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scuttlingcrab · 2 months ago

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Fear, What a Terrible Thing

Summary: Emmrich Volkarin gets trapped in a time loop after he rescues Rook from the Fade. Somehow Johanna Hezenkoss gets pulled in with him, due to their connection in the waking world.

Will Emmrich be able to face his greatest fears? Can he figure out a way to escape? Will Johanna be able to offer any guidance at all?

Little snippet below, the rest can be found on AO3!

Notes: I went full timey-wimey nonsense in my first ever AU piece lmao.

***

A gust of wind sliced through the air, seeping into Emmrich Volkarin’s bones, his teeth chattering as a chill crawled down his spine. He turned towards the direction from whence it came, only to find the environment encircling him grey, dull, the atmosphere static, bereft of any sky. He had no recollection of this setting but he knew one thing, as certain as the pang that radiated from his sternum—no wind should be found in a place such as this, let alone any living soul.

As he concentrated, blinking away the grittiness from behind his eyelids, the ground shifted. Rocks materialised into jagged shapes—hints of colossal statues, incomplete faces, torsos missing heads, marble hands crumbling, fingers reaching out of the ground like wildflowers. He hugged his arms, squeezing his biceps, all at once very cognizant of his lack of outer clothing.

The wind howled once more, bringing about a fresh tinge of bitterness, whispers tickling his cheeks. Frantic noises, barely forged words, all incomprehensible save for the emotions that lingered in between each burst. Panic. Anguish. Uncertainty. He followed the hushed tones, moving forward into the bleakness, attempting to unravel their meaning but logic evaded him, just out of reach. The landscape altered with each step, the voices growing louder, their cadence borderline recognisable.

In the distance an explosion destroyed any sense of stillness, like two ships colliding at full speed in the dead of night. A mound of mismatched ruins sprouted up from nothing, and at its head stood a figure.

Their silhouette was tall and their shoulders broad, hair short, cropped at the jawline. The figure remained unmoving as Emmrich approached. Their face was obscured by shadows, yet their gaze reached him all the same, stripping apart his very essence. His past, present, and future, all unwillingly on display—every step under scrutiny, each breath judged by this mysterious being, observing from their towering perch.

Emmrich edged closer to the figure and his feet became laden with a phantom weight, any type of gesticulation proving to be exhaustive. He glanced down, staring aghast as the tips of his toes hardened, his skin numbing as it turned to stone.

Instantaneously a new sea of statues emerged from the darkness, men and dwarves, elves and Qunari alike—frozen mid-stride, their faces distorted in horror. If he listened hard enough, he could make out their shrieks, their own tragic stories. Some aimed their arms at the mound, pointing accusatory fingers.

He tugged at his legs, attempting to yank himself free of the growth, but the hardening worsened—the stone unbreakable, advancing at such an alarming rate it reached his waist within seconds. Emmrich opened his mouth to call for help, pleading at this stranger who continued to do nothing but watch, but his tongue turned to ash—the remnants fluttering away with another rush of wind.

“Emmrich.” A soft voice rang out, filling his core with comfort—awakening something dormant, fighting against the stone that inched its way up his neck, now nearly covering the back of his head. “Emmrich.” They called again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

The growth ceased, Emmrich’s face the only part of him not yet overtaken by the stone. His heart throbbed viciously in his chest, each beat battering against his ribs.

“I’m sorry.” The voice repeated.

Thump. Thump! Thump.

A crack splintered in his centre, a white light trickling through.

“Please, forgive me. For everything.”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP!

A new crack formed, and then another, each one growing wider, longer, travelling from his torso and down his legs until it shattered the very foundations that kept him trapped in place.

The light burst from Emmrich’s chest, blinding him as it burned through the back of his skull, his skin flaying along with the stone prison—all he could do was scream in agony as his entire body disintegrated.

Emmrich’s wailing followed him from the nightmare as his body jolted awake. He toppled out of his writing chair, falling face first onto the cold floor of his laboratory.

Minutes passed as he allowed himself to lay there, cheeks squished against the cool surface, his pulse slowing with each breath. His eyes surveyed the quarters—roaming over the smooth finish of his mahogany desk, to the fireplace, with its dancing flames that never seemed to extinguish, and finally ending on the various skulls and colorful urns that populated his bookshelves. They eased him out of that appalling night terror, consolation replacing any fits of fear still plaguing him.

He fixated on his hands that were sprawled awkwardly at his side, as a confirmation. Stone no longer coated his fingertips, but flesh, as pale and clammy as he remembered.

“How bizarre.” Someone bellowed from behind Emmrich, their tone detached, airy.

He lifted slightly, leaning on his forearm to face the source of the voice. It came from Johanna, her skull sitting atop her plinth, green energy spewing from her eye sockets.

“This is new, dare I say a development, Volkarin. It seems your situation is not beyond repair.”

“P-Pardon? What situation?”

“That’s all I’m allowed to say on the matter. For now.”

Emmrich’s arm trembled under the strain of his body weight. He took a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips, using the rest of his vigour to guide himself up on his knees. He grabbed hold of the desk, nails nearly digging into the wood, to safely guide his form back into the chair.

“I must’ve fallen asleep at my desk again, I ne—agh.”

The room rotated, its spinning gradually picking up momentum. He focused on a wooden crate in front of him, one of the many that sat nestled underneath the spiral staircase, to keep him grounded. The crate remained stagnant but his world twirled around it, like he was peering into the middle of a whirlpool. One hand rushed to his head, rubbing his eyebrows furiously, hoping that would erase the dizziness. The other held his desk for dear life, the only thing that kept him from plummeting, from being pulled into the recesses of an abyss.

“M-my word…” Emmrich grumbled, peeling his fingers away from his forehead as the vertigo subsided. It left his ears ringing, a dull ache emanating from his temples.

“Your nose is bleeding again, Volkarin.”

Indeed, something warm spurted from Emmrich’s nostrils. He caught it in his hands, tilting his head back to avoid any dripping on his apparel. Thick, clotty liquid moved down the back of his throat at the motion and he grimaced, swallowing hard—the metallic notes of blood clinging to his uvula.

“There’s a handkerchief in your pocket. Right side. Best get on with it, else you’ll be upset at soiling that rotten shirt of yours. And no, you won’t have time to change.”

“Johanna, how’d you—?”

Emmrich pulled out a handkerchief, just as Johanna had instructed. It was a delicate thing, flowers embroidered along the edges and his initials E.V. stitched in cursive in the corner. He moved it towards his face but hesitated, spotting dried blood that sullied the lilac coloured cloth. Some splotches were darker, fresher, others faded with time. It was positively filthy—he noted the crusty edges, the likelihood it hadn’t been washed in…weeks? How unlike him, had he simply forgotten? He couldn’t recall the last time he had a nosebleed... or needed to use this handkerchief in particular.

When he was certain the bleeding stopped, he removed it from his nose, observing the new blotch of red that joined the others, adding to its grim canvas. He carefully folded it, resting it on top of his side table.

Emmrich then shifted his focus to his desk, frowning at the disarray. Papers were chaotically strewn about—concealing uneaten trays of food, long forgotten and riddled with mold, splintered quills, and empty potion vials. Uneven stacks of yellowing parchments lined the floor, brimming with illegible notes on the Fade, the nature of Solas’ prison, and assorted blueprints of the Lyrium dagger. Other research documents and manuscripts were crumbled in angry balls or torn to shreds, discarded to their own piles of rubbish by the door. Emmrich’s record of his failures—he’d burn them all after he pried Rook from the Fade, when she was back in his… as soon as he…

A flash of gold glittered underneath an overturned tome, if only for a moment, as if it was trying to get Emmrich’s attention, reminding him of his unfinished task. He reached for it, pulling out the mock Lyrium dagger. He squeezed the large ring pommel, daring it to disappoint him like the first version he crafted—which had immediately buckled, caving in on itself after making contact with his flesh.

It only took 19 attempts to settle on this iteration. If it faulted now, he would only start over, primed to do it again. And again. And again! Until it was perfect. Or in his case, with his obvious lack of time, passable. He’d deal with the repercussions later.

It’s what Rook would’ve done.

The dagger would never be enough to kill Elgar'nan, it was only a distraction, at best. From his misery, his fears most of all. It was the only hare-brained plan the companions could come up with in Rook’s absence, as Elgar'nan’s corruption spread over Thedas. Emmrich was no god, merely a besotted mortal with a dream of domesticity, who somehow gathered enough tenacity to face the Evanuris—pulling on his knowledge of the Fade and the very powers of his passions to aid the companions in their plights. And the one component behind it all was Rook. It was always Rook. It would always be her. Until his last faded breath.

Emmrich had nearly depleted all his mana to arrive at this disappointing verdict. He saved whatever was left for Rook. For today. For what needed to be done. He felt hollow without his magic, feeble, like he was decaying from the inside—his heart rotting, spreading some form of blight through his veins with each irregular palpitation. He imagined his body on a slab, still breathing, chest cavity open, skin peeled back—it was only a facade, after all—revealing his muscles decomposing prematurely, his bones crumbling along with them. And all the while he’d watch, with wide eyes, as some Watcher took him apart, piece by piece, evaluating the poor state of his body.

Johanna was right, Emmrich was mouldering. Even if he refused to believe her claims, or acknowledge them on most occasions. Even when the truth was laced with poison, resentment, a thousand lashes in an attempt to wound him for all the times he’d supposedly wronged her in the past. He should’ve acknowledged her more often.

“Thank you, Johanna.”

For a short time the skull remained quiet, the green essence blazing as it thrashed around her. In excitement? Perhaps annoyance? He could never tell with Johanna.

“For what, praytell?”

“Your sincerity.”

Emmrich shot to his feet, stumbling about his quarters as he gathered his staff, field kit and travel coat, preparing whatever else he needed for the journey that awaited him.

“I must go. The others, they’re expecting me.”

“Yes, let’s see how you’ll fare today.”

Emmrich paused at the threshold, her words prodding something at the back of his mind, leading him to a bridge he was sure he had crossed before. He glanced at Johanna’s skull, as if staring at her might answer all his undetermined questions.

“You speak as if you know the outcome.”

Johanna’s energy intensified, gushing over the edges of her plinth. Her eye sockets pulsed, mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat. She couldn’t move, not with all the wards layered on top of her skull, but his skin prickled—goosebumps rising on his flesh, as he sensed her notorious, all-consuming stare sweeping over him. The same way she used to glower at him as he spoke to corpses, stuffed his nose in books, or whenever he caught her eyes on him during lectures. Johanna rarely stayed silent for this long.

“See you soon, Volkarin.”

The skull remained expressionless, but he was certain he could hear her smile, her tone subtly higher, as if she was amused. He made a mental note to speak with her further on the matter upon his return, when his mind was clearer and when he was in the mood to chastise. There was no room to speculate now, to get riled at Johanna’s antics.

Not today.

Not when he had to focus.

Once Emmrich left his quarters, an odd awareness hung about, like a rich morning fog. It was a feeling he couldn’t quite grasp, almost as if he’d done this all before, more times than he could call to mind. He walked through the hallway outside his chambers and out into the library’s balcony, his movements forced, guided by an unseen hand—identical to a puppet or a piece on a chessboard. He attempted to shake the feeling, no doubt a symptom from his fatigue, but it persisted. It’ll soon pass, as it always did.

The remaining companions were gathered in the library’s main foyer. Taash paced back and forth by the entrance, nostrils flaring, playing with a thick axe in their hands. Neve and Lucanis stood by the bookshelves—Lucanis leaning against it, while Neve flicked through one of the volumes, pretending to care about the text, both of them too anxious to relax. It was only Davrin who sat, comfortable in his designated spot around the table, busying himself with another wood carving.

Emmrich’s hand tensed as he clung to the bannister, using it as support while he descended. Something tugged at his chest again, guiding him closer to the group, as if they were fettered together, bound by destiny itself.

Tiny multi-colored strands of the Fade weaved through the walls of the Lighthouse, coursing through Emmrich’s body, spilling down the staircase and pooling at the feet of Taash, Davrin, Neve, and Lucanis. They each had an irregularity about them, static grey colours discharging from their limbs. He took another step and the companions flickered briefly, like they were wraiths, skin translucent, copies of their physical forms. He blinked, and the colours disappeared, everything returning to normal.

He tried to resist the pull as it grew stronger and his knees buckled in retaliation. Emmrich yelped as he nearly fell down the stairs, none of the companions seeming to notice as he clutched the railings. He took a moment to recover, straightening his gait as he carried on, finally reaching the bottom floor and stopping behind Davrin’s chair.

Emmrich peeked his head over the Grey Wardens’ shoulder, eager to see what he was whittling. The piece in Davrin’s hands was not in the shape of a beast nor a ghastly darkfriend, but it resembled a woman. Tall, robust, pointed ears jetting through short hair. He knew that posture, hands on hips, defiant, recognised those plain clothes loosely draped around the figure. Rook.

Emmrich’s breath hitched at the realisation, heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach.

“The details, Davrin. It’s extraordinary! Dare I say, your best work yet.”

“Yeah, I thought you might like it. Here.”

Davrin placed his whittling knife on his lap, blowing softly against the sculpture to remove any loose wood chips and handed it to Emmrich.

“Think I’m finished, you should have it.”

“No. Davrin, I couldn't possibly—”

“It kept me company after Tearstone, a decent distraction from the mess we’ve been facing. Figured maybe it would help you too? Give you some courage. Every bit counts.”

Emmrich cupped his hands together, holding the tiny figure of Rook delicately, as if it was made of glass. He caressed the face with his thumb, taking a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship, the smoothness of the wood and how it felt against his fingers.

Davrin had gone so far as to etch an expression on Rook’s face, showcasing her mischievous side. In all honesty, it was usually quite vexing to Emmrich, since he was the only one on the receiving end of her peculiar way of showing affection—but in this circumstance, it brought a tear to his eyes, his lip quivering as he forced a smile in gratitude.

“You captured her expression quite well.”

“It’s the smirk, right? I can hear her now, ‘is that really what I look like?’”

Davrin chuckled, rising from his chair to stretch. Emmrich nodded in agreement and placed the wooden statuette in his pouch. It wasn’t heavy, not in the slightest, but Emmrich felt the weight of it against his hips. True to Davrin’s word, the mere presence of the figure fueled him with a newfangled resolve. It made him want to puff his chest out in pride, prepared for anything that might come charging at him.

“Don’t worry, Emmrich.” Neve said, wearing her warmest grin. “We'll get the real Rook back.”

“C’mon already.” Taash huffed, “Enough talking.” Without anything else to add to their statement, they stomped across the foyer towards the Eluvian Room, disappearing down the stairs.

The rest of the companions followed suit, leaving together through the Lighthouse’s Eluvian and entering the Crossroads. The Caretaker greeted them as they arrived at the Spirit docks, gesturing to the boat that was at the ready. They silently boarded, taking their usual seats on the vessel. Emmrich was positioned at the back, hand resting on the spot where Rook should’ve been, pinning his hopes she would occupy that seat once again. Later today if all things went according to plan.

Emmrich watched the Crossroad’s ruinous settings pass him by as the boat sailed effortlessly through its thick currents. The ether still bled from the eclipse that transpired nearly a month ago—instead of clouds, jagged holes covered its expanse, oozing like lesions, casting ominous shadows on nearly the entirety of the spirit realm. Emmrich fidgeted in his seat, lips dry and chapped, the sense of the day’s impending doom coiling in his core. He bounced his right leg repeatedly, like he was trying to drill a hole through the bottom of the boat—an irksome old habit that had pursued him since his days as a student.

He applied pressure to the centre of his left palm with his thumb, holding it there until he felt a pulse, then moved on to the other hand. It was the only thing that worked for Emmrich, what he knew could quell the dread from wrapping its icy fingers around his throat, sucking the breath out of his lungs. He repeated the act several times, banishing any more negative thoughts from blossoming.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the Converged City, Taash practically leapt off the boat, not even waiting for it to come to a complete stop. They didn’t wander too far though, stopping a few paces from the dock and kicking the dirt impatiently, growling at the fact no one else sufficiently met their pace. Emmrich was the last to disembark and the Caretaker placed a spectral hand on his arm, holding him back from joining the others.

The spirit regarded Emmrich through the tiny slits in their mask, tilting their head curiously. “May fortune smile upon you, dweller.” Then they vanished into a sea of turquoise embers, all before Emmrich could even utter a single word of thanks.

Nevertheless Emmrich still bowed in return, to honour the spirit, conscious he was presumably being watched—whether it was the Caretaker themselves or another inquisitive being, he always paid his respects.

Emmrich turned to join the companions, watching as they marched their way onwards, but he stiffened. The flows of the Fade were overwhelming here, on this far side of the Veil. They were thicker, their colours zealous, scarlets, sapphires, violets, and emeralds—intertwining like the roots of an ancient tree, the energy taut, vibrating with the forces of millions of spirits and mortals, the essence of their magic and dreams mounting.

Flicker.

Emmrich’s head buzzed and he planted his staff into the gravel, saging against it to stay upright. The flows were head-splitting, each shrill from the individual strands of magic combined with the others, forming an unharmonious chorus of different languages and emotions.

Flicker.

The ground was suddenly ashen, ruptured, his feet cemented. The Crossroads were no more, only the stony desolation of a nightmarish landscape appeared in its place. Shadows closed in around Emmrich and lightning struck through the pitch black skies. Emmrich’s chest tightened, heart rattling against the confines of his body.

“Impossible.” He wanted to say, but no words left his lips, not even a whimper.

Flicker.

Emmrich was back in the Converged City, on his knees, staff discarded at his side. Residues of the Fade continued to thrum around him, like an alarm. His hands were clenched into fists, nails digging into the base of his palms, nearly drawing blood. Cold sweat collected at the small of his back as he glanced up, expecting to find the concerned faces of his companions staring down at him. Again. Instead, and much to his relief, there was no one around, they were already so far ahead.

These symptoms… How long had he been…

He wobbled to his feet, quickly galloping to join them at the tail end of the party, before anyone took notice.

The group was about to pass through the front gates of the Converged City, a few more steps and they would’ve reached its hub, where the spirit markets set up shop. But an opening took shape in the rock face to the left of the entrance, forming a strange byway.

Strands of magic thrummed around it in anticipation and Emmrich drew in a sharp breath. The Fade never failed to present some kind of solution, even if it was an unexpected alternative. It always guided him in the right direction, all Emmrich had to do was simply pay attention to the finer details, the clues in its sudden variances—trusting its dialogue, honing in on what it was trying to show him.

“This way!” Emmrich announced, rushing down the rugged path without delay, convinced it was where he needed to be, where he would find Rook—if danger skulked around the bend, whether it was more Venatori mages or Antam soldiers—he would strike them all down in his fury, turning their skeletons to the very gravel under his feet. “It’s thinner here!”

“You better be right!” Taash yelled, but he ignored them, not bothering to hold back. Not when he was so close.

He traversed further, proceeding along the course the magic set out for him. The hairs on his neck stood tall as he approached a dead end, the atmosphere cracking with electricity, coming face-to-face with another crag. An irregularity floated against the side of the rocks, a vivid green fissure waiting for them.

“There! A light!”

Emmrich aimed his staff towards the fissure, pulling at the final reserves of his mana, feeling the power slowly slipping away from him, like water trickling through his fingertips. The fissure swelled, cracking open with erratic energy, the corners thrashing out in thick tendrils like vicious snakes.

He choked, heart lodged in his throat, as he released his concentration on the source. The ground teetered as he endeavored to press forward, skewing in such a manic way it made his stomach churn. If he shut his eyes, he would've thought he was walking atop the upper deck of a ship at the height of a tempest. The gap was just wide enough now that maybe one, or two of them, could enter.

Another step closer and a figure appeared in the centre of the rift. Emmrich threw his staff aside when he noticed, making a run for the opening, arms flailing to keep balance.

The figure’s features grew more defined—a sturdy build, peaked ears, chin length hair…

“Rook!” Emmrich cried out.

Her visage was warped, muted against the prison’s grey interior, as though she was leagues underwater and he was gaping at her from the surface.

They locked eyes, gazing intensely at one another. Rook’s expression wasn’t relieved, as Emmrich thought it would be. Her brows were knitted in worry, wrinkles carved into the corners of her lips as she frowned. She raised her hands, palms facing out, trying to warn him, to stop him. Rook's mouth parted but he could not hear what followed.

Emmrich tore into the first layer of the rift, plunging his hands through an icy filter. A deafening explosion stemmed from the opening and the world as he knew it vanished completely.

He never stopped calling Rook’s name, no matter how his limbs burned, seizing up from the piercing cold. She was right there, just within his grasp, his fingers barely touching the tip of her armour. He was so close, always so close. He could save her this time. His hands remained motionless, outstretched and suspended in the air like the rubble floating around the Lighthouse—forever seeking Rook’s fervour, her caress, as she progressed to drift further away.

Flicker.

The wind resumed, assaulting Emmrich from all sides, its strength tenfold, enraged. It cut into his flesh, tearing his clothes apart like a horde of darkspawn.

He was pushed to his knees, struggling to stay up on all fours as the winds tossed him about. The ground was sharp and pebbly, the foundations stabbing through his palms. There was no respite from the agony, not in this place.

Emmrich craned his neck back, hair whipping across his forehead. Above him grayish debris hovered against blackness, a void, seemingly unaffected by the storm thrashing around him.

He could not discern a noticeable barrier, nor could he sense any menacing wards keeping him trapped—he was in a bubble, a snowglobe of sorts. Whoever stood outside, in the darkness, watching, was the orchestrator of his mania, of the tribulations…

This was not a dream.

This was… just moments before he had… the rift…

“Rook!” Emmrich shrieked, his voice fighting against the wailing winds.

As if sensing his thoughts, the floor trembled. A fresh mound of trees, dirt, rocks, and rubble burst through the ground in front of him, mangled and sinister. Corrupted like a blight boil. A shadowed figure sat cross legged, relaxing at the top of the mound. They shrugged their shoulders, rolling their head back and forth, arms extending out in front of them, wrists rotating—they moved as if they had been dormant for centuries, and the act was nothing more eventful than a morning stretch.

The figure’s unseen eyes found Emmrich’s, the wind picking up its aggression as they held their gazes—Emmrich fighting to keep his eyes open, matching the figure’s cruelty with his own resilience.

Their physicality, those rounded shoulders… the way they sat so nonchalantly, how they cocked their head in such an inquisitive fashion, without a care in the world. A spark ignited in Emmrich’s chest, a pained familiarity fanning the flames of his heart. The heat grew with each breath, with each burst of hope, as he tried to chase the feelings of comfort, of love, the memories they elicited, so foreign yet welcoming—Rook’s face flooded his mind, the woman who held the key to his own aspirations, his devotion...

A way out, a way towards….

“Help—Help me!” Emmrich began, extending his hand towards the figure, hoping they would reach for him in turn, save him. “P-please!” Instead the wind swatted his limb away, causing his head to smack against the ground.

Emmrich’s teeth rattled as the surface vibrated, opening up like the jaws of a ravenous beast. It didn’t swallow him, no, but statues spewed from its jagged mouth in waves, filling up all available space around Emmrich.

He fought against the wind and scrambled to his feet, but that only left him surrounded. Soon Emmrich was face-to-face with a statue that was an exact replica of himself. A pair of dark eyes stared back at him, no different to if he were staring in a fogged up mirror. From his height, slender build, and to the clothes on his back—there was no detail that went unmissed, even his moustache was perfectly trimmed and hair coiffed.

In fact, all the statues that appeared were of him, different variations, showcasing a range of emotions. Some stood tall, ever defiant, while others cowered in fear, curling into a ball, their faces full of dolour. None of the statues seemed to exhibit an ounce of happiness, no sense of triumph, nor excitement—it was a pit of despair, of Emmrich’s own making.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emmrich shouted into the desolation, towards the figure on the top of the mound. They did not acknowledge his question, and so Emmrich tried again.

“What is—“

The statues shifted, their bases grating against the ground as they turned, until every single one faced him. It was overwhelming, stifling. Emmrich stared at them, one by one, and an immense pain surged through the centre of his forehead. Memories, emotions, wants, desires, trying to break through his skull and escape into the void. His ears rang, pain piercing the deepest parts of his soul, the bits of himself he never knew existed, the traumas of his youth he never wished to acknowledge again. His essence was stripped away and reformed, the sinews of his body resitching.

His back arched, writhing in discomfort as hundreds of memories spilled through him, one echo triggering another—the empty pools in his mind refilling with acidic liquid, with panic at the recollections that bubbled to the surface.

It was the same evocation. No. Variations of it, but with identical conclusions. His defeat, his doomed sentencing. Of all the times he’d been here. In the blackness, in this exact position. Turned to stone, forgotten. All the while the act repeated itself again and again, on an incessant loop—the rift, reaching for Rook, the statues… one way or another, never making it through, but always in this place. Always.

Emmrich didn’t need to look down to know his feet were already stone—his fingers hardening, that hollowed sensation growing higher. Soon he would just be another piece of the collection, joining the impressions of the past.

How many more would come in his place?

He would not watch. Not again.

He stared above, at the ruins that swirled in jet blast mists.

“Emmrich…”

That voice again. Echoing, always echoing, but from where? From whom?

“Please, listen to me.”

Emmrich parted his lips, a thousand questions hurtling towards his tongue, so many things he wanted to articulate, answers he craved to hear from this voice that haunted him.

White heat climbed up his throat, searing his larynx like molten honey. It filled his lungs, rushing through his arteries, moving to the tips of his toes, loosening the hardened skin.

In place of words, light escaped his mouth, shooting up into the sky, acting as a beacon. It penetrated something, an invisible barrier, white cracks forming from its detonation point. Tiny ruptures slithered along the surface until all at once it splintered. Black glass rained down like arrows, leaving gaping holes in its place. They did not pierce Emmrich, it didn’t make it past the light erupting from his mouth, melting upon impact.

The illumination penetrated the fragmented ceiling, overtaking the dimness and misery that housed Emmrich. The statues broke apart in turn as it spread, segments of himself disappearing, suspended up and away. There was a sense of calmness that washed over Emmrich as the variants dissolved into nothingness.

He surrendered to the heat as his body broke apart, as his vision was washed only in white.

Maybe this was the end. He was comfortable, content with the outcome—no thoughts ate away at him, no regrets, even though he knew that was a lie, he had enough of those to fill an entire valley. There was no sense of pain or suffering. It was swift, empty. Dare say, tranquil.

He simply ceased to exist. That is, until he was thrown from the comforts of whatever void he was floating in and back to reality.

Emmrich awoke at his desk with a groan, head face down against a mess of scrolls. His arms lay limp at his side, hands tingling as he started to move, reawakening the sensations in his fingers.

He sat up, head reeling, blinking in disbelief at seeing his quarters, when just moments ago he had been in that damned bottomless pit, and just before that…

“No!” He screamed, jumping to his feet, ignoring the splitting headache that threw him off centre, as the visions of the past, so many, all the terrors he had experienced in that wretched place, pursued him evermore. “Rook!”

He ran around the room in a frenzy, like some sort of caged animal. He poked at numerous articles, books, beakers, opening crates, inspecting the skulls and figurines, prodding the wood in the fire—testing their validity, whether or not they were real or some figment of his imagination, waiting for a sign, for something to shift and the curtain to fall, revealing the truth. Showcasing that the blackness was just out of view, always there, following him. Waiting for him to return. The graveyard that coaxed him, full of nothing but remnants of the past, effigies of himself. Abominations. This was not real. Nothing was real.

“The esteemed professor. Alive at last.”

Rest on AO3! *disappears into the void*

#emmrich dragon age #emmrich the necromancer #emmrich volkarin #da4 emmrich #dragon age emmrich #dragon age veilguard #dav fanfic #emmrich #emmrich x rook #johanna hezenkoss

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

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Forsaken | Part 3

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

“Can you tell me about it?”

Glancing at you, Jinyoung sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” you urged, leaning forward in earnest. It made him hesitant with your eagerness, considering what you were asking of wasn’t something to get that animated over. You acknowledged the evident unease Jinyoung was experiencing and gently reached for his hand, curbing some of your enthusiasm. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to act as if you were a circus creature. I just… I want to understand more so I can better be there for you.”

“You do enough,” he whispered, gnawing on his bottom lip as he contemplated his life story. You had already told him of yours. As the daughter of the head patron of this township, you hadn’t faced a whole lot of troubling times in the short years you had on this earth thus far. You had been sheltered, fed daily, clothed decently and never felt the harshness of winter within your bones like he had. Further, you had been loved – a concept Jinyoung couldn’t quite fathom even now.

“Still,” you persisted, patting his forearm softly, soothing him and loosening off some of his control. “I have been far too privileged in this life. I want to understand the life you have lived so I never do anything to upset you.”

“Bitterness is bound to happen between two very different people, Y/N.”

“So can support and comfort. Let me be there for you, hm?”

He swallowed roughly, nodding as tears formed in his eyes. “I don’t remember much of when I was younger. I never had parents or a home. I don’t know who helped me survive until I was big enough to get by but when was a bit older I remember being found in the woods and dragged to a village. I was hungry so I followed for food…”

“But it was a camp for the Forsaken, right?”

Jinyoung nodded grimly. “If you don’t have anything in life, they give you this and take you as their own.”

Lifting his sleeve away on his right arm, he showed the numbered tattoo scored permanently into his skin. You fingered it tentatively and he shuddered with your touch. Smiling softly, you undid the leather band around your wrist and slipped it over his, hiding the numbers effectively. You then smiled up at him. “I know I can’t remove it for good, but you don’t need to worry about that anymore. You’re safe here with me.”

Jinyoung smiled sadly. If only he could truly believe that.

For a moment, Jinyoung wondered if you had ever truly understood what he was back then. For you, he was just a friend, a lover, a special person you had seen under the warm light that was your world. It didn’t seem to matter how often he would remind you he wasn’t the same as you were, you still didn’t seem to understand who he was.

Born as a Forsaken, the tattoo on his arm would never stop bleeding into his soul despite your efforts to erase it.

For Jinyoung, your treatment of who he was always made him desperate for more of it. He lapped you up with an insatiable hunger, greedy for more of your light to brighten his darkness. The longer he spent around you had made him almost believe his hardships were over. At your side, he only experienced happiness and acceptance.

Maybe that’s why it hadn’t taken him long to race after you, yearning for those emotions once again.

He knew what path you had taken without seeing you move that way, the years spent lurking in the dark making Jinyoung an excellent hunter. Travelling towards the forest as fast as he could, dread filled him. The nightshift would have begun and Mark was assigned this area tonight. He was a first-rate archer, and he hadn’t missed a target in the eight years Jinyoung had spent with him. Pushing himself to move faster, he breathed in relief when he saw you dashing through the forest like a deer. You were too free, not truly understanding how deadly this world could be for someone as dainty as you were. And as he predicted, he saw Mark up ahead, the man reaching for his weapon to harm his prey. Jinyoung dove towards you, grabbing you and spinning you away from the arrowhead that now pierced firmly into the tree trunk he had soared by. The force hurtled you both into a neighbouring tree and he let off a signal whistle of their battalion, watching as Mark lowered his next arrow and retreated into the shadows.

Jinyoung then turned back to you, your eyelids clamped together in fear. He sighed, knowing full well you weren’t ready for death. Someone who feared the end never wanted to take their last breath early. Slowly, your eyes opened and you stared up at him in surprise, your hands reaching for the front of his shirt and anchoring yourself there.

Why did this action always make his heart beat erratically over you? In the face of death or with the anticipation of his lips upon yours, you had always gripped onto him like this.

It made Jinyoung desperate to keep you there, casting reality to the side. “I’ll follow you to nowhere, so don’t try and leave me yet.”

Soul searching, you stared back at him for an immeasurable moment before slumping into his arms, burying your head in his chest. He held his breath, hesitant to rely on the warmth now erasing the chill out of his bones. Would this moment only be fleeting? Would you wake up again and try to leave, knowing he wasn’t the boy who did all he could to please you? Jinyoung was different now. He had more than just you to think about.

Right now though, he was uncaring of all the lives that he had upon his shoulders. He pulled you closer, lowering his head to your shoulder, inhaling you in. Despite the shirt you wore being his own; your scent had permeated through, filling his senses with nostalgia. How he had loved breathing you in, grounding his nerves whenever he felt he would lose you from his side. His arms tightened around you, coveting you like he had days previous, though this time you responded by clinging to him just as much.

The past was colliding with the present, trying to find a way to establish a place within one another.

“Jinyoung,” you mumbled from within his embrace sometime later and he reluctantly shifted so you could look up, his arms aching now that he had realised just how much effort he had used to hold you to himself. You used the moonlight to your advantage to search his eyes again. “Let’s find nowhere.”

“Right now?”

“Can’t we?” you pleaded, looking like the deer he had thought of you as before. You were too innocent for these parts and it made him swallow roughly, realising his place. He stepped back, and yet you followed him, unrelenting in your grip around his waist now.

“I need time.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know,” he answered simply and you dropped your head. His heart and mind tried to find a solution, hurting as the minutes passed by without a single path forward. He pried your chin out of your chest and stared at you feebly. “Will you… give it to me?”

“I’m cold,” you mentioned instead and Jinyoung nodded, pulling you into his side and helping you through the woods and back to his home. You were more alert this time, given you weren’t rushing through. Looking up at him after entering the cavern-like foyer, you frowned. “What is this place exactly?”

“We built our base into the hills around here. Once we go through the first two hallways, we’re on the other side of the hill where the houses are.”

“So we’re underground right now?” Jinyoung nodded and you smiled. “That’s a clever way to hide.”

“It’s survival,” he merely stated, feeling uncomfortable with your awe. He didn’t want to be seen as clever. The Rebellion wasn’t something to feel accomplished by, it wasn’t a way of life he wanted for any of them, especially not himself. So having you justify their strategic base layout only irritated him and he dragged you through the corridors and doors until you were back in the room you knew of.

You frowned. “There’s no kitchen?”

“We eat together.”

“We?”

Jinyoung implored your curiosity to ease off but you merely waited for an answer and he groaned. “Some twenty men live here.”

“No women?”

“Just two others.”

You finally picked up on his mood and sat down on his bed, bouncing a little on the edge whilst you looked at the size of it. “This bed wasn’t made for more than one person to lay upon it.”

“One person has only ever needed it,” he commented and you merely stared back at him. Jinyoung sighed for the umpteenth time. “You won’t be settled until you finish with your questions, will you?”

Smiling with the unspoken permission to continue, you launched into asking more about the camp. You wondered of their roles, of what happened here. You seemed to steer clear of what he did outside of the camp, and for that Jinyoung was thankful. He didn’t possess the energy to explain the years he had spent under the Rebellion whilst you were living out there in a peaceful settlement.

The same place he had destroyed from existence.

Jinyoung struggled to dislodge the lump forming within his throat. He had destroyed your world and brought you to this wretched place. Would you even make it here?

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’m fine with the floor,” he announced, watching as you stopped midway in climbing under the blankets. Staring back at him, you shook your head.

“You could sleep beside me.”

Jinyoung cocked his head to the side despite the rush within his chest. “Didn’t you mention how tiny it was before?”

“We’ve done it before,” you whispered and he closed his eyes, nodding softly.

“Shh! They’ll find us,” he chastised and you clamped your giggling mouth together as best as you could.

“I’m sorry it’s just your foot tickled mine!”

“Well, given this bed isn’t made for two, did you expect there to be any room between us?”

“I think we’re not utilising it properly,” you stated, wriggling around until he whined when you elbowed him in the side. Sheepishly, you shot him an apology before finishing with scooting right up against the wall and beckoning Jinyoung closer. He obliged, frowning when you yanked on his folded arms. “You need to move them.”

“Why, I’m keeping a barrier between us.”

“Just because I’ve kissed you, doesn’t mean I will jump you, Jinyoung!” you whispered fervently and his face felt hot as you tugged an arm away from the other. Lifting yourself up and using his upper arm as a pillow, you nestled back down into his side. “There, much better.”

He couldn’t reply, the intense reaction his body was having overwhelmed him. Where you touched now tingled and burned, confusing him of your powers. Just what was this magic you were putting him under? Instinctively, he laid his other arm over your waist and you sighed in content. Blinking slowly with how close you were, he then stopped moving when you looked up at him.

“I love you, you know,” you confessed. “I don’t want to sleep alone anymore. Not when I can be this warm within your arms.”

Jinyoung held his breath as you slipped your head over the arm he had cast across the bed after laying down beside you, closing his eyes briefly as you nuzzled around, trying to find the comfiest spot. Legs entangled with the lack of room and your hands pressed gently into his chest. For a moment, after you both settled into your positions, he merely focused on breathing evenly.

He hadn’t held anyone like this outside of his dreams.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked softly and you hummed in response. You were easily more tired than Jinyoung was and your even breathing indicated to him that you had been lulled into another world.

He hoped that it was beautiful and bright compared to here.

As you slept, he soaked you in, inch by inch. You had blossomed further and he wanted to imprint every part that was different now. Your hair was shorter than it had been as a teenager. Was it more practical to be this length as an adult? His own hair was longer and untamed than back when you would cut it for him. What did you think of his appearance now, he wondered. Was he someone you could still find something attractive in?

A swift breath deflated him then. Why would you be attracted to him? He had nothing to offer you in the way of hope. Even if he wanted to go to nowhere with you, Jinyoung knew it would be impossible unless in the afterlife together.

The Rebellion was moving too fast, making deals with the cities, and taking out villages that seemed to profit too easily on their own. Self-sufficiency would be wiped out before they knew it, and the overlord would block out the light of the people.

If there was a nowhere to run to, Jinyoung knew it would soon be taken by the army of these lands.

Yet as you dreamed within his arms, he hoped you would find it.

_________________

Part 4

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unicornbitchface · 5 years ago

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Raat ki Rani

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Background: A story set in the colonial past of India.

Beta’d by my lovely friend @madbaddic7ed !

Warnings: harsh languange

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Chapter 3

The hall looked magnificent as if the ghosts of the past had brought them back to the days of glory. The chandelier was lit up, its jewels reflecting light upon every nook and corner.

The musicians played with vigor, expecting a heavy reward for their best efforts and the sweet-scented welcome of every guest added to the pomp.

Every high born around the state was to be present in the feast, and there they were, happy to make the acquaintance of the new British resident. The only glitch was that the said officer was nowhere to be seen, making the Maharaja jittery and a little annoyed.

Soon everyone would start asking questions, for how long was he supposed to distract guests with starters? With this thought, Ganga nodded at Kulwant, asking him to get an update.

*******

Late again! But the blame was on the delay with the dress they insisted to be worn. What was wrong with the old ones? Nothing when I see them!

Who in their right minds would wear these? UGH. I will have to talk to the culprits after this goddamn feast for that buffoon!

As Damini walked through the seemingly deserted halls of the palace, fixing her stubborn hair, adding a gajra and cursing the dressmaker, she did not realise that she took a wrong turn.

Distressed by her woes of fashion and etiquette that mandated her presence in that debauchery, she walked in a jiffy towards her dear friend, Ashwanth.

The gajra, long forgotten, embraced the side of the marble tile near a very special room. Only the melody of her heavy gold trinkets echoed in the air paired with a certain gift, attracting the attention of a handsome blue-eyed devil who was switching to his suits after giving the Indian kurta a chance.

The sound made him curious like the first night, and his feet dragged him to the halls. Only half dressed, shirt unbuttoned, he looked around and tried to trace the echo. All that he could concur, was a moving shadow with the curves of silk, the bells moving in sync with those voluptuous hips. Coming back to his allotted room, the only remnant of that siren laid across the floor.

The gift.

That smell.

His hand snatched the bunched flowers, as if the grounds would swallow them if he wasn’t quick enough. One whiff and he knew he needed it in his life more than the opium his friends favoured.

So, it belonged to a person after all, and by the accompanying silhouette, a woman.

His woman.

A sudden realization had his pupil dilated, as he went back to the room. She might be at the feast.

If he heard them right, everyone significant would be present in that hall, and she was the most significant.

He chuckled at his poetry, what is wrong with me, he thought. He moved around the room with swiftness but also a renewed interest, humming tunes while he applied a dash of cologne and adjusted his jacket to perfection.

He passed the mirror one last time, stopping to fix his hair. He had to look perfect for his sweet maiden. His brows furrowed, a troubling thought flashing his mind. What if she was spoken for? What if she was claimed already, her heart in someone else’s hands?

Blue eyes turned colder than a foot of ice.

Hands on the desk,

He looked at himself,

A crooked smile gracing,

Then what?

Then,

A war like no other.

A war that would put Trojan and Mahabharata to shame.

A knock at the door tamed the raging storm in his eyes. Lord Cavill looked up, frowning at the distasteful intrusion upon his whims and fancies.

Ah, the big bad boulder.

“Come in, General! I assume you are here to escort me to the venue?”

“Khamba Ghani Cavill Saab. I heard that the British people are always on time, and yet here I find you, barely dressed for the occasion.”

A smirk laced the British resident’s face as he retorted, “Well you’re not wrong, but I happen to be the guest of honour and I may arrive whenever I may please. In fact, just for that comment, I would like to take a few more minutes before I leave.” And he turned towards his desk and picked up a recent correspondence from the Crown.

Kulwant couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a movement instantly caught by the blue-eyed man.

“Keep going! I will take an extra minute for each time you roll your eyes, kind sir.”

It was beyond the General’s comprehension that a man as petulant as this entitled bleached monkey, could even hold the post of a hawaldar in court, let alone be a Lord of some sort. Nevertheless, he was a guest, and of honour at that.

Thus, the loyal servant of the court stood tall and quiet while the firang made his point, albeit unnecessarily.

Once he was done having fun at the General’s expense, Cavill agreed to be escorted to the event. He reached the hall, and couldn’t believe his eyes for a minute.

The hall looked straight out of a fairytale, and the worth of the mere jewels studded on the walls could help him buy a couple of kingdoms.

He reigns in his musings, and walks toward Maharaja Ganga Singh.

************

“We don’t have time! Baba will decorate his court with my head! Let’s go!”

“Damu! Come on, wait! You don’t even have flowers in your hair.”

“You think I care, Ashwanth!? I can barely move in this outfit! It’s so heavy and so unnecessary! All for that invader and his honour! What can be more honourable than stealing lands you have no business with, right?”

“Damu, don’t be silly! You’re a princess, and you cannot just march into the hall like a maid! Here, let me put these roses and..Can you just.. oho! THERE.”

“That’s right! I am a princess and this is my palace! Watch me..”

The two friends kept bickering along the way. Anyone who had seen these two would mistake them for longtime lovers, and yet things remained strictly platonic, at least from Damini’s end.

For someone with an expertise in strategising, warcraft and literature, the princess often missed the veiled looks Prince Ashwanth threw at her. How he always brought gifts, only in exchange for her ruthless company and how he bowed down to all her incessant demands, all for her pleasure.

To Ashwanth, she was the key to his future and beyond. To Damu, he was the ever constant confidant, seemingly balanced and loyal to a fault.

As they moved towards the hall, she made eye contact with her father and naturally started walking to him, just like she has been trained to, her seat to his left calling out to its rightful master. What she didn’t realise was a figure moving in the same direction.

Lost in conversation and the pull of the decorum, she collided with a commoner, which only fueled her frustration.

“Dekh ke nahi chala jata kya? Humare raste aane ki himmat kaise hui?” (Can't you see where you're going? How dare you get in my way?)

“What did you just say?! How dare you use that tone with me?

“Poore mahal mein yeh gorey deemak ke bhaanti badhte hi ja rahe hain! Ek din ka bhi chain nahi hai!”(These white people are everywhere, like pests! Give me a break)

“Damu yeh..”(Damu this is….)

“Honge apne desh mein nawab, yahaan pe inki aukaat humaare naakhoon baraabar bhi na hain! Aur aise kya ghoor rahe hain yeh, laaj lajja kuch hai inko?” (He might be a Lord in his country, but here he isn't worth my toenail! And why are you staring at me like that? Have you any shame?)

Lord Cavill fumed at this disgrace of a woman, one who dared to look him in the eye and dared to speak while addressing him directly. Although he could not understand her words, her tone and posture were enough to get her backhanded, had they not been in the presence of company.

This unruly child must be taught a lesson.

If anyone asked Lord Cavill, a woman’s tongue is only good for two things, sewing her mouth shut and on his cock whenever he pleased. If he didn’t expect the siren of his dreams to be in attendance, he would have put her in her place. Even if he could not punish this puny, dusky troll, he still had a reputation to defend.

“You listen to me carefully woman! You are messing with the wrong man, and spewing gibberish in some primitive language is not going to save you! Do you even know who I am? You are in MY bloody court and if I please, I can rip that serpentine tongue out of that pretty little hole! So you better apologise!”

“Cavill Saab.. please.. that’s my..”

“APOLOGISE? For what? Standing on my own soil? Or comparing you to a termite? None of which are false in my eyes. So get out of my way and know your place or you know what, go cry to your incompetent Lord!”

A storm raged in their eyes, wrath of all oceans combined in his and a black blizzard stirred concurrently in hers.

“Eyes down now, foreigner. ” The Tigress growled in warning.

The entire hall was suddenly quiet at the outburst. The musicians had stopped playing, and by the look of amusement on their faces, this was not the first time Damini Bai Sa had been the centre of attention.

Ashwanth tried pulling her back, her father was shooting daggers at her, while her siblings stood with aggravated expressions, exasperated by this wild child. It was Ganga Singh, who walked towards the ruckus and roared, which broke the deadly silence that had thickly draped the occasion.

“DAMINI! Are you out of your mind?! Do you even know WHO that is? Forgive me my Lord! This is my youngest child, Rajkumari Damini Bai, and I do not know what got into her, she is nothing like this!”

Renu and Revati Bai snickered at this comment and tried to hide their glee when they could see their father’s plan failing. No way will Lord Cavill bed this wild boar! They were preparing themselves for saving the kingdom, all the while reaping the seeds of pleasure from it.

“Damu, this is Lord Cavill himself. What is wrong with you, my child? Apologise, right now!”

“I would rather do Jauhar..” (light a pyre)

“DAMI..”

“It’s alright, Mr. Singh! I cannot expect common courtesy from uncultured brats like her. It just saddens me that you bear this burden on your shoulders! She certainly must have brought tremendous shame to the title of a Princess!”

Damini was about to give him a piece of her mind when Ashwanth pulled her back and gave her a solid glare.

Lord Cavill continued, “ Forgive me, but Maan Singh and your daughters seem like true blue-blooded beings. Has she been adopted from the streets?” His condescending tone should have had all the swords in the realm drawn up, but the language barrier and a father’s resolution to shove his daughter at him, saved the British neck.

Damini could not tolerate the insult and charged at him, “ Oh this is it! You goddamn plague sore! I will..” but was blocked by Ashwanth who was done watching her embarrass the Rajputana pride like a common whore.

“THAT IS ENOUGH DAMINI! Go take a seat!” The Maharaja ordered. But when she moved to her designated seat, her father grabbed her by the arm and lashed out with gritted teeth, “Sit with the guests. That seat belongs to your Master now. And don’t you dare embarrass me further. You are to serve him, and make sure he is left wanting for nothing. Nothing.”

Tears threatened to fall as the Tigress straightened her back, the princess coming to the fore, taking her position in the room, finding her place in the oppressive hierarchy.

Cavill watched her change her stance, a subtle nod to whatever her father threatened her with and for a second, he was impressed by the precise mutation. That is when he noticed the princess for the first time. Not so bad for a desert kingdom, blooming in all the right places.

Back home, feisty women were his speciality, and he would often tame the likes of this woman, ploughing through their virgin lands.

His eyes wandered to her navel, as she walked to the guy who took her away earlier. Must be fucking her, and not enough at that! If she were in the right bed, she would be blissed out and her tongue tired. He could see her under him, screaming for an entirely different reason.

As the lust awoke, the mere thought of breaking this ballsy female had blood rushing to his groin, steeling his resolve as well as his cock. He had never bedded a princess, and was primed to claim her body for one night.

If that man could have her, she was fair game to all.

He strode towards the prize, steps decisive and eyes frigid. That is when he heard her voice, lowered but not discouraged by any means.

“Ashwanth, they let him take my seat, MY seat! And how could he say that about my lineage!? It was my seat!”

Ashwanth patiently replied, “ Don’t create a scene Damu, a chair does not define your position in the house, neither does some outsider! And can you please stop talking in English? You know how our people feel about it!”

Damini was feeling suffocated and needed to take a breath, but her luck soured the moment she felt thick fingers grabbing her arm, and felt his breath at the nape of her neck.

“You don’t need to get so riled up, princess. You know you can always sit on my lap like the little bitch you are.”

Damini looked at him with such fire in her eyes that it would have put Hestia to shame.

"Take. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

Taken aback, Cavill's grip loosened and she jerked out of his grasp with a rippling force. Much to the astonishment of the onlookers, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

The pride of her tears matched with the stride of the Tigress, refusing to fall before anyone.

***********************

Hindi Terms:

Khamba Ghani: Rajasthani salutation and a way to say hello.

Firang: A derogatory term used for Europeans/ Colonisers, loosely translating to outsider.

Saab: Sir

Maharaja: King

Gajra: A traditional weave of scented flowers used as hair accessory by women.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@madbaddic7ed @henrythickcavill @toomanyfandomsshreya @inana999 @maximumninjavoid @mistress-of-ward

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill thoughts #colonial era #india #henry cavill series #raat ki rani #thechurchofcavill #henry cavill x ofc

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chikoriita · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Agent Elf

Here is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @xiueryn! I really hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

"Let me understand what you're saying." Alya stirred her hot chocolate languidly. She furtively looked over Marinette's shoulder to find the boy in question. He seemed innocent enough as he bagged his customer's purchases. "You believe that Adrien is an elf? Not even a Lord of the Rings elf, but one of Santa's helpers!" She could barely keep her laughter contained.

Marinette shushed her. "Not so loud!" She took her own look to make sure no one, especially not Adrien, heard her. If she lingered a little longer than necessary, Alya thankfully did not comment.

"Marinette, you've had a few too many late nights. Adrien is not magical to anyone except you." Alya raised a knowing brow. "Is this an excuse to avoid talking to him?"

"No! I talk to him all the time." Marinette maintained eye contact with her best friend. Her tiny crush on Adrien had nothing to do with her suspicions. If anything, the only thing holding her back was her certainty of his elfin origins.

She made the connection three weeks prior, at the start of the Christmas season for Agreste Fine Goods. One of the largest department stores in the city, Agreste Fine Goods catered to every need of the Parisian family. From couture to off the rack, from interior design to furniture kits, the store had it all.

"It all" included the opportunity to intern directly under Gabriel Agreste. Out of the entire city, Marinette was chosen to be the fall intern. Unlike past interns, Gabriel chose her himself. As part of her course, he guided her through everything from designing to marketing to in-store operations. Personally.

She did not mind the extra scrutiny. Gabriel built the business from a tailor's shop to its current state. Any knowledge she could glean from him was worth it. Even if her internship coincided with the dreaded retail season of Christmas.

Gabriel, the Mentor, was tough, but when it came to Gabriel, the store owner, and the Christmas season, he took no chances for disaster. It was the most profitable time of year. Thus he took on dozens of new employees in preparation. Adrien was one of the seasonal hires. He arrived at the store with a cheerful attitude on November 1st.

(Marinette should have started suspecting then; what retail worker was cheerful during the Christmas season?)

"Magical things happen when he's around!"

Alya snorted. "Fine. If you can bring proof that he's a "Christmas elf", then I will believe you. But!" She held up a finger. "If you can't, because he's a human being, you have to ask him to our New Year's Eve party! Either way, I win."

Observation Report 1

Date: December 20

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Santa's Workshop

21:00 - Subject observed tinkering with the decorations in Santa's Workshop. I put up those decorations. What did he feel like needed to be fixed? Could those sparks be coming from his fingers?

Note – Upon his exit from the workshop, collided with the subject. The subject smelled of peppermint and marshmallows.

Observation Report 2

Date: December 22

Subject: Adrien and Staff

Setting: Break Area

12:00 - Subject brought copious amounts of hot chocolate to the common area for staff only. Two hours later, the normally hectic, frantic, and grumpy restockers wore grins of joy. The cashiers did not shed one tear that morning. A peek into the customer service room indicated that there was some magic afoot. Upon entering, they wished Gabriel and me a "Merry Christmas". (The last time we ventured to Customer Service, even Gabriel hesitated to cross the threshold into their lair)

Note – he brought me a personalized mug of the chocolate, and there was no aftertaste of any added ingredients. Thus, it must have been magical to calm the staff in their mania.

Observation Report 3

Date: December 23

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Loading Dock

22:00 – Subject found with a large sack of packages in the trunk of his car (a rental). The packages did not have the AFG logo on the wrapping, and thus not packages from the store. When Subject was approached, he had a bashful grin. The packages were going to a local homeless shelter.

Quote: "A benefactor asked me to drop these off to make sure the children have presents to wake up to on Christmas morning. Every kid deserves to have a present to unwrap. Please don't tell anyone you saw me with these gifts." Sidenote: The look in his eyes was heart-melting; how could I not listen to him? Second Sidenote: His ears were looking pointier than normal. Could it be a side effect of Christmastime?

22:45 – After helping Subject stuff the gifts in the car, I returned home to find a similarly packed gift in my purse. Upon inspection, it was far more delicate than the other gifts in his car and had a note attached to it.

[Attached Note Contents]

Marinette,

For all of the cherished memories you’ve helped make since we met. You were the best part of my Christmas, by far.

Love, Adrien

She reached the logical conclusion the next night in her makeshift office.

Adrien was definitely an Elf.

Marinette wanted more than anything to inform Alya of her observations. After all, she was right, was she not? Telling Alya was the whole point of the investigation. Still, there was something that held her back.

After all, if Adrien was an elf, then it followed that Santa was also real. Santa Claus, the same jolly fellow that sorted the people of the world into two distinct lists. And if she outed one of Santa's actual elves, then there was no doubt which Marinette would be on for the rest of her life.

Her eye caught the package he had given her the night before. Inside had been a lovely pair of jet earrings. More importantly, she thought as she ran her hand over the note, what would he think of her?

Well, that only left one option didn't it?

To tell the truth, he hadn't expected anyone to follow him out of the store on Christmas Eve. At this point in life, Adrien knew better than to lose track of his surroundings. Even in the safety of such a nice neighborhood, anything could happen. Though he could admit, if he had to choose someone to accost him in the street, it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A surprisingly strong arm looped through his elbow and pulled him close. "I've been waiting for you!" Marinette gasped.

He looked down into her wide eyes. "Why?”

She furtively glanced around. The back alley of Agreste Fine Goods was not the best place for a conversation. "We need to talk. We can go to my parent's bakery." She tugged him toward Rue Gotlib. "They're closed for Christmas Eve, and we'll have privacy there."

Adrien would have lingered longer on the privacy if the thought of delicious pastries had not intruded. In any case, his feet were following her lead.

Before he realized what was going on, she had him settled in the bakery with two steaming mugs of coffee and the end of day croissants.

“Sorry, it’s not much.” She grinned and took a sip.

On a cold and snowy night like this, he was in a cozy bakery with the cutest girl from work. He thought it was perfect.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Adrien." Marinette placed her mug firmly on the countertop and sighed. "I need to confess."

He met her gaze. She seemed burdened by something. What on Earth could she need to confess? On Christmas Eve no less?

"I know your secret."

In hindsight, maybe drinking something hot was not the best choice when having such a conversation. "My what?" He choked. How could she have found out? He thought he had been so careful.

To be fair, he wasn't surprised Marinette found out. Over the last few weeks, she paid closer attention to him than any of the other seasonal workers at the store. Only… Only he hoped it was for a more affectionate reason.

"I figured out your identity. I didn't mean to, but it was so obvious. After all, when you're around everything seems more magical," she blurted out.

Magical? "I'm not sure I follow," He said slowly.

Marinette began to pace back and forth. "Alya said I was being silly, but now I know I'm not. You're so beyond my reach, especially with my internship ending and you leaving. I don't want things to change between us."

He felt his stomach hollow. "Does the truth really have to change how you treat me?"

"I don't want it to change," she repeated softly. "You're wonderful."

He grabbed her hands and stopped her pacing. Pulling her close, he gently said, "Marinette, look at me. Does knowing the truth make a difference of how you feel?" Adrien hoped more than anything that she would deny it.

"Feel?" Her breath smelled of mint chocolate.

"Knowing the truth shouldn't change how we feel about each other." He leaned closer and placed his lips on her cheek. "My feelings certainly won't change."

"This probably won't work. The geographical distance is too large." Marinette sighed.

"I won't be that far away."

She giggled. "The North Pole is pretty far Adrien."

"That is true- Wait what?!" He wrenched back.

"The North Pole. Where you live? Isn't that what we've been talking about?" She sat down on a barstool.

This girl had a way of knocking his world off-axis in more ways than one. "Not to my knowledge." His voice came out higher than he expected. "What exactly did you find out?"

To her credit, she turned redder than a tomato. She mumbled her next words, but he could swear he heard "elf" somewhere. Were his ears deceiving him?

A small spark of mischief entered his voice. "Come again?" He teased. He had a feeling they would enjoy this in future Christmases.

"That you're a Christmas elf on assignment from Santa Claus. Now I realize that might sound far fetched, but I had my reasons!" Marinette quickly said. She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger before he could speak. "And before you say a word, Mister-" The fire from her voice died down. "What is your last name anyway?"

Oh this was going to be great. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned down to her ear. "I realize that I never properly introduced myself. My name is Adrien Agreste."

Her body stiffened in his embrace. He slowly turned her around to see the dumbfounded look on her face. Adrien took the few moments of silence to study the enigma of Marinette. He saw the gears working behind those expressive eyes of hers. She blinked once, then twice. He braced for anger and possibly humiliation.

But Marinette never reacted how one would expect. Her mouth widened into a grin. "It's slightly disappointing, to tell you the truth." She batted her eyes at him.

He scrunched his mouth in confusion. "Disappointing?"

Marinette grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer. "Don't you think flirting with a Christmas elf would be rather exciting?" She heaved a sigh. "I guess I will have to settle for the boss's son. Although, I did hear a rumor that he was some kind of model."

If he hadn't seen the wink, he might have taken a bit of offense. Instead, he played along. "Take me out of my misery, Miss Dupain-Cheng! I adore you."

"I might adore you as well. But please explain a few things to me before we continue with all our adoration." She released him, and patted the seat next to her.

“Ask away, milady.”

She pulled out a small notebook from her bag. Flipping to the back, she began, “What were you doing in Santa’s Workshop four days ago?”

He was impressed. She had notes. Real notes. Only Marinette, he thought with a smile. “I was fixing the lights on the chair. The photographer was complaining that the bulbs were interfering with his “art.” It made more sense to rewire the lights to not twinkle.”

“That explains the sparks…” Marinette murmured.

“What else do you have for me, Secret Agent Elf?”

“What about the hot chocolate?” She smirked.

Adrien felt his ears burn. He had heard enough about that from his father that day. “I… Um…”

“Yes?”

“I brought spiked hot cocoa to the break area. My roommate wanted to play a prank on my dad, and there was some collateral damage.” The Customer Care department in particular was hit hard. Their antics tipped Gabriel off to what happened.

“I drank the same cocoa, and nothing happened to me!”

Marinette stared him down with her big blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but tell the truth. “I made yours by hand,” he mumbled and dropped his face in his hands.

“That is so sweet.” She rubbed his shoulder. “One more thing, and then we’re done. Where did all the gifts come from?”

He groaned once more. “You really can’t tell anyone about this. Father and I use the “wages” that I earn to send those gifts to the shelter. My mother, she used to volunteer there. He does not want anyone to know we are the donors.”

“Why not?”

Adrien lifted his head and shot her a cheeky grin. “To be fair, in any other conversation, the explanation wouldn’t be nearly as funny. He made a deal with the director at the shelter. They would keep his name private, and instead, I would deliver the gifts dressed as an elf in lieu of Santa Claus.”

She snorted, which led to her bursting into laughter. Even her laugh was enchanting. Before long, he joined in, thinking of the silliness of it all.

When they had a chance to relieve all their tension, Adrien wore his jacket and scarf once more. “I should probably head out. Your parents probably want to see you at some point this evening.”

“If you must,” she wistfully said, walking him to the door.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin and leaned close. “Since I will be closer than the North Pole, would you like to go on a date? A real one? A date nowhere near Agreste Fine Goods?”

“Of course I would. I still need to ask you to Alya’s New Year’s Eve party.” She tilted her head higher.

“Two dates!” Adrien laughed. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would be delighted.” With those words, he lowered his lips and spun her around.

#miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #Adrienette #mlb #mlb fic #ml fic #mlb secret santa #lightkeykid writes

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twiceblackvelvet · 5 years ago

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Purgatory

TW// mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

To say that Kim Jisoo has had very little in life would be an understatement. Whilst most people grew up in loving households, parents doting on them every waking second of the day and teaching them life lessons in preparation for adulthood, Jisoo was forced to fend for herself at every turn.

The care system is a broken one and quite frankly, the number of foster homes she had been a part of and then ultimately removed from was never-ending. Some of them pretentious and with unrealistic ideals of who they thought she should be, none of them ever right. The others barely able to keep a firm grip on their own lives never mind hers too.

It was only a matter of time before she decided to stop trying with the fake parent’s people kept trying to give her and live out her teenage years among what society would consider burdens. However, the addicts, the desperate, and the people without homes all offered her a sense of belonging. After all, they too likely come from the same place as her. Broken home after broken home will quickly make you believe that no home at all is the better alternative. Dysfunctional has a craving for the chaotic.

It’s been this way for a few years now, no longer considered a child of this earth, instead, a full-grown adult who should have responsibilities, career prospects, friends to take funny selfies with, a life, essentially. But none of those things exist when you’re stuck in Purgatory.

That’s what everyone calls it. Purgatory. The area is known for its increased number of people living in doorways or alleys. Sleeping near houses belonging to those of social status and wealth. Being stepped on both figuratively and literally every morning by them and their mammoth security detail who scurry everyone away. A blight on humanity is what she and the others here are considered and it’s something that those whose most difficult decision in life is whether today is Gucci or Dior don’t wish to see. But there’s nowhere else for them to go. So when they drive their fancy cars down the street, they’re forced to see life from the opposite end of the spectrum whether they like it or not.

Not that any of them ever spare her a second glance. Simply raising their perfectly sculpted noses in the air and turning a blind eye. A single drop of their wealth could bring an end to what she’s sure they call a “plague” on society and yet, their crummy little hands keep a firm hold on their expensive tiny purses that are worth more than her entire life.

It’s almost spring, the weather hasn't been so bad recently. The harsh conditions of winter have passed without claiming her life, though, a very small part deep down wishes that it had so she could be put out of her misery without having to do anything to cause it. Not that she hasn’t tried, multiple times in fact, but things just never want to go her way. Thus, the air continues to fill her lungs, her pulse remains strong, and the idea of attempting again seems futile.

The latest “spot” if you can call it that, where she has been staying, has recently become unavailable, however. Fences being built in place especially to stop her and a few others lingering in the alleyway between two buildings. It’s a shame, truly. Though it wasn’t the warmest area she’d laid her head, it was comfortable and spacious enough for her to share with some of the friends she’s made.

However, once again, she’s picking up the holed, stained blanket that is barely even holding itself together nowadays, and moving on to find somewhere else to get some rest. The only time she ever feels peace is when her eyes are jammed firmly shut and her brain escapes to the dreamland. Ironically, none of the illusions her mind creates ever include her escaping this life, but rather, delving further into the horrors of the underworld.

She drags her feet slowly across the pavement, head down watching her small steps, idly kicking a pebble along with her whenever one ends up before her mangled, dirty shoes. That is until her forehead ends up pressed against a soft material that propels her body back a few places.

“Watch where you’re going, freak!” The mouth, belonging to the body she just collided with shouts abruptly causing her head to snap upward and meet their eyes with her own. Well, she would do that if they weren’t concentrating wholly on the phone screen in their hand.

Cascading dark hair frames the girl’s face. Her eyes covered by the biggest pair of sunglasses Jisoo has ever seen. Her features appear small and delicate, though Jisoo shifts her focus to her outfit and recognizes quickly that this is another of those rich kids she despises. Her coat lined with fur and designer shoes a dead giveaway that they are from two different worlds. In fact, she’s amazed this girl hasn’t called her daddy to request her coat be put into quarantine to rid it of all of her homeless bacteria, or burn it.

“You… You aren’t even watching where you’re going... brat.” She offers in retort, however, the girl has already pushed past her and carried on walking by the time she stutters them out. She simply raises her middle finger over her own shoulder and carries on staring at her phone.

It’s people like that, Jisoo thinks, who will somehow end up in positions of power in the future when their brain cells are likely so fried from the amount of time they spend staring at themselves, they can’t focus on anything else.

A few blocks down and finally, there are buildings that aren’t blocked off with the same fencing that just destroyed her last “home” if you can call it that. Shops line most of the street, restaurants mostly. The windows filled with decorations and lighting hoping to entice people in on their way home from work or simply enjoying a family outing.

Out of curiosity, Jisoo stops in front of one of them to read through the menu that is stuck to the window. Words she isn’t even capable of reading beneath the food item, describing what goes into the recipe, however, she tries her best to make out what she can from it all.

A couple dining inside and sitting close to the window begin to watch her, or rather judge, having noticed her torn clothing, a dirty appearance, and unkempt hair. She ignores their staring eyes though a big part of her wants to burst through the restaurant door and yell at them for having no manners. Money can bring you everything in the world and yet they still choose to be rude, she thinks.

However, the door ends up opening before her anyway. A tiny bell rings above it to signal that someone has pulled it open and small steps reveal shoes that are clean, an apron covering casual clothing, hair tied in a messy bun that makes for a face that is coated in sweat but clean.

Whoever this is, they are not one of those snobs she’s grown used to dealing with. There’s no way any of them would allow themselves to be caught dead looking like they’re actually doing a day’s work and not just inputting numbers into a computer repeatedly.

“Hey, are you coming inside? The special menu is just about to end,” you ask, voice trembling slightly under Jisoo’s intense gaze hovering up and down your frame. “It’s um, on the house, for… you know…”

She does know. Many places had recently begun to offer warm meals to those who are homeless in the area during certain hours of the day, however, she’d never ventured into any of the places offering it. Pity isn’t exactly an easy thing to deal with, especially when you have the false sense of pride that Jisoo does. Nor does she wish for the actual paying diners to judge her.

“I was just looking but thanks.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other which causes you to notice the holes in her shoes. Despite hoping you’d convinced her to take up the free meal, she starts to shuffle away slowly. With her back turned toward you, your first instinct is to dash inside, grab anything easy to pick up, and hand it to her away from the eyes overseeing this exchange. Without even realizing, your body had already begun to move to do just that.

Heavy footsteps that seem to be getting faster can be heard behind Jisoo from your feet. She turns around lazily to look over her shoulder to come face to face with a takeout box full to the brim with food as well as two different sets of utensils.

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Her face is stern yet curious as she speaks.

“I don’t want you to go hungry is all.”

“Wow, thanks so much for the concern.” Sarcasm, you think, though you’re sure at this moment if either of you are the condescending one it would be you hoisting the food up into her face. Thus you lower the box toward her hands instead. She reluctantly takes it.

“I don’t need these.” She offers back the extra set of utensils. Just as your hands grasp around them, she pulls them back toward herself instead which pulls your body along with it. The two of you now inches away from each other until she steps back almost out of instinct. “Sorry, um… would you…”

Her eyes dart between you and the extra utensils a few times before you finally figure out what it is she’s attempting to ask.

“Sure, I’ll eat with you.” The gracious smile that presents itself on her face is one of the best things you’ve ever born witness to, however, an idea presents itself in your head and before you can think twice, the words are already blurted out. “But, please, come back to the restaurant. I own the apartment upstairs, you can shower and grab some clean clothes if you want. “

Her features contort into uncertainty, confusion, and suspicion all within a matter of seconds. You assume because she’s either never had such an offer or hasn’t for a long time. It’s easy to forget what basic humanity feels or looks like if you’re not used to receiving it from people. To your surprise, she does turn around and even manages to open the door and step inside for herself this time without hesitation.

The same couple who were sat by the window is now at the counter to pay for their meal, heads low as she passes by them to sit at a table toward the back of the restaurant. You join her, sitting in the seat opposite her own. She places the tray of food between you both and immediately begins to engulf it. You simply pick at the sides and allow her to take in as much as possible. She doesn’t notice, though, you’re glad her only focus is on lining her stomach.

“My name is Y/N.” you interrupt her mid forkful of vegetables. She simply nods in response until she’s finished chewing.

“Jisoo.” she bluntly offers.

“It’s nice to meet you Jisoo.”

No other words are exchanged between you both. She continues to eat until her stomach can’t possibly handle it anymore. You watch as she simply looks around the entire room, noticing every little detail to the walls and paying close attention to the old television in the corner of the room. Her eyes are dark and lifeless as they try to follow along with the characters acting out a scene in the drama playing.

One of the servers grabs ahold of the apron you pull off from around your waist and places it behind the counter as you stand abruptly blocking Jisoo’s view of the screen. She shifts her body to look around you and back to the television but then up to meet your eyes once she realizes you aren’t moving.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the shower is.”

You point her toward a door behind the counter and she reluctantly stands to join you, though not before she takes one last glance toward the television to see the characters involved in what looks like a heated argument.

The two of you head up the flight of stairs above the restaurant to the quaint apartment that doesn’t look as if it has been touched for quite some time now. Once more, Jisoo’s eyes pay attention to all of her surroundings, not that there’s anything on these walls nor is there a television playing. Instead, she runs her hand along with the wallpaper that is barely clinging to the walls. Her fingers tracing the outlines of the floral design.

A small cough is all you let out to break her concentration to direct her to another door.

“Come on, there should be some spare clothes in here for when you’re done.” However, she remains still. “It’s just here.”

You can sense the nervousness radiating from her despite the distance between you both as she stands at one end of the hallway and you at the other. Her fingers removed from the wall now so that her other hand can fiddle with them idly.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice quiet, almost inaudible.

The question perplexes you at first, why wouldn’t anyone wish to help her? How could someone see a young woman in such a dire state and simply ignore her? However, not everyone shares these thoughts, nor would everyone invite a total stranger in to use their shower after only meeting them seconds ago.

“Call it my good deed for today, whatever helps you accept it.” She nods and slowly begins to walk toward you.

The two of you spend several minutes hunting through the drawers and wardrobe for clothes that not only fit Jisoo but will keep her warm. She settles on a black hoody that you don’t recall ever seeing previously, a white fitted t-shirt, and some old jeans that are long worn out. You offer her an old scarf and coat, however, she refuses to give up her own torn one. She spends a few seconds simply feeling the fabric between her finger and thumb before placing her new items under her arm and leaving the room without a word.

Following her, you find her standing awkwardly in the hallway once more, frozen in place.

“The bathroom is this way.” She strides beside you but quickly dashes in front of you and into the bathroom before you can even tell her how to use the shower. Instead, you’re forced to shout it from behind the door she also locks. “There should be a switch on the side of the wall here, I’m going to turn it on but be careful, the water will be cold at first.”

Flicking the switch, you can hear the water begin to run out of the showerhead and hit the bottom of the bath. Deciding that it’s probably strange to stand outside the door as she washes up, you head back toward the bedroom the two of you were both previously in. It’s been a long time since you’ve stepped foot in here, and yet, floods of memories hit the second you’re alone in there.

Moving out on your own, opening up the restaurant with her, it all feels like a made-up fallacy. Especially since she’s no longer here to live it out with you, instead finding her own dream to live out, alone. However, it had all been worth it in the end. A small picture of her and you sit coated in dust atop one of the side tables, the corners slightly curled and beginning to tatter but your smiles ever-present. A lifetime ago now, or so you’d like to delude yourself into believing.

It’s strange how despite having not thought about her, or anything to do with her for the last two years, you can still remember the very day in which the photo was taken as if it was yesterday.

“Who is she?” The words startle you out of your thoughts so much so that you throw the picture frame in the direction of the voice, just barely missing Jisoo’s head, hitting the wall behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine, I just didn’t think you’d be done so quick.” You try to catch your breath as you watch her dry her hair in her clean clothes.

“It’s been like an hour.” She points toward the clock on the wall in the hallway. It has indeed been an hour of you simply reminiscing and staring at one of the biggest mistakes you ever made. “Do you have a dryer?”

“Yeah, um… It’s in the other room, come on.” You brush past her, quickly picking up the now smashed picture frame as well as the fragments that had bounced across the floor and place it into one of the drawers in your own bedroom whilst retrieving the hairdryer for Jisoo.

She quickly finds a socket to plug it into and begins to brush through her still wet hair.

“Do you,” She pauses. “Do you mind doing it for me? It’s been a long time since I’ve used one of these.”

“Sure.”

Handing you the dryer, she sits down on your bed making herself comfortable and then closes her eyes. You maneuver to a kneeling position behind her and begin to dry her hair for her. From this angle, you can see that her scalp is severely damaged and hair is still matted in places where she’s been unable to brush through it. However, you can see that it would be painful to attempt to get rid of the knots and decide not to take the brush from her also.

It only takes a few moments before the strands of her hair are all flowing as dry and clean as they can be. She remains seated even after you’ve unplugged the dryer, face straight and eyes still without a sign of life. Once she does stand, she simply grabs her things and heads out of the apartment entirely. You try to race after her, almost tumbling down the stairs more than once.

Almost colliding with her body stood completely still in the middle of the restaurant floor, attention once again on the television which is now showing the latest music video from a male singer you can’t recall the name of. Disappointment etched on her features, likely because she missed out on seeing what happened with the drama she had become interested in after only a matter of seconds.

“They replay it quite often you know, you could always come back to eat and watch it.” You whisper, not wishing to startle her as she had done you.

“Thank you.” She flatly says. “But, I’m good. I have to get going now.”

Before you can protest and offer her some more food to take with her, she’s out of the door with a flash, quickly looking over her shoulder and toward you through the window to give a small nod of appreciation.

#blackpink #kpop #kpop scenarios #blackpink scenarios #kim jisoo #blackpink jisoo #girl group scenarios #jisoo

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cobra-diamond · 5 years ago

Text

How to Develop Avatar’s Season 4 - Part 3

1 The Pillars of Season 4

In order to move discussions about future Avatar past mere speculations about what the creators were thinking, or whether or not going beyond Aang’s journey makes thematic sense, you have to start coming up with answers for what a 4th season would have been about: through which characters’ eyes do we primarily view the story? What is the overarching conflict? Who, or what is the primary threat? What are the new goals for the original cast? What challenges will they face? What changes will they go through? And so on.

Fortunately, the three Fire Nation comics give us insight into what the creators had in mind for a 4th season. That being said, the comics are not Season 4. A Season 4 would not have had a Zuko that is so brain dead that he would forget his responsibilities and make a deal with Azula to give her the crown so he could live with his “real” (i.e. biological) family in some small town. A Season 4 would not have retconned Ursa so that she was exclusively a hapless victim of the royal family and not directly responsible for the killing of Fire Lord Azulon (this is not what the show implied, nor what the creators and prior official content stated about Ursa). A Season 4 would not have had an Azula whose multiple layers of inner turmoil vanish off-screen so she could become a “weightless, free” anarcho-guerilla inside her own country (see: Smoke and Shadow), among other problems.

Nevertheless, the comics contain the critical elements necessary for devising a comprehensive post-finale story. These story elements are fundamental; they originate from the internal logic of the show and the loose threads left behind. However, since the comics exist and will likely never be retconned or remade, we may never get the “true” Season 4 that is revealed by these fundamental story elements. In that sense, these story elements could be thought of as the “Remnants of Season 4”, but that isn’t a very positive way of looking at things. It suggests we fans can’t use our own imaginations to fill in the gaps and come up with better answers than what the market forces affecting Avatar allows. Fans should be encouraged to use their imaginations, so I call these story remnants “The Pillars of Season 4” because they provide the foundation for building a compelling, consistent continuation of Avatar past the ending in the finale.

1.1 Pillar #1: Resentment & Opposition to Zuko

In Zuko’s coronation speech at the end of the show, he said he would restore the honor of the Fire Nation, that the road ahead would be challenging, that one hundred years of war had left the world scarred and divided, but with the help of the Avatar, they could get it back on the right path and begin a new era of love and peace.

A new era of love and peace. Rebuilding. Healing. That is exactly what the world needs. The Water Tribe needs love and peace. The Earth Kingdom needs love and peace. Rebuilding the Air Nomads needs love and peace, but the Fire Nation… Does not. Remember that the Fire Nation was not militarily dominated at the end of the show, nor was Zuko part of a wider internal movement to overthrow the current leadership and undo the past one hundred years. We did observe a small community suffering due to the war (the fishing village on the river), but this is not shown to be widespread; we are shown far more clean Fire Nation cities with substantial industrial activity in the background. The Fire Nation was not decimated by a century of invasion, nor was it brutalized by an external (or internal) foe that requires rebuilding from. It doesn’t need to heal. It is not scarred. It is not divided (more than any other stable country, that is).

Zuko took power while the Fire Nation was at the height of its power and prestige and he believes it needs to be taken down several notches, that its honor questioned and its feats during the war impugned and undone. How many Fire Nationals are going to accept that view, especially from someone who was so recently deemed a failure and traitor by their previous Fire Lord? How much of the nobility, government and military is going to be skeptical of his intentions, or even downright furious at his ascendance? How many people in the Fire Nation are going to view him as a usurper, as a traitor, as an unworthy recipient of the crown? What kind of actions is Zuko going to take that will inflame these parts of the populace so much that they actively resist him? Notably, this is what happens in The Promise.

One could take the stance that Zuko becoming Fire Lord was enough to set things right, that the whole Fire Nation simply rolled over and became obedient, but an instantly reformed Fire Nation has no potential for conflict and drama and thus no potential for a story. It also conflicts with official descriptions of the present culture of the Fire Nation, which Zuko is very much not a representative of as established by the fact that he became disillusioned with it. Therefore, the cause of Season 4’s central conflict is this: Zuko’s idealism must collide with the reality that the Fire Nation is not ready for the demilitarization, disgrace and emphasis on morality that it deserves.

What are some of the potential points of conflict between Zuko and his country? They could be: dismantling the colonies, mishandling the relocation of the colonials to the homeland, using vast amounts of Fire Nation resources to rebuild the world, mishandling the rapid demilitarization, being viewed as a traitor serving the interests of the world versus the Fire Nation, being seen as trying to destroy valuable parts of Fire Nation culture, and so on.

At the same time, members of the old regime—the bureaucracy that manages the country—might flee their posts, leading to momentary disarray and less qualified replacements; they might drain the royal coffers and armories and hide it to undermine Zuko; they might clandestinely divert funds, sabotage his efforts, or even embed themselves in his new cabinet to sabotage him from within.

In short, things are not going right for Zuko. They can’t be if you want a compelling central conflict.

In the words of Uncle Iroh, fire is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will and the energy and drive to achieve what they want. From that statement alone, it can be ascertained how that type of culture can have an aggressive, ambitious, ruthless streak buried within that must be controlled less it boil over into disaster (Sozin’s desire for conquest could be argued to have stemmed from this culture). As a result, the Fire Nation should be full of people who view Zuko’s rise as an unjust coup by their nation’s enemies, his actions as the willful destruction of the Fire Nation’s legacy and his lack of heirs as an opportunity to make sure Zuko’s policies end with him, which is exactly what happens in The Promise: multiple, constant assignation attempts on Zuko as a result of his destruction of the colonies.

So the 1st pillar of Season 4 requires Zuko to face opposition from his country over his policies surrounding the end of the Hundred Year War and his goal to change Fire Nation culture. The next pillar concerns the royal family.

1.2 Pillar #2: The Anemic State of the Royal family

The royal family is both a hereditary monarchy and one in which the leaders must be seen as worthy of their role. Although it was never shown in the series, Bryke have stated that they believe Fire Lords are expected to “prove their worth” and can have their authority and hereditary line challenged through Agni Kais. This is partly why they have to be powerful firebenders and proficient fighters. At the same time, the Fire Sages also play some role in the legitimacy of the Fire Lord, though this role is not clear. Perhaps it is like the Shogun/Emperor relationship from ancient Japan, where the Shogun had the “blessing” of the Emperor, but it was really the Shogun who ran the country while the Emperor acted as a figurehead and cultural leader. At any rate, Zuko inherited the throne after defeating and/or incapacitating Azula and the Fire Sages in the capital crown him the new Fire Lord...

… But it’s only him. He has no other family ready to continue his legacy. Are he and Mai married? … No? Are they having kids any time soon? Not for several years at best. At the same time, his father is in prison and his bending has been removed, making him both ineligible for the crown and a threat to Zuko’s plans. Ozai is simply out of the question. Making matters worse, Zuko’s mother is gone, Iroh is a childless old man and his sister is both in a form of prison and, seemingly, mentally unfit to rule in addition to being a hostile member of the old regime. Maybe Iroh could be considered as shoring up the royal blood line, but he has no children and he might not last that long.

This “anemic” state of the royal family could allow the ambitious-types in the country to smell blood for a regime change. Those who hate Zuko could view this as an opportunity to off him and the rest of the royal family. Maybe they want a Fire Lord who will do what they want or be easily manipulated. Maybe they want a new royal family with a larger network of existing family. Maybe they want to get rid of the royal family altogether and replace it with something else, such as a return to the Fire Islands (think of the feudal domains of ancient Japan or the numerous kingdoms of ancient China).

But that’s what the ambitious, disgruntled members of the country think. For the rest of the country, the anemic, divided and dysfunctional state of the royal family sends three troubling messages: 1) that their country’s leadership is unstable and that it might be better to get a change over with now lest it be catastrophic later; 2) that the most powerful people in their country (the royal family) disagree with what’s best for the country when they are supposed to know what is best; and 3) that the current royal family might be permanently divided.

And Zuko sees this. In the beginning of The Search, he comments how his father being in prison, his sister in an institution and his mother being missing for years sends a bleak message about himself, his country and family. If the royal family is supposed to be exactly that, a family, as Zuko laments, then is the fact that he went to war with his own family (to do what was right) sending the message to his people that they should go to war amongst their own family (their fellow citizens) to do what they believe is right: either overthrow the Fire Lord, or stop him from being overthrown? That’s kindling for a civil war. Notably, that Earth Kingdom academic’s explanation about a nation being a large family is based on Confucian thought.

Second to this, Zuko also feels depressed that he doesn’t have a real family. Yes, he has the Gaang. Yes, he has Iroh. Yes, he has Mai, but the fact that he can’t sit down for dinner with a mother, father and sister like a normal family eats at his soul every night and day as portrayed in The Promise and The Search. It’s something he wants, something he craves and it is a constant, depressing reminder of how messed up his family is. Gaining friends through the Gang and wearing the crown hasn’t fixed that.

But we know Zuko can never have those things, at least not for a long time. His father is a menace, his sister is an enemy and lunatic, and Iroh is just one uncle who, while like a real father to him, is a reminder of how dysfunctional his family is. His mother is also gone… Or, does she have to be?

She might very well be alive. If Zuko finds her, he can have a mother again and not only that, he could use it as an example of the royal family being on the path to recovery. She isn’t his enemy. There’s no bad blood between them. If he could find her and bring her back, then he would feel less alone and the royal family wouldn’t be as empty. It would just be his mother, but at least it’s something, and this is exactly why Zuko decides to put his duties on hold and look for his mom in The Search.

The 2nd pillar of Season 4 must be this: the currently anemic, dysfunctional state of the royal family must have wider implications for the success of Zuko’s rule and the Fire Nation at large.

The fact that Ozai is in prison with his bending removed is not important because he is a villain who deserves it, but because he is the father of the Fire Lord and that’s how bad things are between him and his son. The fact that Azula is in an asylum is not important because she is a villain who deserves it, but because that’s how messed up the princess is. The fact that Ursa is missing is not important because Zuko misses her, but because the mother of the prince and princess is not supposed to be missing.

This bridges into the next pillar of the season: the search for Ursa must represent a step toward rebuilding the royal family.

1.3 Pillar #3: Finding Ursa is a Step Toward Repairing the Royal Family

When the show ended, the number one question captivating fans was, “What happened to Zuko’s mom?!?” The creators even teased us with it in Korra. Certainly it was a worthwhile question to answer and the creators thought so too, having stated in interviews that they storyboarded the reunion scene, but ultimately gave it the axe because they felt it needed more time to be properly told.

This was the right move. Having the reunion scene be a 30 second blurb at the very end serves no greater purpose than to give Zuko a happy moment. Such a shallow handling of the subject would also have had other unfortunate implications. First, it would have trivialized the freshly revealed issues that Zuko’s sister has with their mother, which were depicted as being of much greater psychological importance to her than to him, and secondly, most critically, it would have erased the enormous value that the search for Zuko’s mom has for continuing the show past the finale. This is a key point: the search for Zuko’s (and Azula’s) mom is the key to bridging the gap between the end of the show and the start of its continuation. This is because fans are already interested in the subject of Ursa and it was left unresolved; it was a blatant loose thread that was compelling enough to answer. Putting the search for Zuko’s mom at the start (or close to) of a 4th season would allow fans a way of immediately buying into a continuation of the series.

However, it is a waste of time if the search for Ursa is merely an adventure for the Gaang and Zuko. The events that occur and its outcome have to tie into the existing problems surrounding the royal family (see: Pillar #2) and must contain conflict, uncertainty and contribute to the overall story that Season 4 aims to tell. This means the search for Ursa cannot be simple and cannot merely be about finding Ursa. It must hit multiple turtle ducks with one loaf of bread. So how can this be done? How can the search for Ursa be both full of conflict and uncertainty, contribute to the overall story and convey the theme of rebuilding the royal family? By applying the 4th pillar: the Fire Siblings must work together to find their mom. This means the return of Azula.

1.4 Pillar #4: The Fire Siblings Work Together to Find Their Mom

There were two loose threads at the end of the show. The first was well recognized and obvious: what happened to Zuko’s mom? The second was less universally recognized, but equally perplexing: what is the ultimate fate of Azula?

In addition to being a top villain, Azula underwent the most rapid and unexpected change of any character in the franchise, creating questions about her motivations and personality where none had previously existed, but yielding very few answers in return. What should have been a triumphant battle between her and Zuko—obvious evil versus obvious good; a bully getting squashed by their victim—turned into a somber event backed by sad violins. So was the fade-to-black at the end of the Agni Kai the last we should ever see of her?

It turns out that Azula is critically important to the layout of a 4th season. There are three reasons for this. First, she is Ursa’s daughter. Since Ursa is Azula’s mom, Ursa is going to implicitly care about what her daughter thinks and feels, regardless of our (the viewer’s) feelings about her villainy. At the same time, Zuko is going to care about what his mother thinks and feels, which means we are going to care about what Ursa thinks and feels about Azula. If Zuko’s mother is expressing concern, regret, longing, etc. over issues relating to Azula, then Zuko is going to take his mother’s feelings to heart because that’s the kind of person he is; he isn’t going to dismiss his mother’s feelings out of hand because Azula makes him and others uncomfortable. Consider this: is it really Avatar’s place to talk about what it’s like to have family members in prison who were rightfully convicted? Because that is a dead-end topic full of heartache and distress with no hopeful message or inspiring resolution.

As a result, when Zuko decides to find his mother, the topic of Azula is going to arise immediately because he knows his mother is going to care about her. This makes the search for Ursa the most logical re-entry point for Azula. This is a key point: just as the search for Zuko’s mom is the bridge between the end of the show and its continuation, the search for Ursa is the bridge for bringing back Azula. We care about Zuko. We care about the Gaang. We also care about Ursa, but we don’t necessarily care about Azula. Tying her into the search for Zuko’s mom softens the shock of her return.

But why bring Azula back at all? Aren’t we done with her? Can’t she just be left as a “messy” part of life so the Gaang and Zuko can go on new adventures and meet new people?

Azula’s ultimate outcome is relevant both for the sake of Ursa and for the future of the royal family. Keep in mind that Zuko is both the supreme leader of his country and default leader of his family (which is in shambles). He is responsible for a great many things greater than himself and his feelings. It is his job to ponder questions like, “Should I execute Azula, or keep her alive?” Or, “If I keep her alive, what is ultimately done with her?” Or, “Would annihilating her ability to be a credible authority in the country (i.e. remove her bending) be a mistake further down the road?” And even, “Are those actions in line with the kind of person I am?” Zuko can’t shy away from these questions and neither can we.

Whether or not Azula can be part of a functional, peaceful royal family with Zuko is not what’s important. The fact that Azula is Ursa’s daughter is what’s important and unassailable. This, however, is minor compared to the next two reasons for Azula’s involvement in Season 4.

The second reason Azula is critical to a 4th season is because she is a young member of the royal family who can firebend. That fact alone makes her supremely relevant to the success of Zuko’s legacy. Will the country view her as a natural, more desirable alternative to Zuko? Will they disregard Zuko’s attempts to make her ineligible to rule? Will they view Azula as hope they can have her as a leader some day (and undo Zuko’s policies)?

Not only would the opposition have their eyes on Azula, but will Zuko hope that Azula can be integrated into his rule in a timely fashion, thereby strengthening both his position and the royal family’s?

You could take the viewpoint that nothing bad will happen in the decades it takes for Zuko to raise a family, but Zuko’s enemies might act much sooner (and they have to since the goal is to create a gripping story). From Zuko’s perspective of looking at the big picture, it might be regrettable in the long term if Azula’s potential to help stabilize the country and royal family is left unfulfilled.

The third reason is because Azula is a well-regarded, powerful and highly accomplished member of the old regime. Not only is she an alternative to Zuko by family, but also by her reputation and abilities; the forces in the country that oppose Zuko might want to use her to neutralize him; they might also hold her in greater esteem than Zuko and view her as the rightful Fire Lord.

We know it is not this simple, though. Azula is not operating from a clean slate. She suffered a psychotic episode so bad that even Zuko and Katara were able to take pity on her. Instead of putting her in prison and having Aang remove her bending, Zuko had her incarcerated in straight jackets and padded cells in relative comfort. She also just embarrassed herself in front of the whole capital and, by extension, the leadership of the country, by banishing all of her servants and guards for no good reason (seriously, where did the Dai Lee go??) Maybe the events that transpired in the finale shifted the public’s view of Azula from being a “terrifying yet inspirational” leader to being weak-willed and too unstable to be Fire Lord despite her accomplishments. Maybe she has lost the respect and confidence of the people who would have otherwise sought her leadership.

At any rate, whoever gets a hold of Azula has a powerful weapon at their disposal. If the opposition acquires Azula, they will be made substantially more powerful and legitimate. On the other hand, if Zuko can get Azula on his side, his position will be that much more strengthened; not only will there be someone to guard his legacy—if, if, IF he can get her on his side—but her allegiance might be what it takes to win over those who hate him; if Azula of all people can accept Zuko’s rule then doesn’t that mean the rest of the old regime can?

So Azula’s ultimate outcome is not a heartfelt reunion with her mother. It is not a moral redemption story. It is not resolving her myriad of emotional problems for her own sake. Azula’s ultimate outcome is to contribute to the leadership of the Fire Nation, because that is what members of the royal family are supposed to do and she is a member of the royal family. This requires her to play a key role in resolving the massive internal conflict facing the Fire Nation as a result of Zuko’s policies. By having Zuko and Azula work together to find their mother, it introduces the idea that it is possible for the Fire Siblings to work together, that the defeated members of the old regime can get over their differences with the new one, and acts as a mirror to the 1st pillar about Zuko facing resentment and opposition from his own people (who better to represent that than Azula?).

But this role for Azula cannot be forced upon her. In any good story, characters must make choices and the reasons for those choices must be sufficiently developed. In order for Azula to take a side in the conflict, it must come as the result of believable inner-conflict and soul-searching on her part, or else it will just be a shallow rehashing of something she already is (a villain) or an unearned, half-baked means of getting her on the side of Zuko. Essentially, since Azula was already a villain and soundly defeated in the show, her new role has to be more complex and different from what we’ve already seen. For this to occur, Azula has to learn for herself the depth of animosity toward Zuko that is brewing in the Fire Nation and the consequences of it should it fester out of control.

But Azula has been in an asylum all this time. She’s been chi-blocked, restrained, manhandled on a daily basis and altogether detached from the outside world. She needs to get experience with what’s going on in the Fire Nation and learn it firsthand, not be told it (as smart as she is, she is not all-knowing). This yields the 5th pillar of the 4th season: Azula must live amongst her people.

1.5 Pillar #5: Azula Runs Away and Lives Amongst Her People

Azula is not brought back in Season 4 because she deserves a happy ending, or because she is misunderstood, or because she is cool or for anything close to that. She is brought back because she is necessary for resolving the season’s conflict and for conveying its themes. In order for this role to be believable (i.e. feel like it is earned by the character and not by the plot), it must be given adequate time to develop.

To contribute to the overarching conflict, Azula must first develop a detailed perspective on the burgeoning unrest in the Fire Nation. Similar to how Zuko’s exposure to Earth Kingdom peoples allowed him to develop sympathy for their plight (and respect for Iroh’s teachings), Azula must live amongst the people of the Fire Nation to understand what is happening among them and what is at stake. In this respect, if Zuko represents a leader who must feel compassion toward and act in the best interests of the world and Fire Nation, Azula must be a leader who feels compassion toward and act in the best interests of the Fire Nation. Her concern is not the world, but for the Fire Nation. Zuko’s concern is both. This is where their interests align.

The time Azula spends amongst her people is not for her to develop sympathy or tenderness or righteous protectiveness toward them as we would expect from Zuko. This is not to say that she wouldn’t feel compassion for her people, but there is a shrewdness and practicality to the insights she makes into her nation, like an undercover boss learning their company is not what they had thought, or like a princess learning that there are problems in her country that otherwise would deserve the attention of its princess. There is another key point highlighting Azula’s value in contributing to Zuko’s goal of redeeming the Fire Nation, and it is absolutely critical: Azula provides a key perspective on the current Fire Nation that we cannot get from the heroes.

The lesson at the end of Zuko’s coronation is that the Fire Nation has to be taken down several notches. It has to be impugned and reprimanded, defanged and reformed. We have not seen that Fire Nation, though. The most we saw was a factory spewing sludge into the river near a small fishing village and kids who were taught lies about the start of the war (and weren’t allowed to dance. The shock and horror). What we don’t know is what the current Fire Nation thinks and feels about Zuko and his plans to undo the past hundred years.

Remember how Azula is a member of the old regime and, in many ways, the Fire Nation that must be changed? She was also a true believer in that Fire Nation, just like the people who are trying to assassinate Zuko in The Promise. Not only this, but she is royalty, making her perspective on what it takes to lead the country more prescient than disgruntled nobles, generals, colonials and the like. It makes her perspective on what the Fire Nation is today more valuable than the rose-tinted view of what it used to be, or should be. It is the Fire Nation of today that must change, not the Fire Nation of old that must be arise from the grave; those people are dead and buried, it’s the people who are alive now who are of concern.

When we see the Fire Nation and its troubles through Azula’s eyes, we do so from the perspective of the Fire Nation that must have its honor restored, not the Fire Nation that must be rebuilt through Zuko’s idealism and unquestionable honor. Remember that the overarching purpose of Zuko’s journey is to restore the honor of the Fire Nation. Restore it. It has not happened yet. For Zuko to do that, he has to better understand the Fire Nation that benefited from the war, that found it acceptable that he be burned and banished by his father and that was willing to do horrible things that he could not do himself because that is the Fire Nation that he needs to change.

Do you think Zuko is going to have a “kill all who oppose me” attitude? Is he going to order troops to storm into libraries, break into academics’ homes and burn all documents and writings that say anything positive about the war in order to erase it from history like certain Chinese emperors did? Is he going to jail all who oppose him? Probably not, and that probably wouldn’t work either as, if the penalty for treason is death and the penalty for rebellion is death, then you rebel, and as we know, a single firebender is a one-person army. How many of them live across the Fire Nation and could do immeasurable damage if organized into even a modest army? The Capital has to get its food from somewhere…

But that Fire Nation hates Zuko’s guts and Zuko is constrained by being the Fire Lord. He can’t just put his duties on hold and live amongst his people for an extended length of time, nor does he have the inclination to sympathize with people who believe he deserved to have been burned and that the war was good and justified. But there is someone in the royal family who can sympathize with those people, who has the anonymity to live amongst them, learn the details of their grievances and plans and, potentially, command their respect, and that is Azula. Think that Iroh cares much about that part of his country? Or, that they even care about him? This doesn’t mean Iroh hates them, but he might feel casual disdain. We’ve seen evidence in the show that Iroh is both loved and despised. Not only this, but he’s been secretly working against the Fire Nation for years and did so very blatantly during the events of Sozin’s Comet. All of this now out in the open, along with the White Lotus Society’s “extranational” status as a group of foreign agents working to supplant the Fire Nation’s government. Remember that the people opposing Zuko do not view Iroh and the White Lotus as the heroes that we do. They likely hate the White Lotus’ guts too.

In order for Azula to be exposed to these intimate levels of Fire Nation society, she has to live amongst the people affected by Zuko’s policies, and the decision for her to do so has to come entirely from her. It can’t be a brokered deal between her and Zuko at the start of the season, nor can it be out of pure self-interest either. It also can’t be contrived; no one can break her out of the asylum, tell them their plans and she says, “I’m in!” She has to be in the right place at the right time and in the right frame of mind to end up on this path naturally. In order for all of this to occur, she must literally escape the influences of her old life (being a prisoner, threatened with having her bending removed, being second to Zuko, reminded daily of her failures, feeling humiliated, etc.) and go into hiding amongst her people. This allows us to see the “full” Azula through the eyes and experiences of the Fire Nation, not through the heroes and their bad blood with her.

So Azula is initially reintroduced through her connection to Ursa and the royal family. She is involved in some way with the search for her mother, but events transpire during the search that motivate her to run away and go into hiding. Whatever those events are, the motivating factors have to be tied to the themes and unresolved issues surrounding her downfall in the finale. Her psychotic episode, banishing people, her erratic behavior during the Agni Kai, incarceration in an insane asylum and her ultimate failure to prevent the old regime from falling are essential features of who she is moving forward and they cannot be resolved off-screen. There is no going back to the old Azula, just like there’s no going back to the old Zuko. The latter half of Season 3 changed her forever and must be addressed.

There is a concept in story crafting called “scene and sequel”. It’s odd terminology, but it works like this: “scenes” are where the action occurs. It is where the world in which the characters live, or the characters themselves, undergo major changes that drive the story forward. Whereas “sequels” are the low points between the scenes, the low valleys between the high mountains. They are where things are relatively static for the characters; the lulls between major changes where the characters need time to adjust. Scene and sequel affects the tempo of a story and the key to understanding it is this: by the end of a scene, a character must have undergone a substantial change from who or where they were at the beginning, whereas during a sequel, they remain unchanged from start to finish. Sure, they can move a teensy bit, but if, for example, whatever is making them sad at the start of a sequel is resolved, that resolution must occur during a scene. It can’t “just happen” during a low point; it can’t happen off screen.

Scene and sequel is important to understanding how to reintroduce Azula back into the show. Whereas Zuko, Aang, Katara and the rest of the heroes completed their arcs by the end, Azula had not. In fact, her misery was just starting. The time between the end of Season 3 and the start of Season 4 represents a sequel for Azula. Therefore, Azula’s unresolved problems leftover at the end of the finale cannot be explained away; they have to be continued.

The last time we saw Azula she was rolling around on the ground, in chains, screaming and crying as her world fell down around her. The next time we see her, she cannot be radically different from that. Yes, she can be lucid and calm and able to hold a conversation, but she has to be frazzled and on edge; she has to be bitter and depressed; humiliated and resentful; hopeless and scared. She has to be in denial about her culpability for her failures. She has to be desperate to absolve herself of blame even though the truth is gnawing at the back of her mind, because that’s where she left off. Essentially, the emotional “pallet” from the finale has to be carried forward.

However Azula is portrayed when she returns, one thing has to be very clear: she has not gotten over the events that transpired in the finale. Notably, this is what The Search did with her and it was done rather reasonably well.

As for the reasons why Azula runs away, or escapes, or disappears? Perhaps she does try to kill her mother in a hairbrained scheme born out of her desperation and mental unwellness, as portrayed in The Search, and so does not want to face the consequences for it. Maybe there is a letter putting Zuko’s paternity in doubt, but Azula screws up the opportunity to use it against him (she gets distracted by trying to kill her mom, for example) and runs away so she isn’t imprisoned by her brother. Maybe she tries to take revenge on Zuko but fails and so she doesn’t want to go to prison, go back to the asylum, or have her bending removed. Perhaps she has another psychotic episode and the shame of being returned to the asylum is too much for her to handle. Whatever the reason, she has to be motivated by the fear, anger, resentment and humiliation left over from the finale. Think of what she was feeling during that final scene in Sozin’s Comet. That is what she wants to escape from.

But where does Azula physically go? It has to be somewhere that is experiencing the variety of problems that the rapid end of the war and Zuko’s policies is creating, somewhere she can experience first hand the range of causes that is fomenting trouble in the Fire Nation. Maybe it is a city that benefited economically from the war industry and is now seeing its prosperity decline. Maybe it is an industrial town that has seen all orders dry up and they want their livelihoods back. Maybe it is a locale full of relocated colonials who are unhappy to have been removed from their homes and are struggling to make ends meet due to the strain they are placing on the Fire Nation economy. The options aren’t endless, but it should kill as birds with one stone as possible. For example, an isolated mountain village showing ”traditional” Fire Nation culture is not a suitable place for Azula (or the viewer) to go.

Wherever Azula goes, it has to open her eyes (and ours) to the situation in the Fire Nation, and this leads into the 6th pillar of the season: Azula must discover the major threat brewing in the Fire Nation.

1.6 Pillar #6: Azula Learns the Major Threat Brewing in the Fire Nation

Until this point in the hypothetical Season 4, the primary threat cannot be known. Yes, there have been assassination attempts on Zuko and yes, it has been revealed that there is widespread displeasure toward him, but none of it has been anything that the combined might of Zuko and the people who support him cannot put a lid on, and so far, a lid has been put on it.

The reason the primary threat is not known are: 1) it has been hidden by those who are behind it; 2) members of Zuko’s cabinet have been hiding it/misleading him; and 3) it has been hiding its true intentions behind a benign façade.

The reason Azula is able to discover the primary threat is because only someone who opposes Zuko and wishes him harm would be able to join forces with the people behind the primary threat. A peaceful, obedient, “normal” citizen of the Fire Nation is not going to seek out, or be interested in, ways of taking down the Fire Lord. But Azula would. So when she learns of the existence of this “threat” (a movement, plot, conspiracy, etc.), it appeals to her negative feelings and gives her hope that she can turn back time, that she can rise from the ashes of her shame and humiliation. Only someone with her background and belief in the old regime would be willing to cooperate with such a movement against her country’s imperial leadership. In other words, only a former villain. Zuko can’t do it. Aang can’t do it. Iroh can’t. None of the heroes can. They don’t even know it exists, neither do they have the personalities to associate with the kinds of people actively working to sabotage Zuko’s government. They would oppose immediately. Azula would want to get inside it.

But that isn’t the only reason why Azula is the character through which the primary threat is revealed. She must be the one to reveal it because when she learns the full extent of the primary threat’s goals, she realizes the massive, cataclysmic consequences it poses to the Fire Nation and royal family. Now pillars 1 and 2 are tied together.

A “normal” disgruntled citizen who hates Zuko would go along with the primary threat and trust its leaders, but Azula is not a normal citizen. She is the princess. She can see the big picture. The consequences of the primary threat have to make Azula’s “princess senses” tingle. It has to be something that reminds her of who she is and what her responsibilities are. It has to make her question what she truly wants and how far she is willing to go to get it, if she even still can.

And the heroes don’t know what Azula finds out. Zuko doesn’t know the cataclysmic problem building in his country, but now there is a member of the royal family who does and she holds critical information necessary to either stopping it, or using it to her advantage.

So Azula’s time living amongst her people is ultimately about teaching her (and the viewers) key facts about the Fire Nation’s culture and society that is leading it towards a massive internal conflict, a conflict bad enough that even the resentful, jilted Azula can’t feel comfortable about. Whatever the primary threat is, it is not something she can ignore and this leads to the 7th pillar of the season: Azula must take a side.

1.7 Pillar #7: Azula Takes a Side

The main thrust of Season 4 is beginning to take shape. Zuko’s ongoing journey is to redeem the Fire Nation. He is opposed in his journey by his own citizens who despise him and what he is trying to do. At the same time, the anemic, dysfunctional state of the royal family is harming his legitimacy and requires resolution. He and Azula manage to cooperate with each other in finding their mom, but that too falls apart and Azula disappears. While hiding amongst her people, Azula discovers the truth about what’s happening in the Fire Nation and what she learns is so serious that it spurs her to action. But what will she do with her knowledge? Will she try to use it to her advantage, perhaps by taking over the primary threat from the inside? Will she do nothing and let the Fire Nation burn out of spite and desire to make her enemies pay? Or, will her pride and sense of duty as princess prevail?

All of Azula’s experiences living amongst her people has been to prepare her for this decision (and for the viewer to believe it). Technically, she could make any choice (viewers’ expectations and internal consistency be damned), but keep in mind that Season 4 needs to show us new things. We have already seen Azula as a straight up villain. We’ve already seen Azula and Zuko fight to the death. We’ve already seen Azula defeated, badly. What we haven’t seen is Azula willing submit to Zuko’s will. What we haven’t seen is the fire siblings work together in a big, lasting way that isn’t born out of self-interest (Zuko wanting to earn his father’s love in The Crossroads of Destiny), or ulterior motive (whatever scheme Azula has during the search for their mother, which goes wrong and forces her to run away and become a fugitive). Just as we haven’t seen the Fire Nation that hates Zuko reconcile with him, we haven’t seen Azula reconcile with Zuko.

So there is really only one choice Azula can make. It is the choice that contributes to Zuko’s journey of redeeming the Fire Nation, of rebuilding the royal family and of solving the central conflict of Season 4. It is the 8th and final pillar of Season 4: Zuko and Azula must work together to save the Fire Nation.

1.8 Pillar #8: Zuko and Azula Work Together to Save the Fire Nation

This is the heart and soul of Season 4. It is what everything has been building to. This is why Zuko’s anxieties about the royal family are more than just heartache for him. It is why we have to spend time learning more about Azula. Season 4 is not about having extra adventures for the Gaang. It is not about the events that lead to Republic City and Korra. It is not about having more Iroh and his anecdotes. At its core, Season 4 is about this: it is the story about how the two warring sides of the royal family (represented by Zuko and Azula) become united again, symbolizing the change for good of the Fire Nation.

How exactly they work together depends on the nature of the threat. We know Azula can be fearless, or at least highly confident, and is quite intelligent. Perhaps she infiltrates the threat to act as a double agent, playing both sides until the very end (we know she has the ability to do this given her success at taking control of the Dai Lee). Maybe Zuko uses his reputation as a kindhearted idealist to feign ignorance of Azula’s involvement with the enemy in order to shield her from scrutiny by the heroes and give her credibility amongst his enemies (to maintain the ruse). It can’t be last minute save-the-day though, as Zuko needs enough time to build trust for Azula.

Whatever the details of the conflict and the manner in which it is resolved, the relationship between Zuko and Azula has to be believable and earned. There has to be times of conflict and mistrust between them. There have to be moments where the heroes have to be defended from Azula and where Zuko has to defend Azula from the heroes, but binding them through all of it and tempering the worst of their feelings is the fact that they are both royalty with duties greater than themselves.

By the end, the primary threat should be defeated and no others lay on the horizon. Zuko’s rule should be safe and the future of the royal family certain. No longer will Zuko lament his lack of family, or feel haunted by his past. He will have regained his mother and, for the first time in his life, have someone who he is proud to call his sister. For him, it will feel like turning a new page. The past will truly feel like the past and the future will be unlike anything he has ever experienced.

There will be no doubt that the Fire Nation can achieve the redemption it needs and that Zuko is the one to lead it, but not because he is a good, moral person. Not because he stood up to his father and defeated Azula in the finale. Not because he is a hero who earned a happy ending, but because he made the right decisions as Fire Lord, applied Iroh’s teachings to new situations, stood by what he believed was right even when other heroes doubted him and, finally, because he figured out how to turn a former enemy and member of the old regime into a friend, or at least into a lasting ally.

Azula’s journey will be over and, at last, so will Zuko’s.

2 Summary

To summarize, these are the pillars that must carry Season 4:

1) Zuko’s policies are met by significant resentment and opposition from his own people;

2) The anemic, dysfunctional state of the royal family has major implications for the stability and legacy of Zuko’s rule;

3) Zuko is inspired to find his mom in order to strengthen the royal family;

4) Zuko brings Azula with him to find their mother, both for the sake of his mother and to test the waters on a peaceful relationship with his sister;

5) Azula goes awry on the search, resulting in her escaping/disappearing;

6) While on her own living amongst her people, Azula discovers a massive internal threat brewing in the Fire Nation that she cannot ignore;

7) Azula decides that using this threat to get back at her enemies is not compatible with her values, so she joins forces with Zuko to stop it;

8) And finally, Zuko and Azula work together to stop the threat, thereby setting an example for the rest of the country and healing the rift between the two warring sides of the royal family.

3 Closing Remarks

This framework does not place a limit on the content of Season 4, but clarifies what it must be built from. You’ll notice it says very little about the roles of Aang, Katara, Iroh and so on. That’s because they do not undergo the levels of change that Azula and Zuko must go through. Their journeys were over at the end of the series, whereas Zuko’s and Azula’s were not. At the same time, it is Zuko and Azula who have to work together to resolve the conflict, or more specifically, Azula who has to learn to work with Zuko. That is a major change on her part. In order to sell this to the viewer, adequate time must be given to its development.

The Gaang needs to be involved, but what they do and the changes they undergo have to be in the context of the eight pillars and central conflict, or else their actions become extraneous filler and fluff. For example, Kataang is not furthered for the sake of fanservice, but because strengthening their relationship is the result of their teamwork in solving the story’s problems. At the same time, Iroh is not present because we like Iroh, but because he is a member of the royal family, has a checkered relationship with the war, split allegiances (White Lotus vs. Fire Nation) and apparently pessimistic view of his niece (i.e. Ursa’s daughter). Is Ursa going to appreciate, “She’s crazy and needs to go down?” Iroh must be tied to the troubles of the Fire Nation and its royal family.

This depiction of Season 4 appears heavy on Azula. In short, this is because she has the most to reveal about the Fire Nation and has the most change to undergo. Essentially, she has to go on a journey, and journeys require time. In that sense, Season 4 could be thought of as being 1/3rd Zuko & the Heroes, 1/3rd Azula on her own, and 1/3rd Zuko, Azula, & and the heroes.

A final word about how to handle Azula: you can’t be too nice to her. You have to sell her importance to the heroes and not assume people are going to care about her. In fact, that’s how any character should work, but in the case of a former villain, you have to work even harder at it. This makes Azula’s involvement in the season the most radical, but also the most intriguing.

If you’re familiar with the Fire Nation comics (The Promise, The Search, and Smoke & Shadow), you’ll notice the parallels and deviations this framework has with them. It is quite apparent that Bryke were thinking along these lines when they brainstormed the comics, but for whatever reasons, they failed to follow through.

The way to understand this framework—these “pillars” that support Season 4—is to look at them as universal to the franchise. They come from the internal logic, unresolved issues and established themes of the show. If, for instance, Bryke got abducted by aliens and Nickelodeon had to hire new showrunners to make a 4th season, the new showrunners would find this story inherent to the source material whether they were prior fans of Avatar or not.

We’ll probably never get this story, but as fans we are free to speculate and devise our own scenarios in order to keep the entertainment value of Avatar alive. If you agree with this framework, you now have a method for developing the details of how Avatar can be continued past Aang’s journey in a way that is compelling, full of heart, and builds upon what was left behind.

The craving you felt for more Avatar at the end of the show was not you being a ravenous fan who couldn’t accept that their plate was empty. It was recognizing the potential for a story that has not been fulfilled.

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danieyells · 4 years ago

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Thanks for answering my questions! I know it was a lot lmao but I Am Have Questions and very few people informed enough to discuss them with xD

I suppose it is possible they Oniwaka and Co. were being rent from their exceptions and not to Tokyo itself, but I thought the way it worked was that MC rent their connection to Tokyo itself and overwrote it with their own! I hadn't considered your angle before; something to think about haha

If I remember right though, Sitri's wings, and with them his powers, only grew in recently right? Like, a little while before the first Valentine's Event? That's why he had so much trouble controlling them if I recall correctly! But sustaining himself on that energy is one thing that can be explained (though! It's possible that part of Sitri's deep desire for chocolate in general, but valentine's chocolate especially, is the love that gets put into them? Not to say he sustains himself solely on it or anything, but it might explain the strength of his desires ahaha)

Wait. Do those character quests mean that collisions can literally send people into the pasts of other worlds?? Like fr?? And also, does that mean collisions are like, direct overlaps with other worlds and not just illusory versions?

Part of why I'm trying to sort this all out is because I want to write a TAS fic, but I needed a better understanding of how, exactly, the system works, and was basically about to throw my hands in the air and say that actually nobody goes home at all until they've fulfilled their contracts ever and that's that xD I've finished all the story content btw! Including chapter 11 and most of the translated events, except for the Canaan one (gotta get on that, pray I get myself a Dagon 5★)

Does that mean that we contracts are *unfulfillable*? Like MC's connection with Agyo was basically like "I want friend lmao" and then they got their friend, but does that mean that Agyo is trapped in Tokyo until MC decides that they don't want to be friends with him anymore?

Also, do you think that if a Stray Transient does eventually run out of energy to sustain themselves in Tokyo, they get booted back to their world permanently, or do you think they just recover their strength in their home world and then get pulled back over?

Thanks again for answering my questions! I hope that this is proving as interesting to explore to you as it is to me hahaha

I don't mind that it's a lot at all! Lol it was just a surprise. I'm honored to be approached about this kind of thing, and I find it very interesting, yeah! 'u' I love worldbuilding and characterization so thinking about/sharing my thoughts on it for things I like is always a pleasure.

I mean it's possible they're rending their connection to Tokyo, but I feel like that wouldn't take the exception away? Because it came from an interaction they had, not Tokyo itself. I figured they were torn from the exception and the exception and fighting robbed them of all their energy in the proccess of making them a. . .screaming, mindless fighting machine lmao. Like rending a familiar from someone? But that familiar is inside them? If that makes sense? I don't remember if this was explained to begin with let alone how lol I should reread it lol

Sitri's wings did come in pretty recently, and they're implied to be a puberty thing. The problem is that he says they came in "the other day"--which doesn't necessarily mean "two days ago" as convenient as that'd be. The Japanese is even more vague, just saying "When I was taking a bath" without giving a timeframe. But I kinda figured that, until the wings popped in, love from his family was enough to sustain him. Because Bathym doesn't have a family here, really, he has his fans and the guild. But also since his family knew about the wings, saying they were a sign he was growing up, maybe they have a similar power that pops in during puberty and thus were able to feed him others' feelings. But yeah they were new which is why he couldn't control them.

As for the pasts in other worlds. . .time doesn't flow in other worlds the same as it does in Tokyo necessarily. El Dorado isn't even around anymore, time in Shangri-La flows slower than in Tokyo, etc--but these places still participate in the Game despite that. So worlds and timelines aren't entirely stable--after all time's been reset over and over. Also, we have time travelers from Utopia(which is the future???) so if they were forced to conform to a single space-time path that'd be kind of difficult? So, yeah, time and space and memories aren't necessarily stable in collisions. I mean, if a world collided based on memories, who's to say those places are still exactly as remembered? It works for the jungle in Shangri-La because it's a jungle and how much will that change--but the collided oceans are connected to towns in other worlds? Dagon connected islands from various worlds into one, too--those can't all be his own memories or from the same timeframe. Collisions are pretty unstable by definition so it doesn't surprise me that time can get screwed up along the way.

But yeah collisions seem to be actual overlaps of some sort--since Macan remembered that he heard MC's voice that happened in the collision, Xolotl met and saw himself in the collision, etc. And those things had effects that brought them to Tokyo to begin with.

Oh, there's also Nomad's character story where MC was invisible to everyone but Nomad--Nomad could feel them too--because the worlds were unstable under Ikebukuro Coliseum and they reminded Nomad of the prison he was in, causing the Collision.

MC could travel the collision/memory without Nomad around and get accurate information about its layout to help him escape.

If the collision doesn't alter the actual past then there's no way they'd know without Nomad physically with them. . .and there's no way Nomad would know where to go to escape the prison if MC weren't able to get actual information.

Then MC breaks the lights--only Nomad can see them, but they can affect reality/the past in a way that influenced everyone in it. And they're able to escape thanks to information MC gathered about and influence MC had on the world that Nomad would have no means whatsoever of getting/doing on his own.

Then they saw present Nomad who said MC was his, MC tried to reassure past!Nomad that it was okay, they were the same person, and past!Nomad felt betrayed.

Past Nomad sees MC through the transient light and chases after them, bringing him to Tokyo in continued pursuit of revenge.

. . .and present Nomad, now home with Mc and having had resolved the collision, remembered that he'd been chasing MC through the transient light but had travelled to Tokyo to find them--but had not travelled to them. He'd likely forgotten who he was looking for because he was kind of out of his mind at the time and thought he was chasing after his own hallucination to begin with.

Now that he remembers he wanted to kill MC for leaving him but also knows that he's the one who MC left him for, he deems them half a traitor for only betraying the him of the past not the him of the present and lets them off the hook for now.

(nice kabedon--DAMN THE TEN IMAGE LIMIT.)

MC was the one he wanted venegence against when he left Utopia, although he still has to get revenge against the people who turned him into a tiger. But he went to Tokyo to get revenege against MC and made a contract with them without remembering they were the target. He says he won't kill them for now but someday, when his other revenge is done, he'll come after them for betraying him. Until then they're his assistant and they'll be helping him get revenge. If they betray him again--betray him "one and a half times"--they'll become the new priority and he'll kill them first.

But even he said that he thinks that he's crazed for revenge is stupid so MC figured out that he wants them to keep him in check. (He calls them 'traitor' fondly(? He smiles while doing it, I think it's pretty fond) and I wish he kept doing that but it'd probably reveal more to people than Nomad is comfortable revealing lol so he calls you by name instead.)

Also, canonness note, he declares them his detective assistant when he declares them his accomplice--and in the Beach House Andvari he reiterates that's your relationship too. Which means that his character quest is canon across events. And if events are canon--whether through your choices or not(at one point in the story you know Gyobu but you only met him in events until that point???) that means Mc making pacts with everyone could be canon too.

. . .but yeah collisions are just time and space freaking out. Maybe they're past resets of sorts.

And oooh fanfics are exciting 'u' I'll give it a read if you link it! And congrats on reading everything! *U* I've gotta do that myself lol and good luck getting 5★Dagon!! I wanted 5★Tangaroa(someone I have added has him and. . .holy shit he heals himself, he heals allies around him, he's practically invincible) but I ran out of transient stones and I'm poor irl 8'D The Canaan event is fun and also chaotic and will probably give you even MORE questions about how the fuck timelines and collisions work. Because it kinda introduces a new mechanic into the mix. So uh brace yourself?

The problem with "nobody goes home until they've fulfilled their contracts" is that some people just don't have contracts. And their own desires only seem to cause gates to open and take them, not actually bind them--someone from Tokyo(or in Tokyo in MC's case) needs to be their binding agent if they're not like. A World Rep or someone similarly powerful enough to stay on their own(this is a guess--they're probably sustained by being the System and thus stand on the faith of all their people from their world. Alternatively they're bound to Tokyo via MC as the trophy.) Otherwise they wouldn't note that transients disappear eventually if unbound by a contract.

Gullinbursti isn't attached to MC by contract anymore not because MC said "I don't want us to be friends" or anything but because MC refused to make a proper contract with him because he'd misinterpret it. But he's still hanging out, so. It's not immediate. But, yeah, there are probably unfulfillable contracts that can only be broken by death or declaration. Agyo is stuck with MC until MC says he can go lol--I mean they're friends now but it'd defeat the purpose of the pact if they went away as soon as that happened. Because MC wants more and more companions they'll never truly have their desire to have friends fulfilled probably. So anyone summoned that way gets to stay in Tokyo until MC is no longer in it or maybe until MC decides "I don't want people around me anymore/I don't want to see anyone ever again" and truly means it--which will declare their contracts fulfilled and send them home, if they have a home/life to return to.

As for if Stray Transients go back permanently, yes and no. I think they go back and recuperate their energy and they stay home if they don't have an outstanding pact(whether they're aware or not)--however if they were just there because they went into the light and had nothing binding them to the land but that energy/will that brought them, they'd go home without bwing sent back unless they really wanted it again. Thus they can be resummoned, intentionally or otherwise. If MC one day dismisses everyone, regrets it, and says they want their friends back, everyone would come back. But if they didn't ask for everyone to return they'd stay home(disregarding that they'd probably all go NO WE WANNA GO BACK TAKE US TO MC and the transient light would bring them back to Tokyo again lmao.)

So. Yeah, they'll stay home until summoned again, even after they get their energy back, I think. If they don't have a home to go back to maybe they float in the void for a while, kinda like how MC just kinda existed as the Exiles without a home or like how Robinson says they can't stay anywhere forever because they're Wanderers.

(Somewhat related, Shiro mentions in the Apprentice Santa event that it must be hard to import turkey to Tokyo. . .import it from where? Tokyo is closed off on all sides INCLUDING THE OCEAN. That means someone's bringing turkey from other worlds into Tokyo--a business-like summoning contract lol. "Come to Tokyo, bring goods from other worlds, and you can go back until I need more" basically. Using another world like a manufacturing plant lol. . .little things like that make me consider that you can go and come back at the will of a summoner, assuming you donct have an artifact or ability that allows you to traverse worlds as you please.)

Another thing for you to consider if you wanna be a bit more puzzled: remember how much belief plays a part in how things work in Tokyo. Consider. . .if someone claims they're not a stray transient when they actually are and everyone around them believes that they have a contract or guild or something keeping them there even though it's not true. . .are they bound to Tokyo by that belief as long as they're around more people who think they're bound to somebody? Will they disappear if people stop believing them or they're around people who believe they're a stray? Consiquentially if people believe a stray will disappear sooner than later does their timer run out faster? If Ose somehow ran around telling people that transients won't disappear with his ability to make people believe everything he says, do they stop disappearing because no one thinks they will? I suppose he can't lie to nature, but can those beliefs sustain people? I mean belief can cause Oni to be hurt by beans, can cause Behemoth to regain his sense of taste, can cause people from worlds that've been destroyed to become demons because the Angels invading will it to be so. So where does belief's power end and the power of the System kick in? Does the game end if MC puts on Ose's crown and tells the Representaives it's over and they all lost? Or would the alternation of belief on a mass scale cause an Exception by clashing with something more powerful than it? What, since they so value Systems and the Faith that sustains them, to the point that losing Faith in your System causes a full on collapse of the world it holds together(see:Canaan), is more powerful in this game than the power of belief?

#danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #danie yells at tokyo afterschool summoners #long post #tokyo afterschool summoners

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chaoskirin · 5 years ago

Text

The Seven Seas--Chapter One

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-Fi/Gen Rating: PG Chapter 1 Word Count: 2379

I haven’t written any Queen fanfic in a while, but I’ve had this one in mind for about a year. Figured now was a good time to give it a go!

---

The morning started like any other: At quarter past noon, and with beer and potato chips for breakfast.

"Fred, I want to go home," Brian said, hand on his forehead, leaning back in his chair. Roger stretched his leg out and attempted to tip the chair over; the back collided with the wall and Brian shot him a grumbly look.

"No. We're staying right here 'til we're done," Freddie replied. "And I would say we've been productive thus far--except for all the complaining."

They wouldn't be done until Freddie said they were, which could be today, or tomorrow, or three weeks into the future. With his Mercurial temperament, he'd named himself well. That's something none of the four would ever argue over.

John, typically, said nothing.

Roger flipped over in his chair, reclining upside-down with his bleached hair splashed across the dusty floor. Out of all of them, Rog felt the crushing boredom the worst as they sat and sat and sat and thought about lyrics for a good chunk of the day. He just had a different way of dealing with it; while Brian complained and John entertained himself within the recesses of his own mind, Roger caused Trouble.

"Oh, Roger," Freddie said. "Do sit up."

"I'm gettin' the blood to my brain," he replied. "So I can think of your stupid songs."

"If they're stupid, we're not using them," Freddie said.

"You let the car song through," John muttered under his breath, after which Roger grabbed a handful of wood chips and attempted to launch them--while still upside-down--across the room. He performed an unintentional backflip out of the chair and crashed to the floor.

Where he remained for some reason.

"Entertaining," Brian observed. "I still want to go home. I've got things to do. My thesis--"

"Oh, your bloody thesis. You're a rock star now, Brian!" Freddie exclaimed. He stood, paced across the barn, stepped over Roger, flailed his hands for effect, then paced back. "You don't need a doctorate if you're a rock star!"

"I thought we were to be rock gods," Roger provided, insinuating that a god was somehow superior to a star.

Freddie supposed he had a point. "Yes, yes, we're getting there. Patience!"

Asking this lot to have patience was like asking an elephant to fly. Like asking a fire to burn cold. Like asking a monkey to type the full works of Shakespeare with both hands tied behind its back. All possible, when one considered how very exciting and unpredictable the universe was... But still vastly implausible.

Something very small and very loud crashed through the barn's roof, landing mere centimetres from Roger's outstretched arm. Roger jumped to his feet with the alacrity of a twelve-year-old non-smoker and stumbled away, knocking over stools, a bandstand, a whole table, and a random chicken as he went.

The chicken, perturbed, scuttled from the barn.

John sat up, his face perfectly passive as Freddie asked, "What the fuck was that?"

Brian stood, creeping toward the shimmering object. It appeared frictionless with all its sparkling silver splendor, and as aerodynamic as the most advanced American war devices. Oblong and saucer-shaped, it sat off-kilter within the barn's floor, its leading edge plunged clear through the rotting wood and stuck soundly within the dirt. It wiggled a bit as if to free itself, then seemed to deflate in defeat as if sighing.

It was no larger than a standard record.

"Aliens, probably," John said.

"Oh, aliens!" Freddie poo-pooed, swatting him with the back of his hand. "It's clearly a toy. A frisbee or somesuch. Roger, go outside and see if--"

The frisbee whirred and hissed, a door opening and consummately vanishing as it did so. A bright green light shone from within as steam and fog poured out of it like water.

"Is Spielberg here?" Roger said. "Is he having us on? He's making a movie, you know. Offered me a part--"

"Oh, he did not," Freddie said. "Hello in there? Hello? Is it aliens?"

"Well, they wouldn't be aliens to themselves," Brian griped. "We'd be the aliens to them."

"Bother your semantics," Freddie said, kneeling next to the oblong contraption. When he poked it (as he could think of nothing better to do with it), his finger slid off the surface as if it were made of particularly slippery ice.

"Well don't piss 'em off," Roger said, kneeling next to Freddie and poking the thing as well. "Whoa. I can't touch it."

Indeed, it was covered in some sort of shield, which reflected all attempts at poking, no matter how vehement. Whenever one of them thought to touch it, it shimmered with a glowing rainbow of energy before repelling the contact entirely. It was neither cold, nor warm, nor anything at all. However, Roger could make the shield wiggle with a sort of frustration if he touched it in two places, and when Freddie added his fingers to the mix, the whole saucer seemed to burble in scandalized protest.

"I can't help thinking that's a terrible idea," John said.

"We should kick it," Roger suggested.

"That's exactly what I meant," John replied.

As Roger stood and drew back his leg to give the thing a good kick, Brian said, "It's not a football."

Defeated, Roger stomped the ground with the very foot that had been just about to launch the thing back into the sky. "Then what's it doing in our barn?"

Brian opened his mouth to answer, then his eyes dulled with the abject inability to answer Roger's inane inquiry. "What kind of question is that? Do footballs inherently belong in barns where you're from? If something enters a barn, does it become a football?"

"Well... Kinda? If it can be kicked?"

Meanwhile, the little door on the saucer-object remained open. Freddie wondered how much more mist could pour out of the thing before it was empty. Or perhaps it contained its own mist generator and it would continue to spew forth a cloud of noxious green gas until evicted from the barn. "I actually think Roger may have the right of it," Freddie said, detecting the faintest hint of ozone. "Exciting as all this is, I don't want to be poisoned."

Roger reeled his foot back again.

Fortunately, the occupants of the saucer picked that moment to show themselves. A single moment later, and they might have been stepping out into earth's atmosphere, tumbling end over end in the worst result of first contact ever written about in any science fiction in history.

Thwarted again, Roger collapsed into his chair and crossed his arms.

The aliens--for that's the way Freddie had begun to think of them--appeared as silhouettes against the burning green light from inside the saucer. Unsurprisingly, they were tiny, each barely the size of a paperclip or perhaps even smaller. A walkway extended in front of them as they squirmed out into the barn's dim light; the creatures meandered down it, leaving a trail of slime behind them. Vaguely slug-like, they were nevertheless adorned with at least half a dozen tentacles each, which were in turn adorned by an incredibly ridiculous amount of jewelry. Enough to rile Freddie's jealousy at any rate. If only he had more places to put shiny things, he could be a much happier man!

There were three of them. The tallest one spoke:

"ARE YOU THE QUEEN?"

Freddie blinked. The alien repeated: "ARE YOU! THE QUEEN?"

"We're... Queen?" Freddie tried. "The band. Queen."

"HAIL QUEEN BAND. THROUGH THE RADIO CHATTER OF YOUR ILLUSTRIOUS PLANET, WE HAVE DETERMINED YOUR LOCATION AND SEEK AN AUDIENCE."

John muttered, "I'm sure this is going to go well."

"I'm not sure you understand," Brian said. "We're not the queen. Or any queen, really. We're just--"

The aliens seemed undeterred. The tallest one interrupted: "NONSENSE. YOU HAVE PRODUCED MORE RADIO CHATTER THAN ANY OTHER ENTITY CALLING THEMSELF A QUEEN ON THIS PLANET. WE DEEM YOU THE SUPERIOR OF ALL OF THEM. YOU WILL NEGOTIATE ON BEHALF OF YOUR PLANET."

One of the smaller ones, who seemed to be wearing glasses on his protuberating eyes, asked, "WHAT IS YOUR PLANET CALLED?"

"They've been listening to our radio chatter," John began, "and they don't know what the planet is called?"

"Er... This is earth," Brian supplied.

"OF COURSE IT IS EARTH," the smaller alien said. "ALL TERRESTRIAL OCCUPIED PLANETS ARE MADE OF EARTH. WHAT DO YOU CALL YOUR PLANET? WHAT NAME?" He pulled out a very tiny, very adorable starmap from one of the flaps in his skin. Freddie didn't know whether to be awed or disgusted.

"That's--" Brian tried. Puzzled again, he scratched his head, as if the aliens had made a perfectly reasonable point.

In the silence, Roger clarified. "The planet is called earth."

The three beings conferred with each other for some time, their slimy tails wriggling behind them like rain-saturated worms. Occasionally, their stalk-eyes would flick around to fix the quartet with a glare--at least, Freddie thought it was a glare. It was hard to tell when one didn't understand the intricacies of alien expression.

Finally, the visitors turned. The one holding the starmap said, "EARTH IS A TERRIBLE NAME FOR A PLANET. WE DEMAND TO KNOW WHICH IDIOT NAMED IT."

Never mind that none of this made any sense whatsoever... Brian still engaged in a heated argument with the aliens about the virtues of a planet named earth, and how no one had ever actually named it. That's just what it was called. Roger found that hard to believe, since the idea had to have come from somewhere--and after all, the people of earth hadn't always known there were other planets, which meant they had to discover earth was a planet at some point, which meant they would have had to name it. When asked why, Roger shrugged and said that if humans were presented with something to name, they would inject their opinion onto it without questioning whether or not they should.

Brian supposed that was logical, then he further supposed that the person who named earth would certainly be dead by now, which the aliens thought was probably better for everyone.

"And just what is your planet called?" Roger asked, once the argument exhausted itself. Freddie thought the whole point of the alien visit probably wasn't to discuss the names of their respective planets, but here they were.

The other shorter being stood up just a bit taller. He was wearing different colors than the other two, although those colors were so random and chaotic that no one in their right mind could describe them. He seemed for all intents and purposes to be a diplomat of sorts. After a wiggle of importance, he said, "DENMARK, OF COURSE."

No one said anything for quite a while, then everyone started speaking at once. Except for John, who was quite content to smile at the absurdity of it.

"You're just from Denmark?" Roger asked. "How are you so short? And slimy?"

"I'm sure it's lost in translation," Brian observed.

"They've come billions of kilometers all to tell us them come from a place called Denmark!" Freddie exclaimed.

"NO, NO, NO," the alien said. "IT'S WHAT ALL CIVILIZED ENTITIES CALL THEIR HOME PLANET ON A MAP! SHOW THEM, WOULD YOU?"

The other short alien--the one with the glasses--lay its starmap out on the floor and opened it to a rather obscene size. It shouldn't have been possible for so much paper to fit inside one pamphlet-sized document, but the creature continued to unfold it and unfold it and unfold it until it covered an enormous portion of the dirty floor. Moreover, the stars elevated themselves just above the paper in a spectacularly impossible three-dimensional layout. Freddie couldn't help an awed "Oooh," of admiration.

John, sarcastically, added "Ahhh!"

"YOU SEE?" the tallest alien said, pointing to an X on the map. As it poked the location with a tentacle, it lit up with a vast trove of information--exact location, atmosphere type, composition of the rocky surface, current radio traffic, and climate. Probably. Freddie didn't actually know, as he couldn't read their language.

"Okay, what's it really called?" Roger asked.

"OH, YOU COULDN'T POSSIBLY PRONOUNCE IT," the diplomat said.

"Don't tell me what I can't pronounce," Roger insisted.

The aliens conferred again, this time for quite a while. When they turned, the diplomat cleared his throat and announced something that no human would ever be able to pronounce: a cacophony of squeals and thisksks and clicks and sub-sonic whistles and grunts and whoops and probably a boat horn or two.

Roger narrowed his eyes, considered for a moment, then opened his mouth and screamed.

"IMPRESSIVELY CLOSE," the diplomat said, as one would comfort a toddler who also happened to be a horse.

"IN ANY CASE," the leader said, his eyes spiraling around in what might have been an eyeroll, "WE CANNOT EXCHANGE PLEASANTRIES WITH A PLANET NAMED EARTH. IT IS SIMPLY PREPOSTEROUS. WE DEMAND YOU RENAME IT."

"But as we've said before--" Brian tried, but the leader held up a remarkable number of tentacles to halt him.

"YOU ARE QUEEN BAND," the leader said. "CLEARLY IT IS YOUR RIGHT TO NAME THIS PLANET."

Freddie, rather half-asleep from the long day they'd already suffered (at his whim), imagined it would be easier to give the visitors a name now, then sort things out later. After all, nothing political could come about as a result of this visit. The aliens were far too tiny to be any sort of threat. And if he just gave them a name, he could get back to writing lyrics with the others and no harm would be done.

Without any sense of impending doom despite his foreshadowy thoughts, Freddie searched around the barn until his eyes fell upon an open, half-stale loaf of bread. "The planet is now called Rhye," he said, adding the H in his mind since it sounded more dignified. "Yes, Rhye. Has a nice ring to it, I think."

"The moon's called Chicken Shit," John said.

Brian elbowed him.

"THEN ON BEHALF OF DENMARK," the leader said, "WE DEMAND THE UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER OF RHYE AND ALL ITS INHABITANTS! IMMEDIATELY!"

#queen #queen band #fanfic #freddie mercury #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #ck writes #not bestiary

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writersrealmbts · 6 years ago

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Diamond Tears and Little Wings

Part 1?

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 08/22/2019

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Lots of angst: 2,600 words

A/N: This was a request by an anonymous user! It was so cute that I started it right away! Also, it has potential for future installments or whatever so!

You stood ready. Ready to receive the love and attention you so desperately wanted and needed from the seven men you loved so very deeply. But it was your fourth hour of waiting and already you could feel how heavy your wings were getting. But they promised they would be home soon. You wobbled slightly, looking up as the clock chimed and marked another hour passing. You teared up and sniffled, trudging toward your room as you resigned yourself to another evening alone. They had been forced to take you in as a publicity sort of thing, making them look more charitable as other groups were thrown into an unfavorable light for abuse of fairy folk. And the timing of it had been quite ingenious. Before they took you in you had been living in a home for the fay, usually staying in your pixie form because it was so crowded and it was much easier to hide. Taehyung had seen you watching them and broke away to investigate, following you and subsequently playing hide and seek with you (you won) until he realized he was lost. Then he asked you if you would come out and help him find the others again, seemed kind of scared. You flew as far ahead of him as you could without him losing sight of you, leading him back to the others where you collided with Namjoon’s hand and ended up on the ground. A broken leg and a ton of paperwork later and you were in a cushioned shoe-box on your way home with them. Things were awkward for a while, because you were nervous and they weren’t sure how to take care of you. You had a broken leg, so you had to stay in the form you broke it in, and you couldn’t fly as great of distances. You spent quite a few days in the shoe box in their practice rooms or studios, only able to watch and admire. You started watching their videos and listening to their music, catching up on everything the fans already knew since you had to live with them. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin got you a doll-house that you could inhabit as your smaller self, putting it in the bedroom that they had set aside for you. The change in the way you all interacted came when you finally were able to switch to your human-sized form and they saw you like that for the first time. They knew you were able to change back and forth, but they hadn’t seen you big until the morning after you first changed. You hadn’t really thought about scaring them with your changed form since you’d had a great night’s sleep and were still half-asleep when you walked into the kitchen to get some juice. Ever since then, they had been very attentive, and curious. They would ask you more about what you wanted and needed to be happy. They found ways of spending more time with you, especially after you explained that you needed more of their love and attention because it was how you lived. But now it seemed as though they had forgotten. Forgotten that you needed them. Forgotten that they once loved you. Forgotten that you existed. You stumbled and switched to pixie form, going into your doll house and hiding in one of the closets with some blankets and pillows. You cried into a bowl, not wanting to end up sitting on one of your tears. You were one of the unfortunate kinds of pixies whose tears turned to diamonds after they had been shed. Little droplets solidifying as they dripped off your nose and chin. Your glow faded even more as you became too weak to even cry. The clock struck again. Another hour gone. You heard the front door open, seven bodies enter, the door close. Shuffling steps to respective bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen. None of them came to check on you. You felt like you might turn to stone. You would have to go find another family to love you for a year. That’s all that ever happened. One year with people who loved you, and then the novelty wore off. There was muted conversation in the kitchen, but you were too tired to hear what was said. It didn’t have anything to do with you anyway. You room door opened after a soft knock, and someone stepped in. They were still for a moment, then quickly stepped over to the dollhouse. “Y/n? Are you in here?” Jimin asked softly, lifting the roof to peek inside, but you were on the first floor in a closet that could only be seen in when the closet door was opened. You heard him put the roof back and tensed as he turned the house around to open the back and look inside. “Y/n?” “Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice sounded near the door. “I can’t find Y/n,” Jimin said, sounding a little worried. “Y/n, are you in here? Please come out.” You couldn’t open the door even if you wanted to. Your eyes were barely open. Hoseok started down the hall, calling your name and probably telling the others why. Jimin opened the closet door and your body sort of slumped out, dumping the bowl of tear drops. “Y/n!” His fingers carefully picked you up and then he cradled you in one of his hands, holding you securely as he rushed out into the bright kitchen. “Hyung, there’s something wrong with her!” You could hear them all talking at once, but you fell asleep, too tired to do anything else. You woke up somewhere very warm, and very alive. “She’s awake,” Someone whispered. You forced your eyes open even though they protested, seeing the finely woven threads of a shirt. “Y/n?” Yoongi whispered, his voice vibrating through you as he held you against his shirt. You tilted your head back to look up at his face. “Are you okay? You had us worried,” Hoseok whispered, a finger petting your hair once. You nodded. They exchanged disbelieving looks. “Your glow is so dim, y/n,” Jungkook said, offering his hand for you to crawl onto. You did, more because you felt some serious vertigo and Yoongi’s pajama shirt was slippery, but your arms barely held your weight and you quickly collapsed into his hand. Worried sounds and mutters issued from the boys. “Take her to a doctor?” “Maybe she ate something she shouldn’t have?” “Should have come home sooner.” “Don’t tell me that, I tried to!” “You’re all being too loud,” Jin intervened as their voices were raised. “She’s a pixie right now, so everything is going to be twice as loud, if not louder. Calm down and let’s do what we can to take care of her.” “You still feel cold,” Jungkook whispered, taking you over to the counter where Hoseok was finishing setting up a bed on the warmed up bean-bag heating pad you used in winter. He carefully laid you on the blanket and Hoseok tenderly wrapped the blanket around you. “I found the care book they gave us,” Namjoon said, rushing back in. You could hear him flipping through pages, muttering under his breath the topic he was looking under. “Here is it, “When and Why Their Glow Fades”. Um…three main reasons, the first is that she’s sick, but she would feel warm to our touch instead of so cold. Second is excessive cold…but it says here that her glow would be very white and her glow is more…I don’t know…blue?” “Gray,” Jungkook said, carefully petting your hair. You curled up making sure he could still pet your hair, but relishing in the warmth of your current bed. “Third reason is…” “Hyung?” He cleared his throat. “Being unloved or feeling unloved for a period of time that causes them to go into rapid decline.” You sniffled, the only sound in the room as they all held their breath. “What do we do?” Yoongi asked. “Probably talk to her first,” Namjoon speculated. “Y/n?” You looked to him instead of the blanket. “Hey, we’re really sorry we came home so late. We didn’t mean to make you wait for us. We’ve missed you,” He whispered. “We’ve been working extra so that we could be home with you all weekend,” Taehyung added, voice wobbling. “We love you so much, y/n,” Jungkook whispered, still petting your hair. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like we did. We’ll try to make it up to you.” Hoseok leaned in and kissed your head, getting a snort out of you since it always felt funny and he knew it. You pinched his upper lip when he went to do it again. He laughed in surprise, gently poking your belly. “Little imp.” Your giggles died and sadness filled you again when you realized how little he had been teasing you the past couple of weeks. You had missed it so much, and now he was only doing it because you were fading. “I got you a present, y/n,” Taehyung said, capturing your attention. “I had someone make you a coat that wouldn’t hurt your wings when you’re in your big form. I measured your wings while you were sleeping and sent in pictures and everything. I hope it fits, but if it doesn’t we can have it fixed.” “And we brought home your favorite cake,” Seokjin said, pointing to the box further down the counter. “I rented that movie you wanted to see when it was in theaters but couldn’t because we were too busy.” Jimin smiled proudly for remembering. “Do you want to watch it now, y/n? Or tomorrow?” “We really do love you, y/n. So very much. One of the reasons we took so long was because we kept thinking about you and what we would do with you once we finally got to the weekend.” Hoseok gently scooped up the beanbag cradling it—and thus, you—in his hands. “I accidentally wrote your name in the lyrics about a hundred times today.” “And I messed up the choreography so many times because I kept wondering what you would think of it,” Jungkook added, looking a little upset at Hoseok taking you away from where he could caress your hair. You wanted to believe them, but you knew how easily they lied. All humans lied easily. Fairies didn’t have that privilege, another reason they became oppressed so easily. They couldn’t lie. You couldn’t lie. But you also couldn’t tell when someone was lying. “Please don’t die,” Taehyung whispered, his voice betraying that he was already crying. You hated it when he cried. It hurt your soul. You tried to push yourself up and managed to do so for about two seconds before you collapsed again, sparking worried exclamations and sounds from the boys. “Don’t hurt yourself, you’re really weak,” Yoongi said gruffly. “I’ll heat up some broth for her. Someone get out the pixie sized dishes.” Seokjin went to get them. Taehyung took you from Hoseok, sniffling and holding it close to him as he carried you over to the couch so he could sit. He looked desperately sad, and you wished you were strong enough to wipe away his tears. But his face was honest and open. “You love me?” You asked, voice coming out creaky. He sniffled and nodded. “Since you first hid from me.” You felt warmth again, and you wiggled to get your arms free and hold them out to him. He carefully picked you up, bringing you to his cheek. You pressed against his cheek, giving it a little kiss, and then squeaking as a tear dropped onto your head. He looked down and laughed a little, handing you the blanket again. “Sorry, little wing.” You wrinkled your nose and poked his wet cheek again. He brought you to his forehead as he leaned back and you climbed on to his forehead and rested there like you used to. You were already feeling a little better, and you giggled as you smelled his shampoo, climbing into his hair and playing with it. He laughed when you tugged on one of the strands to tease him. “You must be feeling better, y/n. Do you think you could get big for me?” “No.” “Please?” “No,” You said again, almost petulantly. If you got big then the others would keep lying to you about loving you. You didn’t need them. You had Taehyung. He loved you. He plucked you out of his hair, a little roughly and immediately apologizing as he held you more carefully. “We need to talk, as a family, y/n.” You pulled the blanket over your head and curled up in his hand. “No.” “Okay, well, we’re going to talk. Can you at least listen?” You didn’t move, which they seemed to take as an acquiescence. “We know we let you down, and you have every right to be mad at us, and sad. You have a right to feel whatever you are feeling. But we need you to know that we love you, so much. We’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. We weren’t sensitive to your needs.” Namjoon’s words sounded like they were carefully chosen. “We were really scared when we found you, y/n. I don’t know what I would do if we lost you.” “I’m not a pet,” You squeaked, tears filling your eyes. “I know. You’re a person. Our person,” He replied quickly, but he sounded lost now. Like he didn’t know how to say what he wanted. There was a hint of desperation in his tone that had you inclined to believe that he loved you too, but you weren’t sure. You looked out at his face, seeing the way his eyes were fixed on the couch. He looked lost and upset. Like he wanted to fix things but he didn’t know how. Like he had just broken something he really cared about. Your gaze drifted to all of their faces. Now that you weren’t as weak, looking at their faces you could see their worry and care. Their love. “This can’t keep happening,” You told them, sniffling once more and sitting up, holding the blanket around you. “I depend on you guys to live. Without you, I fade. I die. I’m not a puppy. I need your love unconditionally because I…” You teared up again. “Because I can’t help loving all of you. It’s part of who I am!” Hoseok was in tears now, and so were Jungkook and Jimin. Jin looked pretty close to tears as well, looking at the ceiling. “We do love you,” Yoongi finally said. “We’ll take care of you.” “I’m never leaving you here alone again,” Jimin said dramatically, taking you from Tae and cupping you to his chest. You sighed and rested against him. “Okay. Set me down. I think I’m strong enough to switch.” He placed a gentle kiss on your head and then set you on the couch between him and Jungkook. You shimmered into your bigger form and made a queasy sound. “Oh, I shouldn’t have done that,” You whispered, a tear slipping out and you bent forward to try and combat the nausea. It clicked onto the floor and Jungkook picked it up. “Um, is that supposed to happen?” You nodded emphatically. “So stop making me cry.” Jin leaned in and kissed your lips, effectively stunning you. “We promise.”

Masterlist - ot7 Masterpost

#bts x reader #fairy!reader #ot7 #bts fic #bts #bts ot7 #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #fairy!au

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porcileorg · 5 years ago

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Sad Mondays, addition to #6.5 & #8

Author: Magda Wisniowska - November, 2020.

According to Spinoza, substance or “being” can be perceived in only one of two possible ways: either as extension, in other words, as a physical body with a certain size, shape, and weight, or as thought, and thus as a mind. Extension and thinking are Spinoza’s two attributes of substance. This means that a Spinozian perceives everything - every single existing individual - as having a mind and being capable of the activity of thinking. Everything thinks because everything participates in the infinite intellect of God, of which everything is a finite expression. Or as Beth Lord writes in reference to Spinoza’s rejection of Cartesian dualism,

… all extended beings have minds. Every mode in the attribute of extension (and indeed every other attribute) has a corresponding idea, and that is what is meant by ‘mind’… Minds, then, are not the exclusive preserve of human beings. Cats, caterpillars and bacteria have minds; stones, trees and rivers have minds; pencils, factories and sewing machines have minds. Since all these things are modes of God, God necessarily has the idea of each of them in the infinite intellect. (Spinoza’s Ethics, 59)

I am more than happy to acknowledge a cat or caterpillar as having a mind, and even at a push, a single cell organism like a bacteria, but it does seem silly to suggest that a pencil might have a mind, and the graphite on my piece of paper, not to mention the individual carbon atoms, their six protons, six neutrons and six electrons. But if we struggle with perceiving the world in this way, it is because our ideas of thought have more to do with ideas of consciousness and time, than with the process of thinking itself. I want to suggest it is not so much a problem with “thought” as it is with the “I” that consciously thinks.

Describing carbon atoms that think, is my way of introducing Deleuze’s three syntheses of time. As Corry Shores helpfully summarises in his essay, “Self Shock: The Phenomenon Of Personal Non-Identity In Inorganic Subjectivity,”

The first synthesis is the living present that fuses now with now with now, etc. the second one, memory, places nows into relations of now and prior, while the third synthesis relates now to next, and it is the “empty form of time” bearing the structure of the split self as well as being the basic temporal relation of before and after. (Shores, 173)

Together with Shores, I want to suggest that a carbon atom possesses a minimal amount of awareness. At the very least it is capable of making a covalent bond with another carbon atom, to form a sheet of graphite. As Shores would say, when two physical bodies collide, they leave an impression on one another, even if this impression is momentary, lasting no more than an instant. For such bodies there is no sense of time as such, as this would require temporal differentiation (and recent science also agrees, see [link]). Instead, there is only a sense of “Now!” with no temporal relation to other nows. This is the “exclusive now of the momentary mind,” a mind without subjectivity (Shores, 174).

The sense of time is very different in a single-celled organism. A single cell might be composed of individual elements — carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen — each with their own momentary mind, yet taken together, the combination of elements as a whole act very differently. A bacteria forms both momentary relations and more permanent ones, but crucially also anticipates them. It feeds, either by consuming carbon or by making its own food through photo- or chemo-synthesis. If it can, it moves away from danger. It reproduces by binary fission, growing and dividing rapidly. A bacteria wants to survive, meaning it is aware of itself as a unity that will continue to live, even after this current moment passes. A bacteria therefore has both a rudimentary sense of a past and present, but also a self-consciousness — and not because, as Shores agrees, “it thinks about itself”(ibid.). It is self-conscious because it is aware of itself beyond the present, despite there being nothing to indicate that there is anything other than the “now.”

Which brings us to Deleuze’s third synthesis of time and the kind of mind that we identify with, both aware of its surrounding and self-aware, capable of temporal differentiation. I began this text with a reference to Spinoza, but the other figure here is Kant, especially his definition of cognition as requiring both sensible intuitions and concepts of the understanding (see description of Kant’s Copernican Revolution in the Critique of Pure Reason (B xvii)). For Kant, intuition is how objects appear to us by means of sensibility; concepts are the means by which these objects are thought. All intuitions occur in the “now” of the present, which is why the world as we perceive it, always appears different to us. And yet, we are able to make sense of these endless, momentary, and individual “nows,” to distinguish past from present from future. Like the bacteria before, we know ourselves to exist beyond each momentary present, even though there is no actual relation between any single existing “nows” and the non-existing “nows” of the past. As Shores phrases it, our self-consciousness somehow allows these existing and non-existing nows to “co-exist incompatibly”(176). Thus he argues that the unity of self-consciousness already implies a temporality in which time is a “form,” “a synthesis of incompatible states of affairs” (ibid.).

#sad mondays #magdawisniowska #spinoza #ethics #ontology #attributesofsubstance #bethlord #mind #corryshores #deleuze #temporalsynthesis #theoryoftime #kant #cognition #intuition #selfconsciousness

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ngame989 · 6 years ago

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Starco Fic Recs

Disclaimer: This list is largely curated to my own personal preferences (minimal feelings angst, minimal AUs, character development >>> plot) and has a fairly high bar for quality in characterization, etc. There will likely be many popular/beloved fics that I really don’t think highly of at all and therefore don’t make the cut. Feel free to DM me things you think I should consider adding, but I make no promises.

And of course I’d be flattered if you gave my own works a chance - stop by my About Me section for links! Thus far I’m particularly proud of the post-canon series I just started in collaboration with an awesome team, The Greatest Gift.

(Updated 9/26 - I decided to redo the list since people might appreciate seeing it in the tags again. To anyone whose own work is featured here that I haven’t personally responded to - I’m a tough critic with a lot of strong personal preferences so PLEASE do not take my gripes as condemnations of your skills - if they make the list at all, I think they’re worth a read!)

See below for the very thorough list!

Bolded titles indicate must-read.

Italicized titles indicate work is incomplete (in the case of continuous stories).

Asterisks indicate new additions from last update (3 for brand new, 1 for status update).

I’ve VERY loosely organized the categories by personal priority order this time around, but read the descriptions and decide for yourself!

Must-Reads

Forevermore - A Starco wedding story (with a bit of Jantom as well). Simply one of the best fics I’ve read in the fandom. I have no meaningful criticism to give it, and that’s the highest praise I can possibly give something.

Monarchs of Mewni (+ Traditionally Lovingly Yours) - A series of chronologically disconnected oneshots set years after the show. The backstory is very dated given how long ago it started (Jarco was kinda serious for a few years, Tomstar v2 never happened, etc) but overall it’s lovely. Has a bit of plot, a bit of Jantom, a lot of other character interactions, and a boatload of Starco - plus a Starco kid who is a decently developed character but also doesn’t just take over and crowd out Star and Marco themselves! That alone deserves merit.

Ruined - Aftermath of a hypothetical return of Monster Arm. Angst with a happy ending (and one of the few angsty fics that gets my seal of approval), so read this extra early if that’s more your schtick than mine.

study buddies - Y’know what, fuck it, I’m putting this here. It’s a short ball of Starco fluff but it’s one of the sweetest and fluffiest fluffballs I’ve seen in a long time and it’s very emotionally immersive and y’all needa read it.

*When Two Worlds Collide - One of my favorite postcanon series thus far. I admit I’m really not big on “magic returns!” plots in postcanon (which this has), and the sections that focus on that are hit or miss for me, but overall it has some of the funnest and cutest characterization and gags I’ve seen in any SVTFOE fic, ever. Absolutely worth following (and it has a fair amount of art to go along with it!)

***Star Chef - Oneshot (two chapters, so twoshot technically?) set in the same universe as Starlight Justiciar (see below) and is just a day in the life of Star and Marco. Goes absolutely above and beyond at emotional immersion and little nuances and details to bring the world and characters to life, which elevates it to something special to me.

Light of the Sun and Stars - (Promoted to Must-Read!) One of the few heavily divergent AU fics I care for. Marco is an orphan raised by monsters, and meets Star after running away. Just finished its “first season” and I've loved the recent chapters, am very excited to see where it goes.

*Don’t You Let Me Go - Wonderfully fluffy post-Cleaved Starco, one of my favorite oneshot “epilogues”.

i want to tell you (but i don’t know how) - Post season 3 fic detailing the growth of Star and Marco’s relationship. It’s spectacular writing and shows off a lot of the true depth of Starco beyond just being cute.

Adult - NSFW warning, non-explicit (aged-up characters). It’s a story about the journey towards Star and Marco’s first step into adulthood together - it’s not graphic and way more focused on the emotions involved, but it still is definitely more explicit than your average FFnet rated-T fic. If sexual themes ain’t your thing, I totally respect that, but this is a charming and funny piece of writing.

Lawchan’s various oneshots - There isn’t a great compilation for them right now so the best I can do is give you her tag for it and you can comb through it yourself. I like some more than others here, but they’re all very well-written - my only gripes with some of them are my own tastes in subject matter, so have fun perusing this on your own.

I Will Always Be There For You - A really pure and wholesome Starco oneshot. Very well-written.

Post-Canon Series to Follow

I figured with the show being over, and so many people starting their own series, I should include a lot of them here even if I’m personally not the biggest fan just to help gather them up so people can decide for themselves. Little bit looser on judgment here.

*Life on Earthni A to Z - Non-chronological postcanon slice of life oneshots, Starco and some Globclipsa and Jantom. Overall really good so far, one of my favorites in terms of direction.

*When Dimensions Cleave (sequel - Unforgettable Getaway) - Another postcanon series hellbent on bringing back magic queen lore, but it has some solid Starco fluff still. Credit where it’s due, the “Star constantly freaking out over what a horrible person she was” bit that I called preachy in the prior rec post gets somewhat less preachy and does end up actually going somewhere as part of character development, but I’m left scratching my head at how they all act sometimes. The good parts are certainly good, though, and in terms of quantity of lovey dovey Starco, it really can’t be beat (especially the sequel) and that’s worth something by itself.

We’re a Miracle - Extra adorkable postcanon fluff. Lighter on the “but ACKSHUALLY MAGIC IS BACK” stuff compared to the others, but it’s there, like almost every postcanon fic in existence.

Star vs the Sands of Time - Heavy politic/lore postcanon fic, not my fav but if that’s more your thing then great. Has some casual Starco too.

Goodbye Isn’t Forever - More POV dives into Cleaved.

Fake Proposal - Some decent jokey but cute fluff

The Stars Above - Some exploration of Earthni

New World - A bit over-the-top meta, but fun fluff

The Starlight Justiciar - Four years after canon, some social change plot stuff and some decent Starco. Not the biggest fan of some of the plot stuff but check it out for yourself!

Starco vs the Forces of Evil - Another collab fic/art thing. Fair warning, I really am not personally a huge fan of a lot of the characterization and plot decisions here (see my notes on Sign of the Moon waaaay down below) but decide for yourself, don’t let my pickiness dictate your own preferences!

Ready For The Future - Technically a oneshot (with some Starco) but sets up some Mina plot, if you’re interested in more give it a follow/review.

Worlds Together - Some Starco and exploration of Earthni.

Epilogue - Some Starco and exploration of Earthni.

***A Dark Horse - Has a few really nice lovey dovey Starco bits but also lots of superdrama with politics stuff. There’s a lot of fics here that I honestly just windowshop the scene I like for a quick fix of dopamine every now and then and skim at most otherwise, and this is one.

Revolution - end of canon AU where Moon is as anti-monster as Mina, dark as fuck. Only putting it here cuz some of y’all angstlords might like it.

Shorter Works/Oneshot Collections

I’ll Carry Your World - Big ole’ ball of wonderful Starco fluff with an important moment between them (written before end of show so a bit divergent).

***LoveIsTheStrongestKindOfMagic - Very short and basic fluff.

Starco Week 5 (Hugs Included) - Some of it is postcanon Earthni oneshots and others are from the Light of the Sun and Stars AU (see above). Great author, fun as hell writing style.

Fragile - Star worries about keeping her boyfriend Marco safe.

Complete - An older Star reflects on her past and present. Short and sweet.

Knighthood - Simple fluff piece on if Star and Marco got together after Storm the Castle.

Too Hot to Move - Star and Marco try to survive a heat wave on Earthni. Also funny fluff.

Marco Make-out Mayhem - Star really likes kissing Marco. Funny fluff.

Cleaved Together - NSFW warning, non-explicit (aged up) - Star and Marco’s first time. Very very overly focused on the whole purity/sacredness of first time thing, but still pretty cute.

Like Us - Really nice, sweet casual reflection on her life with Marco from a future Star’s POV.Toothpaste Kisses - Short fluff about its title.

A Friend’s Memento - Starco fluff with some reflection on the results of destroying magic

Plum Pie - Some goofy antics and hurt/comfort.

Not Losing You - A little dive into Marco’s POV at the end of Cleaved. Also adds a kiss.

We Belong Together - More speculative slightly angsty comfort/fluff.

Enough - A nice study of the emotions and thoughts during the last scenes of Cleaved, adds some depth to it.

Heartless - A bit of angst over magic going away with some sweet Starco comfort.

Together - Post-Cleaved Starco megafluff.

My Prince - Starco fluff set in a world where they were together before Cornonation.

Dancing with a Star - Starco fluff from alt S4.

Love in the Time of Pancakes - Written hours after my last update of the list, another little ditty based on the pancake promo.

Pancakes - Fluffy S4-promo-based little oneshot.

Hers - Hurt/comfort/confession-y fic, has some really nice moments and shows off a lot of how much they care about each other. Nice to see after such a drought.

Someone to Stay - Another hurt/comfort fic, nice and simple.

A Viola, a Violin, and a Butterfly’s Sword - some nonlinear oneshots about Starco. Some kinda weird directions gone in with the “plot” but it’s pretty good overall.

Falling - One of many, many fics from throughout the fandom’s history about Star and Marco getting together. Short and sweet.

forget about white horses & once upon a time - Drabble collection of various moments scattered throughout Star and Marco’s lives. Cute fluff.

The One Where I Thought I Lost You - Post-BFM fic where Marco realizes his feelings for Star earlier. Very wholesome.

christmases when you were mine - Established relationship fluff.

lightning in your veins, thunder in your heart - Post-season 3 established relationship fluff (slightly divergent, written before 3B).

once upon a december - Established relationship fluff.

Flags - Alternate rendition of the episode “Flags” with Starco.

Spells and Hot Chocolate - Wintry fluff.

5 Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ - Post BFM with some events in Star and Marco’s lives.

You’re My Wish Come True - This is just indulgent Starco trash. I won’t even argue for the characterization/writing quality, this is just a straight-up guilty pleasure.

Wands and Nachos - ^

The Princess and the Safe Kid - ^

A Day in the Life of Starco - ^

A very Starco Xmas - ^

Could It Be -^

All the times Star wore Marco’s hoodie - ^

Protect Me, Squire - ^

Crushed - Star and Marco both get turned down by their respective crushes and find comfort in each other.

Stay - Cuddly fluff. There’s another Stay out there which I frankly can’t stand with will-they-won’t-they melodrama out the wazoo, so don’t get confused.

Longer Series

*The Inescapable Us - Really tropey miscommunication will-they-won’t-they type of thing. Not my fav, especially now that the show is over and finished that leg of Star and Marco’s story once and for all (I’m personally WAY less interested in things that redo something canon already did). However, where it’s at now has some really good Starco moments. Fully admitted that I hella skimmed most of it until the parts I enjoyed, but And if you’re more fine with that type of thing then you’ll probably really like it, it’s well-written otherwise.

Together We Fall - Throwback S2 AU fic where Star and Marco go to the dance together instead and Toffee makes moves earlier. Gets kinda dark but has a lot of nice Starco along the way.

Safer, Sorrier - A recent rewrite of an older fic, Better Safe Than Sorry, where Star has to leave early to become queen and Marco is alone for a few months before they reunite. A very dated premise (post season 1 ish) but quite good.

Sugar and Spice - NSFW warning, non-explicit (NOT aged-up characters). In this fic, Star and Marco have gotten together after BFM, and a spell gone wrong leads to Mewberty relapses with obvious consequences. This fic has adorable Starco moments, but what I love this for above all is the other character interactions (especially Glossaryck and Star’s parents). This is probably a controversial add-on to the list, but I stick by my decision - if the subject matter isn’t your thing, then by all means avoid it.

Beyond Dimensions - Plotfic + established Starco where some ancient sorceress has to trap Star to escape and try to take over Mewni. Maybe y'all are more into plot stuff than me but the Starco that’s there is quite good regardless.

Starfall - NSFW warning, explicit (aged-up characters). Probably the most popular one to make the cut. Star and Marco are forced apart and have to find their way back together. Very old fic, lot of dated stuff here, and the narration and plot itself can get kinda questionable sometimes, but it has a lot of good Starco and some interesting plot elements that make it, in my opinion, worth a read despite a lot of flaws. A few epilogue chapters contain rather explicit sexual content, so be wary of that (and the epilogue itself after Ep 6 kinda transitions into a nextgenverse, so maybe just skip that entirely).

The Star Butterfly Effect - The sole fic on the list that is purely plot-based, with very little actual Starco development whatsoever. I can’t even really explain it, just give it a shot and see what you think; I was rather engrossed by the plot, and that’s rare for me.

The Princess and her Knight, Return of the Empire The former fic in this series is way more character-based, while the latter is very heavy plot stuff. Pretty decent character writing with some fluff. There’s a third that I honestly can’t recommend because I completely dropped it because it was just a nonstop war story.

Experimental - REALLY heavy, dark AU where Star and Marco are tortured and corrupted. It’s pretty decent.

Blood Moon Blitz - Alt BFM fic of Marco going to fight Toffee with Star. unfortunately dropped without completing, but what’s there is pretty solid.

Read at Your Own Risk…

The Sign of the Moon, The Dance of the Stars - Starts post-3A, involves the growth of Star and Marco’s relationship as they take on foes in and out of the castle and learn more about the Blood Moon. This series is rather… melodramatic, and there were some chapters and character interactions I flat out did not enjoy reading. But some people aren’t as strict on character interpretations as I am and would love such a long plot-based Starco fic, so overall I still will at least list it and let you decide for yourself. There might be a third entry in this series now, but I dropped it before then.

Photos - I hesitate to include this one here because the “Tom is a perfect angel who must sacrifice his love for Star” thing pisses me off. But just skip all that (and ignore the random “a part of me will always love Tom” line) and it’s a really nice post-s3 confession fic.

#starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #fanfic #ngame

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frostclawdragoon · 6 years ago

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Prompt #15: “Waltz for the Moon” (Extra Credit)

((Extra credit day today, so I am writing a super self-indulging Fem!WoLMiqo x Exarch short fic. Because I have a problem and his name is Exarch. :’D

HEAVY spoiler warning for end of Shadowbringers! So everything is below the cut. ))

---

The Crystarium was up in celebration. Night had been fully restored to all of Norvrandt, the Sin Eaters were no more--at the very least, their numbers dwindled beyond immediate repair--and, above all else, the Warrior of Light had survived the endeavor. Miraculously and surprisingly, so did he. G’raha had fully prepared and expected to perish after the defeat of the final Lightwarden; instead, he stood alive and well at the base of the Crystal Tower, a happy smile ever present on his face as he watched all the invited denizens of the First celebrate with long deserved joy.

Tables of food that had been labored over the past several days in preparation for this night outlined the center court of the Crystarium. Idle chatter, laughter and music filled the air; people were talking, cheering, drinking and dancing the night away. Even some of the fae folk had joined in on the celebration with the promise from Feo Ul that they would behave… for the most part, anyway. He was certain some harmless, playful pranks had been pulled, but so far nothing that warranted his immediate attention and Urianger’s scoldings.

It was a joyous sight to behold to be sure, one that made his heart swell in delight. To know that the sacrifices that had been made up until this point hadn’t been in vain, and that generations to come would enjoy the permanent presence of the moon and stars. That the future of Norvrandt was secure and safe, and the monsters that haunted their every waking moment would become nothing more than simple stories of warning.

As his eyes traveled about the courtyard to watch all the smiling faces, his gaze inevitably settled upon her. The Warrior of Light. She had returned to the First by his invitation and was welcomed as the Guest of Honor among the crowd. Currently she stood with the Eulmorian couple, the Chais if he remembered right. She listened so intently as Dulia chattered away animatedly at her, a small smile gracing her normally stoic face. It brought a sense of relief to him to see that she appeared so relaxed, and he could only hope she felt the way she looked.

Nothing would bring him more joy than knowing the Warrior of Light was truly at ease both in body and mind. She more than deserved a holiday, however brief.

G’raha’s smile joyful smile softened to a look of pure adoration as he watched her. She was out of her armor and in clothing far more comfortable and suitable for the evening, her hair messily braided with a few flowers weaved in. The lanterns and the light of the full moon were practically accessories to her appearance, illuminating her with a beautiful, soft glow… His heart fluttered. She had always been beautiful to him and tonight was no different.

Unfortunately for him, what he hadn’t realized was how long he had been staring at her. Not until she had looked back at him, her smile fading slightly and her miqo’te ears perking up in surprise. He tensed up as they made eye contact from across the courtyard, his breath hitching in his throat. Oops. He averted his gaze quickly, suddenly overwhelmed by the flustering thought that she had caught him unintentionally staring so smittenly.

Although he refused to look back, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she made motions at the Chais before making a straight stride toward his direction. His lips pressed hard together as his heart began racing faster and faster with each step she took toward him. Surely she had intended to go anywhere else? Perhaps Thancred or Y’shtola were idling around behind him, and that he had mistaken her glance in his direction as her noticing his awkward gawking from afar? Maybe she wasn’t actually walking over to question why he was staring at her--thus leading to a horribly embarrassing conversation about how beautiful he thought she was--and was instead headed to spend time with her friends? Yes. That must have been the case--

“G’raha!” She said, suddenly, sending a spike up anxiety up his back at the use of his real name. “Good evening!”

In the blink of an eye, she was right there in front of him. He stepped back in surprise, resulting in her grinning wide with a playfulness that both made him nervous and sent his heart spiraling into a fit of joy. He had always found her smile to be very adorable.

“Ah--ahem.” He cleared his throat as he attempted to calm himself. “Good evening. I hope all is going well for you tonight?”

She nodded. “The party is lovely, thank you again for inviting me.”

“Of course.” He responded with a small smile. “We couldn’t celebrate the return of night to all of the First without the very person who made it all possible.”

Her beaming expression seemed to falter at that. “... So you just invited me as a guest of honor, then? No other reason?”

“P-pardon?” He asked hesitantly.

Her lips puckered as she puffed her cheeks in what looked like disappointment. G’raha blinked once, confusion and worry quickly washing over him.

“Was there supposed to be another reason?”

“No.” She murmured between her lips as she looked around the room idly. “I suppose not...”

What was that? He thought. She sounded so disappointed.

Before he had a chance to even ask, the music provided by a small gathering of performers had changed, catching the attention of both G’raha and the Warrior. They both watched as the atmosphere in the courtyard shifted with the music, and several people paired up to dance together. The very sight filled G’raha with a sense of happiness again, at least, that was until the Warrior looked back at him curiously, then that happy-feeling faded to nervousness. She was eyeing him up and down, a finger tapping thoughtfully against her cheek as her tail flicked side-to-side.

“... Do you want to dance?” She asked.

For a second, he thought his heart had stopped.

“W--... What? Dance?”

“You know, like them.” She pointed to the multiple pairs of people dancing in the courtyard together.

Scratch that. His heart definitely had stopped. The nervous feeling increased as his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. He quickly waved his hands back and forth.

“Aaaaa--! No! I don’t know how!” He blurted out.

He was mentally kicking himself for not having taken those lessons Krile tried to force him into all those years ago. When will I ever need a skill like that? He recalled himself saying. Foolish. A chance to dance with the Warrior gone in an instant because his younger self’s inability to foresee the future and the unreasonably ridiculous crush he would develop.

“That’s okay.” She said as she reached over, taking him by his crystallized hand. He froze up from her touch. “I can help you!”

Wait. WHAT?!

He stumbled after her as she gently tugged him toward the dance floor, the blush on his face deepening. He had half a mind to resist her, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. A part of him wanted to do this, regardless of how completely embarrassed and anxious he felt. Already he could feel several eyes trailing after them, and he was certain the Scions were among them, ready to pounce on him the second the Warrior looked away.

She turned around suddenly. G’raha had barely enough time to catch himself before colliding into her. They stumbled a bit, but he straightened up quickly as he collected himself with a clearing of his throat. He had a somewhat of an appearance to keep up for the people of the Crystarium, after all. He noticed the Warrior stifle a laugh, and the pink blush on his face deepened. Nothing could get more embarrassing than the Warrior of Light giggling at his clumsiness, right?

Wrong. Without warning, she had guided his right hand to her waist, causing him to tense up. Instinctively he swallowed hard, his face turning about the same shade of red as his hair. This… This was an innocent gesture for sure, but was a level of closeness with her, specifically, that he was not prepared for. While he was still in the process of mentally trying to catch up with the fact that his hand was on her side, she took his left hand within her own, rested her free hand on his shoulder, and began taking the steps that would lead them into a dance. Unprepared for the sudden movement, his feet automatically shuffled after her, causing him to fumble about awkwardly as she took the lead.

G’raha couldn’t help but continuously look down, trying desperately to figure out where and how to position his feet in comparison to hers. At the same time, he tried very hard to keep eye contact with her, which was practically impossible both because he was overwhelmed by the feeling of their closeness and because he was mostly watching his feet. Due to his constant shifting of attention, when she stepped back suddenly in the dance, it caught him off guard and he stumbled forward and tripped over himself, nearly smacking his head down into her shoulder.

He stepped back from her, hands releasing her as he did with an apologetic look that basically said “I told you so.” She shook her head and she stepped right back up to him, repositioning his hands to try again. She wasn’t going to let him escape apparently, and was determined to see this through. He should have known better, she had never been one to quit. She was going to have G’raha dancing like a professional by the end of this whether he wanted it or not.

A few steps in, already his feet were tangled up in themselves. He staggered right, stumbled left. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t move in-sync with the Warrior, who seemed far more skilled at this than anyone would have guessed. She had such refined grace to her steps, so much so that he was starting to feel bad for her. Here she was trying to dance with him, and he was simply falling over himself, unable to keep up. She must have felt so embarrassed or tired of his inability to catch up--

She suddenly spun him outward, and pulled him back in. He prayed no one heard the small yelp of surprise before he smashed into her on the pull-back, his feet unintentionally stomping down onto her toes. He stumbled back from her again, his face running hot with furious embarrassment as he watched her look down at her unarmored toes with a slight wince.

“P-perhaps this was a bad idea?” He said as his ears pressed flat against his head. He backed up further. “My apologies, but we should stop--”

She walked right back into his personal space again and grabbed his arm firmly, pulling him back with a smile.

“You’re doing so well though!” She said as she pulled his hands back into position. “Let’s keep practicing! You’ve almost got it!”

That fiery determination to teach him was still burning in her eyes. He couldn’t help but be inspired by her will to keep going at this, despite his shortcomings. He pursed his lips and nodded, and their dance resumed. Or, her dance resumed. Whatever he was doing was hardly qualified as a dance.

One, two, three. One, two, three. Gradually, he could feel his movements getting a little bit smoother, and his feet weren’t shuffling about as much--SMACK. As he dipped to the left with her, they collided with another pair of dancers, who stumbled away in response to the sudden crash. G’raha ducked his head as the Warrior grinned apologetically and waved her hand, and the pair stared at them a moment before resuming their dance.

“Are you sure about this?” G’raha asked in a whisper as he looked at the Warrior with growing concern. “There are plenty of other people who are probably far better at this than I.”

“It’s fine.” She said. “Let’s try again, okay?”

“But--!”

Her grip on his hand tightened reassuringly. “I want to dance with you. No one else.”

G’raha’s head jerked back in surprise, his heart fluttering to the sternness of her expression and the tone she had used. Her mind was made up, and he knew from experience that no matter how hard he pushed her away, she would continue to come back. She was so, so stubborn… Oh how he loved that about her.

Once more, she positioned their hands, her determination giving way to a soft expression he could not quite place as her eyes locked with his. His heart so foolishly told him it was shy fondness; that she too longed for this closeness, for all barriers and professionalism to vanish and reveal something far more emotionally intimate. But logic told him otherwise. There was no way in any lifetime that someone as magnificent and heroic as the Warrior of Light would view him as anything more than just… Well. He was a side character in her story, nothing worth noting or writing about. Standing beside her and her greatness, he was simply noise on the wind.

They began dancing again, with G’raha stumbling and fumbling after her. But she didn’t quit on him, and continuously encouraged him and guided his steps. The earlier embarrassment hadn’t gone away, he knew people were still watching him fail, but the small bouts of frustration and guilt were certainly fading with each new step he got right. Partially because he was impressed with his progress, but mostly because her face would light up in joy anytime he performed the dance correctly, and he had a front row seat all to himself to witness that bright, beaming grin.

Eventually he got it right. All of it. He was able to match her steps and keep up with her, although his movements were far less refined. He was able to step, lean and twirl her without ever glancing down to his feet. To which he was thankful, it meant he got to spend more time looking at her, watching her move and giggle with glee with immense fondness. The way her hair bounced around her, the delightful wiggles of her ears and tail, the tiny way her nose would crinkle with each grin. He had become so focused on her that the courtyard seemed to vanish, the noise of laughter and people around them fading into the background.

It was just them and the music.

He couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

He carefully pulled her back in toward him after a small twirl, and as she collapsed into him, their eyes locked and their dance halted almost instantly. She was very close, so much so that the tip of her nose had brushed against his, signaling alarms in his brain. Every logical part of him was screaming, he couldn’t let his professionalism falter, he needed to put a small distance between them, bring that wall back up so he wouldn’t say or do something to ruin what they had. He took a breath to speak, to say something, anything to put up that barrier up again, but his words got caught in his throat the moment he saw her eyelids droop and her gaze lower toward his lips.

Her head tilted slightly and he felt her press toward him, her fingers gripping tightly onto his shoulder and hand. His heart began racing, pounding loud in his ears as a warmth pooled in his chest at the sight of her eyelids closing and her cheeks flushing pink in the moonlight. Despite logic and anxiety telling him to run, to back out fast before their friendship was ruined, he didn’t. He instead leaned back toward her, accepting her invitation, his lips just barely brushing against hers in a--

BOOM!

G’raha slammed his forehead into her in surprise at the sudden explosion that erupted over head. They stumbled back from one another, startled, as they pressed their now aching heads into the palms of their hands simultaneously.

“Ow--!” She yelped quietly.

“Apologies…!” G’raha murmured as he rubbed his forehead.

BOOM! POP!

At the same time, G’raha and the Warrior looked upward to the recurring explosions, watching as massive blasts of color lit up in the night sky. Fireworks… He forgot there were fireworks tonight. G’raha looked over toward the Warrior as she returned his gaze. They both smiled apologetically and released a tiny awkward laugh.

This time, he took the step toward her, his crystal hand reaching out to hers. His fingers tapped against her hand testingly, to ensure this step was okay. She responded by curling and locking her fingers around his. G’raha had never seen the Warrior express anything but bravery or anger, so when he saw her bashfully duck her head and her face turning pink in delight the moment their hands pressed together, his chest swelled with a growing love he could barely contain. He tugged her toward him, to which she gave no resistance and quite hurriedly stepped up to him again, clearly hoping to pick up where they had left off.

“There you are.” Came the familiar voice of Y’shtola as she promptly invited herself into the space, freezing them both in place.

Y’shtola’s arm swung around and locked with the Warrior’s, tugging her from the stunned and shocked G’raha, their hand slipping apart as she was pulled away from him.

“Thancred has gotten himself hopelessly drunk and is absolutely convinced that you turned into a Lightwarden and are exploding in the sky.” She continued as she led the Warrior away. She gave a hard, pointed glance back at G’raha. She still didn’t trust him. “He needs you to convince him otherwise.”

“Uh--oh. Of course! Lead on!” The Warrior said.

The Warrior glanced back at him with a hopeless smile, her fingers raising to give a small farewell wave as she was dragged off by her understandably protective mother-figure. G’raha returned the tiny wave with his own, his hand slowly lowering the further away she got. He sighed at the small twinge of pain forming in his chest as she disappeared from view.

Were it so easy...

He turned around, ready to make his way toward a table of food, only to stop dead in his tracks, his stomach dropping and his blood running cold. Behind him stood Lyna, her arms crossed and a knowing grin on her face, and behind her, stood several other Crystarium denizens who looked far too amused.

“H-h-how long have you all been there?!” He exclaimed in shock.

“Long enough.” Lyna answered. “You weren’t exactly hiding.”

“You’ll get her next time!” One of the figures in the crowd yelled.

“Go for it, Exarch!”

“You have our blessing!”

G’raha’s face went a dark red and a small noise escaped him. He quickly pulled his hood over his head as they approached him, smothering him in encouragement to try his best next time at wooing the Warrior of Darkness.

#FFxivWrite2019 #Crystal Exarch #WoLxExarch #my writings #fics #So a while ago I died at the idea of the Exarch and WoL doing the FF8 dance #and here I am now #writing is as a prompt fic #bECAUSE I AM WEAK #-WHEEZES-

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 5 years ago

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People might object that algorithms could never make important decisions for us, because important decisions usually involve an ethical dimension, and algorithms don’t understand ethics. Yet there is no reason to assume that algorithms won’t be able to outperform the average human even in ethics. Already today, as devices like smartphones and autonomous vehicles undertake decisions that used to be a human monopoly, they start to grapple with the same kind of ethical problems that have bedevilled humans for millennia.

For example, suppose two kids chasing a ball jump right in front of a self-driving car. Based on its lightning calculations, the algorithm driving the car concludes that the only way to avoid hitting the two kids is to swerve into the opposite lane, and risk colliding with an oncoming truck. The algorithm calculates that in such a case there is a 70 percent chance that the owner of the car - who is fast asleep in the back seat - would be killed. What should the algorithm do?

Philosophers have been arguing about such ‘trolley problems' for millennia (they are called 'trolley problems’ because the textbook examples in modern philosophical debates refer to a runaway trolley car racing down a railway track, rather than to a self-driving car).“ Up until now, these arguments have had embarrassingly little impact on actual behaviour, because in times of crisis humans all too often forget about their philosophical views and follow their emotions and gut instincts instead. One of the nastiest experiments in the history of the social sciences was conducted in December 1970 on a group of Students at the Princeton Theological Seminary, who were training to become ministers in the Presbyterian Church. Each student was asked to hurry to a distant lecture hall, and there give a talk on the Good Samaritan parable, which tells how a Jew travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho was robbed and beaten by criminals, who then left him to die by the side of the road. After some time a priest and a Levite passed nearby, but both ignored the man. In contrast, a Samaritan - a member of a sect much despised by the Jews - stopped when he saw the victim, took care of him, and saved his life. The moral of the parable is that people’s merit should be judged by their actual behaviour, rather than by their religious affiliation.

The eager young seminarians rushed to the lecture hall, contemplating on the way how best to explain the moral of the Good Samaritan parable. But the experimenters planted in their path a shabbily dressed person, who was sitting slumped in a doorway with his head down and his eyes closed. As each unsuspecting seminarian was hurrying past, the 'victim’ coughed and groaned pitifully. Most seminarians did not even stop to inquire what was wrong with the man, let alone offer any help. The emotional stress created by the need to hurry to the lecture hall trumped their moral obligation to help strangers in distress.

Human emotions trump philosophical theories in countless other situations. This makes the ethical and philosophical history of the world a rather depressing rale of wonderful ideals and less than ideal behaviour. How many Christians actually turn the other cheek, how many Buddhists actually rise above egoistic obsessions, and how many Jews actually love their neighbours as themselves? That’s just the way natural selection has shaped Homo sapiens. Like all mammals, Homo sapiens uses emotions to quickly make life and death decisions. We have inherited our anger, our fear and our lust from millions of ancestors, all of whom passed the most rigorous quality control tests of natural selection.

Unfortunately, what was good for survival and reproduction in the African savannah a million years ago does not necessarily make for responsible behaviour on twenty-first-century motorways. Distracted, angry and anxious human drivers kill more than a million people in traffic accidents every year. We can send all our philosophers, prophets and priests to preach ethics to these drivers - but on the road, mammalian emotions and savannah instincts will still take over. Consequently, seminarians in a rush will ignore people in distress, and drivers in a crisis will run over hapless pedestrians.

This disjunction between the seminary and the road is one of the biggest practical problems in ethics. Immanuel Kant, John Swart Mill and John Rawls can sit in some cosy university hall and discuss theoretical problems in ethics for days - but would their conclusions actually be implemented by stressed-out drivers caught in a split-second emergency? Perhaps Michael Schumacher - the Formula One champion who is sometimes hailed as the best driver in history - had the ability to think about philosophy while racing a car; but most of us aren’t Schumacher.

Computer algorithms, however, have not been shaped by natural selection, and they have neither emotions nor gut instincts. Hence in moments of crisis they could follow ethical guidelines much better than humans - provided we find a way to code ethics in precise numbers and statistics. If we teach Kant, Mill and Rawls to write code, they can carefully program the self-driving car in their cosy laboratory, and be certain that the car will follow their commandments on the highway. In effect, every car will be driven by Michael Schumacher and Immanuel Kant rolled into one.

Thus if you program a self-driving car to stop and help strangers in distress, it will do so come hell or high water (unless, of course, you insert an exception clause for infernal or high-water scenarios). Similarly, if your self-driving car is programmed to swerve to the opposite lane in order to save the two kids in its path, you can bet your life this is exactly what it will do. Which means that when designing their self-driving car, Toyota or Tesla will be transforming a theoretical problem in the philosophy of ethics into a practical problem of engineering.

Granted, the philosophical algorithms will never be perfect. Mistakes will still happen, resulting in injuries, deaths and extremely complicated lawsuits. (For the first time in history, you might be able to sue a philosopher for the unfortunate results of his or her theories, because for the first time in history you could prove a direct causal link between philosophical ideas and real-life events.) However, in order to take over from human drivers, the algorithms won’t have to be perfect. They will just have to be better than the humans. Given that human drivers kill more than a million people each year, that isn’t such a tall order. When all is said and done, would you rather the car next to you was driven by a drunk teenager, or by the Schumacher-Kant team?

The same logic is true not just of driving, but of many other situations. Take for example job applications. In the twenty-first century, the decision whether to hire somebody for a job will increasingly be made by algorithms. We cannot rely on the machine to set the relevant ethical standards - humans will still need to do that. But once we decide on an ethical standard in the job market - that it is wrong to discriminate against black people or against women, for example - we can rely on machines to implement and maintain this standard better than humans. A human manager may know and even agree that it is unethical to discriminate against black people and women, but then, when a black woman applies for a job, the manager subconsciously discriminates against her, and decides not to hire her. If we allow a computer to evaluate job applications, and program the computer to completely ignore race and gender, we can be certain that the computer will indeed ignore these factors, because computers don’t have a subconscious. Of course, it won’t be easy to write code for evaluating job applications, and there is always a danger that the engineers will somehow program their own subconscious biases into the software. Yet once we discover such mistakes, it would probably be far easier to debug the software than to rid humans of their racist and misogynist biases.

We saw that the rise of artificial intelligence might push most humans out of the job market - including drivers and traffic police (when rowdy humans are replaced by obedient algorithms, traffic police will be redundant). However, there might be some new openings for philosophers, because their skills - hitherto devoid of much market value - will suddenly be in very high demand. So if you want to study something that will guarantee a good job in the future, maybe philosophy is not such a bad gamble. Of course, philosophers seldom agree on the right course of action. Few 'trolley problems’ have been solved to the satisfaction of all philosophers, and consequentialist thinkers such as John Stuart Mill (who judge actions by consequences) hold quite different opinions to deontologists such as Immanuel Kant (who judge actions by absolute rules). Would Tesla have to actually take a stance on such knotty matters in order to produce a car?

Well, maybeTesla will just leave it to the market. Tesla will produce two models of the self-driving car: the Tesla Altruist and the Tesla Egoist. In an emergency, the Altruist sacrifices its owner to the greater good, whereas the Egoist does everything in its power to save its owner, even if it means killing the two kids. Customers will then be able to buy the car that best fits their favourite philosophical view. If more people buy the Tesla Egoist, you won’t be able to blame Tesla for that. After all. the customer is always right.

This is not a joke. In a pioneering 2015 study people were presented with a hypothetical scenario of a self-driving car about to run over several pedestrians. Most said that in such a case the car should save the pedestrians even at rhe price of killing its owner. When they were then asked whether they personally would buy a car programmed to sacrifice irs owner for the grearet good, most said no. For themselves, they would prefer the Tesla Egoist.

Imagine the situation: you have bought a new car, bur before you can start using it, you must open the settings menu and tick one of several boxes. In case of an accident, do you want the car to sacrifice your life - or to kill the family in the other vehicle? Is this a choice you even want to make? Just think of the arguments you are going to have with your husband about which box to tick.

So maybe the state should intervene to regulate the market, and lay down an ethical code binding all self-driving cars? Some lawmakers will doubtless be thrilled by the opportunity to finally make laws that are always followed to the letter. Other lawmakers may be alarmed by such unprecedented and totalitarian responsibility. After all, throughout history the limitations of law enforcement provided a welcome check on the biases, mistakes and excesses of lawmakers. It was an extremely lucky thing that laws against homosexuality and against blasphemy were only partially enforced. Do we really want a system in which the decisions of fallible politicians become as inexorable as gravity?

- Yuval Noah Harari, The philosophical car in 21 Lessons for the 21st century

#yuval noah harari #21 lessons #21 lessons for the 21st century

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babblingblondegenius · 6 years ago

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Happy Mancrush Monday

Sorry I missed the last two Mondays, but I’m back with the final installment for season 2 of Mancrush Monday, Olicity Edition, featuring episodes 2x14 to 2x23. For those who don’t know, these posts are gifs of Oliver with captions that focus on fashion (if he’s wearing anything ;)) and the Olicity moments. All the thanks in the world to @xspeedytrashx for suggesting my silly posts be a series. :)

The banter and fun (and most of the shirtlessness) of the previous season 2 episodes came to an abrupt halt when the TPTB decided to slow their roll on Olicity. In order to do that, Olicity scenes were limited because the natural chemistry can’t be denied when they are in close proximity to each other.

A sparring session leads to everyone talking about the scars they have. We learn that out of all of Oliver’s scars, none were caused by a grenade and Felicity’s only scar came from having her wisdom teeth removed. Oliver is wearing pants in this scene, like we care lol.

Comfortably chic in his coat and jeans, Oliver’s panties got in a twist when he saw Felicity working out in stretchy, thus skintight, yoga pants and cute top.

Oliver comes across as brusque and borderline judgmental in this scene. But if you look closely, the arched eyebrow and the fact he literally couldn’t take his eyes off of her give away that the emotion coursing through him wasn’t anger. ;)

In the Arrow suit, hood down, Oliver was going to stay in the bunker to help but Felicity sassed him right into that awkward and awful Lance family dinner. TBH, it’s what he deserved. #sorrynotsorry

Uh-oh he’s got angry face. Only one person who can help with that and he can find her in his phone without even looking. We’ll have a better look at his navy peacoat in the next gif. For now, just admire the chiseled jawline.

Cloaked in his navy blue peacoat and broodiness, Oliver takes a moment to tell wifey that he plans to face a Mirakuru-enhanced Slade all by himself without any backup. Obviously, Felicity (like the rest of us) realize that is a dumb idea.

Again on the phone with wifey. Oliver’s outgoing call history: Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Thea, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity............ This is the look I prefer to see when Oliver works with the police. Cause dayum.

Oliver’s first instinct is always to protect Felicity. It’s reflexive and as natural as breathing to him. He’s looking heroically badass in his leather jacket and jeans as he flips them over the railing (very fortuitous that Felicity wasn’t wearing one of her trademark skirts or dresses -- Slade would have gotten an eyeful) :P

Damn, our OTP looks hawt in their all black, breaking and entering, we’re gonna blow up a building, outfits. Oliver’s gorgeous face is incredulous when Felicity tells him she didn’t think he would go along with her plan. As if that boy wouldn’t do anything she asked and he can’t believe she doesn’t know that lol.

Oliver’s spidey (arrow-y?) senses were tingling that bae was in trouble. It makes me laugh that Oliver came right at the guard, no stealth, no sneaking up on him, and dude still didn’t see that punch coming. How fast was Oliver moving for that to happen? In their matching black leather jackets and gloves, Olicity could’ve blown up the building with their fiery intensity and explosive chemistry.

He may look like a regular (albeit very attractive) human in his business suit but it takes a superhero to stab themselves with a large dose of Lidocaine in their busted knee so they can go about their day. Felicity, who we know has a fear of needles (all pointy things really), watches in horror and then disgust. Same, girl.

Oliver dressed in a somber black suit and tie to attend his mother’s funeral, but instead went to be alone with his dark thoughts in his other secret lair. Leave it to our broody boy to have a secondary secret lair. TBH, it’s actually pretty smart since the primary lair isn’t that secret. :/ But there is nowhere on earth where he could go Felicity can’t find him and there is never a time when she won’t try to encourage him to find another way.

Our stubborn sacrificial lamb remains set on his suicide mission to stop Slade. Felicity reluctantly lets go of his hand but she isn’t going to let him go too far.

When encouragement doesn’t work, there’s always a tranq dart.

Felicity and Diggle save Oliver so he can fight another day and another way. I know this isn’t technically an Olicity scene but Oliver deciding not to go it alone and who he chooses to have by his side in the end is monumental. This is one of my all-time favorite lines from the show and my mantra to the Arrow writers.

Things go sideways (literally) and Felicity is injured. Rather than have the strong and able-bodied member of OTA carry her to safety, Oliver and his busted knee hand his bow to Dig and hoists Felicity into his arms. I love the aesthetics of this but logically it wasn’t the smartest move. Here we see Oliver’s decision-making process and internal dialogue lol.

I’m reaallly nostalgic right now for the old Arrow suit and the mask. The city is burning but these two are on fire as they walk together in battle.

Even at his lowest points, when he doesn’t believe in himself and he isn’t sure of anything, he hangs on for dear life to every word that Felicity Smoak speaks. Her words break through the walls of self-doubt and fear to the hero within.

Many fans have stated that they believe Oliver realized he was in love with Felicity when they hugged after her epic ‘you are not done fighting’ speech. Me personally, I think Oliver was aware of his feelings long before then but did his level best to suppress them, ignore them, beat them down with a stick and self-loathing into the darkness. But this amazing woman’s kindness, generosity, compassion, wit, and trust brought him and his feelings into the light where he was struggling to hold them back.

This is such an underrated Olicity scene, imho. Felicity worries that Blood has set a trap for her boys. She tells Oliver and Dig she is gonna be really pissed if they don’t come back. The man who was more than willing to die for the past few weeks not only gives her a smile but also a reassuring shoulder squeeze because now he wants to come back and more importantly, believes he will.

There’s something about Oliver being in the suit while returning to the darkened foyer of his childhood home with Felicity. Maybe it’s that his past, present, and future are all colliding at once. I remember I got goosebumps the first time I saw it because everything about this scene--the music, lighting, camera angles, close ups- told me something big was going to happen. I had no idea how big lol.

Exhibit A of one of the close-ups. He takes a moment to just soak her in. She has inspired him to want to live. To embrace his humanity and have a life filled with love. But the city needs saving and he still holds wellsprings of guilt within his heart. This is always Oliver’s struggle within himself.

Eyes shining with emotion, expression earnest, Oliver lets go of his internal struggle over his feelings as those three little words slip through his lips.

I adore this kiss. I’m fine that they didn’t use it because honestly after that sincerely whispered ‘I love you’ they really didn’t need it to sell the “ruse.” With the hood down and mask off but still in the suit, this was Oliver’s dual identity coming together for one brief moment because all of him loves Felicity Smoak.

Talk about unthinkable...that these two wouldn’t end up together. Even though Oliver wasn’t quite ready to follow-up on the admission of his feelings to Felicity in the light of day, his heart eyes and adoring expression give him away.

I said on Discord during the re-watch yesterday that I really didn’t like this scene when it first aired because I wanted them to kiss but over the years, I have come to appreciate the aesthetics. <3

In the last gif, Felicity says ‘let’s go home’ and Oliver nods with that soft smile he only has for her. I made a header about Olicity and the concept of home when Oliver returned from prison in 7x08. I think it was just as true then as it is now. <3

Thank you to all the fandom’s awesome gifmakers! :) SA interview gif credit to giphy.com. 2x14 scars gif credit to RolePlayGateway.com. 2x14 sass gif credit to FanForum.com. 2x14 Oliver staring gif credit to lyricalarrow.tumblr.com. 2x16 gif credit unknown. 2x22 hug gif credit to fangirlish.com.

#season 2 was the glory days #i'll never be over it #olicity #this is how you otp #oliver queen #mancrush monday #mancrusheveryday

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codynaomiswire · 6 years ago

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TTS/RTA - “Destinies Collide” Initial Reaction

Note: Spoilers and some unpopular opinions ahead.

Ok, so...I’m going to go ahead and be honest right away. Overall...I didn’t actually like this episode very much. Not all of it was bad to me, but I also can’t say that I thought it was very great. Here are some of my general thoughts and opinions on it at this point for those interested:

Things I did like:

- As always, the animation, voice acting, and soundtrack were all really good in this episode. Kudos to the animators, VA’s, sound design team, and music team for all their hard work on it! You all did a great job!

- Special shoutout to Zachary Levi for his vocal work on Eugene’s song!

- Lance figuring out that destroying the statues would stop the ghosts from re-spawning! Such a great moment for him, and he was honestly one of the best things about this whole episode in my opinion. (Also the little acknowledgement between him and Adira was cute, and his complimenting Cass on her bravery when she went to retrieve the gondola from the middle of the gorge was really nice. Was great to see those fleeting but sincere moments of him reaching out to other characters he doesn’t talk to all that often when he’s on screen. It was a nice touch!)

- Adira running around like an old-timey cartoon character to catch Pascal as he was falling. That was cute and funny! xD

Things I didn’t like so much:

- The fact that the episode was stuffed to the gills with plot twists and red herrings. Like a lot of fans, I do love a good mystery, and plot twists when implemented correctly are terrific. But a lot of the twists in this episode felt really forced in my opinion, were too heavily concentrated, and the overall plot felt really rushed and chaotic. Especially when we get such big developments as Eugene finding his long-lost father and Cass going turncoat, I think it would’ve been worth it to spread out those plot elements a bit more and to flesh them out better over the course of more episodes perhaps. Probably would’ve been good on that note to take out some of the other non-plot-related episodes earlier in the season (ex. “Goodbye and Goodwill,” “Curses!,” “The Eye of Pincosta,” etc.), and instead give more time and attention to other plot-related elements that could’ve used it. (It also feels to me like Disney in general has been trying to chuck out a TON of plot twists in their latest works, and that’s starting to get a bit wearing in my opinion. Creators shouldn’t be afraid to use clichés or linear story lines if they happen to work out for the best. Not everything has to be super surprising or edgy in order to be satisfying or captivating to the audience. Don’t force it if it doesn’t work.)

- Eugene being revealed as the Dark Prince. Ok, ok, don’t get me wrong here. I don’t totally dislike this development. I do think it’s good that the series has endeavored to give us more of Eugene’s past, and yes, I do congratulate those fans who figured it out/had the theory before the big reveal. (Way to be observant guys!) But I personally do feel like there are a few problems with this development:

Was it just me, or did Eugene seem surprisingly...unfazed by this latest discovery? I mean, yes, he did have a song about having an identity crisis over it, but even then, I felt like he seemed to get over it pretty quick? I know he’s been increasingly unfazed by all the weirdness of their adventures, but man, this takes the cake on that point. He also didn’t seem to question it for very long (which is kind of odd, especially when Edmund himself is...a bit strange), he didn’t seem the least bit miffed with Edmund about sending him away when he was a baby, or really show much emotion at all over things save for a few words and shifts in expression. I’m sure all this needs time to sink in for him, ok, but still. His reaction wasn’t very realistic to me.

The fact that King Edmund seemed to just send baby Eugene away in the care of his nanny and...that was it. Like, I know the show can’t go into tons of detail on things, but honest to goodness! It looked like King Edmund just sent baby Eugene away into the wide, dangerous world with only his nanny to take care of him and to guard him. Like, there were no other guards with her or a foster father as well or anything! Nope. Just send your kid off into the wide world with minimal security and resources and hope for the best. Way to ensure a secure future for your child Edmund. Way to go! xP

The time spent on this development felt super rushed. I think it would’ve been better if there had been a whole episode dedicated to Eugene’s past as the Dark Prince, and not just have it as a B plot for the season finale. It is supposed to be kind of a big deal, right!? I think it would’ve been worth it to give this development its own episode.

I also find it strange that Edmund identified Eugene as his son simply by looking into his eyes. I mean...sure, I do think I see a resemblance between Edmund and Eugene, so it’s probably right anyway. But I do wish there had been a bit more of an explanation or more evidence for the truth of this theory instead of just, “We have the same eyes.” (Who knows, maybe we’ll get another twist in season 03 where we find that Eugene was not actually Edmund’s child, and he had been mistaken all along. But yeah, at this point, I would not be fazed by that.)

It seems like this development came along in order to bring about some sort of deep conflict for Eugene, but honestly...I don’t feel like it brings a whole lot of conflict at all? I mean, sure, it’s great that he’s come to find that he has a family and whole lineage that he can now learn about, and that’s a big change for Eugene on a personal level. But otherwise it doesn’t really do much to change the trajectory of his life or anything. I mean, if the Dark Kingdom were still a functioning place, I can see where this would present a conflict. Eugene could’ve felt torn between his obligation to rule the Dark Kingdom as its heir, but then his love for Rapunzel would be the opposing pull that could tear his heart in two over the whole thing, and cause more tension between himself and King Edmund who would’ve wanted him to stay to rule, etc. But that’s not really the case. The Dark Kingdom is dead, and everyone has left. So there really is no Dark Kingdom left to rule. So...Eugene can just go ahead and marry Rapunzel and live his dream in Corona anyway. No conflict really.

I also feel like the development does do a detriment to how Eugene’s character was played up in the Tangled feature film. One of the things that Eugene’s character was supposed to do in that movie was put a twist on the original fairytale, where instead of a prince saving Rapunzel from her tower, it was a thief that people assumed was just a good-for-nothing nobody. But he became the hero of the story through his own bravery and self-sacrifice, and not because of any royal blood in him. So yeah, I kind of feel like this development undermines that whole aspect of the original film.

And just a quick personal opinion: I feel like Cassandra being revealed as the Dark Princess would’ve been more compelling than having Eugene as the Dark Prince. Could’ve also been another reason why Cass seized the Moon Stone for herself, if that was the trajectory the writers would’ve taken things in any event. If she was the heir to the kingdom in charge of guarding the thing, it would make sense that she could see it as a kind of birthright for herself or something.

- And thus leading into the biggest one for me...the whole Cassandra plot twist. I know some fans think this is a fantastic plot twist, but I don’t really like it. Here are my reasons as to why:

It feels like a rehash of Varian’s betrayal, but bigger, with a lot less buildup, less reasoning behind it, and fewer sympathetic qualities. Now, I’m sure that something big happened to Cassandra beyond that mystery door in the shell house, and I do kinda hope that we’ll get to see just what exactly happened in season 03. But wow, I gotta say, it’s going to have to be something super compelling in order to excuse this degradation of Cassandra’s character. Especially after Cassandra had so much character development throughout both seasons 01 & 02, this really felt like it came out of nowhere and didn’t make much sense at all. I know there’s a theory that it’s not really Cassandra (that she’s either a clone/doppelgänger or is somehow possessed by some evil entity), and that may be right. Heck, with all the crazy plot twists peppering this series, most anything could be a possibility at this point. (She could be Zhan Tiri’s vessel, or Mother Gother retroactively reincarnated before she fell out of Rapunzel’s tower, or a young Mother Gothel before she time-taveled back to the past or something. Who knows at this point!?) But from what we know right now, it just seems to be a spiteful action with purely selfish motives on her part. (“I’m fulfilling MY destiny!”) We don’t even see her struggle with her decision (unlike Varian, who did have his moments of second-guessing), or show any signs that she’s making it out of interest for others. I mean, yeah, who knows? Maybe we’ll get yet another twist in season 03 where she did do it to protect Rapunzel somehow, and it was necessary for her to be perceived as an awful person in doing it for...some reason? But...sigh. (Especially when her solo song before this point was largely about her wishing she had the glory she felt she deserved...that whole thing just really rubs me the wrong way. Again, don’t get me wrong, I feel like “Waiting in the Wings” sounds amazing, and I would sympathize with some of the lyrics talking about missed opportunities, feeling like you’re meant for something more but not being there yet, etc. But it seemed like Cass was increasingly becoming some sort of glory hound, and nobody admires that or finds that sympathetic. (“Selfishness has never been admired.” ~ C. S. Lewis) At least Varian was trying to save his dad in what he was doing. Yes, he was going about it poorly, and there were some elements of selfishness in it to be sure, but at least he was understandable in his motives. Not excused for sure, but there was at least an explanation that made sense and was beyond “Me me me me me.”)

It’s also strange when Cass’s life was really pretty good before that moment, so what could she have hoped to gain from taking the Moon Stone for herself? She had her friends, a loving father in the Captain, a loving community back in Corona, a steady job, a dream to work towards, etc. It just...makes no sense, and feels more wrong than epic to me as a big reveal. Again, maybe there will be a good explanation for it in the future, but from what we know right now, it just seems to make her character a twist antagonist for the sake of having another one, and it just feels frustrating currently.

The weird transformation sequence when Cass grabbed the Moon Stone. I mean, I can certainly can get behind the glowing white-blue hair and eyes (something that the moon![insert character name here] theorists got right!), but...wow, the crew really went anime trope on this one. Which I’m not totally opposed to. I think anime references are cool. But this one just...felt a bit weird? I mean, I know the Moon Stone is way more extra than the Sun Drop, so sure, perhaps the alterations it makes to someone’s appearance when being infused into them could’ve been a bit more than just a change in hair color. But I think it would’ve made more sense if the armor Cass already had on became a different color or something (btw, RIP knight!Cassandra and armor, you were short-lived and will be missed), but instead it gave her what basically looked like a moon superhero jumpsuit. From a purely aesthetic perspective, it does have a great design, and Cass did look quite striking in it. But even though it looks great on a purely aesthetic level, I also don’t feel like it fits the tenor of the rest of the TTS/RTA aesthetic. I just..feels kind of out of place to me.

On a personal note: I also think it makes more sense for Varian to have been the moon vessel/the one to take the Moon Stone in the series, so this development also honestly had me disappointed in that way. I know, I know, yes, there is a bit of a bias to this opinion, but I also do think that Varian’s character had a TON of evidence to suggest this would’ve been more than plausible for his character, it could’ve tied into his motives to free his father, and he already had deeper connections to the Dark Kingdom than we’ve ever seen of Cass, and it would’ve been a great way to reintroduce him into the series.* And hey, if not Varian, I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Eugene to take the Moon Stone instead of Cassandra, with Eugene being all, “I’m sorry Rapunzel, but I can’t let you do this,” or something like that. I think that would’ve been way more compelling than Cass just doing it because of “destiny,” which she believed she had because of...reasons? Perhaps I’ll be proven wrong, but as it stands right now, I don’t think Cass was the best choice to go turncoat and to become the vessel for the Moon Drop. Or at the very least, they probably should’ve shown some sort of conflict in her over the decision. I know she’s not a very warm character, but pure malice doesn’t seem to fit her either. Just...weird.

*On the topic of Varian, I also have my opinions regarding how he as a character and a lot of the Varian fans have been treated in the aftermath of season 02 (by both other fans and some of the TTS/RTA crew members actually), but I won’t talk about that in this post as it’s not in the actual contents of the episode itself. And while I may get into it more in another post, I don’t feel like getting into that drama right now, especially when things are so fresh off the tail end of the finale. Just wanted to drop this note here though, as it’s another unpopular opinion I have related to this episode and to season 02, and I feel like the fandom and crew members could’ve done better in their responses to Varian’s fans. Just saying.

So...yeah. I guess that’s about it for now for my initial reaction to this episode. You don’t have to agree with me on it, but these are just my own honest thoughts on the topic for anyone interested.

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