors to close behind you that you think of Bluebell, left out in the pasture, probably licking fallen sugar cubes off the ground.

Treech releases a labored exhale as he tries once more to readjust his grip on the axe. It’s just a tree. He can sense the nearby Peacekeeper shuffling from foot to foot, anxious for him to get on with the process. This is not the arena. I am safe. I am home.

There is no time off granted to returning victors following their stint in the Games. Production is production, and there are quotas to be met, so Treech had arrived home, and the following morning, before the sun had kissed the hilltops with its light, he had risen to go to work. Only work didn’t come easy the way it used to, lulling him into a rhythmic sense of comfort with its repetitive motions, and each time he raised his axe, all he saw was them. The other tributes waiting to receive the killing blow.

Treech wipes the sweat from his brow in a single frustrated motion in spite of the cold, then, squaring his jaw, he takes a swing. Crunch. The axe lodges itself in Teslee’s head, and he stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. Only it is not Teslee. No. He blinks once, twice, and it is only a pine tree, and he is back in the forest, sinking under the weight of the Peacekeeper’s heavy glare. The man, stationed less than a yard away, begins to move towards him, and Treech prepares himself for another beating, the sharp threats from the last time still ringing in his ears.

“Officer,” a voice calls out in their direction as another man of higher rank, from what Treech can gauge, approaches the pair. The two men meet and begin to speak in hushed voices, eyes flitting in his direction every few sentences. They’re gonna fire me. Or worse, string me up in the square and use me as an example. His grip on the axe tightens. His axe. His father’s before him. He will not go down without a fight.

“Hey, you,” Treech keeps his eyes on the forest floor, silently praying to any higher power that will listen that he is not the you in question.

“Hey! Hey, you!” He can hear the man approaching, but the sound of his footsteps is dulled by the pounding of Treech’s heart. He feels like a child in a bathtub, head halfway under the surface as the water beats at his eardrums, completely still and as loud as a tidal wave. A firm grasp settles around the fabric of his winter coat, far too thin for the cold but the best he can afford.

“Listen to me when I’m fucking speaking to you,” the Peacekeeper spits, and Treech’s mouth settles into a hard line, his hand curled into a tight fist, twitching by his side. The man before him huffs in frustration.

“Call came in from the Capitol; you’re on the next train out,” he moves as though he’s going to release Treech before yanking him back in, close enough to press his mouth to the boy’s ear.

“You’re lucky the order came from above; if I had a say, I’d gun you down right here for the disrespect.” With that, he gives the kid before him a hard shove before beginning to stalk off.

“Let’s go.” But Treech feels as though the ground beneath him has disappeared. Back to the Capitol? Would they send him into the arena? He was done. Won his Games fair and square. He was supposed to be free. What more could they want?

The first thing you notice about the train is that it is the nicest thing you have ever set foot inside of. During your Games, and all those before and after, transport to the Capitol had been relegated to old cattle cars used to shuttle livestock across Panem, and the same had been true on your return trip. This is different. Every inch of the compartment is decorated with the lavish and ornate, all-cushioned seats and elaborate chandeliers.

The second thing you notice is the boy. He is older than you, you think, by several years. Five, maybe six. He seems out of place, tucked into the corner of one of the booths, sizing you up suspiciously. He looks familiar.

“I– Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met before,” he responds, cold and guarded. But there is something about him, his build, tall and broad, dark skin and brown eyes; you could almost imagine them looking soft and kind in a different environment.

He keeps the sharp look on his face, and you have yet to move from the doors when it clicks.

“You won seven years ago; I remember you. District 11. Teff, right?”

“You’re the girl from 10,” he says, and his posture relaxes, if only by a fraction.

“Y/N.” You smile, and you mean it to be a comfort, but there’s a fear in your eyes that betrays the anxiety deep in your gut. Still, you move closer, sliding into the seat across from him and bringing your hands into a neat pile on your lap.

“What are we doing here?” It’s small and whispered as it escapes your lips, and your gaze refuses to meet Teff’s as you wait for an answer.

“I have no idea.”

It is several hours before the train stops again, and though they are mostly passed in silence, the occasional attempt is made at small talk. Whispered theories mingle among everyday questions. So, what do you do in District 11? Do you think they’re gonna kill us? There’s lots of horses back home, cows too. They can’t put us back in, right? Only once, that’s what they said.

The next time the doors open, you are in 2, as indicated by the towering stone walls keeping it separate from neighboring Districts. Three people get on. One of the boys you recognize immediately: Octavian Blackwell, the first victor. His hair is dark, clipped short in a sort of military cut, and his eyes look as though they are carved from steel. Beside him is a girl, small and lithe, her posture relaxed and tense all at once. Antonia. The name echos out from some dark, cavernous corner of your mind. The first female victor, 3rd Hunger Games. The final boy is taller than both his counterparts, though leaner in build than Octavian; you wrack your brain, praying for some form of recollection, but he remains unfamiliar to you.

“More victors,” whispers Teff, and you watch as the three faces before you seem to come to the same realization.

“What the fuck is going on?” It’s the District 2 boy who breaks the silence, the one whose name continues to elude you.

“Hector,” Antonia hisses, a warning lacing her tone, but her eyes betray a curiosity lingering beneath the surface.

“They can’t put us back in, right? There’s not enough. Not to mention, half the districts wouldn’t even have tributes,” you sputter the words up, an involuntary torrent of concern spewing from your mouth. Your gaze flits nervously from face to face, and in spite of the many hardened exteriors, you can feel it beneath the surface, a brewing apprehension. Octavian breaks the silence.

“They won’t put us back in.” And he seems certain. He is old, you think. Not old in the way a grandparent is, but aged certainly. You had never taken the time to imagine a tribute outside childhood, escaping adolescence into fully formed adulthood, but here was Octavian, who must have been at least twenty-six, with several deep-set wrinkles beginning to mar his brow.

“Probably just rounding us all up to kill us, send a real message after those shitshow Games last year,” Hector grumbles, moving further into the compartment and thrusting himself into the booth across from you and Teff. “Just watch; I bet we’ll hit 4 next, then 7, and 1.”

The noise of uncomfortable shuffling seems to fill the compartment, and eventually, Octavian and Antonia settle into the booth beside Hector. You can’t help but allow the shell of a laugh to brush past your lips. A whole train car for the lot of you, and here you were, pressed into the two corner booths. Sure, the cage is bigger, but you still cower like animals. Like you’re back in those trucks ushering you from the train to the arena, gleaning a last moment of comfort as you brushed shoulders with the children you would watch die.

Hector was right. The train stopped at 4, though only one boy got on. Trawl, he’d won the 8th Games, just before yours. You remember distantly hearing of another victor from 4, a boy who was killed upon return. Murdered by the father of his district partner, who accused him of killing her. Stabbed him in the town square, they said. The Peacekeepers only watched.

The train grinds once more to a halt in 7, and quick glance outside the window reveals a station made entirely of wood, grand posts carved with ornate designs supporting the massive roof. You glance towards the door, waiting for him, the newest victor. You do not have to work hard to recall his name, Treech; the two syllables had echoed from every radio in your mother's house the day the 10th Games ended.

The doors open with a hiss, and he stumbles in as though pushed, a mop of curls obscuring his eyes. He seems dazed. As he lifts his head, you watch it happen. The same realization that had dawned on every victor to enter the compartment after you, but then his gaze only grows dull as though accepting some secret fate you had yet to be alerted of before he shuffles forward, taking a seat on a longer bench facing the door. Alone.

It is several more hours before you reach 1, and although some hushed conversation continues to fill the train car, you sit in silence, casting worried glances at the quiet boy with his head in his hands. He is not crying, you think; his shoulders are too still, but his breathing remains too rapid to indicate sleep. Maybe he just likes to listen, you suppose, trying to grasp the newest direction of the chatter around you. Maybe he’s scared. As you turn once more to analyze his hunched shape, Trawl catches your line of sight, speaking up from beside you.

“Just leave him alone; if he wants to sit by himself sulking, that’s his problem,” he mutters close to your ear.

“For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush. Give him a break,” you say, moving to stand before making your way over to the place on the bench beside him. You are quiet for a time, unsure how to start, but as your lips begin to purse around a greeting, he interrupts you.

“I like your hat.” His voice is flat, a single eye visible from behind the curtain of his hair. You forgot you were wearing a hat. It was your father’s from his brief time on the ranch before transferring to the slaughterhouse, where he met your mom. Your hand darts up to trace the brim.

“Thanks, it was–” But then his tone registers, and you recognize the snark behind the compliment, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“You some sort of cowgirl?”

“How do you know what a cowgirl is?” You ask, and your eyebrows draw together in surprise at the knowledge.

“Read about them in school once, before I dropped out.”

“I guess so. Usually, people just call me a ranch hand.” He lifts his head at this, and you realize he’s quite pretty on closer viewing.

“Doesn’t sound as cool.” The ghost of a smirk lights his face as he says it.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” you say, grinning back. His smile is quick to fade, and he turns once more, fixing his gaze ahead, away from you.

“Why are we here?” He asks, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. You ache to be able to provide him with an answer, but the same question has been clawing at you since the two men showed up on the ranch this morning.

“I– I’m not sure.” He nods, and it is solemn, like a prayer, but he does not return his face to his hands, instead watching the miles of land roll by in a blur, no single thing occupying the space outside the window for longer than a second. You find yourself looking, too, imagining how it must feel to go 250 mph. You decide it's probably like flying.

By the time you reach 1 to collect its two victors, a searing silence has spread over the train, the atmosphere tense. The journey to the Capitol is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and as the skyline appears over the barriers built to keep people like you out, you feel the apprehension shrouding the compartment begin to buzz. It is only then that Hector speaks, shattering the stillness with a single phrase.

“Welcome back to Hell.”

The sun is setting as the train pulls into the station, and you twitch nervously, scraping your nails against the pads of your fingertips. Beside you, Treech watches your movements with a fixed gaze as though pondering reaching out to still the repetitive motions himself. He does not, and you fail to notice his attention on you at all, eyes fixed ahead on the double doors.

When they open, a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on the car within a matter of seconds, hoisting you from the seats, snatching at arms and shoulders in their attempts to muscle you out of the compartment. A startled yelp escapes your lips as the man with a harsh grasp on the collar of your shirt rips you forward and onto the platform, jostling your hat from your head.

“No–” You lunge for the single remnant of your father, straining against the Peacekeeper working to wrangle you towards an awaiting vehicle, but it is no use. He wraps you in a firm pair of arms, lifting you, kicking and biting from the ground the remainder of the distance before tossing you onto the floor of the car. As you whip around to assail him once more, the doors fall closed with a thud, leaving you to pound futilely against them.

Eventually, your jabs lose their power, and you sink down, forehead pressed to the cool metal, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling over. A hand makes its presence known on your shoulder as the car begins to move, and you turn to glimpse Trawl, his face painted with concern. A quick once over of the vehicle reveals only half the victors had been loaded on: you, Trawl, and the two tributes from 1, Lux, who sits with both hands clasped primly in her lap, and Beau, whose only visible sign of distress is the repeated preening of his hair.

“My– My hat. It was my dad’s–” you stutter out as Trawl helps you onto the seat beside his, “I don’t– there’s nothing else left.” The concern in his eyes settles into pity, and you feel like shrinking under the weight of his compassion, tired of feeling helpless.

It is not long before the car pulls to a stop, and the doors come open once more. It is dark out now, and you can’t help but find it unusual, the feeling that you are being smuggled, rushed in under the cover of night. Typically everything is a display in the Capitol. If they are going to kill you, where are the cameras? You are ushered into an elevator, and one of the Peacekeepers extends an arm, scanning a card before pressing the button for the top floor. You think distantly this might be some sort of hotel. You have never been inside a hotel before. A simple ding alerts you to the fact that you have reached your destination, and you are jostled out and through the door directly before you following the swipe of another card.

It is a large room. You had always believed hotels came with the promise of a bed, but this seems more like a home: a kitchen with appliances you do not recognize, a luxurious lounge with a semicircular couch facing a large projection, and a man, his hair as white as snow.

“Please, let’s not manhandle our guests,” he calls out to the group of Peacekeepers herding you into the center of the room, and they back away, taking up posts on the surrounding walls. Their message is clear: you are not permitted to leave.

You reach up to rub at the place where, only moments before, your arm had been kept in an iron grip when the door to the room flings open again, the remainder of the victors stumbling in. Teff comes first, ripping his bicep from the man beside him upon entrance, followed by Hector, Antonia, and Octavian, who seem more contained. Last is Treech, a newly formed bruise beginning to darken the area around his eye, and your father's hat held delicately in his hand, fingers pinched around the rim. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor but lifts his head upon hearing your stifled gasp.

“Come, make yourselves comfortable. I don’t bite, I promise.” The man at the front of the room speaks with a placating tone and words meant to dulcify, but he smiles like a wolf. No one moves.

“Let’s try this again. Sit down.” From behind you, you can hear the Peacekeepers beginning to shuffle from their stations, inching forward. Octavian is the first to budge. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the couch before nodding at Antonia and Hector, who follow close behind. You look to Teff and then to Treech, only a few feet away from him, still holding your father’s hat. The former surveys the room once before giving you a slow nod, and you move to sit. They file in behind you, Trawl quick on their heels, and the four of you occupy a single corner of the couch being sure to leave room for Lux and Beau. As he slides into the seat next to yours, Treech tenderly sets the hat atop your lap, and you mouth a subtle thank you that he leaves unacknowledged.

“Much better.” The man before you grins, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a look of recognition pass across Treech’s face.

“So glad you could all join us.” He claps his hands together before clearing his throat to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what you’re doing here, and I want to assure you that in spite of the worries you expressed on the train, we are not going to kill you.” A chill passes down your spine at his implication: they had been watching you.

“See, you represent a new beginning. The birth of a different kind of Games. A better kind of Games.” A wave of confusion seems to pass over the lot of you. Though it is more like anxiety, and you feel a bit like you are drowning in it.

“Now, last year, well, that was quite the mess,” he says, nodding to Treech as though they are in on some sort of joke together. Your stomach turns.

“But the important thing is, we learned something: the people of the Capitol need someone to care about. To root for, if you will. Which means it’s time for a new way of thinking.” He pauses as though for dramatic effect, and you can’t help but think his speech feels practiced. Had he smiled this morning, delivering his death knell to the bathroom mirror?

“Right now, the Games, they make people sad, uncomfortable even. Too much humanity, not enough spectacle.” Beside you, Treech tenses. “There is nothing commodifiable about the current structure. But if, say, we were to place a higher value on the victors and make you celebrities of sorts, then this blight becomes an honor.” The nine faces before him appear as though they are sculpted from stone; he clears his throat before continuing.

“And how, you may ask, do we plan to do that? Well, starting this year, the past victors will be in charge of mentoring the children from your districts.” Here, there is some breakage. Anger, plain and simple, seeping through the masks. Antonia begins to speak.

“Fuck no–”

“I’m not finished, thank you. Now, this will come with an array of new challenges. There will, of course, be interviews to prepare them for, something you obviously have no experience with, as well as a tribute parade.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as the sole image your mind conjures is last year’s tributes chained to a flatbed truck, Brandy’s dead body swaying from a crane above them. Brandy, who you knew. Who was only one year younger than you. Who had a talent for soothing any creature with which she came in contact and who cried for three days the first time she killed a hog.

“And you will be in charge of organizing sponsorships once they are in the arena, networking, and such. But not to worry, each of you will be given an escort from the Capitol, someone to help you navigate the trickier aspects of the job. And you will not go unrewarded either. Starting this year, victors will be granted financial compensation as well as eventual housing in a Victor’s Village, which will be put up in each of your home districts. Still, we will need to begin with a sort of reintroduction to teach the public what your new role as a victor is, and–”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, so quiet you think no one hears.

“Excuse me?” The man’s gaze is icy cold, like a knife to the chest.

“That’s– That’s not fair. What about the kids in 12? 8? 6 and 5? If you do this, the same people will win every year.” You stare back, and when your hands begin to shake, you hide them beneath your thighs.

“I don’t typically give lessons in power for free; you should be grateful.”

“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.

“Not evil, just practical.”

“The Capitol hates us, they think we’re scum. They’ll never get behind this,” Treech offers from beside you, and you see it on him, the mark of last year's Games. The toll they took.

“If the citizens of the Capitol think we care, they will too. I’ll put you on television with the goddamned President if I have to. This will work.”

“What if we won’t do it?” Teff demands, his voice low, tinged with a warning.

“You have a family, do you not?” The man asks, and the threat pools in his eyes, but he voices it anyway. “Would you like to continue having a family?” It is quiet for a moment, and the weight of his words feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried in your life.

“We were supposed to be done. We won our Games,” It is Hector who speaks this time, rising from his seat. He pauses for a moment, then raises his brow as though in a challenge. “Well, I don’t have any family. Not anymore. Not thanks to this bullshit fucking system, so you know what? I think I’ll pass.” From beside him, Antonia claws at his arm, a pleading look in her eyes. It is too late. The man with the white hair nods, and two of the Peacekeepers on the back wall step forward.

“That’s too bad. He can go.” They are on Hector in a matter of seconds, but they do not make for the door; instead, they seize him, one on each arm, and turn towards the hallway, splitting off from the large central room. Several victors move to stand, with Trawl and Octavian making an attempt to follow, but they are swiftly restrained, and you sit in silent shock as the sounds of Hector’s struggle become distant. A door slams. Then, a gunshot. After that, it is quiet. Your limbs feel stiff, frozen even. From your other side, Lux releases a stifled sob. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Teff throw up.

“Anyone else have any concerns they wish to voice?” It’s as though you have all stopped breathing.

“Wonderful. We’ll begin in the morning. You’ll each have a team here to prepare you for the press tour. Your rooms are numbered by district. Be ready at 5:00 am sharp. I’d hate to have any more incidents.”

“So, we’re trapped here?” You speak again, though the sound of your own voice comes as a shock. The man only sighs.

“This is not a prison, no. Though we would prefer you not leave the premises–” You don’t give him time to finish, making a hasty exit through the door where you came in.

“Just make sure she doesn’t leave the building,” he sighs with a haphazard wave of his hand in your direction.

You are at the bar when Treech finds you, two glasses of Posca deep.

He hadn’t meant to go looking for you, really, only to clear his head and get away from that room. Shortly after your departure, two men had entered with a stretcher and left only minutes later with it full, the vague outline of a body visible beneath a white linen sheet. He had followed them out and then quickly abandoned their company at the prospect of sharing their elevator, instead descending the stairs. From the 32nd floor. And there you were, right as the door to the lobby opened, hat on the bar and your eyes fixed on something he wasn’t sure was really there.

“No hard liquor here. At least not for us,” you huff, slumping in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

“And don’t bother asking for the bottle either. They’ll just give you one of these. Nothing more dignified than drowning my sorrows in a glass that costs more than my mother’s house,” you wave a limp hand at the ornate flute before you, doing little to disguise the biting sarcasm in your tone.

“I’ll take what she’s having,” Treech mutters to the man behind the bar, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to bear the weight of the curious gaze being pressed upon the pair of you.

“Do you remember them, the other tributes?” You ask suddenly, as though the thought had been clouding your mind for hours.

“The other victors?” You shake your head.

“No. The other kids in the arena.” Treech freezes for only a moment, caught off guard, but it’s enough time for the truth to plaster itself across his face. Every day.

“Sure.” You don’t say anything, only sit patiently, waiting for him to continue. “There was– There was Lamina; she was from home.” I watched her die. I sat by and did nothing. “And there was Coral and Mizzen; they were from 4. And the youngest. She was from 8. Had these hearts made of buttons on her pants. Wovey, I think. From 12, there was Lucy Gray, the girl who sang. Reaper, he was the last to die. I killed him. Killed the girl from 3, too. Teslee.”

He feels his voice begin to waver and opts to stop talking. You sit in silence for a moment, trading quiet nods with the bartender as he returns with Treech’s drink.

“Rye.”

“Sorry?” Treech asks, still lost in the memories of his fellow tributes.

“He was the youngest. He had these eyes just like my kid brother, big and sad. He just stood there, I remember, when the games started. The boy from 2 killed him; just walked up and broke his neck. Couldn’t have been that hard; he was so small. But he looked so surprised like he hadn’t known it was coming, even after he hit the ground.” Treech thinks he might be sick, and beside him, the color has drained from your face.

“Twenty-four kids every year, and we’ll have front-row seats to all of it. The people in the districts, in the Capitol, they’ll forget, let a name or two slip, but we’ll see them all. Watch them train, see their interviews, pick them apart in hopes of a weakness.” Treech downs his glass in one go before signaling to the bartender he needs a refill. You push your flute in the same direction, looking the District 7 boy up and down as though you’d never given him too much thought before.

“I never envied you. The way the Capitol dragged you through the streets for all those funerals, put you behind bars in a fuckin’ zoo, had you play nice and pleasant before sending you off to slaughter. At least ours was quick. Picked us all up on the train, threw us in the back of a truck, and then dumped us in the arena. Nobody knew who we were. Nobody wanted to.” You break off in a laugh that is brittle and unforgiving.

“Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m in the market for a new job. Turns out you’re no good at chopping trees when you can barely hold an axe anymore,” Treech jokes, but the smile on his face does not reach his eyes.

“They–” but you are quick to pause, halting mid-sentence as though contemplating continuing. You exhale softly before clearing your throat and lifting your eyes once more to meet his.

“They had to fire me.” Treech’s brows lurch forward in confusion, creating two dimples in the flesh just above his nose.

“At the slaughterhouse,” you supply. “They had to fire me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t kill anything. The Peacekeepers, they just wanted me gone. I’m pretty sure they would have just gotten rid of me too, you know, set an example, but I knew the guy who ran the place. I used to give his daughter art lessons. He made a call, and I got transferred. Started working as a ranch hand instead.” You stop, and for a moment, Treech thinks you’ve finished.

“I kept thinking they were him. I would pick up the knife, and suddenly, it was like I was back in the arena, watching him die.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“They say what I did to that kid; they say it was mercy. A mercy kill. But I still killed him, and he’s still dead. And I have never stopped thinking about it.” You clear your throat once more and cast your gaze down, hoping to disguise the tears collecting in your eyes. Treech takes notice. He remembers a conversation not two months prior with his mother. The way his voice shook as he spoke. About the games. About the other tributes. He recalls the twisted expression of discomfort she bore, the pity, and above all, his own anger at feeling helpless. Wounded.

“Art lessons? You paint?” Relief, instant and undisguised, etches itself across your features.

“Draw, mostly. Charcoal, pencil, anything easy to come by. I was gonna be a veterinarian before– Well, you know. I was practicing for scientific sketches, but I just sort of fell in love with the way they moved– animals.”

“You have a favorite?”

“Horses are the hardest. Cows– they’re soft, like people. Some people, I guess. I saw a fox once, little gray thing, sleeping in the grass. I think maybe I liked that one the best. My mom used to say it was good luck, a fox crossing your path. Though, I can’t imagine how. That– That was the day before my reaping.”

You sit in silence for a moment before Treech speaks again.

“You lived. Maybe that was it: the good luck.”

“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Like maybe everyone else got out easy, and here we are still living in a nightmare.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” he whispers, but it’s as though he’s pleading with some higher power that it might be true. “It can’t be.”

“Wake up, Treech. This is it for us. They are gonna drag us out here every year to flounce around the capitol, parading new kids to their deaths– or worse, whatever this is, the horrible aftermath–”

“There’ll be new mentors. New winners–”

“Yeah, in 1 and 2 and maybe 4. Don’t you get it? We’re the runt districts. We’ll be lucky if we see another Victor in the next twenty-five years,” Treech swallows hard, willing his mouth to stop tasting so dry; he can feel his heart in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you ran with the pack in your games, but things are gonna change. Look around. They already are.”

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech thg #treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games #district 7 #x reader #thg #no evil angel but love #neabl

146 notes · View notes

nuwanders · 8 months ago

Note

Some questions from the TES OC game :D

For Mathyas:

14. Any motifs or symbolism for this character? Flowers, animals, etc.

24. What do they believe is their biggest weakness? What do you say is their biggest weakness?

For Jorunn:

18. Where do they fit on the morality chart?

21. Are they: Diplomatic or Violent? Passive or Instigating? Selfish or Selfless? Law abiding or Lawless? Trusting or Apprehensive? Caring or Indifferent?

thank you so much @dirty-bosmer! <3 great questions :)

14. Any motifs or symbolism for this character? Flowers, animals, etc.

mathyas does have a motif! it features mostly in the waiting door, but has also appeared a couple of times now in king & lionheart. that motif is a spider 🕷️

there’s an obvious lore explanation here, but in irl dream symbology, spiders are meant to signify that the dreamer is being manipulated. mathyas is being manipulated by several characters in his story—astrid, vivienne, even nazir to some extent—but he is also being manipulated by the narrative itself (i.e. me). i mean how unlucky do you have to be to pick the one house in windhelm with a traumatised boy and a rotting corpse as its inhabitants while searching for a hiding spot from slavers?

mathyas doesn’t slot naturally into the canon dark brotherhood questline so i had to manipulate the story a LOT to get it to work. thankfully there’s an in-universe explanation for all of this contrivance, which is that mathyas is one of those unfortunate souls who has been noticed by mephala and turned into one of her playthings. Which i get 100%, because torturing mathyas brings me a great deal of amusement, so basically i am mephala, mephala is me.

Spider imagery features quite heavily in The Waiting Door, but it’s supposed to be ambiguous to what extent these are just ordinary spiders, or whether it’s mephala sinking her claws into mathyas when he's young. Either way, the incident with the spider in the final scene leads mathyas to develop a lifelong case of arachnophobia. Poor boy.

24. What do they believe is their biggest weakness? What do you say is their biggest weakness?

Every misstep and miscalculation that mathyas makes throughout the course of king & lionheart (both what’s been written and what’s still to come), he blames on his not being smart enough— he thinks that if he were only cleverer, he could outsmart astrid and vivienne and beat them at their own game. He also feels held back by what he writes off as his ‘moral squeamishness’, his gut feeling that something is wrong even when his mind is telling him that it’s justifiable in the name of the greater good.

In reality, he’s got it all back to front. His downfall is caused by his overreliance on what he thinks of as logic or rationality, his refusal to see ethics as anything other than a numbers game, even when his heart and soul are screaming at him to stop. He tries to control what he can in a situation that is soooo so far removed from his control, and in doing so commits some deeds that ultimately are never justified by some happy end.

jórunn under the cut!

18. Where do they fit on the morality chart?

I would put jórunn somewhere between true neutral and neutral good, moving further into ‘good’ territory as the story progresses. As a disabled sex worker in the imperial city, and very much a member of cyrodiil’s urban poor, jórunn grew up in a kind of dog-eat-dog world and learned from a young age to look out for herself first and foremost. The burden of being dragonborn is not one she welcomes, BUT, she does accept it, because what’s the alternative? She has nowhere to go where she can hide from her fate, no ordinary life she can run back to; those bridges have long been burned. She rises to meet her destiny if only because she feels that she must, but in doing so she discovers a more selfless side to herself

As far as her ‘chaos’ score is concerned, jórunn remains firmly in that middle column. she doesn’t hold the law in particularly high regard, but equally she won’t go out of her way to break it for the sake of doing so.

21. Are they: Diplomatic or Violent? Passive or Instigating? Selfish or Selfless? Law abiding or Lawless? Trusting or Apprehensive? Caring or Indifferent?

I’m going to treat this as a a no-nuance ‘this or that’ type challenge for the sake of brevity, because i could honestly write paragraphs on every one of these lmao

violent / passive / selfish / lawless / apprehensive / caring

#dirty-bosmer #mathyas #jorunn #don't ask me where i read that dream symbology thing about spiders #i made a note of it somewhere when i was planning the rest of mathyas' freaky dreams #we've only had one so far but #more to come!#ask

7 notes · View notes

monster-huntologist · 5 years ago

Text

Breath of the Wild is kinda fucked up

With Age of Calamity coming along soon, my hype levels have been through the roof. A sequel to Hyrule Warriors that’s also a prequel to BOTW, one of my favourite games ever? It’s like a dream come true. But due how the game is inevitably going to end, it also got me thinking of how dark BOTW was, so I made a compilation of all the creepy/messed up things I noticed, found out, or realised:

In the music for the Divine Beasts, you can hear a series of beeping sounds. This can be translated into a morse code signal. That signal is an SOS. For 100 years, the Champions were calling out for help with the only other things capable of hearing them being the other machines corrupted by Ganon.

The Bokoblins/Moblins/Lizalfos seem to be content with leaving people alone if they don’t enter their territory, considering they haven’t gone and destroyed the remaining villages. They’re moreso like animals, with their own hunting and gathering lifestyles. If left alone, they probably won’t go out of their way to attack people. They’re just as much of victims as Hylians are, as they wouldn’t have to be killed in the first place if Ganon hadn’t controlled them as his army.

The Zora tell Link that if Vah Ruta's corrupted production of rain is allowed to continue, it would result in deadly flooding in areas of Hyrule. Around the general Lanayru area, you can find the ruins of several Hylian villages partially flooded and lacking the Guardians remains found in almost all the other ruins across the land. Vah Ruta probably did create such floods beforehand after the Calamity while Link was in the Shrine of Resurrection.

The canonical reason for why in previous games you can find so many Rupees in grass or under stones is that they are placed there by a tiny race of creatures known as the Minish as an act of kindness. Considering how rare it is for this to happen now, Ganon fucked over Hyrule so hard that that even they were brought to the brink of extinction.

Many people were apparently so disheartened by the state of Hyrule after the Calamity that they were driven to suicide. If Link prepares to jump off a bridge with an NPC nearby, they’ll think you’re about to kill yourself and will try to talk you out of doing it.

In one of Zelda’s attempts to awaken her sealing powers, she passed out after doing so in freezing cold waters and Urbosa had to pull her out before she froze to death. Reading Urbosa’s diary tells us that said event happened a year at most after Zelda’s mother died. The poor girl was under so much pressure to be who destiny told her to be that she gave herself practically no time to grieve and nearly killed herself.

The Yiga Clan are a sub-group of Shiekah that have abandoned their allegiances with the Royal Family of Hyrule and chose to follow Ganon instead. Of the Shiekah we see in game, all of them expect Paya are either middle-aged, elderly, or children. Practically the entire generation of Shiekah that Paya was part of were so affected by the Calamity that they left to serve Ganon.

In one memory, Zelda is trying to enter a particular Shrine and gets frustrated at Link’s constant presence in the process. When you visit that corresponding Shrine later on, it ends up being A Major Test of Strength. If Zelda had somehow gotten down there, she’d probably have been killed by the Guardian.

There is a particular area known as the Breach of Demise. In the middle of the lush and green highlands, it stands out with white dead grass, leafless trees, and unnaturally white, bony cliffs. Going by the name, this is supposedly where Demise and his army of demons bust out of the ground all those eons ago in the backstory of Skyward Sword. How tainted must that area be to not recover after millions of years?

#not monster hunter #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #zelda #link #hyrule warriors #age of calamity #divine beasts #bokoblin #moblin #lizalfos #vah ruta #minish #botw champions #demise #loz demise

11K notes · View notes

cami-chats · 5 years ago

Text

Gotta Get Brooklyn

Fandom: Newsies (1992)

Pairings: Spot Conlon/Jack Kelly

Warnings: References to canon newsies stuff

"So what about Brooklyn?" Jack called, and everyone averted their eyes. Aw you've gotta be yanking him. He wasn't s'posed to go to Spot's territory for the official stuff. That was the deal they'd made when they started; Jack would keep to his places, and Spot would keep to his. No more overlap for newsies business after that. "Come on, Spot Conlon’s territory. What’s the matter? You scared of Brooklyn?"

"Hey!" Boot protested. "We ain’t scared of Brooklyn. Spot Conlon just... makes us a little nervous."

Jack snorted. There were some good stories out of Brooklyn, and he thought at least half of them were true. "Yeah, well he don't make me nervous. Hey Dave, you nervous t' go to Brooklyn?"

Dave's wide-eyed look said he was real nervous, but he said, "Uh, no. Sure, I’ll come with you," like he wasn't. Then he added, "Just as soon as you deliver our demands to Pulitzer."

This kid was going to be the not-fun kind of trouble, but Jack wasn't about to lose face when they were already working to put it together. Talk to the big Joe? Yeah sure, why not. It'd be worth it for Dave not ratting on him when him and Spot were a little too comfortable around each other.

"I've never been to Brooklyn before," Dave said when they were on the bridge, crossing over to Brooklyn. "Have you?"

"Yeah, all th' time."

"Why?"

"Better games," he said with a twist to his mouth that was going to pass for a smile.

Dave frowned at him. "So if you're here all the time, why didn't you volunteer to go? Besides, Brooklyn's the most important that we recruit, aren't they? It should've been you coming here the whole time."

"Wanted to give some of the other guys a chance, but they got better things to be doin', don't they?"

Instead of that clearing it up for him, Dave's frown deepened. "They said this Spot Conlon made them nervous. Is he really dangerous?"

Jack laughed, and it sort of echoed around them. Everything sounded different on the water. "Yeah, but don't worry about it, you'll be fine."

"Because I'm a newsie?" Dave guessed.

"Nah, 'cause you're with me. And Spot don't like new folks very much, y'know? Don't wander off," Jack said, pushing at Dave's head-- all it did was move his hat a little and make him puff up like a pigeon before fixing it.

Dave spent most of the walk talking about his family and worrying that something bad was going to happen to Les-- Jack tried to tell him that Les was with the newsies so he'd be fine, but Dave started harping about all the ways 'their kind' weren't any good for him to be around. The other part of the walk was Dave getting a stick in his eye over if they were going to live through their visit to Brooklyn.

They finally made it to the dock where Spot had set up shop, and it was pretty clear that some of the guys were noticing that Dave was there and not liking it. One them pulled himself up out of the water and landed right in front of them. "What's with the side-piece, Kelly?"

Jack breezed right by him, and Dave followed at a slower, more confused, pace.

"Spot ain't gonna like that," he heard the Brooklyn newsie mutter, but then he was jumping back in the water and Jack didn’t have to worry about it.

Spot was lounging on top of some crates, hat on his head and cane dangling over the side held loosely by his fingers. He rolled his head to look at them lazily. "Well, if it ain't Jack-be-nimble," his eyes darted to Dave accusingly, then back to Jack, "Jack-be-quick."

"How you liking the river, Spot? Better view from all the way up there?"

"Call it a bird's eye," he said, pushing himself up so he was sitting like normal. Spot put his club in its usual position on his belt. "You wanna hear what the other birds are sayin' 'bout you Manhattan boys?" He jumped down. "Queens, Harlem, Bronx, all of 'em been saying that Jack's newsies actin' like they playin' at a strike."

"Yeah, cause we are."

"But- but we're not playing," Dave insisted, all big eyes straight out of his apartment with his whole family that loved him and stuck together. "We are going on strike."

"Oh yeah?" Spot said, nodding like he was earnest and getting a little in Dave's face. "Yeah?"

"Um, yeah."

Spot sneered, backing up again. "What the fuck is this mess, Jacky-boy? We had a pretty good arrangement goin'. I don't remember invitin' your boy here. What's he good for, anyway? Talking? Talk at you all day, Jacky-boy, like he's some kinda walkin' mouth?"

"Yeah, he's a mouth. A mouth with a brain attached, and he's why our strike ain't fallin' apart. You gotta give him a chance, and you'll hear what everyone else hears, and not just from the birds." Jack was testing Spot's patience, and he knew it. But what else could he do? They needed Brooklyn on this. Brooklyn knew what they were doing, they had it all worked out, so Jack saying it again wouldn’t do any good. They needed to be persuaded, and that wasn’t what Jack was good at.

Spot clenched his jaw, then relaxed it, and made a big show of leaning back to listen. He looked at Dave and raised an eyebrow.

Dave didn't take the hint though, and Jack hit his arm to get him to start yakking. "Well uh, we started the strike, but we can’t do it alone. So, we've uh- we’re talking to newsies all around the city."

"Yeah," Spot said flatly. "I heard that already. What did they say to you?"

"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing," Dave said. Jack didn't know if Dave knew it was smart to play to Spot's ego, or if he thought it was the truth. Didn't really matter because it was their best chance at getting Brooklyn in. “See, you’re the key. Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and- and probably everywhere else." Dave's eyes darted to Jack, but it's not like Jack could do anything to help him right now. Dave was the one good at talking, Jack was here to make sure people listened. "And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they all join and we’ll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean..." Dave glanced at him again. He was stumbling, but there wasn't anything Jack could do about that. "Well I mean, you gotta!"

Spot was nodding a little, but Jack knew that look on his face didn't mean he was in. "Well whaddya know, Jacky-boy. It's like you said: a mouth with brains." He straightened from where he'd been leaning. "But I got some brains too. How do I know you punks won’t run the first time some goon comes atcha with a club?" He looked directly at Jack and said, "How do I know you got what it takes to win?"

"Because I'm tellin' ya we do, Spot." Right after he finished saying it, he knew it wasn't going to work. Spot had to look after his people, especially since they had more to deal with than a strike and the rising cost of papes.

"Yeah, that's what you're tellin' me," he repeated lowly. "But it ain't good enough. You want me to believe you can win? You gotta show me. Why don't you go back to Manhattan and think some things over, huh?" Spot's eyes darted to Dave. "And next time you come to Brooklyn, it's gonna be alone."

"Anyone ever tell ya you're paranoid, Spot?"

"Ain't paranoia, Jacky-boy. Get th' green ears off my dock, 'fore we toss him in."

"Yeah yeah, we're leavin'."

They turned to leave, but Spot caught Jack's arm before he could get far. "You shoulda sent somebody else."

"Yeah well nobody else was willin' to talk with you. Said you make 'em nervous."

Spot snorted, then leaned in for a kiss.

It was real obvious when Dave turned back around to see where Jack was because he gasped and sorta stumbled on himself.

"Your boys are a lil too straight-laced for these parts."

"Yeah, but like I said, he's the brains."

"Mm." Spot gave Jack a small shove to get him moving. "Gotta be serious, Jacky-boy."

Dave didn't say anything for a while, not until they were out of sight from all the Brooklyn newsies. "So... that's Brooklyn."

"Yeah. Listen, 'bout me and Spot, the other guys know, but they don't like hearin' 'bout it." One little lie wasn't going to hurt nothing, not on top of all the others he had. ‘sides, it was a topic that would really make them all nervous. "Keep it to yourself, yeah?"

"Yes, um- sure. Of course." God, Dave was so twitchy. As long as he was twitchy with his mouth shut though, they'd be fine. Not like anyone in Brooklyn cared; it's what they were used to.

"You came," Jack said, smirking.

"Yeah. Couldn't let your face bashed in when it's the best thing about ya. 'Sides, maybe that brain of yours had a point. Stronger together, all that shit."

"Y'know how strikes work, Spot. Gotta get together or it all falls apart."

"Damn shame," Spot said, but he wasn't thinking about it anymore. "Got a wall we won't get caught at?"

Jack snickered. "Yeah, over here." He pulled Spot to it, and got pushed up against the hard brick for it. Spot was on him in an instant, ripping off his hat so he wouldn't be as quickly recognized if someone saw them.

"You were right about the strike, but don't you ever bring that brain back to my place."

"Marking your territory there, Spot?" Jack asked with a snort.

"No complaints, Jacky-boy," Spot said, hands rucking Jack's shirt from where it had been tucked into his pants so he could get his hands on skin. "Ya knew I was like this."

#newsies #fanfic #jack kelly #spot conlon #my writing

8 notes · View notes

reigenagain · 5 years ago

Note

For character game: Richie and Reigen please

jenni u know the way to my heart

under a read more bc this got fucking long

send me a character and I’ll break them down

Richie:

How I feel about this character

literally how much time do you have dhdhdj I have so much love for mr richie tozier. I really relate to his specific degree of internalized homophobia in ch2 and I relate too much to his usage of humor to deflect emotions. I also only see how valuable I am if I make people laugh, same hat!!!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

EDDIE and that’s it I’m sorry I’m such a one note bitch with ships. listen somewhere between bill “I think his first love was eddie” hader, the kissing bridge, and the go back to childhood and realize u can never go back, I lost my mind and I haven’t retrieved it yet.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ugh I honestly love every richie/loser dynamic but my faves are definitely stan and bev. I feel like stan and richie is really underutilized but I love stan just seeing baby richie stuffing his face in the mud in like pre-k and being like “okay so if I don’t befriend this kid he’ll be dead by first grade. this is my burden.” I’m very soft with bev being richie’s partner in crime through their youth and it just doubles over when they meet again in their 40s

i also really like richie and patty! I can see them being very cute together. patty likes richie’s nicknames for everyone and she lives through his embarrassing stories from childhood about stanny she never got to hear. (also if were going into canon territory, I have a LOT of thoughts about patty and richie connecting and healing/mourning/grieving together)

ben and richie would ALSO be very very cute. I dream about that supposed deleted scene of richie accidentally coming out to ben in ch2 in the townhouse…. oh youve been pining for a good friend since youth and seeing them again u realize that nothing has changed? can relate

My unpopular opinion about this character

i actually have a few but rn I’m gonna stick with the least controversial one in that I don’t think bill looks like finn at ALL in regards of the child/adult actors HOWEVER I think bill captures the exact energy a grown richie would have from finn’s portrayal of him in ch1.

also I don’t understand the chee nickname and I’m too afraid to ask at this point

also also characterizing richie as like a super cool teen with black nail polish and hitting that juul is very funny to me. this boy is a loser. richie tries too hard to be cool but still cares way too much on how he is percieved to be actually cool

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon

I Don’t Want To Fucking Talk About It. you fucking know what I wish had happened

Reigen:

How I feel about this character

UGH reigen….. sir….. I havnt thought about u for a hot minute. I love reigen bc he’s some dude in his late twenties still kind of fumbling around and not sure what to do to make himself happy. on a whim he starts a shady business from the ground up where the entire practice revolves around how well he can lie to his clientele. but the thing is his advice is …. genuine. he finds himself in a position where people actually LISTEN and a small boy looks up to him and he finds that he became a purpose in someone’s life and a positive role model. reigen shows that it’s never too late to become happy (wow look I have a type) and to change yourself, and that u have an effect on people without realizing it

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Serizawa all the way. I think they really bring the best out of eachother and I love a good “we accidentally adopted a bunch of teens together” dynamic. Jenni I know u want me to say dimple and reigen as well but fuck you

My non-romantic OTP for this character

MOB UGH I’m such a sucker for a well executed “mentor doesn’t show it but does legitimately love their mentee” and mob and reigen are the perfect example of that dynamic. mob takes everything reigen tells him to heart and it KILLS ME

I actually love reigen’s dynamic with all of the teens but I have a very deep love for him and shou specifically? I feel like shou could defs benefit from the “it’s okay to run away” spiel and that he doesn’t have to carry the world on his shoulders.

My unpopular opinion about this character

REIGEN ISN’T A DUMBASS. I know its cutsy and funny to say that reigen isnt competent and how mob always saves his ass but to be completely fair reigen DOESN’T HAVE POWERS and acts like anyone would in the face of ghosts spirits?? the guy built a business from the ground up and had it going for a while before mob came around. I think reigen is very person smart and knows how to… not necessarily manipulate but appeal to their emotions.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened to this character in canon

I kinda wanted more reigen and mob interactions in the reigen spin off manga even if mob finally showed up at the end… however i know for the both of them its important for their growth to become less dependent but…. that’s his son…….

#skeilig #this got so long i just.... love them..... so mucj #long post

12 notes · View notes

themechaneer · 5 years ago

Text

If Joel WAS Canon || Headcanon

So again I’m never gonna force these types of headcanons on anyone since they are linked specifically to canon characters. This is more meant to be an idea of how I see how Joel would’ve functioned within the Death Stranding universe/narrative had he been canon to it and the role/ game mechanic I see Joel acting as within canon and his influence on it. No one should feel bound by this, especially if you happen to be a Sam rper. If you don’t agree, or would prefer to explore an alternative dynamic/narrative between Joel and Sam all you need do is come talk to me about it. I’m always open to other ideas!

So the way I see it Joel would’ve narratively played out like all the other prepper’s in the game with the addition of him being an in field component once he’s been ‘unlocked’ and his ‘sidequest’ started. Like the rest of the preppers you find in the game fulfilling deliveries for Joel or completeing sidequests/story missions for him would gain Sam (you the player) LIKES from him which would slowly but surely work towards forming a connection. The in game manifestation of this being the individual STARS and them indicating a level of connection with an individual until you’ve reached the highest tier of connection possible at 5 STARS.

And just like with a number of the preppers you meet, different levels of connection with Joel would earn Sam different rewards/perks from THE MECHANEER. Albiet perhaps a little bit more helpful, if not different then the kind you’d expect as a player. Now I’m not gonna detail what the deliveries/missions would be because that has a little too much potential for metagaming/godmodding to it for me to be comfortable wiriting it outside of threading and development with partners. But I will detail the rewards/perks Sam would gain were he to put in the work to form a connection with Joel.

★ - Initial interaction, first delivery, or mission for Joel would essentially unlock him out in the field. Upon getting the first star level connection with him Sam would be able to find Joel out doing his work in the field within central be it doing maintenance on equipment or structures, making runs to another’s shelter to help fix something, or even supply runs of his own to and from knots or waystations. It’d also unlock Joel okaying a contract with Bridges.

★★ - Second star connection would earn Sam towing services from Joel via a gifted nautical knot wristlet that helps him locate Sam when he puts out the call for help from his own as the two are linked. This means that when Sam puts out the call Joel will find him wherever he is and tow Sam out from wherever he’s gone and stuck his truck or bike and get him back on at least stable ground if not the closest road depending on Sam’s request. It also earns him a blueprint for Joel’s Ice Truck model (A modified version of Bridges lv.3 Truck equipped with a cooling|a/c unit to keep chilled deliveries cold and safe through deliveries).

★★★ - Third star connection status unlocks Joel’s garage to Sam full time for whenever he needs to rest. It also opens up the field mechanic perk. Like with towing services, should Sam put out a call for help, Joel can locate him wherever he is and will work to reviatalize his vehicle or bike to peak condition and recharge all batteries to full life rather then Sam have to drive it all the way to a knot to get it into a garage to the do the same.

★★★★ - The fourth star connection rewards are a new bike. Model - Forger. A bike specific to offroad treks that specializes in difficult and rough terrain be it snow or rough, rocky, or eneven ground. The model was built with battery endurance, and balance in mind to combat such delivery elements and keep cargo safe. Built bigger, heavier then Bridges’ own models the bike is not the fastest but it is tough & sturdy. This bike model is also timefall resistant up to 30% more then all other models. Maintenenace priority is also unlocked at this level. Joel works hard to maintain all equipment and structures within central to help ease the way for porters and travelers alike. Priority means that upon unlocking it Sam’s own equipment and structures take precedence over other’s and when in game it will not be uncommon to find structures you’ve built leveled up by Joel himself with time.

★★★★★ - Full star connection first and foremost unlocks Joel’s own shelter to Sam for use and rest wenever he needs it. It also unlocks Truck Model - Forger which comes equipped with the same perks as the bike model. It also unlocks an 30% increase in timefall resistance to all structures built by Sam, as well as a scoped/silencer equipped model of each of the guns Sam has. Lastly, Joel gifts Sam with a replica model of his own sniper rifle equiptable with anti!BT rounds, Rubber rounds, or lethal rounds, and yes allows Sam the ability to scope out and snipe both mules and terrorists from a safe distance allowing him to clear camps and way through such territories with ease.

Bonus - Should Sam manage to repave all the roads in central it unlocks escort services from Joel in which Sam can send out a call for help, and him will locate and escort Sam through an area. In the case of Mules or Terrorists he will assist Sam in clearing a camp. In a BT heavy area Joel will use his DOOMS to ward them off (up to 5 minutes) and protect Sam through the area (Useful during the Lou’s realighnment arc). Any and all of these perks are unlockable/open thread wise to anyone who pursues them, plots such things out with me!

#‟ let’s tell the truth just for once ” || headcanons

4 notes · View notes

thehollowprince · 6 years ago

Text

Hedge Witches

Okay, so about a month ago I told someone that I'd make a Hedge Witch masterpost for The Magicians fandom, for various fic and world building enterprises and here I am. Sorry it took so long, but life sucks, and I wanted to refresh my memory so I reread the books and skimmed the series.

I'll be breaking this down into three seperate components, consisting of Book Canon, Show Canon, and General Facts that are in both

PS: I apologize if they're sort of hodgepodge and out of order.

With all that aside, let's get started...

GENERAL

Any magician from Earth that wasn't formally trained at one of the various magical colleges around the world.

Usually consist of potential students for those schools who "didn't make the cut"

Expelled students also in the community

Spells are generally homemade or pieced together from random bits of information found in books and in the internet

As such, they don't have all the pieces to cast the spells either effectively or sometimes safely

Their tuts are harsher - way more practical than anything learned classically

Operate out of safehouses - set up like a witches coven almost

To be allowed access to a safehouse, a hedge must prove their worth/ability to work magic and commit to it (see book canon)

Safehouses are very isolated from each other - almost no communication between them, thus hindering their magical growth - don't share spells with each other

Safehouses are focused almost entirely around big cities.

Tend to focus on older cities - particularly European and Asian (older = more magic)

Not as powerful as classically trained magicians but way more dangerous

BOOK CANON

Groups of online magicians come together in an virtual safehouse - the Freetraders Beowulf

Most hedges are taught by other Hedges or magical creatures of some kind

Sleeping with someone for a spell isn't uncommon

Extremely rare but there are occasionally magicians who are entirely self taught and think of things entirely different than the norm (i.e. Stoppard)

The first spell any Hedge formally learns at the safehouse is The First Flash - a small flash of light

Initiats only have three chances to attempt the first flash, and if they fail they must wait a month before trying again

To master the First Flash is considered Level One

Level 14: simple pyrokinetic spell

Level 41: ancient Slavic pyrokinetic spell - upgrade

Level 44: enveloping warmth (the spell Julia did in the show to pass Marina's test)

Level 56: harder crystals

Level 72: door locking

Level 112: kinetic elements

Level 166: levitation

Level 250: successful reverse entropy - highest level a Hedge can reach (the equivalent of a classically trained magician)

Referred to as the Magical Underground

Mirror bridges connect safehouses in a labyrinth of ways (can't just jump from Charleston to Venice, you have to make several jumps to various different cities)

Locations of safehouses are closely guarded secrets though hints and clues are around to help a new hedge

The level system and the star tattoos that mark it are based on a D&D ranking system

Know battle magic whereas classically trained magicians don't

Notwiring (magical hotwiring of a car)

Vary dramatically in age - a seventeen year old can be higher level than a fifty year old

Back room games of Push

SHOW CANON

Marked by seven-pointed star tattoos that rank their levels and where they are with their magical learnings

Tattoos can contain numbers (higher the number = higher the level) or even just a keyhole (meaning unknown at present)

Hedges keep to their own territory, like rival gangs

Example: Marina kept to her coast (New York City) and her rival Arleen kept to hers (San Francisco)

There are a few classically trained magicians who fell in with Hedges and help with their growth

Used to having less (magic)

Big chip on their shoulder

Note: if anyone thinks of anything that should be on this list, just message me and I'll update it.

#my post #the magicians #the magicians spoilers #the magician king #the magician's land #hedge witches #magical underground #marina andrieski #julia wicker #kady orloff diaz #pete lovelady #freetraders beowulf

44 notes · View notes

lesbiansforboromir · 6 years ago

Text

@backofthebookshelf THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKIN ABOUT!!

For starters if we’re speaking canonically, this does actually have an answer. Aragorn as king goes ahead and makes like his ancestors and eATS essentially the entire continent (barring Rohan), absorbing it into the United Kingdom as it was seen in Elendil’s reign. This includes Harondor, which was originally a province of Gondor, as well as Near-Harad and Umbar I thiink. Yes.

I’m afraid to say, at least initially, there really wasn’t much of that good old Diplomacy. Aragorn lead armies and invaded Harondor, near-Harad and all the way down the coast to Umbar until he’d essentially claimed almost all of what we see on the map. Basically everything that was originally taken by the Numenoreans as they increased their presence in Middle Earth, Aragorn retook. There’s a suggestion that the Haradrim were still hostile to the North, fuelled both by Sauron’s lies and the weight of a hefty historical grudge match, but if this were the real world we’d call Aragorn the very worst of imperialism, which would make me doubt that any Diplomacy went on at all.

HOWEVER! It’s Tolkien and we’re told these characters are good people. So lets assume some continued influences from Sauron’s servants and it was ‘necessary’ to overthrow some evil overlords down there. And once that was done then some real Diplomacy went on with the haradrim who lived there on things like being a part of the Union and reinstating old families into their leadership roles ect ect.

Hopping back in time to the topic of land between Gondor and Harad before Sauron’s destruction, we can get some discussionary meat here. We know that Ithilien was abandoned to all intents and purposes, used essentially as the no mans land with the Rangers using guerilla tactics to harass and stall any advancement from the Haradrim or from Minas Morgul. It was a thick and lush track of hilly landscape, not the easiest for large armies to pass through, which I would assume gave Pelargir lots of warning before needing to marshal any defense of the Anduin. We’ve seen that historically too, massive forces of Haradrim crossed during urrrrr Beregond? Nope! Turin, Steward Turin’s reign and that invasion was repulsed in Ithilien with Rohan’s help. Fastred and Folcred died tho :(

With this in mind, and knowing that South Ithilien’s titular border was the Poros River, I would say that the Haradrim really pressed up against them. I’d say that the boundary was very clear. Before the Poros River it was the Haradrim’s rule and they maintained fortresses perhaps even on the river itself, or at least close to it and the Harad Road. After the river it was the Ranger’s game, but the geography really allowed the two powers to be safe in their own lands, but immediately endangered as soon as they put a foot over.

This touches on a hc that’s a little off topic but I would say the majority of warfare between the south and Gondor was Naval. No one wanted to push an on-foot army through Ithilien and then over a vulnerable river. But with the ocean it was anyone’s game. This is why Pelargir is so goddamn beset, constantly changing hands, it’s the heavy naval force of Gondor and really defends a massive chunk of the kingdom all on it’s lonesome.

BUT ANYWAY, THE POINT IS! With all this established...

I think as far as the kinds of stressful shenanigans Faramir gets up too, the initial rush is to properly reinforce Ithilien’s infrastructure. Henneth Annun needs some SEVERE TLC but as soon as it and all the other ruins of Ithilien can host a real standing Army Gondor can properly start stretching out and over the Poros River with reliable force. It’s true! As soon as they aren’t worrying about the end of the world, it’s much easier to commit forces to Ithilien and really grasp the foothold they’d lost. Combine that with attacks from the Sea, and the Haradrim didn’t stand much of a chance.

And then, once Harad’s been retaken (colonised) the disagreements would be less about which territories belonged to what province, and more likely a lot of wearying talk about the Harad Road and who’s job it is to maintain what stretch.

I’d say the Harondorians maintain that it’s their job to keep it together only up until the bridge and that does not include the bridge, nor any of the road beyond it. This bridge, having been destroyed 83721487348 times during the war, needs to be replaced and whilst Gondor likely has more architects familiar with water- based civic planning, it would be an absolutely heinous trek all the way out there. They’d have to bring stone and wood and builders and erect tents and beast of burden, all travelling down a road that hasn’t been tended too in some centuries and through countryside that has almost been encouraged to be difficult terrain.

Faramir doesn’t want to be dealing with that! He needs all the workers he has to focus on the bleeding ruins he’s living in at the moment, not to mention the basic build work needed to make Ithilien a profitable province once again. Aragorn really did give him the shittiest task, even if Ithilien is technically the Steward’s seat originally.

But the Lord of Harondor isn’t having any of it. It isn’t as though his lands are in the peachiest condition after the war and Sauron’s general influence over their lands. He doesn’t want to think of what to do about a bleeding bridge, he’ll just make a job for a ferryman and his family and have done with it!

But no that would give him far too much control over the one single link between Harondor, Near-Harad and Umbar. Harondor is already BULLSHIT LARGE, he’s jumped up in power and the idea of him being able to just give an order to one man and cut off all trade between the south and the north of the kingdom is unthinkable. Faramir can’t let that happen! And even if he wanted too, the other Lords wouldn’t want that to happen. Well, except for the Lord of Pelargir and all his friends, who’d then be able to take advantage of sea travel being the only reliable way to deliver goods and up tariffs like billio, taking away all through traffic from Ithilien as well and monopolising 40% of all commerce- ITS. MADDENING. Faramir wouldn’t want Sam’s opinion because all Sam would say, as the Mayor, is ‘... we just fix our own bridges’ and strike him dead if he’s going to cave on this.

He visits Minas Tirith at the same time as Sam’s coming to see his daughter and is forced to concede and send the blasted builders.

#gondor #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien meta #ithilien #faramir #harondor #haradrim #soap operas in mannish sindarin #THIS. IS. WHAT. I'M. TALKING ABOUT!!!#erran vs tolkien #text posf

55 notes · View notes

sol1056 · 7 years ago

Text

the most handsome slash nicest guy of the bunch

I was chatting with @ptw30 (as one does, when procrastinating on adulting) about how each season of VLD has given us different pairing-bait for Allura. But if the EPs’ hints (and what seems like a growing assumption in fandom) is that the story’s headed towards allurance, that’s pushing a message that’s... not really good.

Let’s review.

S1 was totally shallura bait, all over the place. S2 continued this to a lesser degree, but it was still a regular note.

I know how you feel, but you have to step away for a while. It's what's best for everyone.

S2 made various attempts at kallura bait, and really... fell pretty flat. Both the hug-in-space and hug-in-hangar were animated as rather physically-awkward interactions, which didn’t help. Then again, having two halves of a potential pairing on opposite sides of a significant racial conflict is gonna make it tough.

Well, sure, they're bad. No doubt about that. But at the same time, couldn't at least a few of them be fighting for good? ... It just seems crazy to lump everyone together.

Especially when one-half’s defense basically amounts to #NotAllGalra.

S3/S4 was chock full of allurance bait, all the way up to Lance’s impassioned speech inspiring Allura to magic them all out of the Naxzela explosion pokey.

This belongs to you now. If I had to lose Blue to someone, I'm glad it was you.

And then there’s S5, most of which was dominated by equal parts lotura bait and Lance Being Annoyed. Lance’s characterization regressed to shades of who he was in S1, and make it clear exactly what kind of character he really is.

He’s a Nice Guy.

Behind the cut: behold the evidence, minor salt at VA commentary, and two relationships that stand in contrast.

Lance’s Nice Guy Behavior

In S1/S2, Lance’s flirting is both inappropriate and pervasive, and he continues long after it’s clear that Allura neither welcomes nor enjoys his attention. She’s not even drawn ambiguously; her facial reactions make it clear.

Talking? Eating? Are you asking me out on a date?

Note that the narrative undercuts her agency. She reacts with disgust (and Hunk shows a kind of tired disapproval), but the rest of the casts’ lines treat it as a joke. Her reactions are the punchline. It’s soon clear that one time Shiro smacked Lance down for the inappropriate come-on was the exception, not the rule.

It’s not even “just not that into you,” so much as “does not enjoy being treated like a sexual/romantic object in situations entirely unrelated to that.” And with one exception (when Lance lucks on suggesting the one thing that Allura might actually want to do), her reaction doesn’t change. It’s there from the start.

The way she’s animated is almost as consistent as her irritation.

Once into S3/S4, one could argue that Lance had finally realized a friendship had more value. He stopped flirting and started treating Allura with respect, listening as a friend, and recognizing her value and skills.

Until Lotor shows up.

Lance’s opening reaction could be from distrusting Lotor as an enemy...

Look, it’s Prince Lotor, just hangin’ out on the bridge.

...but he quickly moves into distrusting Lotor as competition.

Lotor: ...you and I, a royal alliance between Altean and Galra... Lance: How ‘bout we don’t imagine that?

Lotor’s line could be seen as a thinly-veiled marriage proposition, but there’s wiggle room to take his words at face-value as simply suggesting an alliance. Notably, Allura shows no major reaction, let alone anything near the negative reactions she had for Lance’s flirting.

We get reminders all season that this isn’t a one-time thing. Lance does it over, and over. He’s jealous when Allura responds favorably to Lotor’s compliments.

He’s territorial when Allura and Lotor leave without him, attempting to follow even though the invitation was explicitly only to Allura.

The next shot shows what prompted this reaction: Allura has taken Lotor’s arm. Allura is not animated as particularly physically-demonstrative; most of her touches (except for Coran) tend to be at the shoulders. This specific arm-touch characterizes Allura and Lotor as two people used to formal interactions, and kind of old-fashioned.

The problem is the ambiguity in the framing. I can’t shake the sense it’s meant to ‘reveal’ why Lance reacted badly, and make us sympathize with Lance’s unhappiness at seeing ‘his’ girl off with someone else.

And then we have Lance stressing over Allura to the exclusion of all else, while the team’s busy trying to fix the ship and save their lives.

What’s happening? What do you think they’re doing now?

I’ve seen arguments this is meant to show he’s just, like, really worried. The narrative undercuts that, though, because Lance is the only one expressing these worries. The others could’ve acknowledged his words, and made it clear that Lance is just saying much louder what everyone else feels. But they’re not only blasé, they’re downright annoyed with Lance to the point that Pidge demands for Shiro to get Lance out of their faces.

Canonically, we’ve seen nothing to establish that Lance has an exclusive position vis-a-vis Allura. She’s only extended as much friendship to him as she has to anyone else on the team, yet Lance takes that as grounds to scowl, sulk, and obsess.

This is what Nice Guys do.

To paraphrase an article otherwise not worth quoting, rom-coms teach us ‘the one’ is usually the one who was there all along. (The same article also concluded that “when you get on well already, sometimes all it takes is time (or possibly alcohol) for you to see someone in a new light” and now I think I need to go break something to get over this wave of revulsion.)

two relationships in contrast

Of course, I can’t mention all of the above without pointing out that in-canon, we have two other characters who’ve done it right: Shiro and Lotor.

Shiro's respectful of Allura’s knowledge and authority, not only frequently asking her opinion, but then following her orders. He has his own opinion and voices it, but he does so without dismissing Allura's. He worries but is proactive (he'll go with her, instead), and he doesn't get in her way when she makes her own choice.

When Allura insists she’s part of things and will play a role, the rest of the team is a bit taken aback. Not Shiro. His lack of refusal indicates he sees her position as valid.

Allura: I'm a part of this fight against Zarkon as much as anyone. I'm going. Does anyone have a problem with that? Shiro: Fine. Suit up.

An awful lot of media would have you believe it’s a valid counter-point to say since she’s pretty and a princess, by definition she’s not suited to joining the charge. Shiro doesn’t bother. (Interestingly, the only one who gets sent anywhere alone in S1 is Keith, and there’s an argument to be made that Shiro’s pre-existing knowledge of Keith’s abilities mean Shiro has a greater comfort zone for that.)

Or in short: Shiro is a Good Man.

Meanwhile, Lotor is clearly framed as the ‘bad boy’ -- from his actual position as the son of the Big Bad, to his smooth appearance (that hair), to his accent that codes as ‘high class’ to Americans. If Shiro is the stalwart quasi-military guy who opens doors for women but respects their position in the chain of command, Lotor is the quintessential rebellious rich boy (and even turns out to have a mushy center).

Yet Lotor consistently shows respect for Allura’s agency and perspective, always checking with her first, rather than presuming. He asks for consent, rather than plowing right past Allura’s dis/comfort.

He’s deferent when it’s her area of authority, openly credits her, and seeks her opinion. The few times Lotor gets snappish, it’s usually related to his parents, and Allura shows every sign of realizing the distinction. With no flirtation in play, there’s little reason to see him as having romantic ulterior motives. Sure, he may have other motives, but I’d have a hard time making an argument that Lotor sees Allura as a purely romantic object.

Lotor may be ‘the bad boy’ in this paradigm, but if you look at the way he -- like Shiro -- treats Allura, he’s not a boy, either. Like Shiro, Lotor is also fundamentally a Good Man.

a dash of VA-related salt

For the most part, I’ve rarely had reason to side-eye Josh Keaton’s interviews, but the recent one where he said something to the effect of Shiro shuts down Lance’s jokes (euphemism for ‘unwelcome flirtation’) because Shiro’s jealous he can’t make those jokes himself...

Cue reaction gif.

Really? We’re talking about a character who insists on persistent attention of a romantic nature, with no regard for the recipient's clear disinterest or obvious discomfort.

We have a name for this: sexual harassment.

Yet Josh thinks the only character who ever speaks up to shut that shit down is doing so because he’s of the ‘if you can’t, I can’t’ school of reasoning?

Josh, wtf, over. Uncool.

There are a lot of places where @dynared and I will bang heads in our interpretations, but somewhere he commented that fandom might be surprised at how the writers aren’t nearly as progressive as some fans would like to think. (Or that the EPs would like us to believe.)

There are smaller examples of that: Keith pulling a #NotAllGalra, or Lance paraphrasing right-wing tripe as “Galra-on-Galra violence”. Or the way early S3 demotes Allura, or makes her fearful, self-doubting, and incompetent. Lance is the biggest case, though: if the end-game is really allurance, that’s like an entire series of positioning the Nice Guy to eventually win his prize.

In a word, that’s disgusting.

If they couldn’t manage a romance subplot without falling into such corrosive tropes, personally I would’ve preferred romance be left out altogether.

#voltron legendary defender #characterization #meta #analysis #come for the sugar stay for the salt #vld #voltron

391 notes · View notes

chilliebean5 · 7 years ago

Text

Fictober Day 6: “I heard enough, this ends now.”

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Overwatch

Characters: Jesse McCree, Gabe Reyes/Reaper

Warnings: Mild language, canon-typical voilence, mentions of alcohol

Notes: Part four (final) of “How can I trust you?” [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

Words: 2344

Jesse had a bad feeling about this mission from the moment Winston told him he’d be going back to Route 66.

‘You’re our best agent, you know the area intimately,’ Winston said.

He’s not wrong. Jesse is the only American out of the six of them who have answered the recall so far. He’s also the only person between them not currently on a mission or recruitment drive, so he had no choice, really.

Being back in his old stomping ground was strange, to say the least. He hadn’t been in this part of Deadlock territory since Gabe bused in, shutting the entire operation down. He was surprised that shitty little diner where he used to hang out was still open. He was even more surprised that he wasn’t allowed in, told to ‘scoot or cop a faceful of buckshot.’

He didn’t care much anyway, he always hated the coffee there, and he didn’t need coffee at that moment. He supposes he did it for nostalgia’s sake, as stupid as that was. But it didn’t matter. The mission was to investigate after several eye-witness reports claimed the Reaper was frequenting the area. The mission was to watch, report, but do not engage

If only Jesse had realised sooner it was a trap.

He started his observations at the hypertrain station, eager to catch a ride on the line which would take him over the now long repaired bridge Deadlock destroyed. Figured while he was there, he’d keep an eye for a shadowy figure, a man in a cloak, bone mask. Someone who stands out real nice and easy amongst the crowd.

He didn’t see that, though. After he bought his ticket, he saw a man in the distance looking right at him. His face was a little scarred, he had a goatee, and when they made eye contact, he smirked. Jesse’s stomach dropped, then, because the smirk was so hauntingly familiar. It was Gabe. It wasn’t possible, though, Gabe’s been dead for seven years now, but it damn well looked exactly like him.

After making eye contact, after that smirk, the man turned around a corner and by the time Jesse caught up, he was gone. There was nowhere to go, so he couldn’t have been hiding anywhere. Not that Gabe was one to hide. He never hid, he always faced problems head-on.

That’s the reason why the Swiss HQ blew up, after all.

So Jesse went about his day, a little paranoid, a tiny bit frightened—something he’ll never mention to another living soul—but mostly suspicious. It’s possible for people to have doppelgangers, and this man was just Gabe’s.

But when Jesse was finally on the train, he saw him again, one carriage up. Jesse pretended not to notice, not to tip him off, and when the train was moving, when there was no chance for escape, he bee-lined to the next carriage. He had an eye on him, right on him, till he nearly knocked over a kid he was too distracted to see, and after apologising profusely to the parents and after letting the kid wear his hat for a literal second after he begged, the man was gone.

So Jesse searched every carriage. Checked in every bathroom. Made his way from the back of the train to the front, asked if they’d seen anyone of a man matching Gabe’s appearance wander up this far, and of course, they said no.

The man had disappeared. On a moving train.

That was the only piece of evidence Jesse needed that this man was not just any man.

There was only one person Jesse knew who could move around like that, disappear in one place, reappear in another. One person who could literally disappear in a puff of smoke.

It had to be Gabe. He somehow survived the Swiss HQ explosion. They never did find his body or any kind of remains, after all. Maybe he escaped before it blew up? Maybe, for whatever reason, he had to fake his own death and used that as his excuse.

Jesse stewed on his thoughts for the rest of the journey, wondering if Gabe being here, now, was coincidence or not. When he pulled up to his stop, with no memory of the journey between, he pushed those thoughts aside. He had more important things to worry about, now. To canvass the streets, ask if anyone had seen the Reaper in the last few days.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on him. He knew he was being watched by Gabe, but Jesse didn’t see him again. And if Gabe wanted to play this little game, then so be it. Jesse’s sure as shit not gonna hide.

And after a full twelve hours on his feet, he came up with nothing. No Reaper sightings, no answers to his questions. From the sounds of it, the Reaper was never here. The reports must have been fabricated, and it made a little sense since he apparently frequented this area and didn’t do anything. He’s a terrorist, death and destruction follows him around, and yet, nothing. No deaths, no harm, no one missing. When Jesse contacted Winston about it, he too agreed it was likely the reports were fake, and that there was nothing more he could do other than check out in the morning, fly back to Gibraltar, and wait for the next Reaper sighting.

Jesse called it a night after that. Bone achingly tired, feet sore, he washed the day away in the shower, stayed in there till the water went cold, dressed for bed in sweats and a t-shirt—cause there’s no way he’s gonna sleep naked in unfamiliar surrounds—before heading into the kitchen for a nightcap.

That’s when he sees the figure standing in the shadows, dressed in black, bone mask over their face. Jesse’s heart leaps into his throat, his fingers curl, aching for the familiar weight of Peacekeeper currently sitting under his pillow. He doesn’t show any of this to the Reaper, though, gives off an air of arrogance, and keeps an eye on him as he heads to the cupboard, grabs two glasses and picks the bottle of bourbon off the bench, placing them on the table and taking a seat.

“Ain’t I lucky?” Jesse muses, pouring the alcohol into the two glasses. “Get my own private visit with you.” He slides the glass across the table, coming to a stop in front of the second chair. The Reaper doesn’t move, just watches. “Suit yourself,” Jesse breathes, downing the lot before pouring himself a second. He doesn’t drink this one, not right away, just spins the glass on the table slowly, eyes boring into that damned mask. “Y’know, it’s rude to come into someone’s place uninvited, then not say anything.”

The Reaper cocks his head to the side slightly, the only response Jesse gets.

Jesse’s eyes flit to the other glass, then back to the Reaper. “Look, I’ve got an early flight in the morning, and I only came in here for my nightcap,” he says, holding up his glass. “Either say your piece or get out. I don’t have time for this.”

That the Reaper understood, finally making his move. They stalk forward, place a clawed hand on the back of the chair, scrape it obnoxiously on the floor before dropping into it, folding their arms across their chest in an exact mirror of a move Jesse had seen thousands of times before. Adrenaline courses through his veins, his fight-or-flight response kicks in. He should have pieced two and two together. He should have realised that there was a sighting of the Reaper, and Gabe was here, here of all places.

It takes every single shred of willpower not to react, even though his world crashes in around him.

Gabe is the Reaper.

“There we go,” Jesse says slowly, lifting his glass. “Isn’t this better?”

The Reaper just looks at him through that blank mask, and Jesse holds the stare until it becomes unbearable, opting to down this entire drink, too, and pouring himself a third.

“You’ve figured it out,” the Reaper says, his voice deep and guttural, so much so it sends a shiver right down Jesse’s spine. “You were always too smart for your own good.”

Jesse sees it for the backhand it is, but merely shrugs. “Someone had to be the voice of reason, it sure as shit wasn’t you.”

“Once an ingrate, always an ingrate.” The Reaper reaches out, places his hand over the top of the glass. “You abandoned me.”

“Is this how you wanna do it? Fine.” Jesse drinks his third glass, and this time he doesn’t bother pouring himself more. He still needs his wits sharp. “You turned your back on everything!” He leans forward. “On me. On Jack. On Blackwatch. So don’t you dare tell me I abandoned you.”

“I did what needed to be done. Overwatch was a scourge, a plague. I did it a favour.”

“By what? Blowing it up? Killing innocent people?” Jesse scoffs. “You went off the deep end, Gabriel, joined Talon. Talon, of all fucking things. We fought for years, fighting against them, putting them down, and then you join them? For what? This?” He shoves his hand in the Reaper’s direction, looking him up and down. “I may be an ingrate, but at least I’m not pathetic.” Jesse doesn’t break eye contact with the mask, but he definitely sees the Reaper tighten his grip on the glass, and Jesse prepares himself for it to be tossed at him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” the Reaper grounds out. “If you didn’t back then, you wouldn’t now.”

“So why are you here, then? Cause if it was just for this chat, then I’m done.” Jesse pushes his chair out and it scrapes against the floor. He doesn’t move from there, he waits for the Reaper’s next move.

“No, I didn’t come here to just talk.” Hand still on the glass, he reaches into his cloak, pulling out one of the shotguns that were gifted to him celebrating his twenty years with Overwatch and placing it on the table, hand still around the grip.

“So you came to kill me, then.” Jesse chuckles, stands and extends his arms by his side. His heart is pounding in his chest, his eyes on the Reaper but also both the glass and the shotgun he has his hands on. “I heard enough, this ends now.”

The moment the Reaper’s hand tightens around the grip of the shotgun, Jesse ducks, just in time for the shots to hit the wall behind where he was standing, and he rolls into the bedroom and slams the door behind him. He doesn’t waste time trying to jam it closed, he knows the Reaper will just smoke his way in here, so he launches at the bed, grabs Peacekeeper, quickly checks the loaded cylinder and when he flicks it into place, aiming it at the door, it’s kicked in, and the Reaper steps through, both shotguns in his hands now.

Jesse wastes no time, shooting him in the shoulder. Panic pools in his stomach when nothing but black smoke pours from the wound, when the Reaper laughs.

“Try harder,” he says, mocking, as he takes a step in the room.

For a brief moment, barely a second, Jesse hesitates. He has to remind himself that it might be Gabe under there, but it’s not the Gabe he knew. That Gabe is long dead, and this is some imposter, someone wearing his skin. And with that thought, he aims lower, where his heart should be, and shoots, but just like the first time, the Reaper is unfazed and smoke floods out of the wound.

Another laugh, and another shot, this time right between the eyes. The mask cracks and Jesse can see underneath it, can see skin behind the smoke. Jesse starts to shake now; how can he possibly survive this if he can’t kill the Reaper?

The Reaper takes a step, and Jesse takes another shot, hitting the eye socket of the mask. It cracks, above and below, and the Reaper growls, holstering one shotgun to pull the mask off, tossing it to the ground. Any long-lingering doubts Jesse had about it not being Gabe under there are put to rest, seeing the face of his old commander looking back at him.

Before Jesse can even blink, the Reaper is in front of him, hand around his throat. Jesse grasps his wrist with his prosthetic, squeezing as hard as he can, enough that it should shatter and crush bone, but nothing. He tightens his grip on Peacekeeper as he chokes for breath, as the Reaper squeezes tighter, as his vision starts to grow fuzzy around the edges.

“Let go,” the Reaper almost coos, his smile growing wider with each passing moment.

“Fuck… you…” Jesse gasps, and with his final ounce of strength, presses Peacekeeper’s muzzle under the Reaper’s chin and pulls the trigger.

Jesse drops to the floor, grasps at his neck as he coughs and sputters, tries to take in air around his crushed trachea. As he begins to stabilise, tears streaming down his face, he looks around the room, the only remnants of the Reaper is one shotgun, which after a moment disappears into the same black smoke that was pouring off him.

He doesn’t understand why that shot worked, but he sure as shit is grateful it did. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the Reaper as his breathing normalises, and the second he is confident enough that he can stand, he grabs his bag, stuffs everything in it and leaves. He drops the room key and a generous tip to cover the damages by the unattended front desk, and once he is in the confines of a taxi on his way to the airport does he contact Winston.

“Jesse. I was not expecting another check-in. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “You’ll never believe who paid me a visit…”

#Fictober18 #Day 6 I heard enough this ends now #Jesse McCree #Gabe Reyes #Reaper #Overwatch #Post Recall #teeensy Winston cameo!#Chilliebean writes #my fic

14 notes · View notes

aceofwands · 8 years ago

Text

Ria hateblogs Star Trek Discovery: Episode 6 “Lethe”

This week I’m really feeling the disappointment that I’m not here, 6 weeks in to a new Star Trek series, eagerly awaiting and watching each new episode every week with my family, like I expected and hoped. I don’t even know that I should bother hateblogging the few remaining episodes of this half of the season, it’s like ... it’s just so awful and the writing is terrible and I feel nothing but apathy for the characters and the plot ... I guess I’ll see how bad this week’s episode is

Wow, I will admit, it’s real neat seeing Vulcan in 2017 graphics. I wish it was under better circumstances ...

This aide to Sarek has such a bowl cut, it’s cringe worthy :/

... what. Ignorance is never beneficial? How is it remotely helpful to a mission to not know what it is or why you’re going there?! ugh, the writing for these characters is just so ... artificial ... it’s a problem with so much modern storytelling, it’s like they’re more concerned with having characters say cool dramatic things rather than having actual conversations

The Disco shirts are sooooo dumb. Why wouldn’t they say Discovery in full?

does she have a personality Tilly? does she?

lol Enterprise mention, because we can totally believe that this grimdark holographic spinning mess of a ship exists at the same time as Pike’s Enterprise

cut to Voq, oops I mean Tyler, and Lorca on a Klingon ship apparently

what is this a video game? oh lol, it IS, it’s the HOLODECK because they have those in the 23rd century FFS

lol Voq’s worried his cover was blown when Lorca interrogated his backstory

right. the random prisoner you just found should definitely be your security chief

“someone i can trust” HA it’s SO OBVIOUS HE’S A SPY - so now Lorca just seems stupid as well as an asshole

back to Sarek and the aide ... who just injected himself with something dubious

a Vulcan fanatic who believes humans are inferior ... whoooo just blew himself up

WOW this is bad

like this is the story you needed to tell? so much possibility for a Star Trek series in 2017 with serialisation and this is the series we end up with?

Michael instructing Tilly in the ways of being healthy is just ... why? is this supposed to show that they’re friends? are people really seeing this as cute banter? I just don’t get it

are they gonna go befriend the Klingon spy?

oh good, even better, Tilly thinks he’s hot

“my mentor, Michael” cringe.

how can Michael have spent 7 years amongst humans on the Shenzhou and need Tilly’s guidance on social interaction like shaking hands?

yeeeeah Rick Berman was excited that Enterprise was a Star Trek series where people wore sneakers, having them in a show set in the 23rd century just reinforces - along with the tactical vests and t-shirts that look like they’re straight out of any modern cop show - that this isn’t even set in the future

oh good, Michael is telepathically connected to Sarek still ... wow, this whole sequence is really dumb. like, why are they bonded? how can she sense his pain? HOW CAN THEY MIND MELD ACROSS SPACE?

ethnically diverse Vulcans are the best though

raising a human as a Vulcan just seems like emotional torture tbh? like how ethically dubious?

BEING RAISED AS VULCAN DOES NOT GIVE YOU VULCAN ABILITIES

“how can he put that kind of pressure on a child” GOOD QUESTION

renegade Vulcans tried to murder you

ka’tra has healing powers?! WHAT IS THIS BS

look, okay, it’s one thing to establish new things when you’re making up a series - but this is exactly the problem with saying your series is a prequel and part of the prime universe which has had 5 series worth of content, to then contradict it all by making up nonsense using established canon ... What’s the point? Why not just make a reboot? Set it in a parallel universe, which it obviously is. If you’re so desperate to get away from canon then don’t tell us it’s part of it! But more importantly, if you’re that desperate to ignore it and rewrite it and change it ... why not just make something new?

Lorca has shown 0 compassion to anyone before ever, why would he help her personal request?

these holograms are just so Star Wars, it bothers me every time

“there are protocols to be followed” but they’ve never followed them before, so why would they now lol

Stamets really is different - why couldn’t have been this fun from the start? “groovy” “super cool” “Sarekvision” “psychic hit of speed”

“are you really that crazy?” ummm have you met Michael?

Michael, Tilly, and Voq-Tyler on a shuttle going into a nebula to mind meld with Sarek and find it, what could possibly go wrong?

so many holograms. sigh.

lol Admiral came to see Lorca in person and tell him off for launching an unauthorised mission led by a mutineer and a POW who has barely had time to recover - and I quote "can you even trust this guy?"

because that's how Starfleet Admirals speak

sigh. I miss proper Star Trek. this FEELS like 2017. it feels like these people just stepped out of today and onto these spaceships. it doesn’t feel like 2250-whatever. add all the holograms you want, holograms do not maketh the future - there was a tone, an aesthetic quality, including goofy space clothes and Shakespearean dialogue, that made it feel like it wasn’t happening now

“I checked him out” ya-huh, you’re gonna have egg on your face when it’s dramatically revealed that he’s a Klingon spy lol

the cornerstone of their entire defence against the Klingons is a science vessel with an experimental mushroom drive ... I can’t even with this show

Lt Stamets engaging in eugenics - hey yeah, I forgot that was an issue, funny how they’re happy to throw away 90% of what we know but keep the tiniest parts, it just makes it all so meaningless

and now they’re having a drink ... so that whole scene was just to remind us that Starfleet exists and remind us that Discovery is important to the war ... they really have to do a lot of telling on this show don’t they?

oh good, the tac vests are back

right. of course. who else would Sarek’s thoughts turn to when he’s dying? not his wife. not his son. YOU. “I was supposed to be his proof that Humans and Vulcans could co-exist as equals” ???? the Federation has existed for almost a century by this point! he LITERALLY HAS A HUMAN WIFE and that half-Human son they keep forgetting - WHY THE ACTUAL FUCK WOULD HE NEED A HUMAN WARD TO PROVE ANYTHING??????

YOU’RE his greatest disappointment? not that he’s fucked up his relationship with his son? or y’know, his full Vulcan son off making a cult?

we’ve done this storyline so many times in more interesting ways - the original, Spock - Worf raised by humans

oh good, Michael and Sarek fighting ... in his mind ...

AND THEN WE’RE BACK TO LORCA AND ADMIRAL DRINKING WHISKEY?

bleeeuuuugh

“some of the decisions you’ve been making lately are troubling” Sooooo stop him? if only there was a chain of command?

I’m glad someone’s calling him out for being awful, but why is it a friendly chat?

oh, he passed psych evals and tests with flying colours. right.

lord please stop flirting. is that ... sleazy saxophone music?

WHAT.

ARE YOU SERIOUS SHOW?

she has GENUINE CONCERNS about his ability and mental state as a Captain and instead of telling other Admirals or having an official meeting or hearing ... she goes to talk to him directly, and then allows him to distract her by seducing her?

this has gotta be the worst written piece of crap I’ve seen in years. and I just rewatched the DS9 season 1 gems The Passenger and Move Along Home. I’ve seen Threshold, and These are the Voyages, and Shades of Grey. All of which, are better than this show’s first 6 episodes have been.

how is the Klingon spy the best character on the show? the only one with any compassion or actual emotions - is it because he’s trying to be a perfect human

they finally mentioned Spock! wait, isn’t Spock supposed to be on the Enterprise at this point? oh no right it’s 7 years before. LOL Sarek chose Spock over Michael AND THEN SPOCK REJECTED THE SCIENCE ACADEMY

why must we come back to Sarek at all? was this story really necessary? was it burning to be told? like ... what do we gain from it? does it add to his character, or Spock’s?

Admiral found some scars on Lorca’s back in bed ... and poked them while he was asleep. LOL “you sleep with a phaser in your bed and you say nothing’s wrong?” THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE???? WHY would he have a phaser in his bed? who’s gonna attack him on his own ship?

“all these months I have ignored the signs” and it took this to finally tip you off? geezus. good lord. and she’s not like the other Admirals at Starfleet - I mean, okay actually this is the only thing the show has gotten right so far, they always were idiots lol

“I can’t leave Starfleet’s most powerful weapon in the hands of a broken man”

lol she doesn’t believe his plea not to take his ship away, and him admitting he needs help - I don’t believe him either

Saru we knew he was severely wounded, that was the whole point.

lol is he gonna get the Admiral killed so she backs off? what am I saying, of course he is - I mean, of course this diplomatic negotiation with the Klingons he’s sending her off to is going to get her killed

how can he give Michael a bridge position when she’s a criminal? this whole thing makes no sense. why did they go this nonsense route? other than for the sake of drama (oh wait, that’s the only reason they do anything on this show)

why does the replicator tell you how nutritious your food is

oh of course Voq is gonna befriend and flirt with Michael.

lord, could someone please please tell the writers that they’re supposed to show emotions, not have characters explain what they’re feeling through clunky exposition

“it’s just being human” LOL IT’S FUNNY CAUSE HE’S KLINGON

lol yep, cut to neutral territory, let’s watch as this show’s THIRD FEMALE CHARACTER IS KILLED oh no she’s just been taken hostage LOL

“notify Starfleet Command, ask for orders” W O W he is an ASSHOLE

oh good, next episode is a time loop. Mudd’s back. Voq kisses Michael.

how is it that this show is serialised and yet feels more disjointed than say, the serial arcs of DS9? every episode it’s like ... Stuff Happens ... and it’s very very loosely connected to what happened before, but seems to be mostly at random?? like, reflecting on what I just watched, not a lot of anything happened? their plots were literally, Sarek is attacked and they rescue him because space telepathy is a thing, so Michael can have some drama I guess ... and Lorca sleeps with the Admiral who realises he’s a dangerous asshole, recommends her for a dangerous mission, then refuses to rescue her. that’s it.

Like dude, I just rewatched DS9′s Duet and In the Hands of the Prophets last night. This rubbish doesn’t even hold a candle to it??? Kira’s entire emotional arc in season 1 from Emissary, through Past Prologue, Battle Lines, Progress, Duet, and In The Hands of the Prophets, is more nuanced, engaging, and well crafted than Michael’s emotional arc as the protagonist of Discovery. and they weren’t even allowed to do proper serialisation at that point??

#hateblogging #anti Discovery #STD #spoilers #I guess #though its reeeeally obvious

20 notes · View notes

ethanalter · 8 years ago

Text

'Star Trek: Discovery' postmortem: Jason Isaacs on fan theories, and taking a knee

Jason Isaacs as Gabriel Lorca and Sonequa Martin-Green as Michael Burnham in ‘Star Trek: Discovery.’ (Photo: Jan Thijs/CBS)

Warning: This post contains spoilers for the “Context is for Kings” episode of Star Trek: Discovery.

Farewell, Philippa Georgiou, and welcome Gabriel Lorca. The third episode of Star Trek: Discovery‘s freshman season finally introduced us to the show’s titular ship, and it’s morally complex captain played by Jason Isaacs. Fortunately, there are still a few familiar personnel aboard the Discovery, most notably disgraced first officer Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green), whose actions aboard the good ship Shenzhou in the first two episodes cost Captain Georgiou her life and Burnham her freedom. It also led the nascent Federation into a devastating war with the Klingon Empire. Against this wartime backdrop, Burnham is in the midst of a prison transfer when her ship is re-routed under mysterious circumstances and she winds up on the Discovery.

Make no mistake: Michael is still a prisoner of sorts. But instead of a jail cell, her sentence is serving Lorca on his mission to find a way to defeat the Klingons by any means necessary. It’s new territory for Star Trek, which previously was known for offering a utopian vision of the future where war is waged honorably. As Isaacs tells Yahoo Entertainment, though, Lorca doesn’t have the freedom to be honorable. In a spirited back-and-forth, the British actor defended his character’s actions, poked holes in some of our Discovery theories, and enthusiastically endorsed his crewmates’ real-life decision to take a knee.

Before Discovery aired, you teased that Lorca was going to be a very different Starfleet officer, and this episode definitely establishes that he’s a darker character. I don’t know about dark. This is pre-TOS and pre-Federation directives. Discovery is not on a peaceful mission to explore; they’re fighting for survival! It’s an existential battle against a superior enemy. And it’s people like Lorca that you need in times like this. He’s been given license, and the Federation is looking the other way, supposedly. They want to keep their hands clean. But when the war is not going well, we all know that the Geneva Convention gets shoved under the carpet. This is a guy who has been told, “Do whatever you need, hire whoever you want, and behave in whatever ways are necessary.” He’s going to do that because he sees his job as saving the Federation and everyone who lives in it.

I say “dark” in relation to previous Trek captains, who have been a bit more virtuous in their goals. Well, the previous captains haven’t been at war! My captain, Captain Kirk, had a rather bellicose nature when necessary. Had he been at war, he was perfectly capable of firing on people and killing people. There was a macho swagger to a lot of the stuff he did. But he was in a very different situation. I wouldn’t send Lorca to be in charge of an exploratory vessel, but I would send him as part of the tip of the spear when you’re being shot at.

We learn about the nature of the Discovery in this episode, which seems to exist as a kind of “off the books” ship tasked with a clandestine mission. Discovery is ostensibly a science vessel filled with people who signed up during peacetime to be explorers. So Lorca’s going to have to knock them back into shape at some point, because there’s a threat the scale of which no one has experienced before. And that’s frustrating for him. That’s one of the reasons to recruit Burnham, who has already shown her colors, in that she’s prepared to do what’s necessary and strategize out of the box. He needs people like that round him who will be loyal to him when push comes to shove.

That would explain why he stages that jailbreak… Oh, you’re saying he orchestrated the jailbreak? Interesting theory. I’d love to see what the other fans think of that. [Laughs] He certainly takes advantage of it, and he may have brought her into the sector. But I’m not necessarily sure the evidence exists to convict in open court. But yeah, they’re panicking. Remember this is 10 years before the Prime Directives are in place, and alliances are still being formed and the Federation is still forming itself. By the time you meet Lorca, the war has been on for a while, and casualties are mounting. In fact, it looks like the Klingons are going to win! It’s such a different circumstance than any other series has ever been in.

As a science vessel, Discovery does seem to be developing new kinds of weapons for warfare. Burnham even suspects that Lorca is creating a biological weapon. She thinks there’s a biological weapon, but it’s not a new way to kill — it’s a new way to journey. This spore-based network allows you to travel from anywhere to anywhere in an instant. That would make the Discovery completely invulnerable in any kind of attack situation and give [the Federation] the edge we need. It’s not a weapon, so he has no moral compunction against using it, and if it had been a weapon, he probably wouldn’t either. She thinks the worst of him, because unlike her previous captain with whom she had a very maternal relationship, this guy is keeping to himself. She’s suspicious of why someone would choose her and give her a second shot, and what new moral minefield she might be asked to tiptoe through given what happened to her the last time.

Lorca may not be building a biological weapon, but keeping that creature they find on the dead ship suggests that he’s not adverse to expanding his arsenal beyond photon torpedoes and phasers. He’s thinking of how to use anything. The Klingons are a warrior race and the Federation is soft. All the normal rules are suspended for him and his ship’s activities. So you’re damn right he’s going to take anything from anywhere and see if he can get something useful out of it.

Some fans have wondered whether Discovery should have been set later in the Star Trek timeline as opposed to before The Original Series. For you, is there something specific about the series that makes this particular era the right time period? There’s a billion people with great ideas, and any of them would have been free at any stage during the last 12 years to write their own TV series. One of the things [the producers] wanted to do, I think, was go before everything else because they didn’t have to engage in what was part of canon, and instead feel free to invent and have things happen that hadn’t happened yet. So the people going, “It would have been better if…,” that’s an easy game to play, the Monday morning quarterback. What happened is that [CBS] got a bunch of people who love Trek and said, “We’ll give you an unimaginable amount of money to do the very best thing you can that makes it feel like it was a worthwhile venture to make another Star Trek series.” And they have and continue to do so.

Hoping to forget politics for one night and bask in other people’s glory at the #Netflix #Emmys party and who do I spot at the bar late at night but the poisonous purveyor of lies #SeanSpicer. What were the Emmys thinking celebrating this modern day Goebbels, who was the thuggish face of Orwellian doublespeak just moments ago? Three surprising things about him: 1) He comes about up to my nipples 2) He doesn’t think he should hide himself under a rock from shame for the rest of his life. 3) He’s deeply unattractive, from the inside out. Has the aura of a giant festering abscess. Strange, since he was so charismatic at the (elevated) podium. #TooSoon #MuchTooSoon

A post shared by Jason Isaacs (@therealjasonisaacs) on Sep 18, 2017 at 11:34am PDT

I do want to ask about two real-world incidents that crossed over with Star Trek a little bit. On Emmy night, you published a much-circulated Instagram post taking surprise guest Sean Spicer to task. Did you expect that to get as much coverage as it did? I was standing with a bunch of people, and we were saying the same things to each other, so I have no doubt that they went home and tweeted it out as well. For some odd reason, the Andy Warhol “15-seconds of fame” spotlight landed on me that night. But there were many people who felt the same thing. To be fair — not to Sean Spicer, because I have no desire to be fair to him — the thing I was really frustrated about was that Trump had been at the UN threatening to wage war. So Spicer was there as a representative of something that I found morally repulsive and got the brunt of my frustration. I could care less about the minutia of politics, but when someone is trying to ferment hatred and threatening war and boasting of sexually assaulting women — those things I find shocking.

#StarTrekDiscovery #takeaknee

A post shared by Sonequa Martin-Green (@therealsonequa) on Sep 24, 2017 at 10:09pm PDT

The Discovery cast also recently appeared in a photo which showed them joining the “take a knee” protest. You weren’t in the picture, but were you with them in spirit? I posted something saying that, in the spirit of Gene Roddenberry, I wish I was on the set now, because I’d take a knee. I had no idea that all my friends were somewhere else with a photograph of them on their knee!

In the spirit of Gene Roddenberry – If I could take one knee on the bridge I would.#StarTrekDiscovery

— Jason Isaacs (@jasonsfolly) September 24, 2017

What’s hilarious, and also painful, is the number of people who misunderstand what Star Trek has always been about and why Gene Roddenberry created this radical, revolutionary, disruptive TV series. At a time of such unrest, there was a show where women, African-Americans, Russians, and Asians were all working together in a utopian vision of the future. He was all about equality and freedom of speech, so the number of people who have come out of the woodwork online and said it was a disgrace and that Roddenberry would be furious — I’m pretty sure that Gene Roddenberry was all about that kind of collective action and protest. The great privilege we enjoy in the free Western countries is that we can have those debates. When people attempt to shut debate down, I’m stunned. It’s the very part of what makes us great.

yahoo

Star Trek: Enterprise streams new episodes Sundays at 8:30 p.m. on CBS All Access.

Read more from Yahoo: ‘Star Trek’: The evolution of the Prime Universe 10 ‘Star Trek’ cameos you might not remember The evolving looks of ‘Star Trek’ crews from ‘The Original Series’ to ‘Discovery’

#news #_revsp:wp.yahoo.tv.us #cbs #star trek #_uuid:ff502568-3f10-39af-86dc-03465f7f377b #_author:Ethan Alter #jason isaacs #_category:yct:001000086 #cbs all access #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT #interviews #star trek discovery

31 notes · View notes

thezolblade · 8 years ago

Note

Fanfic ask game~ C, F, G, and V. If that's not too much :')

Okay let’s try these for some of the fandoms we have in common, though not all apply to each letter.

C: What member do you identify with most?

- FF7

I was going to say that I don’t particularly identify with any of the cast, beyond feeling for them as the story plays out. But then I remembered, omg Shera. It was obvious from the start that she did her job and saved Cid’s life, but he gaslighted her for not telling him what he wanted to hear, and only realised that she was right after bullying her for years? Wtf Cid, go die in a fire if that’s what you really want. It left me thinking “…And…? Will Shera be okay? Will she finally leave and get on with her life?”

I don’t care what Cid named after her in AC, I want to know if she recovered her self-esteem & career & personal life. If you have a techy skill, and people who don’t know better try to undermine you, that can be such a tough situation to handle… Years of it would be horrifying.

- Revolutionary Girl Utena

Anthy most of all, I think. Not the drama and trauma at the end, but the solitude she maintains when it’s not yet clear why. The show did a good job of showing that school can be hell for a lot of people, for all kinds of reasons. And damn, it was painful seeing Anthy spending so much time alone, offering everyone a false smile, avoiding the crowds because they really weren’t going to do her any favours. It got frustrating in the early episodes, seeing Utena push her into things when she’d said she didn’t want to about as clearly as she was ever going to. And it was pretty gratifying to see Utena apologising for that at the end.

I mean it was also relatableto see Utena trying to do the right thing, and getting frustrated at the world when it was never easy. I’m still impressed that they managed to demonstrate so much emotional realism in the conclusion, at least as far as you can extrapolate reality for magical near-immortals or whatever they are. With the show being heavily metaphorical, and ending with everyone trying to take the same journey in the movie, it seems like Anthy’s struggles were meant to have universal elements - showing how you can self-sabotage by hurting others, and hurt yourself by telling others what they want to hear. How you need to be able to imagine better options before you can walk away.

- Golden Sun

Uh, Alex, somehow. He’s an embarrassing mess, he makes so many bad decisions which are all ‘wft are you doing?’, and Dark Dawn got into near-wallbanger territory where I was disgusted with both him and the game, bc the gratuitous damage seemed pointless and inconsistent from a gameplay perspective, and so far across the line from a characterisation perspective that it’s really hard to see why Kraden was programmed to say that Alex may have been 'helping in his own way’ or something like that. But in the first two games, at least, there was some complexity to his attitude. (And bits like that of the 3rd one indicated that the canon may still have been trying for nuance, only pretty poorly executed. #.# )

Still, gotta admit by now that judging from the amount of meta and fic I keep writing from his pov, something about his thought process is relatableenough that you can see why he’d think what he thinks, even if he’s wrong. When he actually provides factual information, it tends to be correct. He uses relatively inarguable facts to try to influence people, and the trolling is kinda unrelated. The manipulation isn’t emotional “Leave or I’ll be disappointed in you for picking this fight” - it’s attempted-impartial “Don’t pick this fight because your opponent(s) are too strong / your parents won’t be released unless you keep your side of the deal with those people.” Plus a side of “Lol you think I’m trash don’t you?”, demonstrating that he’s not trying to use a personal connection as leverage bc he’s burning those bridges, and still somehow expecting people to listen. ’I’m not on your side! But you should take my advice!’ Embarrassing mess…

And yet the others sometimes come across as relatively young and distracted by comparison, making assumptions about the world that he wouldn’t, and arguing over petty details. What is the point of panicking over things you can’t change?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh I like so much dialogue, tough choice. Uh well this probably isn’t the best scene, the oldest oldfic is still a messy WIP and I can tell it’d need a lot of work to match the newer stuff, and even to get it finished as what I originally envisioned I need to schedule a whole lot of time to work on it. But I want to, because I still love it, and since I haven’t managed to communicate the whole story yet to its readers, it feels like a self-indulgent choice. I’m pretty attached to the parts where Alex and Isaac get incredibly annoyed at each other, making the situation worse even while trying to work together, though they can’t each recognize genuine effort in the other - for a variety of reasons by this point.

“I… am sick of receiving derogatory communications from the aether, the last one wasn’t nearly as offensive, it wasn’t even real, - ”

“Wait, it’s… What?” Isaac was having trouble making sense of this. “Have you been getting obscene messages from the gods?”

“Can’t you go five minutes without bringing the gods into this?” Alex snapped, looking down again, seizing the chance to change the subject. “We are the ones with infinite potential!”

“Yes… but…”

“And you are the one capable of taking the rest…” It was only after Alex added this that Isaac realised he’d meant the two of them, not humanity in general. For a moment, he’d thought they were of the same opinion there.

“But is it… really…?” Isaac gestured at the paper, wondering how its message could be so irrelevant to Sheba’s fate. If it wasn’t about Sheba, what use was it?

“If you do not intend to believe anything you hear from me, why tell me to speak?”

“No, it’s… uh, don’t worry. I’ll take your word for it, for now.” Isaac smiled, realizing that 'don’t worry’ was slightly inadequate even as he said it. “We have to make sure it comes into existence the way it’s supposed to. First things first. We’d better head upstairs and tell the others the plan.”

“Bring them to me.” Alex could see that Isaac didn’t understand why he would request this. Shouldn’t it be obvious? Why would he want to go back to them, to approach them entirely on their terms? “Whoever would be involved, bring them here.”

“If it happened upstairs, you should probably try it there.”

“Do you think I still need higher ground?” Alex asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the water behind him - boiling water flowing from the cold tap.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Often from start to finish in as few sessions as possible, though if it’s long enough to take more than a few days, I end up jotting down dialogue notes, and then trying to put the notes in order, which gets more fiddly the more there are. The multichapter longfic get big chunks written out of sequence, which sometimes makes it easier to fill in the gaps by joining the dots, and sometimes leaves me blocked on how to tackle the parts in between.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Not sure I could choose anything; other people’s stories are their ideas, and I generally want to hear more from the authors because they’re not the kind of stories I’d have intuitively come up with. Reading fic does tend to spark plotbunnies, but more those that place a headcanon in its own verse showing how else it could play out - different characterisation even if I’m adopting a headcanon I like. Back when I read more fic, I used to get the urge to play with the more macguffiny plot elements of things too, but never got to the point where I had a divergent fan-fan-fic that I could have asked the author about as far as I remember.

#ffvii #revolutionary girl utena #golden sun

2 notes · View notes

coaldustcanary · 9 years ago

Text

2016 Fanfic Masterpost

I’ve seen some posts from folks I follow in a number of different fandoms doing a bit of an end-of-the-year writing roundup, and I really like that idea, so here we are.

I’ve been fannish for a long time now - over 20 years at this point, which is more than a little terrifying to consider, let me tell you. But my fannish writing has been very intermittent over those years for the most part, and my participation in fandom was relatively narrow, particularly when I was working on my PhD. Through 2014 I wrote, on average, one fanwork a year for the previous 5 years, as usually I could be counted upon to participate in at least one A Song of Ice and Fire and/or Game of Thrones fanfic exchange, but not much beyond that. I also wrote a smattering of fic prior to 2009, much of it lost to the ages besides some random pieces I managed to get up on AO3. (I really need to take some time to go back and properly back-date those older works, oof. And dig up a few more on LJ communities that I couldn’t find when I did my original looking, if I can.)

But in the past year and a half or so I’ve come back to fandom in a much more enthusiastic way than I have since I was a teenager, thanks to falling hard for the Dragon Age games and then faceplanting into Once Upon a Time fandom. And in the past seven months I’ve written if not a lot of fic, definitely more than I have in a long, long time. It’s been a trip, in both good and bad ways, but I’m glad to be doing it.

The master list in chronological order with brief commentary:

Always Already (Dragon Age: Inquisition) Incomplete Planned eventual M rating, nothing above T in the current chapter tumblr link, AO3 link, 6025 words The Academic Conference AU that started it all this summer. I just could not let this headcanon go until I wrote this first chapter. I haven’t touched it since then for a variety of reasons, but even if I never get back to it I’m pleased with the chapter that exists and it got me back writing. It’s meant to be a massive DA:I ensemble AU, with this particular multi-chapter story involving some eventual Female Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford, but mostly I just want to finish this particular arc so I can just write snippets in the AU every time I need to say something cathartic about working at a university.

Hunger (Dragon Age: Origins) Rated G, Gen, Alistair & Female Brosca friendship tumblr link, AO3 link, 1835 words A short, introspective piece about one of my Dragon Age OCs. When you grow up without enough food, hungry all the time, what happens when the effects of blood magic make you even hungrier? Natia thinks about her life and her choices and finds common ground with her fellow Grey Warden.

Before a Fall (Game of Thrones) Mature, Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, GoT 6x09 post-ep scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 2698 words Written for the Game of Ships Seven Hells Challenge based off of the prompt “Pride”. I watched 6x09 on the Sunday night when it aired and swooned over Yara and Dany’s interaction. I wrote this intimate encounter the following Monday evening in one sitting. I ship Iron Dragon so very, very much. This fic took only about a month to become my most commented and kudosed fic ever on AO3, and I’m pretty happy with it.

Savior Fair - Princess (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Captain Swan tumblr link, AO3 link, 2501 words My first OUAT fic, based on the August 2016 OUAT positivity challenge that tlynnwords put together. (I put all my pieces for this in a single work on AO3 called Savior Fair, since they’re Emma-centric.) Fluffy CS pillow talk set post-S5 before I’d much looked at S6 spoilers. I like this fic’s premise and flow, but I totally missed the mark with Emma’s voice in it. Her voice is tough for me, but I think I’m getting better.

Savior Fair - Smile (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, SwanFire tumblr link, AO3 link, 938 words My goal with the OUAT positivity fics was to focus on the best parts of Emma’s relationships with other characters. I think Neal is a fascinating character (and though I don’t ship SF, I’ve been a fan of Michael Raymond-James for a long time and I think he brings a lot of interesting nuance to the guy) and I think a lot about the time they spent together and what it would have meant to 17 year old Emma to have someone smile at her and mean it.

Savior Fair - Heart (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Captain Swan, 4x12 missing scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 1274 words I needed a scene to bridge the gap between the conclusion to the showdown in the clock tower and Emma replacing Killian’s heart in his chest. Just a little feels-laden ficlet. (Apparently the original script had a line in the latter scene with Emma saying she felt strange holding his heart, and Killian replying that she’s already held it for ages, though I didn’t know that until after I wrote this bit, and it tends in a similar direction.)

Savior Fair - Trust (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Emma & Milah, 5x14 missing scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 1647 words The last of the positivity prompts I got to (August is a tough time with the semester beginning, so much for my ambitions) and the one of which I’m the most proud. I have A Lot of Feelings about Milah and the way she’s treated in a many corners of OUAT fandom, and I’m still really mad about 5x14. Emma and Milah needed more time to talk. So they mostly talk about what they have in common. (And, honestly, Killian is only a small part of their similarities.) I am certain they would be friends, given the chance.

Steadfast (A Song of Ice and Fire) Rated T, Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth, canon divergence/future fic AO3 link, 4071 words I did three fanfiction exchanges due in September this year, and I wrote this fic for thedevilchicken for the Game of Thrones exchange. Despite the name, this one is open to both book-verse and show-verse fics, and this one is an AU of the former. For some reason I seem to really like writing Stannis-as-king future AUs with a Davos POV, and nothing says Stannis/Davos loyalty than a retelling of a shockingly sad Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale about a broken toy that is loyal to his distant and unattainable love until he’s melted into scrap. (Spoiler alert: This version has a happier ending.)

Distracted (Dragon Age) Explicit, Anders/Karl Thekla AO3 link, 3094 words Smutty roleplaying with spanking written for green_sphynx for The Black Emporium, a Dragon Age rarepair exchange. Playful and porny PWP set sometime well before everything was terrible in Dragon Age 2.

Starstruck (Agent Carter/Doctor Who) Rated G, Gen, Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, Peggy Carter & Angie Martinelli tumblr link, AO3 link, 3425 words Written for Grey_Cardinal for the Crossovering exchange. Ten and Donna cause a bit of a scene at the restaurant where Angie works. I quite like the premise of this fic and it was fun to write, though I really ought to have come up with more for Peggy to do in it.

Spectator Sport (Once Upon a Time) Rated G, Gen, Hooked Queen friendship, future fic tumblr link, AO3 link, 1063 words After having a really crummy day a few months back, I asked for some fic prompts (pairings and a word/idea) to take my mind off it and my lovely friends delivered. This is just a little vague future fic based on mryddinwilt’s prompt for Hooked Queen + parenting. However much they viciously snark at one another, I think they understand one another pretty well, too. And the mental image of them enduring discomfort to watch Henry’s high school soccer game was too good to pass up.

Wrapping (Game of Thrones) Rated T, Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, University AU tumblr link, AO3 link, 1379 words Written for the Game of Ships “Until Hell Freezes Over” holiday/winter-themed event. I’m actually the advisor for a service learning club at my university, and those valiant students get run ragged as they try to finish up the term and also do good for their communities. Somehow I imagine that Dany would be that kind of overachiever, and Yara would just as clearly be her dubious but devoted girlfriend. I’ve been leery before of writing student AUs because I’m a teacher and it feels a bit odd, but I liked this AU a lot and might come back to it for writing more Iron Dragon because I’m sure canon is going to be a shit-show next season.

Clarity (Lucifer) Rated T, Gen, Linda Martin & Mazikeen friendship, 2x07 missing scene AO3 link, 2785 words I participated in Yuletide for the first time this year (yes, I know, I’ve somehow been in fandom for-freaking-ever and never done it before) and I matched on one of my newish fandom delights, Lucifer. Though this fandom is growing and probably won’t be eligible next year, sign-ups were before most of the season had aired, and my recipient, Lenore, requested Linda and Maze having a conversation about Heaven and Hell. Well, without getting too deep in to spoiler territory, canon pretty definitively implied that such a conversation occurred sometime between 2x07 and 2x08, so I decided it needed writing. Linda is my favorite character on Lucifer, and Maze is an utter gift. Writing this was a bit stressful (I was making last-minute edits the night before reveals from a hotel room) but I’m happy to have written it and received some lovely comments from folks, including the recipient.

So, all told, per my AO3 stats page I wrote 32,736 words of fanfic this year, which is far more than I’ve ever written in a year before. I also am starting to get a grip on what my strengths and weaknesses are as a writer, which is pretty wild but also motivating. My general approach to writing has long been “use deadlines as motivation, panic at the last minute, write frantically, throw it at the world like a grenade and take cover” and while I’m a good enough writer for that not to be as terrible as it sounds, I know I could be a lot better if I continue to change my approach to writing and write more frequently and steadily. Honestly, because I’m an academic by trade, this applies to my professional writing as well, and fanfic is good practice for me to refine my writing habits, which have vastly improved this year, even if they’re still not where I want them to be in the end. Here’s hoping I can keep it up in 2017.

#my fic masterpost #fandom is my fandom #on writing #my fic

1 note · View note