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lovebecomeshim · 3 years

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hello! your zutara posting today has finally motivated me to ask this question because I came to atla very late(last year, to be specific) and I Love It Very Much but am 1000% out of the loop as far as why what remains of fandom (at least that I've seen among my friends) is so very strongly zutara. I'm not opposed to it per se I just don't really know what has driven it to apparently be such a popular ship? can you help me understand and maybe convert me a little bit?

Hey!! Your ICON! :D I can try but I’m not sure how coherent I’ll be; however I AM sure someone a lot more competent will be willing to add to this. Either way, I’m glad you asked because my plan was to drag down as many people as possible with me.

*smacks the hood of zutara* this baby can fit so much mutual love and support!

This got so long, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it under a cut on mobile and it already got deleted once so I’m scared to mess with it lol. Moving on.

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer that im on mobile so formatting is tricky and I’m also really new to atla in that I only completed my first watch through in like 2019??? So some of my info is all just based on what I’ve picked up from Discourse 👀 so anyway the sparknotes version: zutara was wildly popular from the beginning. To the point where the atla crew internally disagreed on which ship should be endgame. (Ex. Bryke [showrunners] asked the writers to rewrite The Southern Raiders to make Zuko seem less ideal for Katara than Aang [which failed, depending on who you ask]; the animation team purposefully created a visual parrallel between Oma and Shu in the Cave of Two Lovers and Zuko and Katara in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se in the Crossroads of Destiny; etc.)

The ship was popular enough that Bryke actually chose to display zk fanart at a con for the sole purpose of mocking the fans, but that’s neither here nor there. The entire episode Ember Island Players, while a love letter to/parody of the whole show, was an opportunity to address zutara’s viability as a canon pairing (while, again, mocking zutaras for romanticizing that catacombs scene). Point is! It’s always been popular but with it not being endgame, there’s got to be something that’s given it staying power.

And that’s honestly got to do with three things: their dynamic, thematic cohesion, and potential.

(You know what... you know what, it’s four things. The fourth is they’re so aesthetically pleasing together and individually. Like, they’re just good looking people [specifically when they’re grown but they’re also cute kids] and that absolutely doesn’t hurt) (but it’s not the Point, it’s just nice to point out sometimes)

The dynamic is hard to get into without also looking at the canon pairings, but I think I can do that without unnecessary bashing. It’s just that part of the magic of zutara is really highlighted by what they give to each other that their other relationships don’t.

First off, it’s classic enemies to (would be) lovers. The absolute truest form of it. It’s not too different from how CS started out: a rogue antagonist with a job to do—but no personal vendetta against the future love interest—who is deeply and emotionally invested in his personal storyline (revenge/redemption) with little regard for how it effects other people after his entire life and genuine good nature are marred by suffering, and a fierce warrior girl with a strong moral compass and her own personal investment in stopping him (protect her family and save the world doing it). Obviously frustration and animosity grew between them by the nature of them being on opposing sides, but that just lends itself to the sweetness of their later reconciliation.

The thing is that while they’re wildly different on the surface (he’s a hot-headed prince of a fascist regime who is trying to capture the Avatar to please his father; she’s a nurturing daughter of the chief who is trying to protect and train the Avatar in order to topple his father’s throne) they find out that they have so much more in common both in their experiences and their personalities.

(What follows is an excessive use of the word “both” and I’m sorry about that)(I can edit it. I can do that. That IS an option............)

They both have an innate sense of justice that they are determined to see done (zuko, at the war meeting, sticking up for the Earth Kingdom kid when the guards torment his family, choosing not to steal from the pregnant couple despite his circumstances, abiding by his word to leave the SWT should Aang come willingly, etc.; katara, literally.... at any point). They both have pretty one-track minds at accomplishing certain goals once they’ve put their mind to it, regardless of a lack of support in that endeavor (it goes without saying I guess, but zuko’s entire hunt; katara’s determination to get the earth benders to fight back, her determination to absolutely destroy Pakku until he agrees to teach her, etc.). They both lost their mothers at young ages. Their worlds are war-torn and traumatizing to them both, if in different ways, but that ultimately forces them to grow up too quickly to be wholly independent individuals. They both have issues with their fathers (for WILDLY different reasons, but). They both hold extreme prejudices that they need to learn to overcome (which ties into thematic cohesion)(bit like Lizzie and Darcy in that way but magnified by a million). They’re both extremely emotional and empathetic—which can and often does result in loud outbursts. Katara’s a bit better adjusted and can temper her anger for longer than S1 Zuko can, but they both feel that anger deeply and have no compunctions expressing it (Katara is, usually, more justified, particularly in S1. Again, S1 Zuko is severely maladjusted but at the point when they could’ve feasibly become a couple, he’s so much better off with the way he carries himself). They both struggle with feelings of inferiority in their bending abilities when confronted with prodigal benders like Aang and Azula, but have the work ethic required to double down and become two of the most powerful benders in the three remaining nations. This is a little more minor but it is a parrallel that appeals to some shippers that they both have these alter egos in the Painted Lady (notably fire nation coded) and the Blue Spirit (water tribe coded) that are pretty different from who they are day-to-day and are useful in accomplishing a purpose that they as themselves cannot.

(I’m.... I just realized that this could potentially get very long. Should I have made a slide show with bullet points??????)

Anyway, similar. I know there’s more but there’s literally so much to love about zutara that I’ll drive myself a little crazy trying to compile all the ways they’re similar. (Just gonna say that at this exact moment I went back to add more similarities.... so okay then)

Once they’ve reconciled, we see how all of these things only lend themselves to a deeper intimacy together than they share with literally anyone else. There’s a steady partnership that positions them as the mom/dad of the gaang, while also providing the support necessary to allow the other to not have to carry so much responsibility. A lot of zutaras will point out how zuko is actually depicted doing the more domestic chores that are normally relegated to Katara once he joins the gaang, since the others in the group are two 12-year-olds and sokka. The one that sticks out the most is how he makes tea for the group and then serves them, while Katara is able to just relax with her friends around the fire. Fanon expands upon this a lot to Zuko helping with the laundry or the cooking or whatever else needs doing since he, as a once-refugee, is used to doing his own domestic tasks. Before Zuko joined, Katara was the one mothering everyone, sewing for them, cooking for them, etc. She’s always tending to the needs of the group, and that includes emotionally. She does the emotional labor for the gaang 99% of the time, but when she’s the one falling apart, she’s usually doing it alone and without the comfort that she normally provides for others. Until Zuko. And that’s before they’re even friends.

Which is WHY people romanticize the catacombs of Ba Sing Se so much. Katara is verbally attacking Zuko out of her own righteous anger but also her own prejudice when Zuko, surprisingly, chooses to be vulnerable with her. He’s been on a journey that’s opened his eyes a bit, but he’s never actively chosen to expose the rawest parts of his past to anyone. But for some reason he chooses to do that with Katara of all people. While she’s yelling at him. He sees her humanity, and for once can look past his prejudice and empathize with her. And this time, when she breaks down, she gets to be comforted. Katara normally talks about her mother when she’s trying to explain to someone else that she sees and understands they’re pain, as a form of comfort to them. Here, Zuko uses the exact same tactic. He sees her and he understands. And for zuko? He’s not being shut down. He’s allowed to articulate his pain regarding his mother without being ignored and made to internalize it, and he’s allowed to process how he feels about his scar out loud without being told that he deserved it. And then he lets her touch his scar, something we’ve seen him actively avoid before. He’s completely open to her and she’s completely open to him and all it took was one five minute conversation. She was about to use the little bit of Spirit water that she had, that she was saving for something Important, to heal the scar that still daily causes him pain just because they had, somehow, connected.

Plus there’s the whole parallel to the star-crossed lovers forbidden from one another, a war divides their people—

And then zuko messes up, he regresses, he gets what he wants and he HATES it. And the sense of justice he had as a child has been restored to him against his will and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than the Right Thing, so he joins team avatar. Before he does that though, we get to see his relationship with Mai, which is where comparison really comes in. And what we see is Zuko, fresh off of his encounter with Katara in the catacombs, trying to be emotionally honest with Mai... and getting shut down and dismissed. Which is just how Mai is and it’s fine, but not for Zuko. Still, he keeps trying, and he keeps getting ignored or scoffed at or yelled at. Which is really a larger symbol for how he doesn’t fit in his old life anymore, but again that’s about thematic cohesion. He tries to articulate his anxieties about returning home, he tries to make romantic gestures, he tries to explain how morally conflicted he’s feeling—and Mai diverts to some kind of physical affection to shut him up and a parting comment that is pretty much always, in essence, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” So they don’t. On the other hand, once zuko and Katara are friends, we see him again emotionally distraught and caught up in his anxieties about facing Iroh, and it’s Katara who comes to him and listens to him and comforts and encourages him.

Similarly, we have Aang clamming up and getting uncomfortable whenever Katara shows any negative emotion, usually resulting in him making excuses or running away. Or, in the case of the Southern Raiders, lecturing her on how she needs to just let go of her anger about her mother’s murder. People have talked this episode to death and usually better than I ever could, so imma... keep it brief. There’s a serious disconnect between Aang and Katara in his ability to empathize with Katara and her needs that has her tamping down her vulnerability and amping up her anger. He tells her that he was able to forgive his people’s genocide and appa’s kidnapping (petnapping? Theft??), which is blatantly not true but also not an entirely equal parrallel to Katara’s situation, and continues making these little remarks throughout the episode. But it’s Zuko that Katara opens up to. It’s with him that she’s able to talk about the most traumatic day of her life, and it’s with him that she’s able to get the closure she needs, cementing their bond as friends and partners. This disagreement between Aang and Katara is then... never resolved. They just never bring it up and hear what the other is saying.

There’s a fic called The Portraits of Ember Island that has a line that so completely sums up the heart of the matter for why people love their dynamic. For context, zuko has woken up early to help Katara with the cooking and they spend the whole time just letting one another talk, and zuko stops to ask why she always just lets him talk. And so she stops to ask why he’s always helping, and it goes as follows:

There’s just... so much mutual support! Trust! Intimacy!! And it just continues like that from the Southern Raiders on, listening to each other, advising each other, watching each other’s backs! And then! Literally saving each other’s lives!! I will never be over the last Agni kai. Not ever. Zuko may have been willing to jump in front of lightning for anyone, but he actually did it for Katara. And in a show, that’s the thing that really matters. It’s a fulfilled trope usually exclusively applied to romantic pairings, and it ended up applying to Zuko and Katara. And then she ran out into the middle of a fight with tunnel vision just to get to him.

Also!! Also Zuko pushing Katara out of the way of the falling rocks at the Western Air Temple!! And Katara catching him as he fell from the war balloon that he fought Azula on!! Before they’re even getting along, they’re the ones reaching for each other. They come to this place of equal ground, as partners, who watch each other’s backs, call each other out but still listen attentively and understand, and provide the support that the other has been sorely lacking up until they knew each other (whether that be from lack of effort or lack of understanding from others, or an unwillingness to accept it for themselves).

Then, trailing along under the surface of this, we see the themes of the show totally embodied by Zuko and Katara as individuals and in their relationship to one another. There’s a YouTuber, sneezyreviews, who has a, like, 2-hour explanation on why she not only loves zutara but also believes that their endgame would’ve actually elevated the writing of atla to new levels particularly because of thematic cohesion and resolved character arcs. It’s the zutara dissertation I never knew I needed, and it’s funny and eloquent and effective, so I’m just going to sum up her section on thematic cohesion to the best of my abilities and then link it for whenever you have the time. And I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want a full understanding of what makes zutara so great and gives it such longevity.

Guru pathik has a line that goes something like this: separation is an illusion; things that seem different are just two parts of the same whole. Iroh also tells Zuko something similar: balance and strength are achieved when the different nations come together and influence one another and celebrate what makes them each unique. And this lesson is a massive central arc that both Zuko and Katara go through, moving past a black-and-white, good guys-vs-bad guys, us-vs-them mentality and into a greyer, more nuanced view of the world. Zuko sees the fire nation from an entirely new perspective and while he still loves and hopes for his nations future, he surrenders his blind loyalty to them in exchange for an unflinching loyalty to peace and love. Katara too had to come to terms with the fact that cruel people exist in the earth kingdom and water tribes, while some fire nation citizens are just regular, kind people who also need and deserve to have someone speak on their behalf. And this is honed in directly on how they view each other. They grow in their individual journeys to be open to the humanity in the other and then, once they’ve found that, they’re able to grow more in compassion for others in a beautiful feedback loop. And this is all matched in the symbolism repeatedly and intentionally associated with them in canon: sun and moon, fire and water, yin and yang, Oma and Shu who found love despite their warring nations. Their individual arcs are completed in each other and complement the themes of atla beautifully.

The canon pairs... just don’t. Which, again, is fine. But the very things that give atla longevity and popularity are anchored in zutara. Kat@ang doesn’t accomplish this. They’re... nice. Sweet. Especially when you erase a good portion of their interactions in S3. It could’ve been just a sweet love story. (Personally, the dynamic between toph and aang accomplish the same thing that zutara does, with complementary personalities that fulfill the theme of opposites blending in harmony) M@iko, on the other hand, is less sweet but I think wasn’t even supposed to last. Zuko’s relationship with Mai seems to represent his relationship with his old life as a whole. He can’t be emotionally vulnerable, he’s goaded into abusing his privileges, his agency and opinions aren’t respected. They just don’t have common ground with which to discuss anything that matters, so they don’t. As far as themes, the relationship doesn’t fit with atla. It’s zuko returning to and sticking with what is (on the surface) like him, what’s expected. Fire nation with fire nation. Fluid water bender with the flexible air bender. Like with like, separated from what is different and challenging and complementary.

And all of these things combined of course lead to the potential for the ship. I don’t know how familiar you are with the post-atla canon but... well, miss “I will never turn my back on people who need me”, miss “I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!” ends up living quietly in the SWT as a designated healer who turns a blind eye to the water tribe civil war happening right outside her front door. Which can be fine! People change! Some people just wanna stay inside. I just wanna stay inside! But the potential future for zutara is so much more satisfying, with Katara becoming the most unconventional Fire Lady the uppity old cads who are stuck on the old ways have ever seen. Fanon has her serving as a voice for the other nations within a kingdom at the point of its biggest political upheaval, as a confidante to Zuko who can actually help him while he’s trying to figure out how to move forward and make reparations. They have the opportunity, together, to accomplish what they both have set on their hearts to fight for: positive change that lends itself to harmony and balance. And the steambabies! A popular headcanon is that their firstborn daughter, the crown princess, is actually a waterbender, which causes such an uproar among the people who are adamantly clinging to the old ways. It’s just a future full of potential to be forces for good together, full of trust, intimacy, joy. The exact era of peace and love and balance that zuko announces that he intends to ring in with the start of his reign as Fire Lord is, again, magnified by the very personal zutara relationship. And we love to see it.

tl;dr zutara isn’t for everyone. Some people just don’t vibe with it. Some are nostalgic. Some love the canon they grew up with. Some have been disappointed for years. Some just see themselves in other characters and want their happiness instead. Whatever the reason, that’s fine. But for me, I love the way these two, from the moment they give each other a fair chance, are able to lower their walls and prejudices to see the other for the kindred spirits they are. They see each other’s humanity, and their response is to pour out love and support and compassion. I love that they’re a power couple in battle. I love the symbolism and, honestly, soulmatism that colors their every interaction. I love that they embody the whole storyline of atla in their relationship and how it develops, which is notably why their seasonal arcs always culminate in each finale with how they relate to one another. I love that zuko adopting a waterbending move is what actually saves his life and then katara’s. I love the chemistry! And I love the future they could’ve had, instead of the ones they were given.

So, in conclusion: I just think they’re neat and I hope you do too, at least a little bit. Even if it’s just respectfully from a disinterested distance cause you do you. And now here is the video I mentioned. I’m sorry this post got so long and then I gave you an even longer homework assignment, but I can’t recommend it enough. She says it all better than I can.

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#zutara #atla #zutara rant #like really the way the canon relationships were written throughout s3 #it would’ve been more believable for zutara to happen #or at least be hinted at #all of the major issues presented in those relationship were dug up extensively and then... never resolved #and then they just slapped some kisses on a screen and said ‘there all better’#and we just kinda had to say ‘oh ok guess it’s all better then’#this got long I’m sorry #I wrote it all out and then tumblr ate 2/3 of it #which is why it took so long #and what I’ve written now doesn’t even match what I had before #because there’s too much to say about why I love zutara #and the stuff I left out the first time is what came out this time #rip to my original thoughts but this post is different #anyway that’s why this took so long #and I should’ve just made a PowerPoint...#I can do that too if you’d rather not read all of this lol #I won’t be offended #this is incoherent #Alia rambles uselessly #also hoping this doesn’t end up in any wrong tags because I don’t wanna step on toes lol #it’s not anti!! it’s just critical #in a compare/contrast way #I can pinpoint the moment when I started trying to rewrite my points from memory #because everything gets shorter and more succinct #like... I really said all that??? sounds fake and I don’t remember it anyway so here’s the condensed version #with no!! smooth!!! transitions!!!!#also why am I so lazy with proper grammar over text

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 13

Characters: Kylo Ren x Original Female Character, Poe Dameron x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 13 - Exposure

Words: 5.5k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Descriptions medical procedures

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

“Alex! You’re okay!”

“So are you!” I burst, eyes already wet with tears of relief. My gaze darted over the holoprojection of Poe’s face, his brilliant smile beaming through from lightyears away.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he grinned, leaning closer into the holo. “We’ve been trying to make this contact for weeks.”

A dazzling joy surged in my chest, so happy that my assumptions of being forgotten were baseless. “Did you complete your mission?”

“You’re talking to the best pilot in the galaxy here.” He shot me a charming wink, maintaining his smile. “Actually made it back a few days ahead of schedule.”

Tears continued to dribble out, attempting to calm myself with a shaky exhale. “I’ve been so worried.”

Poe’s expression turned earnest. “I was going to say the same thing.” His expression fell, looking down. “I didn’t want to leave you there. I’m… I’m so sorry Alex. We’re all sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I soothed. “It was the right thing to do at the time. Did you all safely make it back to the base?”

“Left just in time to avoid their tracking systems. So your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

“Indeed it wasn’t,” a woman’s voice agreed, her instantly recognisable image appearing in front of me moments later.

Leia Organa.

“I’m so glad to finally put a face to the person who saved my best fighters.”

I was awestruck at the sight of the entrancing older woman, with kind yet determined eyes looking right at me. “Well… uh… They were the ones who protected me against the Death troopers. I really didn’t do anything.”

She shook her head, smiling warmly. “We all know what you did, what you’ve endured because of your selflessness.”

“What I’ve endured?”

“We have recently gained a Resistance spy within the First Order, the one who directed you to this holoprojector,” Poe started explaining. “They’ve been keeping an eye on you. Sending us intel about your condition.”

I thought of the blonde, curled hair I glimpsed a few minutes ago, not recalling ever seeing it before. Whoever it was had obviously done his reconnaissance at a distance. “The cell stay wasn’t exactly easy,” I conceded, looking sincerely to Poe. “But I’m managing better now.”

A glaring lie.

“One thing they couldn’t tell us Alex,” Leia started, her expression now troubled. “Is why exactly they’re keeping you on the Finalizer. Our spy hasn’t been able to collect any information about the subject. To me, it seems a little... bizarre you’re being forced to work for them.”

I was stuck on how to begin to formulate an answer when a commotion from behind the two figures made them turn around.

“I heard you finally made contact!” Rey’s voice excitedly cheered from somewhere in the room, her image quickly arriving into view, displaying an enthusiastic grin as she huddled in next to Leia. “Alex! I’m so glad to see you!”

I returned a warming smile, her sunny disposition difficult not to mirror.

“Oh thank the maker,” Finn heaved, sliding alongside Rey, the four figures now pressed closely into the outline of the holo, Poe seeming faintly annoyed at the intrusion. “If I had to live through one more day of Poe ranting about this stealth signal not getting through, I was gonna go insane.”

Poe was already looking to me when I glanced at his face, an unspoken understanding exchanging between us. “Well now since apparently we’re all here,” he huffed, “Can we actually get back to the issue at hand? We’ve only got a limited amount of time before this signal becomes compromised, and the hard-lock on Alex’s comm-room door overrides.”

Leia nodded in agreement and looked at me again. “Do you know why they’re holding you there Alex?”

I was weighted with a heavy dose of terror in giving my answer, my stare shooting immediately to Rey. Her smile had faded, instead she wore an expression of reassurance.

She hadn’t told them.

“I… I… uh…” I stammered, a flurry of emotions spinning in my brain. I was so sure she would have exposed me.

“It’s okay Alex,” Rey insisted, her tone calming. “I know why you’re scared. I completely understand why you kept it a secret. But we won’t harm you because of it. I promise.”

All eyes darted to Rey, each face breaking into confusion.

Poe was the only one to say what they were all thinking. “What are you talking about?”

I felt my chest begin to tighten, oxygen becoming a little harder to grasp onto. “I’m not ready,” I whispered.

Rey’s appearance was comforting, yet serious. “It’s time. You may not be ready, but sometimes we don’t get the choice.”

I inhaled deeply, scrunching my lids closed, trying to build some sort of confidence to reject the instincts and rules I had been abiding by all these years. A lifetime of keeping my gift undisclosed, hiding it away, never getting too close to anyone, had left me more attached to my secret than anything else in the galaxy. Fear had always kept it’s hold, guiding my actions, and it was pulling at me again now, trying to warn me of the danger once more. But if I didn’t tell them, Rey would be forced to.

And above anything else, I wanted Poe to hear it from me.

“I can… use the Force,” I said slowly, most likely out loud for the first time in my life. “I taught myself… how to heal others with it, when they were close to death.” There was an excruciating silence as Poe, Leia and Finn comprehended my answer, each wearing a different expression of realisation. My stare was only focused on Poe, trying to properly gauge his reaction to my admittance of lying. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, so I’d also learnt how to hide it - to prevent other force-sensitive people from feeling my energy, from hearing my thoughts.”

“Why?” Leia asked gently. “Why were you so afraid?”

“My parents were distrustful of those who were attuned to the Force after living through a time where Darth Vader wreaked havoc on the galaxy. They told me old stories of little children being taken away from their families to be trained as Jedi, only to have all of them massacred, even the younglings. They made it seem like the most dangerous thing in the world was being someone with that gift. So even as a child, when I felt the power growing within, I pushed it down, hid it away. I didn’t want to fight in any wars, and I didn’t want to be killed. I just… wanted a normal life.”

Both Rey and Leia were nodding with me as I spoke, seeming to understand my decision.

“That’s why you were on Raxus. So isolated,” Poe murmured, not looking at me.

“Yes. I kept it a secret for as long as I could, all through my training, only using this power sporadically through the years. But I was too close to being caught whilst working in a medical camp on the Inner Rim, during a skirmish the First Order instigated on a planet because of their resources. A Stormtrooper noticed me healing one of the planet’s inhabitants, one whom he was sure he’d rendered on the brink of death. He wanted to take me to his leader, claiming he would have good use for someone with my abilities. I managed to escape him and ran, giving up my job, my home, all without telling anyone where I was going. I settled on Raxus, built my clinic, rarely having to use my power, never really worrying about being caught again. Until... Poe crashed on my doorstep.”

“And you had to use it then, didn’t you?” Rey assumed, obviously a question she had been waiting to ask. I nodded.

Finn’s eyes sparkled. “I knew it! I knew there was a reason he healed so quickly.”

The death stare Rey shot to him was severe in intensity, and under any other circumstance I would have thought it was funny. But my focus was centred completely on Poe’s expression as he remained engrossed in deliberation, his eyes still not reaching back to me.

“Is this why they’re keeping you held on the Finalizer? They wish to utilize your power to heal?” Leia guessed.

“They don’t know about it.”

Each of their expressions turned to disbelief.

“How? Surely Kylo Ren would have rummaged through your mind the minute you got on that ship,” Finn burst, turning to Rey. “That’s what he did to you right?” She nodded in agreement, still looking to me for my answer.

“I was able to keep him out, like I did to you Rey,” I replied.

Rey seemed impressed, and a realisation clicked behind her eyes. “That’s why he won’t let you leave. He hasn’t figured out why."

I became uneasy, suddenly worrying about the blame I’d been placing on her. “He thinks it’s because of you, that you’ve somehow placed a block around my mind. And I... didn’t exactly correct him.”

Rey let a sly smile form on her lips. “Well that would be a valuable thing to make use of, if only it were true.”

Finn appeared dubious. “I still don’t understand why you agreed to work for them.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I subtly scowled. “It was that or rot in a cell until Kylo Ren managed to infiltrate my thoughts, learning of my sensitivity to the Force, leaving me in a lot worse situation.”

Finn appeared understanding of that answer. It had been Rey’s own powers that made the man obsessed with capturing her. Leia, who had seemed more troubled while we conversed of the Supreme Leader, finally spoke up again. “How long do you think you can hold yourself against… him?”

“I don’t know.” My heart thumped with anxiety, reminded of his last attempt to penetrate my barrier. Thinking about it, with Poe’s image right in front of me, made a familiar sickness bubble in my stomach. He still refused to meet my gaze, his face pained, making an ache begin to surge in my chest.

“Well we have to make some kind of plan right? To rescue her before that happens? Poe?” Finn insisted, somehow rustling Poe out from his inner turmoil.

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he agreed, only the slightest glance in my direction. I had to clench my teeth to hold back the tears wanting to form in my eyes, his indifferent response causing a wave of guilt to wash through.

Leia could sense the tense energy exchanging between us, even through the holo. “Finn, Rey, let’s start discussing our next move. Away from the holoprojector.” She looked firmly at the two, an unspoken communication. Rey shot me a look of both support and sympathy, understanding exactly why Leia was leading them away.

“Hang in there,” Finn added before standing to leave. “We’ll get you out real soon.”

I tried my best to reply with a grateful smile, but it was hard to form through the nervousness I felt at being alone with Poe after my revelation.

One by one their figures receded from the flickering blue picture, leaving Poe alone once again. I couldn’t bring myself to speak first, unsure of what to say. He felt further away than ever, his touch a memory that continued to fade.

Time was running out, the seconds ticking away as we both waited in stillness for the other to break the strained silence. When his eyes finally drifted to me again, I was wounded by the hurt in them, still acutely obvious in the artificial image.

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” he whispered. “You had all that time.”

I dipped my head, conceding. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” he shot with unrestrained exasperation. “Scared that I would continue to be grateful for you saving my life?”

I looked back up, stunned by his angered tone. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, let alone someone who had ties with the Resistance.”

“What did you think I would do, what the Resistance would make you do?”

“Pull me into a war I didn’t want to fight! Lead me into a life I didn’t want to lead!”

I could see his jaw tighten, an attempt in calming himself. “The fact you assume I’m the type of person that would force you into anything, let alone war, even after everything I told you, is insulting.”

“That’s so unfair,” I retaliated, my bottom lip on the edge of trembling. “I didn’t even know who you were when I decided to heal you. I chose to risk everything to keep you alive. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Poe exhaled hard, the sound crackling in the holo. “I will always be in your debt for what you did. But you still lied to me Alex. To my face. You assumed the worst of me, of all of us. You hid the truth because you thought we would take advantage of your power, not caring about what you wanted, what you could choose.”

“You haven’t lived my life Poe,” I argued, a ferocity beginning to rise. “You haven’t lived with the same fear I have all your life.”

He stared at me through the staticky blue light, silence once again taking over. We were locked in each other’s eyes, even through all the distance separating us.

“You pushed me away because of it, didn’t you?” he asked, the sting of his tone now gone.

I didn’t have to respond for him to know my answer. Suddenly there was a loud click of the door behind me, the hard-lock releasing.

Our time was up.

“I’m sorry,” I implored, only a moment before Poe’s face was snatched from my view, the holoprojector powering down into darkness.

My throat felt tight, a new kind of shame gripping tightly. I’d always been so afraid of sharing my secret, but not for this reason. Not because it would make me a liar in the eyes of the one I longed to be reunited with so badly.

I stayed in the darkened comm-room long after the hard-lock was disengaged. No one came to open it. Even if they had, they would have only found my figure sitting against one of the large data configurators, stuck in a motionless trance.

I wasn’t entirely sure what kept me from crying, because there was certainly a hollow sadness sitting on my chest, yet the emotion never seemed to manifest into anything. It was possibly due to the stark realisation that my power, my use of the Force, wasn’t a secret anymore.

And nothing bad happened.

They hadn’t been afraid, judgemental, desperate to use it for their own benefit. They had wanted nothing. Rey even kept it to herself, waiting for me to expose the circumstance in my own time, supporting the decision I’d made long ago to hold the power deep within.

Alongside the sadness, there was an intense shame thumping with my heartbeat. Poe had been right, once again highlighting my selfish and distrustful nature, even to those who didn’t deserve it. He’d always been unconditionally honest, and I had given him lies in return. He was right to be offended, to feel slighted by my deceit, our whole encounter now coloured with my dishonesty.

The only comforting part of the holoprojector discussion, apart from knowing for sure Poe with how we parted, was there was a plan being formed for my rescue. There was still a chance I might make it off this ship, escaping before Kylo Ren saw through my weakening façade. He had gotten closer than ever before in the preceding morning, and it couldn’t be long until he figured out another way to tug at my emotions hard enough to unravel me completely.

My only hope was that it wasn’t my attraction to him, the way he undeniably ignited the fire inside that he continued to toy with in his endeavour to push past the veil over my mind.

When I slipped back through the doors of the Prestige ward I was bombarded with questions from Risha and the other staff concerning the incidents of the night, most of them somewhat impressed with my boldness. While the others thought nothing of my return, assuming that for once justice had prevailed and I’d been seen to act in self-defence, Risha was obviously astonished I wasn’t still sitting in my cell. She followed me to the isolation room, where my intubated patient still lay in critical condition, but fortunately alive.

“How did you manage to convince them to let you out?” she questioned. “I thought I’d be visiting you in that cell.”

I read over the observations, the patient’s vitals seemingly stable during my absence.

I would need to thank Irwin later.

“I didn’t have to convince them of anything. My retaliation was considered appropriate by the Supreme Leader, so he allowed my release.”

Risha physically recoiled in disbelief. “There are like, 20 things wrong with what you just said.”

“It was a surprise to me too,” I agreed, continuing to perform my own assessment of the ill man in front of me.

“Alex, I don’t think you comprehend how unusual it is for the Supreme Leader to involve himself with matters like this.”

“I think we can both agree nothing about my situation is usual.”

“I mean, that’s true.” She folded her arms, still doubtful. “But for him to punish the Colonel instead of you. That’s just…bizarre. Snoke would never have been called to make a decision like that, let alone given any care for your wellbeing.”

I stopped, giving Risha’s answer more than a few seconds of thought. “Maybe he wants to be a different type of leader.”

She snorted. “We all know Snoke was the one who seduced him to the dark side, who turned him into what he is today. You think he would cast away his teachings, suddenly show compassion?”

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” I murmured.

“Well there’s not a lot else to talk about working on this ship. All we debated in the days after Snoke’s death, and Kylo Ren’s appointment as Supreme Leader, was whether his rule would be the same or significantly worse. No one even had the slightest notion he would be… like this.”

I shrugged, walking back to the progress notes and typing my assessment out. “Maybe he thinks if I owe him one I’ll be less likely to cause anymore issues. Maybe he hopes for me to like it here so I won’t attempt an escape.”

Risha tugged at my arm, making me look to her. “Is that something you were considering?” she whispered.

I didn’t want to give any kind of verbal confirmation to that intention, knowing now the ears always listening into our conversations. I also refused to implicate this sweet person in any of my future plans, knowing it was safer to give an overly dismissive answer. “Of course not. I wouldn’t even know how if I wanted to. I’ll just keep waiting it out. I’m sure they’ll grow bored with me eventually.”

Risha certainly wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t dictate that stance. “So how are you feeling? After… you know.”

“I’m alright,” I reassured, which was a blazing lie. “Better now knowing the Colonel won’t be back on this ward again.”

“Me too,” Risha breathed, showing me a small smile. Mild irritation sizzled knowing what it took to finally have someone to act on a predator like Colonel Wynver, still wishing his punishment would have been more severe. But I had to be appreciative that Risha, and the other women who worked here, could have some comfort due to his hopefully permanent absence from their life.

I farewelled Risha after making sure Irwin had given her an adequate handover of the nights new admits, noticing that more beds were now filled with those who had contracted the heavily contagious illness. There was a part of me that worried about the situation I would return to at the start of my shift this evening, but I was too exhausted to fret for too long.

I made sure to pick up a meal from the mess hall before returning to my quarters, horrendously starving from a whole shift without a chance to eat. The shower I had after ravenously devouring my food was just soothing enough to put me in a better state of mind before settling under the bed sheets to sleep, even with the ache beating slowly in the background of my mind at how Poe and I had parted from our transmission.

My only hope was Rey could make him see sense in the way I had kept my power hidden, maybe make him understand how harsh the fear was that drove me to lie.

Sleep arrived effortlessly this time, only minutes passing with my eyes closed before I was pulled into slumber.

When I felt my eyes open again, it was obvious I was dreaming, standing on a deserted beach, the horizon a flat line against the evening sky, a lone sun close to sinking past the ocean. It felt peaceful, a melting glow spreading through my body, relishing the sunset scene. But soon I realised I’d never been to a place like this before. I’d never even stepped close to a beach in my short life.

It was then I sensed the presence with me, the strange energy hovering far behind my figure. I went to turn, to face the mystery aura, but I was chained to where I stood, my eyes still viewing the yellowed skyline, the faint sound of small waves lapping against the shore. The energy shifted, my focus trained on its movement as it edged closer, finally taking a position just beyond my right shoulder.

“You’ve been doing spectacularly well,” a familiar voice mused.

I sighed. “I wondered when you were finally going to disturb me again. You’ve been unusually quiet.”

I felt a smile cross the figures lips, although I was unsure exactly what its face would appear as.

“You seem to be managing perfectly fine without my assistance. I didn’t feel the need to intrude.”

“As opposed to back on Raxus, when I couldn’t avoid your constant warnings?” I grumbled, recalling the many interruptions the voice had made concerning my growing attachment to Poe.

The energy moved again, my eyes darting to the space beside me, still unable to turn my head to that direction. I was only able to capture the image of a hooded figure stepping into my periphery, its face almost completely hidden by darkened brown fabric. I could just make out the shape of their lips. Human. And feminine, matching the tone I had heard in my mind for almost my whole life.

“You were making poor decisions,” the hooded woman stated. “Decisions that would bring about damaging consequences.”

“Maybe if I knew the consequences you seem to be so concerned with, I would make the right choices.”

She laughed, a low breathy chuckle that was oddly musical. “That’s not how this works. I can’t interfere with your free will.”

“Can you at least tell me what ‘this’ is? Why you’re inside my head?”

I could see her lips purse, a deliberate silence between us. “It’s not time yet. You’re not ready.”

An unwelcome shiver pulsed, irritation swelling once again. “I would ask what exactly I need to be ready for, but I can assume you won’t tell me that either.”

The woman smiled again, white teeth peeking through her lips on the edge of my vision. “I’m glad you’ve come to that understanding quickly.”

I exhaled hard, growing impatient with the interference of my much-needed sleep. “Is there a reason why you’re here now, deciding to show yourself for the first time?”

“I wanted to ensure you knew you were playing your part well, in the hopes it would encourage you to stay on this path.”

I creased my eyebrows, contemplating how any of my actions in the last few weeks would have been appropriate on this journey I was apparently walking. “And I’m assuming you’ll let me know when I might divert from this destination you’ve got in mind?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, her head lifting in time to watch the sun finally fade completely past the horizon, plunging both of us into darkness. “But I have faith you won’t require my help for the foreseeable future.”

I could only hope such a notion was true, this woman’s voice always having been a horrible strain on my thoughts. But without knowing exactly what I was doing so well, I was unsure if I could keep her intrusions from appearing again. I watched with the woman as stars began to glitter through the sky, reflecting on the stilled ocean, making an even bigger vision of night envelop the landscape. A delicate breeze of wind then brushed against my skin, and she was gone, her energy fading instantly, leaving me alone on the beach once again.

The soothing power of the twinkling scene soon made an overwhelming fatigue encircle my brain, and I was unable to prevent my eyelids from drooping closed.

It was obvious I’d been rustling in my sleep when I awoke again hours later, sheets twisted haphazardly over my limbs. I’d finally managed a full 8 hours, feeling the most rested I’d been in days. Although waking to an impossibly long list of questions I couldn’t get answers to didn’t exactly make me feel relaxed.

I laid on my back, wishing I could will the woman’s voice back into existence, only wanting to know why and how she housed her spirit inside my mind. The spoken warnings and guidance had always been there, pestering me with advice, sometimes threatening. But I always assumed it was a form of my own conscience, born from an unknown area of my brain that battled its morals against my decision making. Knowing now it was something more than that, that it was something or someone keeping a close watch over my actions, was oddly comforting.

Maybe I hadn’t been alone all of these years.

My last overnight duty before returning to the day shift was chaotic to say the least. Almost all beds of the Prestige ward became filled with viral patients, a large portion of the Finalizer Command leaders now in my company. A dark humour would have mentioned to the Resistance yesterday that this sickness was probably more incapacitating than their assaults had ever been, but I honestly didn’t want to place the idea of biological warfare inside their heads.

While my intubated patient had already improved from my last visit, I was now dealing with three more who’s health was extremely critical. I had never been so appreciative for the medical droids who worked here, their ability to recognise deteriorations in vitals being much quicker than my own.

I’d been given a status report from the rest of the ship earlier in the night, which implied the other wards were in much the same position. Although, it was interesting to note the slowing occurrence between Stormtrooper personnel, their armour and helmets seeming to provide an amount of protection that the Command leaders didn’t utilise.

The Bio-med lab had assured they would have a cure and subsequent vaccine within the next couple of days, pressing us to keep as many patients alive in the meantime. Which was easier said than done. Bacta didn’t help in eradicating the virus or it’s symptoms.

Fortunately for my own health I had already been afflicted with a strain similar during an assignment to Lothal in my training days, the illness sweeping through most of our workers, spread by one of the wounded soldiers. Luckily, none of us had been struck down too harshly, and it had left most of us somewhat immune. In knowing this however, I began to feel a looming dread for the medical staff of this ship who most likely had never been exposed before. It couldn’t be long before they themselves would need to be treated, and I prayed it wouldn’t leave me as the sole doctor still well enough to keep working in the time before a cure was found.

In the morning I handed over the night’s events to the day shift, giving strict instructions for the care of the four intubated patients, offering to return if I was required to at any time. I’d been afforded a full day cycle before returning to normal working hours, a day off of sorts, but with little freedoms being afforded to me on this ship to utilise my free time, I was quite comfortable in being called back to ease the load on the Prestige staff.

No such request had been made by the time I’d taken care of my daily routine, sleeping soundly through another 8 hours, this time without the interruption of vivid dreaming. It was early evening, which was only ever evident by the chronometer in my quarters, and I’d found myself too anxious about how the ward was coping to focus on the literature I was attempting to read.

The unease eventually caused me to change into the mundane set of informal clothes the First Order had allowed, wanting to pay a visit to the ward to ease my worry. A pair of black pants hemmed tight against the outline of my legs and a grey sweater which wrapped around my torso, leaving a bow at the back. I hadn’t pulled my hair up, assuming my visit wouldn’t actually require me to do any work. I wanted to appear as casual as possible, hopefully not implying they would be desperate for my assistance.

I was about to slip around the corner of the small lobby outside my quarters, pondering over the fact I’d never seen anyone enter or exit the two other doors, when I was disrupted by the sight of General Hux making his way down the corridor. He was alone, without his usual entourage of Stormtroopers My eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously as he closed the space between us, noting the stressed expression he wore, his porcelain cheeks slightly red.

“What have I done this time?” I prodded as he stopped in front of me.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for your juvenile mockery Miss Jago,” he snapped. “Come with me, I have a task you are required for.”

I folded my arms. “This is meant to be my day off.”

“You’ll find that I don’t particularly care,” Hux grumbled. It occurred to me how unwilling he seemed to be here, most likely a stern order behind his reason for being in my presence. “You don’t have a choice in this matter. Now follow me.”

“Could you at least tell me what you’re hauling me away to do?”

He didn’t stop his exit. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m not going to ask you again. Follow me.”

It was curiosity that made me obey his demand, beginning to step behind the irritating man as he led me to an unspecified objective. When we started veering towards a familiar turbo-lift, noting him pressing the floor I’d memorised from the previous day, my whole body pulsed with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I seethed, looking to Hux with a burning contempt.

“It was an order,” he replied sharply.

“It always is,” I fumed, leaning into the durasteel wall of the turbo-lift.

What did he want with me now?

Hux stormed ahead when the doors opened, my shorter strides barely able to keep up as we walked through the darkened hallway. With a simple wave of his hand on the security panel the blast doors opened to the room I had previously been forced into, the huge open view of endless space still taking my breath away.

Hux didn’t stop in the lounge area, instead swerving to the door at the far left, pressing a code quickly into the lock, waiting for me to enter first once it opened. I looked at Hux quizzically before moving past, taking a moment to register the scene I’d been made privy to.

My eyes scanned over Kylo Ren’s figure, now hunched into a ball underneath the sheets of his bed, a sheen of sweat noticeable on his forehead even from the doorway. He was asleep, however it didn’t appear even close to restful, his breaths loud and heaving.

“The Supreme Leader appears to be afflicted with the virus,” Hux stated in a hushed tone, still emotionless as ever. “He requires the care of a medical professional until his health returns to normal. I think you can understand the confidential nature of the task I’m giving to you.”

I nodded slowly, still stunned at what I’d walked into. “But why me? Surely there are other doctors who could do this. Ones who aren’t his hostage.”

“That is most definitely true,” Hux agreed. “But he asked for you.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @leatherboundbirate @lightsinthedistancee @paterson-blue @rosie-posie08 @tina1938 @general-latino

(Please let me know if you wanted to be added or removed!)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #poe dameron x reader

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ginjointsintheworld · 3 years

Note

Hey Gin.

Have you read the latest article from David, the showrunner?

We are in for the long haul. In my mind I said I was going to trust the writers and their vision, but you know sometimes I doubt if they'll handle things properly. Because, I'm not gonna lie, they've disappointed me a few times when I expected much from them.

I think I'm starting to have some reservations about how they are setting up the whole breakup/fallout.

Tbh, I am having a hard time believing that Leyla will just up and leave without letting Lauren know if she's safe or not considering how they met. But to now read that Leyla wants to be far away from NA, doesn't want to see Lauren, or even hear her name at all.

One of my fear since the last episode is that they'll exaggerate Leyla's reaction and unintentionally make her into this cold and heartless person for the sake of drama.

I understand Leyla's hurt and she deserves to cope with it whichever way she wants but I want them to be true to her character but also let things develop organically and not forsake canon for the sake of drama. I'm still not convinced that the Leyla we've come to know and how she relates to Lauren and what we believe she knows about her past will just disappear.

I know they get a kick from making Lauren suffer, but they shouldn't do it at the expense of Leyla. You know, I've already seen several people saying she's ungrateful and acting precious. I like Lauren, but I care about Leyla too. It's not one or the other. I want to them together ultimately but they should not destroy them in the process. We know Lauren is in the wrong but what she did is not the most horrible thing anyone's ever done on this show. The way they keep hammering on punishment and consequence is quite toxic.

I don't know if I'm making sense, just trying to air out my jumbled thoughts.

hey bud. i did read it and you're right, i think we are in for the long haul. but it's something we probably all had an inkling of since the conflict revealed itself in 3x14. there was no way to get through this without debriding a lot of hurt and betrayal first. holding some reservation is probably always going to be the safest bet when it comes to trying to anticipate things like this and it's one i try to abide by because at the end of the day, there's just no way for us to know what the writers have planned. heck the writers could have something planned but then change their mind on the direction.

best policy though is to just wait and see how it unfolds on screen. we can go crazy spinning our wheels trying to theorize or read into interviews but i know i've seen (and given myself) a lot of theories that turned out wrong or right in a way that i still wasn't expecting from this first half of the season.

i agree with you though, i think based on what we've seen of leyla that at the very least, her just going MIA for so many weeks without letting lauren even know through second hand if she's safe seems... uncharacteristically cruel. but hey, again, we don't even know what the full context around that situation is yet. i try to keep in mind as well, leyla just found out some very ground shaking news for her and sometimes hurt and anger clouds things and makes you act uncharacteristically.

you're right, leyla shouldn't suffer at the expense of lauren being put through the wringer. it's part of why i loathe the idea of leyla being willingly to uproot and start everything over when she deserved the spot at NA. i have no shame in saying that i'll have choice words if the writers do end up having leyla be someone who would indeed follow their pride to the ends of the earth to feel worthy despite giving up so much and working five times harder than anyone for what she has already. and objectively, no lauren didn't do the worst thing a human being has ever done in the history of humanity on the show and it's irritating that the reactions sometimes escalate to that level. unfortunately these writers have a twisted sense of characters needing to be punish, though i think everyone capable of objectivity can agree that lauren has more than paid her pound of flesh in suffering. but in this same interview, schulner talks about how this situation floyd is in is almost in a way, life's "Kind of punish them for their lack of an open mind." not my favorite mentality to approach your characters with but. drama writers i guess.

i'm all for magic handwaving to an extent to resolve things but of course, the criteria will always be that it doesn't ruin the foundation of these characters as individuals and their relationship. if you have to turn them into shells of who they were to fix it, that's lazy and shit writing.

BUT again, this is all us kind of spiraling when there's so much more we don't know than what we do know. we just gotta wait and see.

also you made perfect sense. askbox is always open for the venting and jumbled thoughts!

p.s. i'm actually listening to your leyren playlist as i answer this and 'love won't let me leave' by seafret GOT DAMN.

#tvseriesjunkie #asks

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colethewolf · 3 years

Note

The anon who asked the question about hurting Stiles here: if you ship Sterek, wouldn't you not want to have Derek hurting Stiles? Or at least not without having that plot be resolved? Personally I like cheating fics too, I just find weird how much iof cheating Derek stuff has it being done to Stiles. Once again, it's you own stuff, so I ain't judging, just curious.

Are you new to this fandom? I've been in this fandom since 2011. I've watched the Sterek Fandom evolve, find its own strength, and become its own power. I watched the show, itself, crash and burn without it. And I've come across many people who try to come into this fandom with their own passive aggressive ways of trying to "suggest" (dictate) how Sterek ought to be written/portrayed/shipped.

I want to make this very clear, anon....

Sterek shippers do not abide by arbitrary rules in regards to the Sterek fanwork they create. We create what we want, they way we want, for the people who choose to enjoy it. There is no (1) way to ship Sterek, write Sterek, or draw Sterek.

I also want to explain to you that what fans wanted from canon & what fans like from fanfic are two very different things. Sometimes those things overlap, sometimes they don't. I wanted Stiles and Derek to end up happily together in canon, married forever. And personally, that poorly written series finale was left open enough for interpretation that I consider my fanon to be canon.

Your "I ain't judging, just curious" is passive aggressive and unacceptable, imo. You're not required to like every kind of fic that exists with your favorite ship. Everybody has their own tastes. Nobody is telling you/requiring you to read fics where Derek cheats on Stiles. Such fics are properly tagged so that you can skip them.

That being said, infidelity/adultery/cuckolding are not some kind of brand new kinks/tropes/fantasies. These have been around for decades and decades. People, like myself, find them to be hot when depicted in smut. You are allowed to hate the idea of Derek cheating on Stiles in fanfiction, but don't play dumb and pretend like you can't understand as to how this kink even possibly exists.

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the-blue-fairie · 4 years

Text

My experience as a multishipper in the Frozen fandom

I’m writing this because a post crossed the dash of my other blog insinuating that people are using “multishipping” to “use and manipulate” people to like F2 when they don’t want to and to get people to turn from their preferred ship and create for other ships instead.

If people are trying to force others to like F2 or disregard their preferred ships, that is bad, but what struck me about the post was the way it treated multishipping as an evil that the individual could not abide.

It got me to thinking about my personal experience as a multishipper in the fandom and about how the Frozen fandom is an emotionally exhausting place for a multishipper.

To discuss this, I’m going to have to be open about my other blog and about all my ships. Although I’ve opened up to friends here about my two blogs, and even written another post about my multishipping, it’s not common knowledge that I have another blog - and partly that’s by design. This blog is focused on general Disney things and less controversial ships. I want to be mindful and respectful of my followers and not make them feel uncomfortable. I also am scared of receiving hate if my other blog were common knowledge.

But I cannot be reflective of my time in the fandom without being completely open and honest.

I’ve been an Elsanna shipper since 2014, and I made an Elsanna-centered blog in 2015. Just typing that out on this blog scares me (even though I’ve typed it out before here - as recently as when I was venting the night before last.) I lost a few followers that night. I’m probably going to lose more now. I’m sorry if I’m shattering an image you had of me, but I hope, if you’ve enjoyed my blog and appreciated my presence here, you’ll remember the goodness you saw in me and remember also that I never wanted to hurt or offend you.

Truth be told, Elsanna is still the ship that’s closest to my heart. I love Kristanna, I love Elsamaren, I love Helsa, I love Rydoff - but Elsanna is special to me. Some may find this hard to believe who weren’t there in 2014-15, but Elsanna was kind of like the Elsamaren of its time - a ship populated by scores of energetic young people who deeply connected to the characters and wanted to figure themselves out. It was a breathtaking wellspring of creativity and to this day I love the ship - while at the same time loving Snow Sisters within canon and Frohana.

There were ship wars between EA and HE back then, with one side crying, “At least our ship isn’t rooted in murder and manipulation!” and the other side crying, “At least our ship isn’t incest!” I’ll admit, I was dubious about Helsa when I first came to the Frozen fandom - but by a happy quirk of fate, I managed to reach out to people who shipped Helsa. They became my friends, and I started to realize that, whatever my misgivings about the ship, Helsa shippers were among the nicest people in the fandom. Many of my closest friends in the Frozen fandom now are Helsa shippers. And the more time I spent with them, the more I realized, there is beauty in the ship. I love the beauty of Helsa art, the talent of Helsa artists, and I value the friendships I’ve made.

There were ship wars between EA and KA back then too - and, as an Elsanna shipper, KA shippers back then would block me on sight, even if I never interacted with them. Some have told me since that it was nothing personal; they just didn’t want to be exposed to incest. But, in the moment, it stung - because I’ve always loved Kristanna and I wanted to be a part of the ship, share the oneshots and the drabbles I could write, share any of the beautiful things I could give.

So I made this blog - so I could share in the joys and the fun of KA without making anyone uncomfortable, and share in the larger Disney fandom (because if I ever dared follow a Disney blog from my main, chances are I’d be blocked on sight because, “Ewwww, that ship is repulsive.”)

I took that to heart a lot. “It’s okay, they’re within their rights to block me, one of my ships is repulsive, I just have to grit my teeth and endure it.” And gradually, my mind went from “one of my ships is repulsive” to “it’s okay, I’m repulsive, I understand that.”

It meant I felt incredibly guilty when I made this blog. I felt like I was being selfish - doing it partly because I wanted it for myself, wanted to be part of a group. But at the same time, having a separate blog meant that I wasn’t imposing my one ship on people who wouldn’t enjoy it. So I was also looking out for the wellbeing of any followers I got here.

It also meant that, for the longest time, I was absolutely terrified of anyone finding out I had my other blog. I told a few close friends and, while my name and bio information on both blogs were the same if anyone looked at both, I discreetly tried to... well, never confirm my identity directly. I didn’t even tell fellow EA shippers, outside of my close friends, because I didn’t want word to spread across a vast group of people and for someone on this blog to realize I shipped EA.

Looking back, that was an overreaction born of anxiety, but it had unfortunate consequences.

A friend who shipped EA found out I had this blog and felt betrayed about it. When I stood up for KA shippers at certain points, she accused me of “playing both sides.” During that debacle, I was called an “enemy of Elsanna” - which hurt me.

I regret not opening up to that friend about this blog. I didn’t know not doing so would hurt her - but also, being called an “enemy” of a ship that I love stung.

From the Kristanna side, a young gentlemen with a particular hate for EA eventually put two and two together and realized that I had two blogs. He stalked my EA blog. He sent me messages excoriating me and threatening to expose me. Then he sent messages to countless people, including friends of mine on here, “exposing” me as an Elsanna shipper. That was exhausting. My friends, however, were left as exhausted by him as I was and did not heed him.

Other KA shippers were far kinder. Eventually, certain folks in the KA ship told me that they knew who I was for a while now and that it didn’t bother them - as long as I was keeping Elsanna out of their faces. That was a great relief to me and very reassuring.

Still, certain KA shippers have a particular dislike for Elsa as a character and leap to demonize her, something that makes me uncomfortable. Moreover, a KA shipper I conversed with once made a contemptuously dismissive comment about Snow Sisters fans, saying that they didn’t care for Snow Sisters because “Snow Sisters and Elsanna are the same ship; one just has sex.” Which... um... I dare you to say that to a Snow Sisters fan’s face; I am almost certain they would be angry.

For all my reservations about certain aggressive KA shippers, however, the aggressiveness of certain EA shippers has been... really something else. I have already made a post discussing the belligerence of a particular person (who shall remain nameless here because they scare me and so I don’t want to cross paths with them again.) But this person compared me to fascists... because I was uncomfortable with their intense behavior. Also, when I mentioned how this person drove a dear friend and multishipper away from the Elsanna ship, this person replied, “I didn’t drive her away, her multishipping did.”

As though to say, “If you have multiple ships, you can’t be a part of Elsanna.” Even if my friend was in the ship from the beginning and made beautiful things to celebrate it before feeling like she was no longer wanted. As though to suggest you don’t fit their vision of what a “True” Elsanna shipper is.

Look, being a multishipper doesn’t make you want to part ways with a ship. In fact, being a multishipper means you have an emotional connection to multiple ships that you want to show your love to.

I can’t speak for all multishippers. And again, if there are people trying to insidiously push others to like F2 when they don’t like it or make art for ships they don’t want to, that’s a bad thing. (Always look into the evidence for and examine the source of such accusations, however - any accusations.) But personally, as a multishipper, I don’t want to force my will on anyone. I don’t want to make anyone like F2 if they don’t want to. (For the record, although I personally like F2 overall, there are parts I dislike - and I’ve actually criticized the film several times on this very blog - respectfully, I hope, and with strong supporting evidence for my points, I hope.) And I don’t want to impose my other ships on anyone. That’s even part of the reason I have two blogs.

I’ve been... scared... writing this out. I felt I needed to post it to this blog because I’ve so often... cowered... here. Maybe it wasn’t cowardice, but it was a kind of... uncomfortable learned silence born partly out of respect for others and partly out of fear for myself. I could speak more freely on my other blog, which is why I commented on my perspective on fandom dramas there - even though speaking out on my other blog meant being compared to fascism when I ventured to say that people should be nicer.

I’m being vulnerable here. I know that some will say, “How are you being vulnerable by admitting you ship a problematic ship? Stop trying to play for sympathy because you ship incest!” - just as certain EA shippers will judge me for shipping other ships in the fandom.

Maybe it’s just my nervousness, but sometimes I feel like I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. If I stay silent about shipping different things, some will say I’m manipulating people through my silence. If I speak up, people will say I’m obnoxious and never shut up about it and claim that obviously I have some agenda. (That’s what they’ll say about this post, won’t they?)

Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept one blog - but then I’d be blocked on principle by certain KA and EM fans - or asked not to interact, and being respectful, I wouldn’t. (Does that mean I’m disrespectful by having this blog? Oh, I don’t know anymore.) Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I hope that, when I write further analyses and critiques and make comments on the things I like and dislike about F2 now, people won’t dismiss my commentary by saying, “Oh! Liza has reservations about the film’s ending because she’s an EA shipper, that explains it, I might have known.” My reservations about the film’s ending come more from issues in story structure and my attachment to found family tropes and Frohana - not so much EA. EA might play some part - but judging things based on ships rather than nuance and the complexity of other people’s points is what’s so exhausting about the Frozen fandom. Don’t judge people based on ships; judge them by their actions and the soundness of their arguments. And besides, for all my reservations about the ending, there’s a place in my heart for it. I’m an Elsamaren shipper too after all. :)

This is so very long and deeply personal, but I needed to give it voice. I hope that those who have befriended me on this blog and didn’t know about my other blog will remember that I’ve always done my best to be kind and caring, regardless of my ships.

Thank you for your friendships. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you.

#frozen beef #bigfrozensix #frozen

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

The Crackship Sails To Molly’s - Jay Halstead x Ethan Choi

written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: Homophobia, the Catholic church, Catholic guilt, mention of canon-compliant violence, mention of two men having sex, it’s all pretty mild but I wanted to make sure it was all in the warnings, also I don’t like Doris and it shows

A/N 2: What do you guys think their ship name would be? Choistead? Haloi?

A/N 3: If you have a problem with LGBTQ people please go fuck yourself

They ran into each other at the last place they thought they would. Since Jay and Ethan had both been in the military, though in different factions, they figured they might run into each other at military events, they already had. But literally bumping into each other at an LGBTQ+ military personnel picnic? That shocked both of them. Ethan took notice of Jay’s pansexual flag pin and Jay looked at Ethan’s bisexual one. After the initial shock wore off, Ethan smiled, he was happy to know that he wasn’t alone in his social circle. Sure, Leslie Shay was a loud and proud lesbian, but they didn’t have anything in common and just made sure to say ‘hi’ whenever they ran into each other and buy each other nachos whenever they ran into each other at pride events (don’t ask, it just became their thing). Ethan went to give him a ‘dude hug’, as Leslie had dubbed them, when he noticed the fear etched onto Jay’s face. “Halstead, are you okay?” Honestly, he looked like he was about to burst into tears. “Jus- uhh” Jay hiccuped and Ethan was now justifiably worried. “Don’t tell Will.” And then Jay ran away from Ethan and the gentle arm he’d had on his shoulder like a bat out of hell. Jay could still feel the warmth of Ethan’s hand on his right shoulder as he drove away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethan didn’t tell Will. He didn’t give any indication that he knew something Will didn’t. He understood how important it was for him to keep quiet, but at the same time, it was so hard. Ethan wanted nothing more than to march up to the redhead and beat some sense into him. Will had obviously made to Jay that he wouldn’t be accepted if he came out. And he didn’t care, quite frankly. He had absolutely no sympathy for homophobes, he was done giving kindness and sympathy to people who wished that others wouldn’t exist because it deviated out of what they considered ‘normal’. So he’d gone back to being impassive and straight-faced. He pushed all of his feelings down because if he allowed himself to feel anything it would be complete and utter rage.

The next time he saw Jay was when he’d come into the ED to interview an assault victim. Apparently, there was a group of men catfishing and then assaulting LGBTQ+ men. Ethan’s heart ached just thinking about the case, all of the injured, betrayed victims. And Jay. Ethan didn’t want to know what was going through his mind, he probably viewed this as another reason not to come out.

The eye contact between them was brief, but Jay showed him vulnerability, and then thanks when Ethan gave him a sympathetic smile. Just trying to untangibley reach out and connect with his aching soul. And then suddenly it was gone, the grace that had bound the two of them temporarily, and Ethan had to watch with a sinking heart as Jay emotionally shrunk in on himself. “How’s our victim doing, Choi?”

“Not great, I’m afraid. He’ll live, but there’s going to be long lasting health problems for him.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it is.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, after the catfishing homophobes were caught, Ethan ran into Jay outside of Molly’s. His eyes were dark, broad shoulders were slumped, and he moved like his mind possessed all the strength his body just couldn’t muster. “Hey Choi- uh, Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we go somewhere to talk? Maybe get a drink?”

“Well, we are standing outside of a bar.”

“Somewhere that’s not packed to the seams with nosey people who know who I... Don’t want to hear what I want to talk... About. Y’know what? This was stupid-”

“How about Osso’s? Over on Folger street? It’s not a bar, but I’m starving and their booths have curtains.”

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually, thanks.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I figured out that I was bi when I was fourteen. I was watching The Mummy for the first time and I couldn’t stop thinking about how hot Brendan Fraser was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Rachel Weisz was hot too, but Brendan really got my attention. When the movie was over, uh, well let’s just say that my Catholic guilt took hold. My mom knew, I told her when I was seventeen, and she kept trying to set me up with her friends’ daughters. She didn’t care, just told me that she loved me and that there was nothing wrong with me, but that I shouldn’t tell my dad or Will. She didn’t sugarcoat anything, she took me to this secluded spot on the pier and told me about homophobia and how bad it was, not just morally, but that it ran rampant, and that my father and brother were two heavy believers in an institution who made it their mission to oppress as many people as possible. Looking back, I think my dad knew, don’t know how or if he actually does, it’s just more of a gut feeling. My brother is still incredibly Catholic, he’s become more accepting over time, but it’s clear that while he’s okay with strangers being LGBTQ+, he’s not okay with anyone he’s close to being anything other than straight. The, uh, my first time I was nineteen and it was during my rangers training, with one of my now best friends, who I dated during that time for a while. Everything kinda fell apart when we got discharged. Mouse or-”

“Greg Gerwitz. I remember him.”

“Yeah, we broke up after we were discharged. Well, he broke up with me. Neither of us were handling being back well but he was handling it worse. It hurt like he;;, I missed him so much. After I started in Intelligence I brought him in as a CI. I just wanted to know he was okay, be near him again. But he was not the same man I’d fallen in love with. He was an addict, had a record, a small one, but still. I broke my heart almost as much as our breakup did. A little later I got him a job as our tech guy. It was good having him around, especially cause he was coming back, y’know? He’d quit his habits, became a law-abiding citizen. It was great. Then, he asked me out, asked me to take him back, and I did. Without a second of hesitation. Being together again felt amazing, but then he got his record expunged, dumped me, again, and went back to the rangers. It completely tore me to pieces, I got time off and didn’t get out of bed for two weeks after he deployed. Uh, wow, sorry to unload all of that on you. And that was probably a lot of information you didn’t want to hear-”

“No, no, Jay. It’s actually nice to talk about this, even though I’m out and open, I don’t actually get the chance to talk about it all that much. I’d actually like to share if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

“I was twenty-one when I figured it out. I was on brief leave in the navy, just a couple of days without duties while we were docked in Puerto Rico. I got pretty drunk, a guy I was dancing near was pretty drunk too, he kissed me, I kissed him back, and one thing lead to another. When I got back to port the next day, my friends all asked where I’d gone off to. I told them I got laid. It didn’t really hit me until the following night when I was in my bunk, lying awake because I couldn’t forget the feeling of his lips, or the callouses on his hands, or... Other quite honestly filthy details I probably shouldn’t share in a public place. I couldn’t sleep properly for two weeks, I come from a traditional Korean family. All I could think about was how they’d react. What would they do if they found out? I found out when I was twenty-nine. My sister, Emily, had somehow found out, and when she burst through the door, drunk off her ass, at the first Thanksgiving I’d been able to attend in five years, she announced it to everyone when I tried to calm her down and get her up to bed. The look, on my parents’ faces, I couldn’t even look at my grandparents. I just said sorry and ran out. I crashed at a fling’s place for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone or to go see them. I felt like someone had put my chest through a trash compactor, I couldn’t stop crying. I had lost my entire family in less than ten seconds. You know that subtle, back of the mind dread you feel when you’re boarding a plane for your next deployment? Normally, you push it away, accept it’s a possibility but try not to think about it. I welcomed it. I hoped I’d get killed, that I wouldn’t make it home. But then... My grandparents were at my gate. Their faces just lit up and they welcomed me with open arms. They both hugged me and made me promise to come home, not to be a hero. They gave me hope. They loved and supported me, went toe-to-toe with the rest of my family for me. I’ll never be able to thank them enough.”

“They sound really great, I’m glad that you have them.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Suddenly the heavy curtain closing off their booth from the rest of the world was pushed to the side. “Gentlemen, your food is ready. Who ordered the grilled salmon?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethan and Jay had grown much closer, having bi-weekly dinners. Sometimes at Osso’s, sometimes at Bartoli's, sometimes at their own apartments. They’d become close, close friends. But because drama followed them around like a moth to a flame because it felt like they lived in an overly dramatic tv show sometimes, it couldn’t stay that way.

Jay started to watch Ethan when he licked his lips after he took a sip of a drink, when the muscles in his arms lengthened themselves when he reached for something, that twinkle he got in his eyes whenever he got cocky. Jay knew what was happening from the first moment he found himself looking at Ethan’s lips for more than a millisecond. He was falling in love. And all that he could do was loathe himself for boarding a vessel with impending doom.

Reasons I Can’t Fall In Love With Ethan

Will doesn’t know I’m bi

Ethan works with Will

Ethan is in the reserves and Mouse left me to go back to a warzone, it would kill me if it happened a second time

His ex, April, is currently trying to get back together with him

April also works with Ethan and Will

Ethan doesn’t love me so I’d just be ruining our friendship

Jay looked down at his list and recited it in his head, over and over again. He needed to memorize it, live by it. If he didn’t his entire world, which he just finally found comfort in again, would crumble to the ground.

Jay didn’t distance himself from Ethan, his heart wouldn’t let him, but it got harder and harder to ignore his ever-growing feelings. But he couldn’t tell Ethan, he couldn’t be with Ethan, he knew that far too well. So the next time Ethan confided in Jay that April had made a move on him Jay did something incredibly, fabulously, thoroughly idiotic. “You should ask April out, man. I think that you guys would be great together.”

Yup.

He actually did that.

Sigh.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, who is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on Jay, I’m your brother. I know you. The last time you looked like this and were drinking vodka, of all things, was when Erin left. You only drink vodka when you’re experiencing troubles of the heart.”

“I drank vodka when Mouse went back to the rangers.”

“After he’d broken up with you to go back to the same warzone he’d almost died in.”

Jay choked on his drink and felt his heart plummet out of his body and onto the floor. Burning tears blurred his vision and Jay felt more afraid than he’d ever felt in his life. He’d been shot at, blown up, shot at again, taken hostage, tortured, and he never felt this scared, this small. “Jay? Oh my god, Jay are you okay? Breathe, man.” But he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was his chest so tight? Why couldn’t he move? Suddenly he was yanked off of his couch and onto the floor, his head shoved between his bent knees. “Deep breaths, Jay. Just take slow deep breaths, in and out, just like me... Okay... Good, name five things you can feel, four things you can see, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”

“Uh... floor, couch leg, carpet, coffee table... you... Um, I, uh, I see...”

“Four things you can see.”

“Jeans, scrubs, crumbs, Kim’s wine stain... Hear, u-uh, Netflix, heating system, the Needlers arguing again...”

“Your neighbours sure do fight a lot, but you’re doing great. Keep going. Two things you can smell.”

“... Pizza and your terrible cologne...”

“Ignoring that, one thing you can taste.”

“Your terrible cologne. Seriously, Will, your supposed to spritz it, not douse yourself in it.”

“Well you’re feeling better, but you’re still shaking. You feel a bit cold, get back on the couch I’m gonna grab you a blanket.” Will was right, he was still shaking, and he felt cold to the bone. His heart was pounding so hard it was terrifying and his chest was still tight... But he was feeling better. Panic attack. He’d gotten them before, along with anxiety attacks, night terrors, and paranoia. All connected to his PTSD. He’d just never had a panic attack about his sexuality before, only about the action he’d gotten overseas and in Chicago. When Will returned with a thick fluffy blanket he’d gotten from Kim for secret Santa, the same night she’d made that wine stain on his carpet, Jay was on the couch and gripping his knees tightly, trying to get a grip on himself. Will had also brought Jay’s first aid kit and was checking him over, after he’d been wrapped up like a traumatized child, and Jay released a shaky breath, unable to look his brother in the eye before speaking at the same volume as a mouse. “How long have you known?”

Will stopped what he was doing and regarded his brother. Jay was older and had always been Will’s hero growing up but right now... He just looked like he needed a hug. “I’ve known since you were nineteen. You brought Mouse back to visit with you while you guys had leave and when mom and dad had work and I had school, you guys had the place to yourselves. I realized when I was a couple of minutes away from the house that I’d forgotten my lunch, so I went back to get it. When I walked in you guys were making out on the couch. You were really... into each other, you didn’t even notice me. I was gonna bolt to the kitchen and back... But then you took off each other’s shirts and started reaching for belts so I bolted. I love you, Jay, and I don’t care who you have sex with, but I never want to actually see it.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry we must have traumatized you.”

“No you didn’t, I would’ve reacted the same way if I saw you with a girl... Which we both know is true cause you and Erin had a very bad habit of not closing your bedroom door.”

“Sorry about that... If you’ve known all this time, why have you never said anything? I mean you used to make these weird comments about being related to gay people, but...”

“I thought that you needed to be the one to tell me. It was your closet to exit, I thought it would’ve been rude to force it. And about those comments, I don’t know, it’s just you never told me. More and more time passed, and from the letters you were sending mom I could tell you and Mouse were still together but you never said anything. I was trying to give you hints that I don’t care, your sexuality doesn’t matter to me. I love you no matter what. The only reason that I brought up any of this now, forced you out of the closet... I’ve never seen you like this. It rivals when you came back. You are hurting and I want to be there for you, but I can’t if you won’t talk to me, if you won’t let me in.”

“But I’m sinning. You’ve always been more devout than me.”

Will scoffed. “Have you been reading the news? The Catholic church really can’t decide what’s right and wrong considering all they’ve done and covered up. Plus, did you really think I was going to make all my life choices based on the teachings given to me by men who forced us to wear plaid suit jackets for elementary and high school? Really, I can’t wear plaid anymore, I don’t understand how you can tolerate it, I swear I’ve got plaid PTSD.”

“Well, maybe it’s cause I actually have PTSD and there are far worse things to go through than having to wear plaid to school every day.”

“That was a bad comment, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright... So you’re really okay that I’m bi?”

“As long as you're happy, I’m happy.”

“You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that and mean it.”

Jay was tearing up again, but this time they were happy tears. Will just wrapped his big brother in a hug and relished ina feeling of closeness that he hadn’t felt since they were kids.

“Okay, now seriously Jay, who’s giving your heart trouble?”

“I don’t know, Will...”

“As long as it’s not Connor Rhodes I don’t care.”

“Well...”

“Oh no-”

“Ha! Just kidding! Your face, seriously, what did that guy ever do to you?”

“We’re not talking about the man who thinks he’s smarter than me. C’mon, tell me who it is. Is it someone I work with?”

“It’s Ethan Choi...”

“You guys have been spending a lot of time together over the past year, so I can see that. And he’s pan, right? Yeah, I think that you guys would be cute together and I think he’s got a thing for you, honestly. Why don’t you ask him out?”

Jay fell back and groaned. “I told him to ask out April the next time she hits on him.”

Will just blinked and stared at his masochistic and self-sacrificing moron of an older brother. “Why would you say that?! You clearly like him! You idiot!”

“... I’m gonna need the vodka back if we’re gonna keep talking about this.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay felt like the weight he’d had on his shoulders was traded for another. He wasn’t worried about Will despising his existence anymore, but now he had to watch Ethan date April. And on top of all that, Will was always on his case about his miserably non-existent love life. So yeah, he wasn’t really enjoying his life at the moment. He was currently sitting up at the bar at Molly’s, avoiding ‘chexton’. He could hear April’s giggles and Doris squawking “you’re so perfect for each other!”, “I’m so glad you got back together!”, and “I call maid of honour!” over and over and over again. He knocked back the last of his beer when his phone buzzed.

Mouse: Hey Jay, I’m back on leave for a couple of days, just got off the plane. Want to meet up?

Jay: Sure, you up for a beer at Molly’s? I’m here right now.

Mouse: Actually I was thinking of a different kind of meet up. Your place? Just the two of us?

Jay: Sounds like a plan.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay and Mouse spent the two days he was home screwing each others’ brains out. That really was the best way to put it. Their time together was hot, heavy, and passionate. They wouldn’t get back together, no, but there was a bond there that would always remain. They’d both had tension that needed to be released and release it they did. Jay dropped Mouse off at O’Hare early on the third day. “Hey, thanks for this weekend. It was nice, it was good to see you again, Jay.”

“Yeah, you too. Stay safe Greg.”

“It’s Greg now?”

“You’ll always be important to me. You were the first man I loved, but you’ve left me twice. I need to move on.”

“It sounds like you already have. I’m happy for you, you deserve nothing but happiness, Jay. But, uh, should you have just spent an entire weekend naked with me if you’re with someone?”

“He doesn’t love me back.”

“Is he straight?”

“No, but he’s pan and got a girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry Jay. For your situation and everything else.”

“I know. Stay safe.”

“I will.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay turned on his phone for the first time since he told Mouse to come over. He was met with an abundance of texts and missed calls. The texts were mostly from his colleagues, asking if he was going to be at Molly’s. A couple were from Will, asking if he wanted to get together to watch a game. The person who’d sent him the most texts and had made most of the missed calls was Ethan. Jay didn’t bother going through them all, he just sent his brother and Hailey quick text messages letting them know he was alive and would be at work on time, he’d just spent the weekend with a friend. He called Ethan as he made his way through the city. “Jay? Are you okay? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried, I called your brother and Hailey and none of them could tell me anything.”

“I was okay, I was at home the whole time.”

“But I went by your place, I knocked on your door, no one answered.”

“Oh, that was you? I thought it was Karen from down the hall. I was a little... Busy.”

“All weekend? Alone in your apartment? With no assigned case or old case that’s been bothering you?”

“Well, I wasn’t alone, actually.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Mouse was on leave for the weekend so he came over.”

“... You were alone with your ex-boyfriend for an entire weekend... Doing what?”

“Each other.”

“Damnit, Jay.”

“Eth-” And then Ethan hung up. Jay was confused and distressed, but he’d arrived at the district so his relationship with Ethan would have to wait. Well, friendship, not relationship.

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When Voight needed someone to go collect a statement from an accomplice at MED Jay’s reaction rivalled that of Katniss Everdeen. He was given a couple of odd looks, but he and Hailey made their way to the hospital, Hailey side-eying him the whole way. “Do you need to talk to Ethan?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“He hounded me for two days because you weren’t texting him back. He was really worried, Jay. What’s going on with you two? I mean, he was acting like...”

“Like what?”

“Like a worried boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating Hailey. Why would you think that?”

“Because you two look at each other the way Trudy and Mouch look at each other. Like you’ve hung the moon and the stars for each other. I don’t judge, Jay... You’re always really happy around him. I think you’d be good together.”

“He’s dating April.”

Hailey scoffed and rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled with them. “No, they’re not dating. She was acting like it, and Doris was yapping away about it on Friday at Molly’s, but Ethan was just quietly sitting there the whole night, he looked really uncomfortable honestly. A couple hours after you left he asked April if they could speak in private. It didn’t stay that way for long. Ethan had tried to tell her that he didn’t want to get back together and didn’t love her anymore, and she was upset, obviously. But it seemed like she understood. She hugged him and went to sit back at the nurses, but I guess she told them and Doris blew up, screamed at him, made a huge scene. April had to actually take her home. Ethan immediately came up to me and asked where you were.”

“Oh.”

“So you volunteered us to talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Ethan.”

“Can we talk, Jay?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“The doctor’s lounge is free, we can talk in there.” They entered the darkened gray room together, both feeling the tension between them. It felt strange to just stand there, in the middle of the room, and Ethan wasn’t meeting his gaze. So Jay sat down, hoping that Ethan would follow his lead. He did. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

“Don’t apologize, I should actually be apologizing to you. You didn’t owe me an explanation, we don’t have the kind of... Relationship that warrants you letting me know when you’re going to disappear for a weekend with your ex. We’re just- We’re just friends.” Jay was silent for several moments, trying to think of what to say. How to phrase what he was feeling. There didn’t seem to be an eloquent way to phrase it, so he decided to just jump in and hope he didn’t get hurt. “I don’t want to be friends with you Ethan. I want to be more than that, I love you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but- I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’ve been trying to distract myself, with Mouse most recently, but it didn’t work. It doesn’t change that I really want to kiss and date and be loved by you. Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Yes, there is quite literally nothing else I’d rather do. How about tonight, because I don’t think I can wait any longer. And I love you too.”

“I know that the wall behind us is basically just a window but I really want to kiss you-” Thankfully Ethan didn’t care about that, and gave Jay a kiss so incredible, he saw stars.

... And missed Hailey and Will high-fiving behind him.

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After informing the accomplice that he was being arrested for armed robbery, obstruction of justice, and public urination, Jay and his partner left MED. Jay was so happy he was practically vibrating as he skipped out of the hospital. His, highly amused, partner got into the passenger side of his truck and thumped his shoulder. “See? I told you that he likes you.”

“How did you figure out I’m not straight, anyway? I’ve... Played that pretty close to the vest. I only told Will a week ago.”

“You know Nico’s Diner over in Greektown?”

“Yeah.”

“My family owns it. I started working there when I was nine, I think? I worked there through high school and college. And I go there once a month to catch up with my brothers. You used to go there all the time with this guy and you’d hold hands and kiss him quite a bit, so I figured you were more than friends. I recognized you when I walked onto that robbery scene a couple years ago.”

“So you knew, this entire time, that I was bisexual and you didn’t say anything to anyone? Why not?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell Jay, besides, I didn’t know that you were bisexual, just that you liked men. I just spoke up now because you were really hurting Jay, it was so obvious, and it was obvious that Ethan was hurting too. I really hope that you guys are happy together.”

“Thanks, me too.”

“Soooo... Where are you gonna take Ethan on your big date?”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago PD #ethan choi #jay halstead #ethan choi x jay halstead #jay halstead x ethan choi #will halstead #hailey upton #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz

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cherry-moonlight · 4 years

Text

Life Could Be A Dream

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N - Also on AO3 under CherryMoonlight} Hi! I have been obsessed with NOS4A2, and while I haven’t read the book yet (don’t judge me), the show is incredible. I haven’t written anything in a year or so, and I know I owe plenty of other stories, but this series came to me in a dream and I’m just so happy to be off hiatus and inspired again! That being said, this is a first person POV reader insert, and pretty much just not very canon but I’m having fun writing it and I hope you have fun reading it should you choose to! PS — I’m crushing hard on Charlie Manx so definitely expect some of that at some point. (I know, how dare I considering the whole virgin thing- but really, how could I not?!)

Warnings: Abusive parents (verbal, physical, emotional), alcoholism, drug use.

Chapter One - Long Overdue

Snowflakes fell like ashes from the sky as I walked forward down a snowy road I’d seen many times before. Despite the chill in the air, my skin didn’t react to the bitter coldness. I wasn’t bothered by the gentle wind or the glistening ice. It was as though the cold could touch me, but I couldn’t feel it.

Deep green pine trees doused with pure white lined the road as far as the eye could see in every direction but up and down. My eyes searched for something— anything, that could tell me what was happening; why I kept being brought to this particular place. There had to be some kind of sign.. Some kind of message I was to receive. Everything had a reason in my mind, bad or good, and this dream was no exception.

Much further down the road, there were glittering lights that danced in a blurred haze on the horizon. But no matter how far or how long I walked, they never grew closer.

“{Y/N}!” I heard what sounded like a small child’s excited whisper, as though they were taunting me, rather than calling out to me.

This is new..

I turned around immediately, looking for the source of the disembodied voice as a slight pang of panic rose in my chest. Though I wasn’t sure what was happening, the fear began to manifest anyway, giving me some kind of indication that this might become a nightmare.

A faint giggle echoed from the other direction, and I turned to face it, too. With a shake of my head and a moment to steady my breathing, I reminded myself that I was in control..

Or was I?

I picked up the pace to a brisk walk, not wanting to will myself awake just yet. The lights ahead of me stayed exactly where they were, but the sweet scent of peppermint mixing with pine began to fill my nostrils. It was pleasant, almost addicting right from the first whiff.

Still, I lowered my eyes to the ground, almost afraid of what I might see if I looked around so carelessly.

Another reverberated giggle filled the air, but this time it was accompanied by my name again. When I looked up from the white ground beneath my feet, I saw a small figure dash across the road. Just beyond that, the lights in the distance began to grow clearer before me.

“I can see..” I mumbled under my breath a bit too happily as I began to run, not wanting to miss the opportunity to finally find out what was beyond the long road.

My hair whipped around my face, and I knew if I could feel the air around me, it would’ve stung my skin. My breath formed small white clouds around my mouth as I continued, and just when I thought I could make out what lay in front of me, I was grabbed by small hands from behind, the excruciating pain of a sharp bite digging into the back of my shoulder, until—

I jolted awake, sitting upright as my {E/C} eyes pried themselves open to absorb where I actually was. Everything felt foggy, and as I clutched the shirt I wore with a trembling hand, I tried my best to ground myself.

A record I had on a turntable spun in what seemed like endless circles at the end of the track list and everything was quiet, save for the static. Looking out towards the frosty window, the ice climbing around the edges like spiderwebs offered me a sense of comfort. The world was cold, but inside, everything was warm and cozy. I was safe, and this was only a dream I’d been having for years— even if a few things had suddenly changed.

I stood up, working on slowing my breathing as I lifted the needle from the record and set it in its place, turning the player off. My mind roamed back to the dream I’d just had. It was strange that out of all the time it plagued my sleep, something had finally been different. It felt stranger than usual as I mulled over the way I heard children and saw the lights come a bit more into focus this time. There was something about it that I couldn’t quite place. It reminded me of the holidays— my favorite time of year despite the way I grew up. Christmas was my favorite holiday, always allowing me to get lost in everyone else’s joy and excitement. Watching heartwarming films and seeing the way the community came together to decorate their homes.. It reminded me of what being a child should’ve felt like, even though there was never any indication that Christmas even existed in my house. For as long as I could remember, not a tree, nor a present ever graced my December’s.

As I moved to the vanity to fix my appearance, I came to the conclusion that I was just excited for Christmas’s arrival, and my dream was a reflection of that. This year, I wanted to buy a small tree for my room and decorate it the way I wanted. I was an adult now, and no one could tell me any different.

“{Y/N}!” I heard my mother scream from downstairs, eliciting an automatic eye roll from me. “Come down here, now!”

With a huff, I did as I was told, despite being eighteen, I still lived under her roof and had to abide by her insane rules.

My mother and I never quite got along. As a child, she consoled herself with prescription pills and alcohol, and I never really had a father. My older brother split with him the moment he walked out of the door when I was seven, which is when my only recollection of Christmas’s ended, leaving them like a far too distant memory to me.

My dad never bothered to take me with him, or even call me afterwards. Neither did my brother. I didn’t know what I did wrong, but as time moved on, I realized they’d simply abandoned me with her. I supposed that they assumed I’d end up the same way. Not able to blame them, I never bothered to reach out, either. I had my dad’s number, I stole it from a sticky note my mom had gotten from one of their mutual friends. But if they wanted to contact me, they would. Sometimes, when my mom had locked me in the closet for “being too happy,” or hit me for answering a question in a way she didn’t like, I really wished they would’ve.

Since then, I’ve had to learn to take care of myself. When she was passed out on the floor for what felt like days on end, I was in charge of things like food and getting myself to school. The microwave was my best friend early on, and unlike most other kids, I was glad I had school to escape to.

I’d never quite forgiven her for ruining my childhood. Sometimes, I’d see the other kids getting picked up by their parents; the care in their eyes, the love in their hearts. It was all very comforting to watch. I cried myself to sleep countless nights wondering why I couldn’t have parents who cared for me the same way.

When my mother was awake, it was constant belittling and berating. Being so young, I had no idea I could be such a mistake and a screw up so soon, if at all. But there was dear old mom, ready to remind me at a moment's notice. Something as simple as dropping a pencil on the floor earned me an ear full of being a klutz and completely worthless to the world. If I even looked at her in a way she didn’t like, I felt her wrath.

But as time went on, she gradually got worse. She built up more of a tolerance to whatever she was taking, making her perfectly functional to the rest of society, but twice as abusive to me. No matter how old I got, I remained the punching bag. I’d thought she took out the anger of losing my father and brother on me, but later I couldn’t help but think it felt like she just liked hurting me.

Before I exited my room, I looked at a small cedar chest with a heart shaped lock that sat atop my dresser. It was my saving grace these days, the only thing that kept me sane. It held money I’d been putting away to get my own place, and a few other things that were important to me, like the note with my dad’s number and a small locket I had been gifted as a child.

Soon. Soon I’d never have to hear her voice or see her face again.

My feet shuffled to the bottom of the stairs and I inhaled and counted to four, then exhaled and counted to four; a small tactic that I used to deal with her. Turning the corner into the kitchen, I saw her sitting at the wooden table, glass of whatever the day's poison was in hand, waiting for me with a crisp white sheet of paper in front of her.

“What is this?” she questioned, the annoyance thick in her voice already.

I peeked over her shoulder. It was paperwork from a therapy session a friend let me take from her almost a year ago. I hadn’t wanted to do it, but she insisted once I explained just a portion of my life to her.

“You went through my things?” Was all I could manage.

I was bubbling with anger, but trying my best not to fly off the handle.

She wasn’t worth it, I reminded myself.

“You went to therapy? After all I’ve done for you, you felt like you needed… Help?”

She spat the word “help” out as though it were venom on the tongue. I was still processing the fact that she felt as though she’d raised me well, or really even at all. How dare she think she was there for me at all.

“Well? Answer me, {Y/N}!”

Lost for words, I stammered a bit, unsure of what to say. The last thing I felt like doing was fighting with her, and in that moment, I had no idea where to begin to tell her off.

“I— Just.. There’s—“

“I know you’ve always been a little slow,” she snorted. “But you can’t even answer a question these days..”

“That’s it! I’m sick of you! How dare you—” I snapped, but before I even had time to finish another thought, she was up from the chair and her hand had roughly connected with my cheek.

Stunned from the stinging sensation, I stared at her blankly. Though it used to be a daily occurrence, it had been a long time since she’d hit me, and the act only dredged up memories that I thought I’d gotten over. I shook my head, and without another word, I went upstairs, slipped into my favorite combat boots, grabbed a jacket and my bag and placed my cedar chest in it before making my way to the front door in a rushed cloud of hurt and anger.

“If you walk out of this house, you’re not coming back! I’ll leave your shit on the curb and I’ll never see your ungrateful ass again!” she called out, her voice hoarse with crazed, manic emotion.

“I wouldn’t come back if this were the last place on earth,” was all I said, opening the door to leave.

I heard the rattling of a pill bottle being frantically emptied and breathed a quiet laugh of disbelief before slamming the door shut. There was no care to be had in my mind or heart anymore. Maybe it was wrong, but I had taken too much from that woman. I was done sticking around and pretending to care in the hopes that she’d change one day.

Looking out ahead of me for a moment, I slid into my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder. Closing the door with the intention of never looking back should’ve been the best day of my life. Instead, I felt anxious beyond belief.

Leaving with no plan as to where I was going wasn’t how I wanted to end things. I’d managed to stick around for eighteen years, and almost felt silly for letting this small encounter become the straw that broke the camel's back.

At the same time, eighteen years is a long time to go on the way I did. It was overdue.

As I walked into the snow, I realized how alone I truly was. No parents, no siblings. No family. I couldn’t burden my friends to deal with the mess my life had become. I lived in what could be considered the middle of nowhere. It was freezing and I had nowhere to go. I raised myself for so long, I didn’t know if I was actually expecting to be able to take care of myself in a situation like this or not, should it happen. But as I reached the end of my driveway and looked down the road, I was reminded of my recurring dream. It looked the same— the trees and the glistening snow atop them. The only thing missing was the dazzling lights at the end of the stretch. How I never put it together that this scenery was near identical before, I wasn’t sure.

It was then that I wondered if this is what my dream had been trying to tell me all along..

That I’d be walking a cold, lonely road to nowhere.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx x reader #fanfiction #nos4a2 fanfiction #charlie manx #charlie manx fanfiction #fanfic #christmasland #series

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legobiwan · 4 years

Note

could you do 18 and 100 for the trope mash up thing? (And if you want two characters, Obi-wan and Hondo?- I got a little confused with your added instructions to the trope mashup)

Circus AU / Accidentally Saving the Day (Hondo & Obi-wan)

Anon, I had to WORK for this one and even did a little research into circus history since I am woefully undereducated about the topic. I think I’ve found an interesting way of weaving these all together and giving a little bonus at the end. Stick with me here, I need to do a bit of an introduction to get this whole idea going.

For the purposes of this AU, please assume that the Clone War and all the events surrounding it happened directly after Naboo, meaning everyone is about 10 years younger than they are in canon. Also assume that Qui-gon was not killed on Naboo, although that has little bearing on this particular story.

THIS GOT OUT OF CONTROL. I was expecting to write a fun little 1,000 word thing, not a whole AU concept. But here we are, so….uh…

We’ll see what everyone thinks? Enjoy. And good luck :D

—-

“How are they doing?” Szimon Tesdak asked, thin, long mustache bobbing up and down at the ends.

The other man patted the Pamaradian prancer’s neck, running his fingers through the thick mane of her hair. The prancer shivered, eyes darting back and forth, hooves tapping nervously on the durasteel floor. The man known as Whisp spoke softly in the creature’s ear, the words foreign to even Szimon’s cosmopolitan ears. A few moments later, the prancer settled, nuzzling her snout into Whisp’s shoulder.

Whisp turned to face Szimon. “They’re restless,” he said. “Fourteen hours in a cruiser is a bit much for anyone to take.”

Szimon waved the veiled criticism away with a flick of his wrist. Yes, it had been a long journey, but the payoff would - hopefully - be worth it. And they needed the credits - or whatever these people were going to pay.

“An hour more and we’ll be there,” Szimon said with false confidence.

Whisp stood, crossing his arms tight against his chest, the black-and-crimson fabric of his worn travel tunic wrinkling with the gesture. There was a hint of beard on the young man’s chin, something that, when it grew in, would likely age him a good ten years. The man peered at Szimon with grey-blue eyes like he was trying to ace one of those vision tests at a local spaceport agency. Always looking for hidden meaning, he is.

And sometimes he finds it.

At least with the creatures, that had been the case. Two years Whisp had been working for Szimon and never had the older circus master figured out the man’s trick. Szimon had spent his life in the circus, from his childhood on Thybaar right up the grand days of the bright Coruscant lights to his now-ramshackle operation held together by thread, petty theft, and the occasional cashing in on favors owed.

Szimon had seen it all - and more, but nothing like Whisp and his ability to communicate with the creatures, like he was reading their minds. “The Whisperer,” the other members had taken to calling him. The moniker had stuck, albeit in shortened form, Whisp’s real name - whatever it had been - long forgotten.

“Remind me again why we’re flying out to the Outer Rim for a show? Seems a bit of an expense when we could just as easily round up a few smaller venues for far less hassle,” Whisp said.

“Ah, Whisp, ever the cynic,” Szimon clapped a meaty hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t think of it as a hassle,” he waved a dramatic hand, as if unveiling something from a behind a curtain. “But as an expansion of our operations.”

Whisp cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly difficult seeing as our operations comprised of three planets the past month, two of which we never actually got to land on.”

Szimon snorted. Well, yes, business had been down because of the war. Szimon himself cared little for the politics of the Republic or the Separatists. A government was a government, with all its little games and corruptions, mazes of betrayal, and endless mountains of datawork. No, Szimon Tesdak would never be chained behind one of those desks.

But many others were, shackled to unfulfilling jobs and lives, stuck in a desert of mediocrity and boredom. That was where Szimon came in. Unhappy citizens tended to breed unhappy revolts. But give them a nice circus, something to laugh at, a little magic that was absent from their day-to-day existence?

It didn’t really matter who was in power. The problems, the outcomes -they were always the same in the end.

Still, the war had been disruptive to his business and over the past few months, the “Great Thybaarian Traveling Show” had been forced into semi-refugee status as planet after planet was devastated by the conflict between a mechanical and clone army. Circuses were part of avoiding war, not conducting it.

Szimon shook off the dark thoughts with a wide smile. “Come on now, Whisp. We’re going to make great friends on the Outer Rim. My benefactor has promised a large sum, maybe even a sponsorship if we play our cards right.”

“I thought they were pirates,” Whisp retorted, half-smile playing on his face.

Szimon made an airy gesture, chuckling. “Pirates, embezzlers, Hutts. As long as we get paid, I’ll work for the Sith themselves.”

Whisp tightened under Szimon’s arm, which was wrapped around the thin man’s shoulders. Some unreadable emotion passed over his face, a premonition of a storm. After a moment, he spoke, hesitant.

“I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit!” Szimon exclaimed, shaking Whisp. “Come on, we have to make preparations for landing and I’m not letting Battlebuzz near those controls again.“

—–

“That was a very impressive show, my friend,” the pirate known as Hondo Ohnaka sidled up to Whisp, unceremoniously dropping into the seat next to him, tankard full of green ale.

Whisp looked up from his own mug, half-consumed, eyeing the pirate warily. “Thank you,” he replied, adding, “I think,” after a moment’s hesitation. It never hurt to be too cautious around pirates.

“All those acrobats, all the flips and whooshes.” Hondo made an extravagant gesture with his arm, nearly taking Whisp’s head off. “And the beautiful women dancing to such music, it shouldn’t be allowed!” he grinned, giving Whisp a knowing look. ”My men, they enjoy that - some of my women, too!” Hondo cackled, downing the entirety of his pint in one go, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“But you, my friend - with the creatures.” The pirate’s voice turned a shade serious and several parsecs more calculating. Whisp bit his lip, steeling himself to steer another drunken conversation away from this dangerous territory. “Yes, the creatures,” Hondo continued, nearly singing. “Now that was something I’ve never seen before. Most beast tamers use weapons.” The pirate made a few motions mimicking a whip. “They use fear and intimidation but you!” He pointed a finger that almost went up Whisp’s nose. “Ah, it was almost like you talked to them with your mind.”

Whisp gave a forced shrug, his pulse starting to race. He needed to stay calm. Needed to focus on the present, not his anxieties. He laughed to himself, bitter, wholly aware of the gross irony of that statement. “Just an ability I’ve had since my youth,” he said, voice flat. “Better me in the circus than those brutish weapons-wielding tamers you mentioned.” Whisp scowled. That much was the truth. Whisp couldn’t abide by their methods, couldn’t stand the way the pain and fear radiated from the abused creatures. He knew he couldn’t save them all, but if he could give a second chance to even a single Borcatu, if he could find a home for those who had been cast out -

Anger trilled at the back Whisp’s brain, a sensuous, lush melody more tempting than any of the ribald pirate ballads in the background.

Hondo beckoned at another Weequay, grabbing two pints from a serving tray, setting one in front of Whisp in an unspoken command. “Yes, your youth. Tell me about that. Your accent is polished, very posh, very Core World.” Very monied. If only, Whisp rued.

It had been too much effort to try and tame his accent, which stood out amongst Szimon’s motley crew of performers like a neon bell weed in the desert.

Whisp took a long sip of his beverage, smacking his lips together. The new alcohol was a step higher in quality than the dredge he had been drinking before. He peered to Ohnaka on his right, wondering if he was about to be drugged, kidnapped, or worse. Oh well, he thought, drinking some more of the beverage. Might as well enjoy while I can.

“I was brought up in the Core,” Whisp recited, setting his glass down, not even needing to think about the words he had said them so many times. “My family, unfortunately, abandoned me, so I took to farming in the Mid-Rim as a means of sustaining myself. It was there I discovered I had an affinity for creatures and then did some work in healing clinics before the war broke out. The Republic Army took over all the planetary clinics so I was forced into finding…” Whisp bobbed his head, “more creative ways to apply my talents.”

“Interesting,” Hondo noted, his gaze greedy as he looked Whisp up and down. Whisp’s other hand moved to his waist. So much for enjoying. He fingered the blaster he had hidden under his red and silver vest, neatly tucked away in a shoulder holster.

Hondo held out a hand. “I don’t mean to cause you alarm, my young friend,” he said with a laugh, sitting back in his chair, kicking both feet up on the table. “You can put your blaster away, I only want to talk business.”

Whisp’s hand tightened for a moment before he raised an open palm in a universal gesture of surrender, his brow furrowed.

“What type of business?”

“What type indeed?” Hondo hummed, rocking his feet back and forth in time to the bawdy, clangorous music. Somewhere on the other side of the room, Tergallian and Lopisa had gotten into a knife-throwing contest with some of the pirates. Whisp had a feeling the Weequay had bet on it and that the pirates were about to lose their shirts, pants, shoes, and who knew what else in the deal. Might have to make a quick getaway if there’s enough of a ruckus, Whisp thought, eyeing the locations of the exits and the best strategies to get there without being shot.

Again, he winced.

“Oh, you won’t make it out, I promise” Hondo commented, his expression still jovial. “All the exits are under full guard and I guarantee there’s no other way out unless it’s by my command.” He pressed a finger into the table, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Unless,” he began after a moment, “you are a Jedi.”

Whisp was off his stool in an instant, blaster in hand. Not wanting a direct confrontation, he pointed it towards the ground, the table hiding the weapon from the view of most of the other pirates and circus members. Off in the corner, Szimon’s eyes grew wide as he made a series of furious movements in Whisp’s driection.

“I’m fine,” Whisp signed back in the strange language of gestures known only to those in this particular circus, an easy way to communicate on stage while looking artistic and also a not bad method of either avoiding trouble or sometimes finding it - if their pockets and stomachs were empty enough.

Hondo clasped his hands behind his head, looking unconcerned. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said, lips quirking upwards as if he had just figured out some baffling puzzle. “Only warn you about my security system. But let us not talk of such things, as they disturb you and as my dear mother always said - “ Hondo raised a finger. “Son! You catch more apidactyls with honey. And if that doesn’t work, you can still catch them with a blaster.”

Not worth the fight. Not even sure I’d win this fight, Whisp sighed inwardly. Knowing when he was outmatched, or at least when to choose his battles, Whisp retook his seat with a muttered curse.

“Fine, then. What do you want from me?”

Hondo smiled. “Ah, now we talk business,” he shrugged. “Nothing much, my friend. And nothing - mostly - to do with your little traveling show. But the circus isn’t going to pay you forever and a man of your many talents - ” Hondo leaned forward, putting both forearms on the table. “Could fetch a pretty hefty payday if he found himself aligned with the right people.”

Whisp’s eyebrows rose. “Are you offering me a job?”

Hondo raised both arms. “Maybe, if you are willing to - “

“Hondo!” A large, burly man came barreling into the room. At once, the music stopped with a zippered rip of a holodisc jarred from its needle, pirates and circus members alike turning to the wide-eyed, heaving pirate.

“We got trouble out there!”

Immediately, Hondo came to his feet, blaster in hand. “What kind of trouble?”

“I think it’s the Republic! Looks like them, at least. They’re tryin’ a fall back to our compound!”

“We’ll see about that,” Hondo growled, raising his weapon. “No one takes over Hondo Ohnaka’s compound without my permission!”

—-

Blaster fire rang out from all sides, a multicolored lattice of deadly energy. To Whisp’s surprise, Hondo was near the vanguard of the pirates, shooting at the incoming wave of bright, white uniforms with terrifying precision. The pirates were good, Whisp had to give them that, the transition from unruly drunkards to semi-disciplined guerrilla fighters more seamless than Whisp thought possible.

“Any ideas?” Szimon asked next to him, the pair huddled behind a large boulder, just out of range of the real fighting. Whisp knew Szimon didn’t care one way or another about who won this particular battle - one of thousands Szimon had witnessed over the years. But their ship - their livelihood and home, not to mention only asset - lay just beyond the front line of what Whisp was pretty sure were the infamous clones. If their ship was damaged, or, even worse, destroyed - they were all done for.

Whisp took in the scene, applying his natural affinity for tactics that had been first discovered early in his tenure with Szimon, an awkward encounter with the Ruuthian mafia, a highly successful performance, and a jar of…requisitioned heeble eggs belonging to Ruuthian mob boss. It had been his quick thinking that had gotten them out of that mess, a plan so crazy it couldn’t do anything but work. From that point on, Whisp had earned the nickname, “The General,” much to his dismay.

Carefully, Whisp extended his senses, not only his eyes and ears but his other senses, the ones he kept locked away from everyone else - everyone else except his creatures. The creatures didn’t care what his status or title was, if he had succeeded or not, if he occasionally broke some moral law that had been branded into his mind as a child. The creatures didn’t judge - they had never judged and found him wanting.

It wasn’t good. For all of Hondo’s firepower, they were still in the bottom of a cereal bowl in the sandy crevasse, the clone troopers above holding higher ground as they advanced on the compound. It didn’t escape Whisp’s notice that the troopers’ blaster bolts were consistently going wide, aimed to injure or impede, but not kill. Some strange long-buried instinct rose in Whisp’s chest as he watched the men, sensing their similarities, down to a genetic level. Was he was supposed to be on their side? Supposed to be fighting with them, supposed to -

An explosion rocked the compound, bringing down metal, stone, and all kinds of debris on the pirates. Hondo barked out more orders, a line of men running to set up what looked like a short-range missile while the rest of the pirates resumed their firefight.

I’m supposed to be getting us out alive, Whisp fumed at himself. No more distractions. Szimon’s face was covered in dust and sand and for a moment Whisp almost laughed. The circus master looked the spitting image of the Great Lady Devonna in her full makeup.

“Are you alright, Szimon?” Whisp asked, helping the other man to a seat.

“I’ve seen worse,” he growled, swiping debris from tassled gold epaulettes perched on bright red shoulders like two Felucian retrine sparrows. “Just do something, Whisp, I’m not getting any younger here.”

Right. Whisp looked again at the fight, the positioning of the men, their ship. The pirates weren’t going to win an all-out firefight, not like this and Whisp had to assume there would be reinforcements coming sooner than later. It was now or…

Whisp frowned. They could wait for the clones to take over the compound and beg for lenience. But knowing the Republic, they’d probably confiscate the ship. And send them to prison. Besides, Whisp’s own presence might raise too many uncomfortable questions, ones he had no desire whatsoever to revisit.

So much for that idea, he rued, while surveying the scene. The clones were all faced towards the fighting, Hondo’s forces feisty enough to keep them fully engaged. There weren’t that many of them, not a full battalion, for certain, which meant it was likely Szimon’s ship was wholly unguarded and not even considered a threat, as it had no visible weaponry. If he could just…

Whisp closed his eyes, feeling for the familiar energies, the outlines of the creatures he cared for, from the smallest snitmouse to the largest morak. Yes, he thought, connecting his mind with the stampede creatures. They would never see it coming.

A moment later the earth rumbled, the fighting slowing to a small drizzle of blaster fire as the line of clones turned to the oncoming dust storm that hid the three moraks, now prodded on by Whisp, feeding off of his repressed frustration and anger with the representatives of the institution that had driven him to this life in the first place. Of the people who were trying, again, to deprive him of a home, of a place where he belonged.

Unaware the opaque cloud hid anything living, no less animals whose shells repelled most blaster fire - a well-kept secret known not even in the fancy universities on Coruscant - the clones fired to no avail as the moraks descended, sending bodies flying in every direction with desperate shrieks, the remainder of the forces too startled to return fire efficiently. Three bloody minutes later, the remaining clones ran, retreating, leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades as the only evidence of the failed ambush.

Cheers rose the pirates as they lifted their weapons in glee, somehow manifesting mugs of ale in their hands only a scant minute after they had been involved in a full-bore battle. Whisp slowly climbed from behind the rock, pulling Szimon up with him. The Thybaarian looked at Whisp as if it was the first time he had ever seen him.

“Was that you?” he asked, eyes trying to pierce through years of layers, of hidden secrets that were the only true skin of the man known as Whisp.

Whisp laughed, uncomfortable. “What? No, I mean - “

Szimon shook his head, still dazed. “I always had my suspicions, you know. Not just the creatures, although I’ll grant you that’s one hell of a trick.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I figured there was some reason you weren’t up with them in that fancy tower, figured it was none of my business, but now - “ Szimon’s eyes turned calculating. “This isn’t just some parlor trick, is it, it’s - “

Whisp backed away, palms splayed in front of him, as if trying to stop the words from entering his space. “No, I’m not. I - “ he looked around, wild, feeling just like one of his creatures, feral and trapped. He was going to lose his home again, once they found out, it was all going to be over. “I never - “ Something snapped, then crackled with inside of Whisp, like the breaking of an invisible, electric bone, sparking flying everywhere.

“I never was one, okay!” he yelled, stomping his foot. “Never was, never will be! That man - that child - died over ten years ago. This -” Whisp gestured angrily at himself. “Is what I am. Nothing. More.”

They had been certain leave Whisp with that message. Nothing more. Just nothing.

“A fascinating story, my young friend,” a low, baritone voice intoned from behind them. “I would be curious to hear more of it.”

Whisp spun around. The man was - there was no other word for it - regal, imperious, commanding the attention of every being in the valley, as he moved towards Whisp and Szimon, long brown cape billowing in the wind, deep violet outfit a perfect fit on his broad chest. Hondo’s troops paused mid-swig, ale running down their necks, and even Hondo himself craned his head forward to get a better look at the newcomer.

Fifty blaster rifles rose at once.

The man stopped, surveying the ends of the weapons pointed at him with a disaffected gaze. The compound held its breath, sinews tightening around triggers as an unworldly clarity came over the canyon, as if each atom, each sound wave could be made manifest as a physical, tangible reality. And then the man smirked, wholly unconcerned with his vast disadvantage in the situation as the world returned to its customary blur. Whisp and the others exhaled, noisy phlegm crackling up their lungs, dust tingling in their throats.

The stranger took an unhurried step forward raising one hand.

“You may lower your weapons,” he addressed the pirates, voice betraying nothing but absolute confidence. It occurred to Whisp then that the man had never been at any disadvantage at all. “I intend no harm,” he added in his deep, patrician voice.

Hondo took an equal, ambling step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He circled the newcomer, a hound sniffing for possible quarry, gazing him up and down, as if he were a incoming shipment of contraband. Then, after a moment, Hondo gave a nod, and the blasters summarily disappeared.

“My, my we are popular today,” the pirate began amiably. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…” Hondo gestured at the other man in question.

“I am here for three reasons,” the stranger announced, ignoring Hondo’s unspoken inquiry. “The first was unwelcome, but unsurprising. My ships were caught unaware, en route from a trade post in the Outer Rim to Jybosti. I carry the identification cards and manifest if you desire proof of my claim. The Republic forced our hand, causing us to land here and engage in an unwanted ground battle which regrettably involved your forces.” The man turned to Hondo, giving an apologetic gesture. Hondo answered with cool regard, his skepticism echoing through the enclosure. Whisp had to agree. No one just happened to go by a place like Florrum without reason. Especially someone like this.

Still, it wasn’t the stranger that had been one shooting at them. Maybe he was telling the truth. Or at least a part of it.

“Secondly,” the man continued, opening his arms, “I would like to thank you all for, how shall I say - “ He paused for dramatic effect, lifting his chin slightly. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a crowd, perhaps even better than Szimon. “Saving the day, however unexpected your heroics may have been.”

“Yeah, heroes!” One of the pirates bellowed, raising both his blaster and ale mug, several others echoing his enthusiasm with chants of “Heroes!” which quickly devolved into far less elevated rhetoric.

“And thirdly?” Hondo asked, after the raucous had died down.

“Thirdly,” the man drawled, turning his full attention on Whisp. “I would like to know further details regarding this young man’s story.”

Whisp’s eyes went wide as he took an involuntary step back. “There’s not much more to tell, I’m afraid,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. The words were automatic, a defense mechanism so perfectly tuned, it was nearly instinct. But the strange pressure that had been growing at the back of Whisp’s brain spiked with the lie, leaving a dark, velvet shadow in its wake, something immensely powerful yet a balm to his frayed emotions. It was something…

Whisp gasped, eyes locking with the other man.

It was something familiar.

The stranger smiled, all edges as he clasped his hands behind his back, addressing Szimon. “This young man is in your employ?” he asked, brusque, nodding towards Whisp.

Szimon straightened his jacket and his posture, already sensing a deal in the making as he slipped into tell-tale ringmaster persona. “Yes, sir, best creature tamer I’ve ever seen.”

“Interesting,” the man commented, drawing out the word. “And if he were to leave your employ, how would that affect your operations?”

“Well, I daresay it would be quite the inconvenience,” Szimon began, his confidence building as he fell into the familiar patter of a sales pitch. Whisp barely heard the words, disbelief rising like an angry, red ocean. Would Szimon really do this to him? Now? After everything?

“…so you see, unless I would be suitably compensated for my losses…”

The grey-haired man leaned forward and whispered something in Szimon’s ear. Szimon’s eyes went moon-wide, his mouth dropping open, words tripping from his mouth.

“I trust that would be satisfactory?” the man asked.

“I - ah - “ Szimon sent a half-apologetic glance over to Whisp, eyes gleaming with barely-contained avarice. “I think that would be more than fair.”

“Excellent,” the man articulated, ignoring Szimon’s half-gasped ‘thank yous,’ now directing his full attention back to Whisp, drawing himself up to full height. “And you, who are about to enter my employ. What is your name?”

So that was it. No offer, not even a perfunctory question, Whisp’s future once again dictated by the whims of others. Whisp clenched his teeth agains the injustice of his very existence. “Whisp,” he answered, barely keeping the venom from his voice, fists tightening into balls, nails digging into his palms.

“Your real name,” the man growled. Behind him, Szimon gaped, now looking on with unabashed curiosity, a faint patina of guilt oozing from his sweat-beaded forehead.

Long-buried memories, banished ghosts relegated to an afterlife he had not yet experienced rose in Whisp. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of emotions, of the sharp knives of betrayal, the deep pools of loss that threatened to overwhelm him. Had it been so long since he had uttered his own name?

Forcing a noisy breath between his teeth, he steeled himself, meeting the icy gaze of the other man, who considered him with keen, intense interest.

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

For a brief second, the Force surged in a strange, dark elation as the stranger’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction.

“And I am Yan Dooku of Serenno. Come, Obi-wan,” he said, putting an arm around Whisp’s shoulders, leading him away from the confused and quiet scene of pirates, of the doe-eyed stares of what had - for a brief, happy moment - been his family.

From one family to the next, always a visitor. First the Jedi and Qui-gon Jinn, then Bandomeer. Then clinics, then circuses, and now this.

With Dooku.

Something settled in Obi-wan’s gut, not unpleasant. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to open to the Force, wholly and without constraint. This felt right, more right than anything else had in Obi-wan’s life.

“Come,” Dooku repeated, voice warming ever so slightly. “We have much to do.”

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winterstorm032802 · 4 years

Text

Lightwarden

I made this myself, the name of my character is Nora so that’s what will be written. Enjoy, please recall this is a what-if situation not canon but has spoilers so read at your own risk

What if you became a Lightwarden?/Major Shadowbringer Spoilers!!!!

It had been done, taking Vauthry's Light and finishing it all. Nora couldn't stop it though, she fell to her knees in pain as the Light began to consume her. Alphinaud cried out "Nora!" Alisaie joined "Are you alright?" "The Light, she can't contain it" Ryne looked to the sky as Y'Shtola spoke "The sky! It's changing back!"

Ryne was right, the night sky changed back to the everlasting Light and Nora screamed. Alphinaud was quick to go by her side "Nora! Don't worry, we'll help you. Please keep it together" Nora opened one eye to see the Elezen and gave a strained smile "My friend, forgive me" "No! Don't please" Nora moved one hand to his face and put one hand on his cheek feeling the warmth "Alphinaud, I'll miss you. All of you, I'm sorry to ask of this but... Put an end to me, I'm asking you. As a friend" Alphinaud tried to get the Warrior of Darkness to stay awake as the Light blinded her vision "No! Don't leave us Nora!" Nora glanced at Thancred and nodded, he looked hurt but nonetheless he ran over and grabbed ahold of Alphinaud taking him away.

Alphinaud cried out and tried to get out of Thancred's grasp "No! Let me go, Thancred, damn you let me go this instant!" Nora shut her eyes tight and screamed, the Light she coughed and threw up as it overabundantly overtook her very being...

Hints of the Miqo’te showed but other then that she looked exactly as a Sin Eater does, her power coming off in waves. The power she held and taken from every other Lightwarden was massive compared to any kind known. Nora held a large Arcane Book, wings from behind expanding 10ft wide, her skin pale and her eyes devoid of color, she looked blankly at her friends. Nora turned to Alphinaud and even though her face showed no sign, her eyes looked sad "Alphinaud...I...love....you..." Alphinaud's eyes went wide upon hearing her words and he shouted "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! DON'T DO THIS PLEASE I BEG YOU! NORA I LOVE YOU! I ALWAYS HAVE! SO PLEASE, STAY!" Alphinaud reached his hand out to Nora but she turned away giving out a ear shrieking cry, Nora left...

The Light returned through all of Nordvant, Alphinaud stayed in his room exiling himself from all his friends, even his own sister. The Elezen refused to leave the room and upon doing so had stopped nourishing himself. Alisaie and everyone talked to him from the other side and served food which he ate. Yet the food lacked taste to him, Hells, everything lacked something now that she was gone. Alphinaud felt angry looking upon the Everlasting Light, when they managed to get to the Exarch he and Urianger told them what they had planned.

Alphinaud was pissed at both of them, he almost hit the Exarch and so badly wanted to shout and scream at them for their friends' life. The Exarch with Urianger and Y'Shtola went through ways to save their friend. Alphinaud gave up on answers or false hope, instead his mind dwelled on the past and what he could've done had he been stronger. Yet he wasn't. That's what hurt him the most, he isn't strong or smart enough to save Nora. The first few days of his were spent stuck in the Cabinet of Curiosity begging for some answers, upon no such of a trace, he stopped going and he abided to his room. Away from the world.

Except it never ended, Alphinaud would hear and see it all. He would hear her laugh as clear as day, he would see her mismatched dark blue and teal sparkling eyes and he would hear her voice speak to him. Yet it was for naught. It was pure torment, his mind playing mere tricks.

"Alphinaud, why do you hide away?" Alphinaud looked to see who he longed for, yet he knew it was never going to be real again. "Because your gone and I'm done with these games you play on my mind! Your a Lightwarden now! A-and I couldn't save you, nor could the others... Leave, I implore you to go" Nora frowned and stepped closer "Alphinaud I-" "I SAID GO ALREADY!" Alphinaud shouted and slammed his fist on his desk, breathing heavy he sobbed once more and fell to his knees "Just go... I beg of you..." With that she left, leaving Alphinaud to himself.

"Alphinaud, it's me Alisaie. May I come in?" No response.

Alisaie opened the door to see the messy room he kept himself in, which is to say the least an exact opposite thing he normally goes by. Usually she'd have a hard time seeing a speck of dust in his room but this was not that kind of thing he did. That's how she knew it was worse then she thought. Alphinaud's hair was undone and stuck out in different ways. "Alphinaud, I think you'll do better in fresh air-" "And see that damned Light sky? I think not" "Brother please-" "No Alisaie, I don't want to" Alisaie got annoyed, his response never changed "Alphinaud you need to face it, one way or another" "You think I don't know that? I'll have to face her again if she were to ever show up in the Crystarium with an army of Sin Eaters" Alisaie grabbed Alphinaud by his collar and dragged him out his room, he protested ever so. "This is for your own good, Alphinaud I know you're upset and sad but you must face it one way or another" Alphinaud stopped struggling and Alisaie took him to the borders of the Alphinaud where the barrier would still protect them. "Please, brother I don't like seeing you like this. We need you, I know it hurts and-- and maybe you wish to hit and scream at someone-anyone-but right now they need us out there" Alisaie watched her brother, he kept his head down and he let out a soft cry.

"I-- I miss her so much. I see her, every day I see the Warrior of Darkness... I never got tell her, to her face that I love her. Why? Why her? If only those damned Ascians wouldn't have done this, then she would still be here! Her laughter rings in my head. By the Twelve it hurts so much to want to turn around to look at her and yet she'll never be next to me once more!"

Alisaie's eyes pricked with tears and she sat next to Alphinaud "Sometimes I see her too, I miss our good friend. We all knew how you two felt for each other, sometimes I wanted you to get it over with and confess so I wouldn't have to see such a lovey train wreck as you two were none the wiser" Alphinaud looked at Alisaie and slightly smiled "Is that so?" "Oh very so Alphinaud, it was always a bore watching you stare at your precious Warrior. It's the exact reason Krile and I kept teasing you around her so often" Alphinaud chuckled and looked back down "Thank you, Alisaie" Alisaie sighed "Anytime Alphinaud"

Alphinaud gasped and sat up looking around he noticed Nora's presence beside him. Her dark blue and teal eyes opening she looked at him and smiled "Good morning h-- Huh? Alphinaud your crying, what happened?" Nora sat up and wiped a stray tear away and Alphinaud embraced Nora "Twas a horrible nightmare is all, one which I am glad did not pass" Nora hugged Alphinaud back and he tightened the hug, he feared it was going to end up that she would disappear and yet here she was. "Do you wish to tell me about it?" "You turned...the Light corrupted you. I couldn't handle it, I hated myself for it. But twas only a nightmare, something which never happened, for that I'm glad for"

#ffxiv #alphinaud x wol #alphinaud x wod #shadowbringers #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud x nora #what-if

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subtext-bycalvinklein · 5 years

Text

[you have probably already seen the first half of this because I am dumb and I posted it without making sure it was saved in full. I apparently am REALLY bad at making Tumblr work. Not that I am surprised by that, but still.]

Hi, I know, long time no see, I’m still a tinhat-wearing garbage-can who has no idea how to properly use Tumblr and English still isn’t my first language so kindly forgive any mistakes, but I’ve been on a good omens lockdown for the past two months and unfortunately I have Big Thinky Thoughts

The point is- book!Aziraphale&Crowley are very different from TV!Aziraphale and Crowley. But not in the sense that they’re different characters: they are the very same characters you see in the book, it’s just… They act differently. I’ve spent the last fortnight turning in bed, asking myself WHAT made them feel so different from the book and WHY it was. And then it hit me: the TV show characters operate under a system of beliefs that the book characters have already overcome. This makes sense, because while the book characters to me feel more settled and “static”, in the same way two old dudes who are just waiting for retirement have already grown into their skin and mostly know who they are, TV!A&C feel a lot younger to me, and we have the pleasure of watching their character as they develop, as they become more and more aware of who they are and what they want. Because THAT ultimately is the point: neither of them is really, completely AWARE of the point they’ve “gone native” up until the last episode.

I think it’s way easier to see in Aziraphale: in the book, he doesn’t shy away from bad deeds, he seems to acknowledge his “”“moral greyness”“” and the fact that his loyalty to Crowley overrides his loyalty to heaven -and that this isn’t something he is supposed to do, but his loyalty to the Arrangement is way more profound than his acquiescence towards heaven. His identity is not just formed around the fact that he is an angel: that’s just part of it, and that’s what makes it easier for him to be aware of his “bit of a bastard”. It doesn’t come as a surprise, for him, just as the spark of goodness isn’t surprising for Crowley. It’s just something they avoided talking about because, well, if anyone else had heard them, it wouldn’t have ended well. (But we’ll come back to this later on.) TV!Aziraphale, instead, seems to base almost all of his identity (what he consciously decides it’s his identity) solely on the fact that he is an angel: he HAS to be good, he HAS to do what is right. All those things he does that he knows are frowned upon in Heaven are quickly discarded, considered outliers, because they cause such great cognitive dissonance he cannot bear it. At first, he seems to be starting to question the Great Plan, but around the time Crowley comes asking for the holy water¹, he seems to realise fully how dangerous everything they’re doing is, and sweeps all of his doubts under a big, heavy rug of denial. Because it’s either that, or being wiped off the face of the Earth (and the whole creation) or completely losing his identity by Falling (because he wouldn’t be an angel anymore, and he’s based on this facet of himself like 99% of his identity), which is A Huge Effing Deal, especially since it’s the narrative of himself he’s been building for almost six millennia. So, Aziraphale has put in place a system of beliefs which says: God created Angels. God is perfect, and since The Almighty created Angels to be good, they are good. Therefore, I am Good, and I cannot be anything else. Does this take into account that “Good” is a broad definition that changes with the point of view? Nope. It doesn’t take into account, either, the fact that Heaven and Hell are, in truth, just names for sides, and not that different at all. Another mistake Aziraphale does it’s an attributional error: he thinks that everything good he does it’s because he’s an angel, and therefore supposed to be good, and expects other angels to be like him, when often it’s really Aziraphale *as an individual* who does Good Deeds.

Belief systems aren’t inherently Bad: they give us fixed points² in the sea of change, and it’s vital for us to have them. Belief systems become Bad the moment they don't serve their purpose anymore: that is, when instead of being helpful, they hold you back from understanding, from exploring possibilities. And that's what happens to Aziraphale and, to some extent, Crowley: they both cling to their beliefs even tho they're shown time and time again that what they think it's wrong, and they choose to cling to them because the alternative is to float in the sea of the unknown.

It is only once Aziraphale confronts the falseness of his beliefs (the moment he faces the Angels and they tell him they won't prevent the Apocalypse) that he is able, once and for all, to eradicate his belief system and integrate in a new sense of Self all of those traits he usually denied about himself.

What about Crowley, then? His belief system looks a liiittle bit more grounded in reality... Except not really. While, yes, he seems less bound to Hell, and justly distrustful, he doesn't fare all that better. It's just more tricky to recognise, because it's more about Crowley himself than it is about heaven or hell.

Book!Crowley, since the beginning, is literally a very tired, very old, very uncool entity who is just waiting to retire from a job he hates to spend his time tending to his plants and doting on his adversary-slash-bestfriend-slash-husband. He is pretty much aware of the fact that, while he loves mischief, he doesn't like actively harming anyone, is really repulsed by the idea of hurting deeply someone. He knows this, and knows Aziraphale knows this. He just doesn't like stating it out in the open because he is a paranoid bastard afraid anyone will overhear them -and rightly so, I might add, because, as stated beforehand, there will be Consequences. When Aziraphale tells him he is, after all, nice, he's resigned, because being nice doesn't make being a demon very easy. But that trait is already stark clear in his Self-image, and he acts accordingly.

TV!Crowley, tho? The moment he is dubbed "nice" literally explodes in anger.

This is not about "telling the whole blessed world", this is about Crowley not having the faintest idea he has the spark of goodness inside himself. He has convinced himself that since he Fell, since he is a demon, he must be Bad. And this, imho, is reflected in the way he takes credit for the Really Bad Stuff humans have done, as well: he is trying so bad to uphold the image of a Big Bad Demon, he tries to rejoice when people do bad stuff, even though it's clear he doesn't like it one bit.

And that's because if his and Aziraphale's belief system have one thing in common, is their trust in God: if the Almighty cast him out of heaven, there must have been a reason, and that reason is that, deep down, he isn't good. Crowley's self image is built all around that, as much as his acts of kindness probably end up mislabeled as selfishness³. And that is because he cannot accept that his Fall, something that still plagues him after six millennia, that has left him with such a scar that his plants take the brunt of it, was just over "asking questions". The punishment doesn't fit the "crime", and it's difficult, if not impossible, for the human, or occult, or ethereal mind to accept that sometimes events so painful happen for no reason.

It's imperative, then, for the dismantling of his disfunctional belief system, that he confronts the truth: there is very little inherently Evil within himself. And that moment occurs when a desperate Crowley talks to God Herself (Themselves? I'm not sure if the Almighty uses they/them or she/her, sorry) and admits that the only wrong thing he did was asking questions. From then on, he slowly becomes able to face his own spark of goodness, to admit it in his own Self-image.

In conclusion: while it makes sense that the book characters had their moment of acknowledgement in the middle of the action, as it's a truth they already knew from the beginning and, since they were about to face Consequences anyway, they might as well voice it aloud, it is just as apt for the TV characters to say it at the very end of the story, because for them it's a starting point to the rest of their existences: they finally fully know who they are and what they want, and they will start the rest of the journey with that knowledge.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, some of the swearing is censored not because I disapprove of it but because I don't want Tumblr to decide it shouldn't be posted in the tag and, as we've previously established, I'm really bad at this.

Footnotes and be thankful this is just the work of an evening of procrastination because I'm known for "making metas that require a bibliography" but I didn't have the time to check my social psy books

1: I might expand on this someday, but I actually have Thoughts on the whole "Aziraphale Being An Heaven-Abiding Angel" thing, and how it heavily relates to Crowley and Aziraphale's dynamic; the holy water break-up in the 19th century seemed a good milestone for the moment

2. Yes, I was thinking of the whole "fixed point in a changing age" thing from His last bow, and yes, my eyes got misty while writing it and I don't have any allergies to blame it onto. My brain is an attic and it's full of ACD Canon quotes and by this point I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted to.

3. This is heavy tinhatting but I honestly feel like he often tries to pass off his kindness as "I like this and I want this so I have to do something". The clearest example is: he feels that the whole world shouldn't be destroyed because it's unfair? Surely it's just because he likes living here, not because he cares, pfffftttttt

*saunters vaguely back to studying*

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #meta in pillole #not that there's much 'pillole'-ish in this #i have an exam in less than a week so i thought it was the right time to post another silly meta #fate l'amore non psicologia #like for realsies #ineffable husbands

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capblacksails · 6 years

Text

Honestly, why do I keep doing this to myself ???

Post-Canon. Silver-centered. John Silver is a lost man after having lost Madi. He goes to the only person he knows who understands his loss. And (un)surprisingly, here starts a journey full of love… (In short : It's +20 years of love(s). It's past hurts, and growth. It's tying Black Sails to Treasure Island, somehow. Includes also THE two scenes we've been robbed of in 4x10: James/John and Madi/John) (James/Thomas, James/John, John/Madi(past), James/Miranda/Thomas(past), Thomas&John). If this fic was BS soundtrack: It would be ‘Funeral At Sea’ I guess?

Read it all : FFnet / AO3

From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise)

I finally wrote it. I’ve been struggling with it for so long, even considered chickening out and making just a memo; but Madi deserved better, and so here it is. And now, I need a hug.

VI.

John excuses himself instead of stopping at their place for a card game after dinner. It's not in itself that unusual, but added to the off impression he had seemed to wear all day, and the fact that it's about 11 months that he arrived, James and Thomas can't help but think that it might be the anniversary of Madi's and their child's passing. And so James goes to check on him.

John is sitting outside, on the stairs before his door. His head is bowed down, forehead resting against one fisted hand, elbow on his knee, and James's heart constricts from such a sight: he doesn't think John is sobbing - he is too still for it; but his whole posture emanes utter despair. James approaches, making sure he makes enough noise in order not to spook John, then sits down next to him, elbows on his knees and hunched forward too, hands entangled. Only then does James notice the thin black braid of hair clutched in John's left fist, laced thrice around his hand.

John's eyes are still closed; and James can only hope the movie behind John's eyelids is the less horrible possible - even if it doesn't change a thing in the end, and if it is too horrible to comprehend anyway… James stays silent, until John finally inhales deeply once and then looks at him. John's face is tears clear, but his eyes are red-rimmed, and daggers to James's heart.

"Would you rather be alone? We thought you shouldn't be, but I don't want to intrude-"

"It's all right. I know you cherished her too."

"You could have told us."

"I didn't want to ruin your evening too. I was overconfident though apparently in my ability to hide it. I apologize."

"There is no need for it."

John sounds angry, even though is voice stays even, and James understands that his anger is directed inwards. "Yes there is. It's stupid. It's not like I need a date- What's about today that wasn't yesterday and won't be tomorrow anyway?"

"I understand."

John sighs: "I know."

James pursues: "And yet, it is so. Especially at the first mark."

"Well, I still think it's stupid. I'm stupid. (opening his palm, looking at the middle of it, where a tiny ribbon holds hair that is not Madi's tied to one end of Madi's braid) I keep locks of their hairs, as if they held answers I know they do not have; as if there was any strength to draw from them when I know there is none left; as if their hairs could even matter, when there is only forever their absence, and my responsability..."

James's heart breaks all over again. "It wasn't your fault. I know you came here because you felt you should be punished, but I just hope one day you'll realize that it wasn't your fault."

Still looking at his palm, John sighs; and it sounds empty. "You keep believing me to be greater than I am. I am not you, nor Thomas. I came here simply because you had promised me once you'd help; and I had believed you then. I was crying over their bodies, feeling everything and nothing, feeling hollow; and The Queen was holding me and calling me 'Son'; and the only thing I could think of, no matter how disgusting it felt, was (that it weren't her arms I needed around me - John had thought but would never tell - and) how relieved, just that once, I was, about knowing where you were - because it meant I knew where to find you. That's the ugly truth of it. I came here simply because I trusted you, and no other, to stop the pain, one way or another."

I trusted *you, and no other*, *to stop the pain, one way or another*.

James can't help but shout out, everything spiralling down, out of control: "John!?"

He realizes he just called John by his name; and it's strange, that a name that he so often hears in his own mind, and that has so often passed his lips while talking to Thomas, has never been heard before by the one it actually defines.

James can't exactly explain the reason for it. He knows it might have started from the military habit to use last names; both for commodity (for instance, how many Johns would be on one ship - probably a dozen...), and for distance, maybe (because why should anyone wish to get too close to ones one may lose - not every soldier was granted a long carreer...) - even if sometimes it ended meaning more than exchanging first names too somehow... There had been a few exceptions on the Walrus; but the crew had chosen them, and so at some point James just had had to finally abide by that fact, each time it had happened. But the thing is - James has never directly adressed John 'Silver' either... It went from 'you' (of course in the beginning James truly couldn't even want to address the bloody thief by his name), to another kind of 'you'... But why had James sort of stubbornly kept not using John's first name - no matter how close they had finally become? Was it because he wasn't sure it was his name to start with? Was it because he felt his not-naming as a talisman that would protect John, because he had lost all the ones he had called by their first names? Probably both?

But regardless how significant it might be, that he finally called him 'John'? Right now, it doesn't even matter. The only things noteworthy are that John had wanted to end it all - worse: might still want to end it all? - and that John had thought - hoped even maybe? - that James might be the one doing the ending?

John thankfully meets his eyes again. His voice is both low and away - yet kind, as if he wills to soothe James's evident panick. "I wanted to join them. Not even out of guilt. Simply because it was the only way to follow them and be with them... But I knew Madi wouldn't have approved…"

James is reassured by the use of the past tense. But he still can't help but feel not only incomprehensive but also downright angry (not offended; just angry - which means it really hurts) that John could even think - but he tries to convey only the first and not the second: "But how could you think I could - I would -"

John sighs. "I knew I had... mattered to you. But you could have grown to resent me since then, even hate me. I considered it a possibility. Not only for all I did on that island. Not only for having brought you here. But for letting Thomas in? Or even for Dooley, at the least? He was nothing but loyal to you and... It would have been more than justified. I would have understood."

"Dooley is entirely on me. I should have made some things much clearer to him than I did…"

John is angry now, once more; but this time, James feels the anger is directed towards him. "No. You were right; I wasn't thinking clearly. How can I have ever believed that Rogers would just be satisfied with the chest and let her, and us, go… I can't regret showing him the chest when I did - because he was going to kill her right then. But I wasn't the one who saved Madi. You were. You bought us time, and in that time… let's be honest and just say Madi got lucky. But Dooley is on me; along with those five men who went after you; and anyone else we lost there. I understand why you think I shouldn't blame myself about Madi; because that's what I thought while Madi felt responsible about our son. But do not fight me on this. Nor on what I did to you and Thomas. I know I do not deserve your understanding - and even less your support."

A boy. It had been a boy. James isn't sure John has wanted to share this information to start with, nor if he's realized his slip...

James allows his voice to carry now only his concern, and acceptation; no matter his will to fight John about his own responsability in the mess on that island - because things could have gone differently, if he had explained his plan to John before acting - and no matter his internal need still to break something at the thought that John ever considered -: "Well, no matter what you may think, you have both anyway."

John seems to register the words, then lets his eyes drop to his hands again. "I know…" It's no more than the ghost of a whisper, and it sounds shameful, and James isn't sure if he was actually meant to have heard it; but James feels grateful he could catch it nonetheless.

They are silent for a while. James is here to offer company and support - but either silent or talkative is to be John's decision. John has unlaced Madi's braid from around his hand, and is now slowly running it repeatedly through his right hand, from one end (the one tied to the child's hair, which he holds in his left hand along Madi's) to the other, eyes on his hands. Then he stops, opens his palm once more.

"She named him Mmɔbɔ - sadness. Had he been born alive, it would have been Fahodi - freedom; either boy or girl." (*AN1)

James closes his eyes. He feels one silent tear escape anyway.

"Madi died in her sleep. And to think I was relieved when she finally fell asleep in my arms… She had just been through so much… Last time the midwife had checked, she hadn't seen anything alarming. I don't think Madi knew - she wouldn't have left me without *something*… But when the blood stain appeared and kept growing, and I shouted for help and shook her, calling out for her… It all happened so fast, and I realized this only afterwards, of course, but... She was by then already gone. Her heart was still beating; but she was already gone."

James still can't speak. It's too profound, and too raw. Their boy. Madi. John's pain; then, now, and until his last day. John's honesty and trust, and not only about the facts. All that James has learned this evening… Maybe it's because John doesn't want James to have to wonder anymore about the worst of how it went. Maybe it's because John just needs to get some of it out, finally. But if it's the second? James will take it. He'd take it all; if only he could.

"The Queen wasn't surprised when I said I would be leaving. I couldn't be their King-to-be without Madi anyway. She understood. Kofi's brother (*AN2) will be next, I guess; Julius is at another camp."

James thinks they've reached the end of the tale, and collects himself. He has to get himself back under controle. For John. And for Madi, who would expect him not to fail John.

John isn't over yet though: "When the funeral came… I still didn't want to leave them. They were laid in, together, I had insisted, and the only thought I still had was that I belonged there too - with them. So I thought they should have a part of me with them, at least. You know how Madi used to tie braids in my hair? So I cut one of those and linked their hands with it. And then I took some of their hairs - because I didn't want them to leave me alone too; no matter how pointless it was."

And James can't address the rest, but this, he can help with. So James pulls at the three leather cords around his neck (loose enough to hang, but not loose enough to get past his head) showing to John the ring attached to them.

"See this ring?"

"I noticed it right away - I had never seen it before. It's Thomas's, right? I saw he wears one of yours that way too." (*AN3)

"Yes, it's Thomas's. But he gave it to me more than 15 years ago, not here. And when I thought him gone? It was the most sacred thing I owned. I was afraid of losing it if I wore it (*AN4), and afraid of losing it if I left it hidden somewhere. I ended keeping it in a dubbel-layered leather pouch sewed in the waist of all of my undertrousers, under the belts. Now, that's where I keep Miranda's favourite pair of earrings, the one jewelry she had told me we would never sell, no matter what. I was so relieved to find them in their usual cache after Charlestown... And those earrings were so meaningful to Miranda because - as I learned when I asked Thomas if he wanted to keep one for himself - they were Thomas's first gif to her. Memento's are indeed pointless, but for most people, they're necessary all the same. There are days you hate them, and days you cherish them; but most of all, days you just need to know you have them."

John nods. He takes one breath.

"Thomas doesn't though, if you still carry two earrings."

"He does too; his just isn't material."

"His Faith?"

"Yes."

"I envy him."

"That makes two of us."

(Silence.)

"We're of the same mind though... I carry them in a tin box in here", John says, pulling his shirt out of his trousers at his side and indicating a thick (most probably dubble layered too) leather pouch tied under his shirt, around his waist, by no less than five different ropes.

"I thought so. I didn't know what it was exactly you carried in it; but I thought so." John gives him a look, and James explains. "It doesn't show, don't be concerned. But I felt it, once: that time your crutch slipped on the mud."

John nods, and kind of shrugs.

They share silence again for some time. At some point, John laces the braid back around his hand.

"You should go back to Thomas."

James isn't surprised that John finally wills to be alone. He knew that moment would come. He tries though, unwanted fear creeping in and making it impossible to just let John on his own right now: "You could join us. You wouldn't need to participate in conversation. We could play dice or cards; just see you through the night…"

John meets his eyes, and the tone of his voice does feel like a promise: "I'll be alright." When John sees that James has understood what he meant, he goes on more softly: "I just need some time on my own."

And now that he feels reassured about John's will to see yet another day, James can't refuse him. He knows some things are better done in private.

So James nods, and John gets up. The hairs are still laced in his hands, and James knows they will stay there until he falls asleep - if he falls asleep.

James calls out back, somehow helplessly: "John?"

James realizes he's done it again. It shouldn't be a surprise though; once the dam is breached, what stops him from doing it again? And honestly... James realizes he likes it.

John turns back to him, and James meets his eyes dead-on.

"I won't tell you it will get easier; because it won't. But I can tell you you will grow stronger."

You have to.

For me, please, if not for you.

John's eyes seem to soften, as if, once more, to appease James.

"I feel slightly less angry at the world simply for still turning around lately, if that's what you mean."

When your world suddenly stops; when time, for you, has suddenly frozen - it hurts to see everything and everyone else just going on, indeed. James remembers that anger; how he had used to lash out at Miranda, because he had known she would understand, because he had known she would not only take it, but even forgive it… It had happened less and less in time; because James had come to realize how unfair it was to her - to force her to be the strong one of the two of them. Miranda had barely ever lashed out at him...

Nor John; but that's because he lashes out at himself. So. James knows it means that John still feels guilty, for even breathing - while they are gone; for any second of not-thinking-about-them he realizes has passed; for any stolen moment of joy, of respite; for laughing; for enjoying anything at all to start with… James knows that road is long, and reaching its end is not even an option. But John is now walking the path, at least…

"That's a start, then."

"I guess."

John turns and takes the few steps towards his door. He turns back though before opening it.

"James?"

So. John has noticed, huh... The warmth though that blossoms in James's chest at being addressed so by John is more than worth his slip. But it feels as if there is a true question in John's voice, along the call for attention, and James nods, signalling his consent.

"Thank you. For this. For everything."

"Any time, John."

And thank you, for having believed that old promise, and for having accepted my help, even when you didn't want to.

John nods once more. He turns. The door opens. The door closes. James stays, just a minute, in case the door would reopen. When it doesn't, he goes back to Thomas. The last thing he wishes after all would be to be able to hear John cry…

*AN2: what Silver doesn't know is that Kofi had another brother … who used to be Madi's first love(r)…

Madi before Silver, a headcanon :

1) The way she moves and looks at Silver, Madi is no virgin. (you can't not know what moment i mean!)

2) She is Queen-to-be. Her virginity feels important to her - not because it's something she feels pressured about by others, but because she is all about her duties. She wouldn't have done it with some meaningless dude just to get rid of it.

3) If you love Madi, it is just impossible to stop loving her, right !

CONCLUSION:

Madi's first love was one of Kofi's younger brothers (he had two younger brothers - she was with the 2nd born, the middle one). They loved each other since they were kids and well, as they grew up, it evolved. But then. He died…

AND BECAUSE I'M AN AWFUL PERSON:

He was wounded by white slaves hunters and died at the camp from his wounds (yep, like her dad (i don't call him mr scott) - i warned you, i'm an awful person). It's cruel but necessary that she saw him dead - because would he have been captured, of course, she would have moved earth and all to find him back :(

But what matters is: her first love died, killed by white men.

And then she meets Silver and loves him anyway - despite the colour of his skin. Can you imagine it ? The purity of her heart to start with, and the force of her love for him, to be able to see past what has happened ?

Oh look, I made myself cry yet again :(

* AN1 : What John doesn't say is that they had thought of 'Anidaso' (hope) for a second girl, and yes, 'James' for a second son… (They saw themselves growing into this happy family with cute kids and James and Thomas as neighbours after having helped them out and OUINNNNNNNNNNNNNN I'll never not cry about this :().

Also, I tried to trace the names from the show and found Kofi (akan), Eme (a lot of languages, but from Africa = igbo), Obi (igbo) and Zaki (arabic) - but I kept with Akan words, because Kofi was very close to the Queen and Madi, and I found 'Dwumadi', an akan twi word for action/activity, which fits Madi (much more imo than Madi being a variation of Madeleine of whatever…) so what if it was shortened in fact that way ? I realize akan names are normally not 'meanings' but 'circumstances' (ie second (etc) born, good year, born on monday (etc)); but I tried 'something'. Do not hesitate to tell me if it's just not to be done, I seriously do not mean disrespect or anything - or send me better ideas ?

*AN3 : Yes, of course, they kind of married (my heart :)) They both wear the ring around the neck - on your hands isn't handy when you work growing crops, so… (my heart :()

*AN4 : James wore it though, once - the only time the meaning of actually wearing it overcame the fear of losing it while wearing it (aka, as we all kind of agreed on, when he killed Alfred Hamilton). (MY STABBED AND FOREVER BLEEDING HEART)

Bury me with Madi and Mmɔbɔ. Bury me with Miranda. Bury me with John's and James's and Thomas's feelings. Just bury me.

#black sails #silverflint #long john silver #john silver #captain flint #james flint #from the embers of the shadows in our pasts a phoenix will rise #my two pieces of eight #silvermadi #flinthamilton #text #fanfic #madi #thomas hamilton

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