#fallen beyond good and evil

[anpcreates]

I wanted to share about my webcomic 's main protagonist/ main character since I did share about Lucifer (soon I'll share about Michael too ahyuck yuck yuck) but I'm sharing about Isaac in full detail here since AT LEAST TUMBLR DOESNT MAKE YOU REQUIRING PAYIN' TO HAVE LONG TEXT POST >:/

But anyway.

Before I begin, interested in the comic? Here's my official post on the description!

Lemme get to Isaac now ;)

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Name: Isaac Buckland

Nickname: Isa

Age: 27

DOB: 10/13/1997

Height: 6'1''

Physical Build: Fit w/ Muscle

Sex: M

Gender: Cis Male

Sexual Orientation: Bi Curious w/Feminine Preference

Romantic Partner: Rosemary Patélle

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Country of Origin: U.S.A.

Languages: English, Spanish

Species: Originally Human/Mortal, Devil/Archangel Hybrid

Occupation: Waiter, College Student/Med School Student

Alignment: Good

Religion: Previously Christian, Agnostic

Disability(s): Supposedly Schitzophrenic, Recovering Addict

Addiction(s): Recovering Meth Addict, Casual Smoker(Cigarettes or Vape)

Voice Actor: Johnny Yong Bosche (As Nero from DMC5)

Personality Trait(s): Kind Hearted, Gentle, Laid Back, Helpful, Caring, Selfless, Curious, Patient

Style: Punk Rock

Hobbies: Singing, Playing Guitar, Listening to Music, Exercising, Going to the Gym, Writing, Walking, Jogging, Hanging out w/Rosemary, Practicing Coping Skills, Designing Tattoos, Studying Things of Interest, Browsing Web

Coping Skills: Deep Breathing, Meditating, Mindfulness

Theme(s):

About: Isaac has always been known for being a kind and gentle person. He's always been easy going and level headed, trying to make peace of any confrontation or events that come his way. Isaac is also known for being helpful and selfless, always wanting to help others the best he can. With enduring many tragedies in life he's overcome, he now tries everything to maintain a stable and peaceful life, wanting to follow his dream of becoming a doctor and marrying his childhood best friend and fiancé, Rosemary.

When Isaac was born, he wasn't going to make it, born not crying, barely a heart beat or breath, having his parents prepare to lose his. Suddenly a miracle happened where he suddenly came back to life, letting everyone hear his first cry. It was unknown what exactly kept him alive, but he fought to live and low and behold did.

Isaac was diagnosed with schizophrenia at a young age due to having nightmares, visions, and "voices" he would talk to of the devil and archangel Michael supposedly talking to him. He would see visions of hell and heaven, angels and demons, and even claiming to see God himself. Concerning his family, he was treated for schizophrenia at the early age of 5, but oddly even with treatment like medications, the visions and "voices" didn't go away. In fact the older he got the more prevalent the supposed symptoms got. On top of the symptoms, Isaac became a SEVERE insomniac, rarely getting sleep making his struggle worse.

It only got worse when Isaac's father became diagnosed with cancer, dying when Isaac was 18, right around the time he was trying to get into college to fulfill his dream of becoming a doctor. The tragedy having Isaac even more of a mess, thinking even more irrationally, turning to drugs to be able to cope and get through school. Luckily his family and girlfriend helped him get help, sending him to rehab helping his have a new lease on life.

Despite still struggling with his "schizophrenia", Isaac learned even better mental health care and coping, making sure to focus on rebuilding his life.

As Isaac turned 27, finishing his last semester before medical school, his symptoms came back with a vengeance, trying to push it back as nothing new, Isaac meets a man in all black coming to tell him "it's time he learns the truth about himself and who he really is". Isaac of course thought this was just a crazy stranger, but soon Isaac learns the truth.

Isaac didn't just survive his day of birth as a random miracle, he was meant to die, but was also having his new born stolen by a powerful, rogue demon, known as Samael, where he was saved at the last minute having Lucifer, the devil, and Archangel Michael come to save his soul from Samael's clutches and plans. This in turn corrupted his pure and mortal new born soul to become tainted by their opposite essences bringing him back to life as a hybridization of what was thought impossible to exist. All this time, Isaac wasn't schizophrenic, seeing just random religious psychosis, his powers as a corrupted hybrid between the devil and archangel Michael was trying to manifest and awaken.

Isaac as his powers and true identity finally begin to unleash and manifest, learns he must help both the forces of hell and heaven stop Samael from his plans to create an artificial apocalypse to become the new God of existence destroying everything.

======

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS 😭 TOOK FOREVER TO TYPE

[a-hermit-pining]

LADS Men If You Turn Evil

AN: istg I keep getting all these ideas while working out 💗

Pairing: Lads boys x gn reader

Genre: DRAMA

Summary: after eons of nurturing the world with fragments of your heart, you learn the truth. Every death, every rebirth, burns in your heart. And now you want to burn the world.

(I do not own these characters)

Rafayel:

He looks at the destruction around him, the fragments of a broken city, the wrath in your eyes.

You pace the room, your steps unyielding to the passage of time.

He has been awake with you for countless nights, his ears filled with the cries of his kin, burning, drowning in the boiling seas.

He tugs at your arm, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers threading through your hair.

"Why can I not be at peace?" you whisper, cupping his cheek. "All our enemies have fallen, but why is there no relief? Who else must I seek to bring us justice?"

"It is my fault... I should have prevented this," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I should have never allowed it to come to be."

To watch you fall was his fall. To witness beauty drain from you was his failure. He has you back, but at what cost?

"But I will make things right," he whispers, pulling you closer.

"No more pain."

A gasp tears from your lips as his dagger pierces your back.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt, your blood soaking into his hand. "How dare you…" you seethe, your rage flickering even as your strength wanes. "I should have—"

Blood gurgles in your throat as he pulls your head against his chest, his shoulders trembling.

He would rather bear your hatred than lose your soul.

The cries of the world fade as a new one begins to take shape.

But all he can hear now are his own ragged sobs as he holds your cooling body.

Xavier:

"You have lost your mind!" Xavier’s voice is sharp, his fury barely masking the horror in his eyes.

He looks down from the castle walls, your castle now. Below, corpses rot on pikes, writhing with maggots.

Philos will never come to be. The world has already shifted on its axis.

You pin him to the wall, leaning him over the edge. "You will not talk to me like that, Xavier." Your voice is quiet, but the weight behind it is absolute. "This is my world. I may do as I please. It would do you good to listen, to stay as my consort, not the crown prince of Philos."

His breath hitches as he stares at you, searching for something, hesitation, remorse, restraint.

But you are resolute.

Your eyes soften at his distraught expression. Gently, you pull him back from the edge and release your grip. "Do not let this drive a wedge between us. I do not wish to lose you...I’ve only just remembered you." You press a kiss to his lips, warm, fleeting, achingly tender.

"This is merely a necessary cleansing," you murmur, as if explaining the weather. "A precaution, so the world understands the new order. So all who bled me for ages finally know what it means to bleed."

And so, bound by love, Xavier became a puppet to your wishes.

He waited for the new world you promised, sought desperately for the salve to soothe the wounds your changing forms left in him.

With time, he learned to ignore the mangled bodies outside the capital. The sunken faces beyond the castle walls.

He learned to be happy.

Zayne:

He never stands idle.

Not even at the first signs of your fall. Not even when the shadows lengthen, and the world begins to crumble at your feet.

He does everything he can to undo the damage.

He is a doctor, ridding people of pain is his purpose.

He funds revolutions, smuggles food and medicine, seeks to turn your heart away from vengeance.

But he does not leave you.

Not when you’re hurting. Not when the weight of the world fractures your soul. He stays, doing all he can to hold the world together before it collapses entirely.

For the first time in years, he prays to Astra.

He begs his god to aid the world.

Until you find his secrets. Until you strip him of the power you once gave him.

You lock him away in a tower, bound to you. And then...then, true helplessness sets in.

He watches his betrayal fuel your madness. Watches as your fury, once directed at tyrants, turns upon the innocent.

In the frozen chamber, you loom over him, his knees pinned to the ground by the weight of your power.

"Do you wish to leave me, Zayne?" Your fingers tilt his chin upward, forcing him to meet your crazed gaze. "Tell me, do you wish to escape?"

He does not flinch. His neck is littered with the climbing scars of his evol, of his futile resistance. It is all a proof of the turmoil within you, that settles upon his skin. He knows it better than any.

"No." His voice is steady. Resolute. "I wish to stay next to you."

He means it. Earnestly.

Even if your presence comes at this cost, he is willing to pay.

He has never wished to abandon you.

Not even at the cost of himself.

Sylus:

You are his moral compass.

So when you fall, he falls with you.

There is nothing to stop you both.

His days are spent treasuring the reality of having you back, of having your love.

And if the cost is the world, then let it burn.

The core in his eye revels in the doom. It rejoices in the love that blooms within you, in the hunger that consumes you both.

It is fulfilled.

He is fulfilled.

He does not make you ruler of just the Earth, he crowns you sovereign of the universe.

After all, he has always been willing to kill and die for you.

Devoured by your bloodlust, he kneels.

Your consort. Your ruin.

He is content in this fall.

Caleb:

He is your sword.

The day you pledge destruction, he is the hand that pulls the trigger. No questions asked.

He is content, more than content, being the only one to receive your love.

The world had it coming. To condemn you to such pain was their undoing.

He bleeds millions to warm the world that once sought to devour you. He has no mercy for those who cower beneath your gaze.

He has your love.

But why, then, does his heart fall at the sound of your hollow laughter?

Why can he not bring himself to burn the memories of the past?

Why has he kept your hunter’s gear, carefully stored away in his rooms?

He so dearly wishes to keep you pleased. But he knows, this destruction is not born of greed. It is the consequence of centuries of pain.

And no matter how much blood he spills, it will never ease that pain.

No matter how many bodies pile beneath your feet, he cannot bring back your joy.

That was stolen, broken, snatched by those who now rot in unmarked graves.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

ao3 // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

For @firelightinferno

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

[metamorphesque]

I love dissecting Frodo's ("Lord of the Rings") personality and character arc through a Jungian lens, even if only as an amateur.

The One Ring, as an external object, represents the hidden darkness within all beings. It does not simply impose evil from the outside; rather, it reveals what already exists within, amplifying the ring bearer's deepest, often unconscious, desires for power, control, or survival. I see the Ring as both the Collective and the Personal Shadow in Jungian terms — a manifestation of the darkness that resides not only in individuals, but in all of Middle-earth.

By carrying the Ring, Frodo is in constant confrontation with his own Shadow — the hidden, darker aspects of the self, which Jung defines as "the thing a person has no wish to be". His journey, to me, is the psychological equivalent of undergoing Shadow work: he is forced to look into the abyss of his own nature, to confront his potential for greed, corruption, and even cruelty.

Unlike (my dear) Boromir, who denies his own susceptibility and is thus consumed by it, Frodo is well aware of his vulnerability. He knows what the Ring could turn him into, which is why he resists the temptation to use it. He has glimpsed the depths of his Shadow and understands its power. Because of this, he refuses to arm it. He knows that once he hands his Shadow a weapon, it may never let go. Thus, both in the books and in the movies, Frodo has not killed anyone. Professor Tolkien makes sure to remind us of it in "The Scouring of Shire".

Yet true individuation does not come from merely resisting the Shadow but from integrating it — acknowledging its presence without being ruled by it. This is the essence of Frodo’s transformation.

At the beginning of his journey, his understanding of morality is simplistic: good vs evil, deserving vs undeserving. He believes justice is about giving people what they “deserve". We can see this in "The Shadow of the Past" of "The Fellowship of the Ring".

'What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'

But as he carries the Ring (undergoes the shadow work), he realizes that the line between good and evil is not external — it runs through his own soul (subconscious).

By the time he returns to the Shire, he has changed in ways that make it impossible for him to reintegrate.

His final refusal to kill the ruffians and Saruman (in "The Scouring of Shire"), even after Saruman tries to stab him, shows the full "glory" of his transformation. He could act in anger, but he knows that doing so would only feed the very Shadow he has spent so long confronting. He has seen the full potential of The Shadow (both collective and his own), and thus, he does not wish to "entertain" it but arming it.

‘All the same,’ said Frodo to all those who stood near, ‘I wish for no killing; not even of the ruffians, unless it must be done, to prevent them from hurting hobbits.’

But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground. Sam drew his sword. ‘No, Sam!’ said Frodo. ‘Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it.’ Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. ‘You have grown, Halfling,’ he said. ‘Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.’ "The Scouring of the Shire", "The Return of the King"

Frodo has ventured deeper into himself than most ever will, and though he has integrated his Shadow, the wounds remain. This is why he cannot stay — his journey has taken him beyond what the Shire represents.

Jungian individuation is the process of becoming a whole, integrated self — embracing both the conscious and unconscious aspects of one’s being. Frodo reaches this stage, but at a cost: wholeness does not mean happiness. His burden has re-shaped and changed him irrevocably, and though he has gained wisdom and knowledge of his "full" self, he has lost the ability to live as he once did.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

"Appropriate" responses to the Gaiman issue

TLDR: This isn't a Rowling situation, be wary of internalized purity culture.

He's a predator. I'm glad a proper journalist followed up where police have failed (and possibly given victims a better footing for future charges).

But I have a problem with the knee-jerk responses targeting the fandom.

Just to clarify, I'm not talking about insulting The Predator. This is about how you treat people who have/do/will enjoy the stories that unfortunately came into the world through his keyboard.

Fans aren't intrinsically evil/uncaring for continuing to participate in associated fandoms.

This is not another Rowling situation. Why? Let me clarify. The consequences of consumption are very different. Rowling is ACTIVELY using her popularity and income as a creative to target one of the most vulnerable minorities in the world. Buying official merch/books/movie tickets prove to the powers that be that she remains a good investment, so they'll give her even more money. This perpetuates the cycle - new movie/book deals, more income, more hate, rinse and repeat.

The push to avoid Rowling's work in full is driven by the fact that she has FACED NO CONSEQUENCES and is still powered by her creative properties. It's fandom/consumers trying to bring justice.

Gaiman, on the other hand, knew he was doing bad shit on some level because he kept his abuse hidden. His status and reputation let him get close to vulnerable fans and essentially intimidate authorities from going after a celebrity. He is FACING CONSEQUENCES. I would personally like to see criminal charges brought against him, but that's out of the fandom's hands. Things we could've influenced (his Disney deal appears to have gone to shit, he's been booted from the truncated final season of GO, and there's no news on Sandman 3) are already in motion. If his publisher doesn't drop him, I'd say avoiding his future works is beyond valid (I certainly wouldn't buy them). But I'm going to watch the new season of Sandman. And once I've taken time away, I'll probably finish my active fics.

"Judging" people who still enjoy his work stems from good intentions that grew out of the fetid ground of purity culture rhetoric.

Writing fanfic and enjoying shows that are already made do not make people soulless accomplices. The idea that unproblematic stories by saintly creators are the only things you're allowed to enjoy is not only flirting with censorship, but it's also impossible.

If you think people should have nothing to do with Gaiman's works, you better throw out anything Weinstein touched. That includes Jackson's LOTR trilogy, FYI. Also, anything his company officially produced (which still gives him money in some cases) should never, ever grace your screen. That includes some of the better Stephen King adaptations, The Orphanage (which was a breakthrough Spanish-language film in Western markets), The King's Speech, The Imitation Game, Woman in Gold, Paddington, and It Follows.

If you aren't willing to publicly announce your "disappointment" in anyone who continues to enjoy any of those films, then kicking up a fuss over how other people process and interact with problematic content from a fallen celebrity who is in the process of getting his dues is pure hypocrisy.

Personally, I'm maliciously complying with Gaiman's famous quote about how once a story is out there, it doesn't belong to the author anymore. Well said, Predator, these are mine now, and I shall fuck about with them as I see fit.

Attacking or snobbishly looking down your nose at the fandom also erases YEARS of beautiful critique and thoughtful exploration of existing, acknowledged problems in works like The Sandman.

People in these parts already know how to handle complex issues in complex pieces of media. Gaiman isn't our god. His canon is not our bible. He didn't teach us morality, as is apparently the case for a lot of people who grew up reading Rowling's works as a child.

If you have a problem with the censorship comment I made, I'd like to point out at least one writer friend is LEANING INTO the fandom as a way to process their own trauma. Suffice it to say they survived a very similar situation. They see it as empowering to take the stories away from the abuser and use the characters/settings to make something new.

I get the ick. I have it right now. But I'm not burning every copy of his work I own (full disclosure I have... *checks shelves* a copy of Neverwhere and The Sandman series). Doing so is totally valid, and if that helps you process and feel better - go for it!

But this is not the same as Rowling and the only ones you hurt by declaring your "judgement" is a complex group of individuals who are able to enjoy fiction, remain aware of potential social consequences, and found a place that doesn't align with your black/white morality.

With that said, judge away! I better not see any stories from Charles Dickens, anything in anyway associated with the Weinsteins, Nickelodeon shows, Charlie Chaplin references, or Francis Ford Coppola films touch your feed. If you scratch the surface, you'll find more things to judge others for enjoying, and they will inevitably find something to judge you for, too.

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessional until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? ��Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡ 

More Church AU here!! Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

[arcane-vagabond]

Call the Nightingale: Prologue

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: As princess of your kingdom, you have always been raised to do what is best for your people—trained in the art of diplomacy and how to make decisions. You see no reason why you cannot govern your kingdom on your own, but your father has decrees that you should take a husband. Suitors have been sent from the different kingdoms surrounding your own, but you have no intention of choosing any of them. You’ll let them think they have a chance, squabbling amongst each other for your hand, but you’ll show them all that you are a force to be reckoned with and taken seriously. (Medieval!Knight!AU)

Chapter CW: Death of a parent, World Building. Nothing too serious beyond that.

Word Count: 837

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Blog Rules || Writing Rules

Once, you had believed the stories. You had been a little girl when your mother told you the story of how your kingdom came to be.

“The lands we rule, sweeting,” she had smiled, dimples creasing her cheeks, “were once the home of gods. Gods who ruled our people, and not too long after, they began to dwindle in numbers—marrying human spouses and producing children that little by little became just like the people they ruled. From these gods come the noble families of Maverick. The blood of the old gods still run through their veins.”

You listened with rapt attention as she wove stories into the air, just as she wove and embroidered the tapestries that hung the halls of the palace you called home. You watched as your mother, the queen, walked the halls with her head held high and each step taken in grace. You’d heard whispers from the courtesans and servants that your mother was a nymph from the sea past the cliffs who’d fallen in love with your father. She left her home in the sea to live by his side, a noble queen for a powerful kingdom.

Once, you had believed in love. You watched the soft gazes your mother gave your father, the way the crinkles around his eyes would smooth as his eyes landed on her, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You watched as they danced, laughter echoing the room as they gazed adoringly at each other, seemingly unaware of those around them. You dreamed of a love like that, of what your future love would look like. Would your husband be handsome? Strong? Would he look to you for guidance as your father did with your mother?

Once, you believed in happy endings. Your mother spoke of the great heroes who conquered the reigning evil, the monsters falling where the hero’s sword pierced their heart. She spoke of the women who aided the hero in his quest, reminding you that without the knowledge of women, the hero was doomed to fail.

“It’s their strength,” your mother had said one day, “that keeps a kingdom from falling apart during hard times and a people humble during the good.”

You stared at her with curious eyes, not quite understanding her meaning. She smiled at you, and you took a step towards her, stopping as the room began to spin. Your mother let out a shocked cry, lurching to catch you as you fell. Her hand felt cool as it cradled your face, and you let out a quiet whimper as she instructed her lady-in-waiting to fetch a doctor.

You don’t remember how long you were sick for, but it felt like years as the fever ravaged your tiny body, your muscles aching as your lungs struggled with each breath. Through it all, your mother never left your side, her worried eyes never letting you out of her sight as she held you in her arms. You vaguely remember your father coming and going, hushed whispers exchanged with your mother as his own worry seemed to age him. You awoke one day, fever having broken, to the rays of sun brushing against your face. Your sickness seemingly cured, your nursemaids called after you as you raced down the halls to find your mother, but it was too late. Your mother was buried only days later, on a hill overlooking the sea from which she had come.

Your father’s eyes seemed dull after that, often staring at nothing as he lost himself in thought. It was a while before he smiled again, and even then it never quite met his eyes. You did your best as his only child, throwing yourself into your studies once you were old enough to understand what was expected—no, needed—of you. You learned the art of diplomacy, studied law and battle strategy, all while learning how to conduct yourself as a proper lady within court. Your father’s courtiers and advisors insisted you reside yourself to playing the part of the helpless princess, doomed to be married off to the highest bidder or whomever would make the most advantageous match.

“You must think of the man that will replace you, my king,” Aldred, one of the oldest advisors, had murmured to him one day. You had been walking past the throne room when you heard their conversation, and it had made your blood boil. Why should a man sit upon your father’s throne? You were his blood, his only child and heir. You were more than capable of ruling the kingdom as his daughter. It wasn’t right, and you would make them see that. You didn’t need to sell yourself to the nearest man in order for the kingdom to remain great and prosperous, no.

Once, you had believed the stories. Once, you had believed in love. Once, you had believed in happy endings. Now, you were grown, and you would carve your own path. One that did not require you to submit.

A/N: Well, we're off! Friendly reminder that I don't do taglists (please quit asking). You can, however, follow my sideblog: @arcanevagabond-library and turn on post notifications to be alerted about when I update! You can also find my fics cross posted on AO3 under arcane_vagabond.

[kakashi-fangirl-ita-blog]

WHY when someone says "I love Angel Dust and his story and how his character was portrayed" there's always the haters who go "BuT aNgEl Dust is a BaD rEpReSeNtAtiOn1!1!1!"

I DON'T CAAAAREEEEEEEEEE

Also it's a bad representation… TO YOU?!?! I have some media literacy and I completely understand how is character is portrayed. His story and his behaviour is MEANT to make people uncomfortable, not every victim is the same. You only like victims when they act as you like (Angel Dust did act like your prototype of victim in episode 4, but I guess you erased that part for your personal grudge) by crying and showing all the time how their situation affects them in a passive way.

Angel Dust is not like that because his situation doesn't allow that and because his personality simply isn't like that. He's not passive about what happens to him, he always reacts in different ways.

And his situation doesn't allow him to be your type of victim because he is bound to be a victim of his abuser due to their contract. He can't behave like a victim at work, but he does when he's alone (as shown in episode 4 or in the mv Addict).

People saw one person talking bad about Angel Dust (and Hazbin Hotel in general) and followed like sheeps with no brain and critical thinking of their own. Going around saying that Angel Dust's story and relationship with Valentino is not realistic enough…

While their relationship is INCREDIBLY realistic???

Going beyond the contract of the show and the work relationship, Angel Dust and Valentino's relationship is the perfect representation of couples where there's a controlling abuser and a victim who can't escape him for different reasons (manipulation, isolation, economic violence, ecc…).

ALSO it INFURIATES me when people say "Valentino shouldn't have been good looking and attractive because, since he's evil, he should be ugly and him being charming means romanticizing the abuse"

... NO?!?!?!?

That's literally the whole point??? The fact thar Valentino is attractive is ESSENTIAL in Angel's story because it shows that it's absolutely NOT true (even in real life) that good looking men are always only good and ugly men are bad. ON THE CONTRARY, a good looking man is usually a vain self-centered narcissist who's the first one to manipulate their partner to keep them chained up and deprive them of their freedom (AND GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO ANGEL DUST?)

I swear, y'all complain thar "he's not realistic that a victim gnegnegne" and then you say that am abuser should only be ugly. Do you have the brain of a 4 years old who knows nothing about the real world and thinks that everything is like a fairytale or what?

It's EASY to fall in the trap of the charismatic attractive guy, because it lures EVERYONE, not just in romantic terms.

This is the realistic story about Angel Dust and about many other victims, fallen in the hands of a narcisistic, controlling and possessive partner.

[kisses-in-the-void]

"Though of immensely smaller native power than his Master, he remained less corrupt, cooler and more capable of calculation. At least in the Elder Days, and before he was bereft of his lord and fell into the folly of imitating him, and endeavouring to become himself supreme Lord of Middle-earth. While Morgoth still stood, Sauron did not seek his own supremacy, but worked and schemed for another, desiring the triumph of Melkor, whom in the beginning he had adored." (c) Morgoth's Ring

So, as long as Mairon had Melkor by his side, he, at least in part, remained the person he had once been before the fall — less corrupt, less chaotic, and someone who valued order and coordination over mindless destruction.

And indeed, I can’t remember a time when First Age Mairon acted purely on emotion. He was very cruel, yes, but his actions were driven by logic and gain, not by impulse. There were moments when he was truly awful, like with Beren and Finrod, when Mairon sent his werewolves to attack them and devour their companions. Or when he wanted to capture Luthien to get a reward. Or when he deceived Gorlim, lying about his wife being alive to extract information from him. But it wasn’t mere sadism on his part; there was always a clear, practical reason behind it

Unlike Melkor, whose hatred and nihilism drove him, Mairon was, at first, a different kind of villain. His violence was calculated, never gratuitous.

But later, when he was on his own, he began mimicking Melkor’s more chaotic nature, especially in Númenor, where he sank so low as to perform human sacrifices and became obsessed with vengeance, all while his only goal was to bring the kingdom to ruin when a wiser approach would have been to kill Ar-Pharazôn and claim Númenor for himself.

It's like he lost a part of what originally made him who he was.

Of course, Tolkien didn’t want readers to think that Melkor had a positive influence on Mairon or made him better, far from it. Once Mairon became Melkor’s lieutenant, he was no longer the Admirable Maia he had once been in Aulë’s service, and the world knew him as Sauron, the Abhorred. But it ties into the idea that the more power you hold, the more inevitably corrupt you become. In Tolkien’s view, Mairon was less evil than Melkor because, as the subordinate, he wielded less power and served another rather than himself.

And after losing his master, Mairon spiraled even further downward. His original obsession with order, planning, and coordination began to fade, overtaken by an all-consuming desire to hold on to power, his sole focus from then on.

It’s very tragic, he's a fallen angel who started with good intentions (or at least believed them to be) but succumbed to darkness, ignoring every chance to turn back and becoming a tyrant. Melkor’s arc is tragic too, and their shared story remains a tragedy, even as platonic "master/servant" type of dynamic in canon.

But we can take it further and turn it into romance, and then their story becomes something else, something almost majestic. Mairon couldn’t forget Melkor or break free from his influence, even millennia after his master was gone, beyond any reach. So he stepped into his place, becoming "a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice", even going so far as to claim himself "Morgoth returned". Maybe he wasn’t fully aware of it, maybe it wasn’t intentional, but it’s easy to interpret it as him missing Melkor so badly that he began to seek to literally become him. Because it was the only way to fill the void inside him, to soothe the ache in his heart. But in the end, he only destroyed himself with his own hands.

It’s just… everything about it screams how awful and twisted it is, but I can’t help but sob and think — yes, it’s horrendous, but it’s also fascinating. It’s a love that doesn’t inspire you to change for the better when you have it, nor does it allow you to heal after you’ve lost it. Instead, this feeling and this loss will ravage you, leaving you hollow, devastated, and doomed. But it’s still powerful, it’s consuming, it's an unbreakable force, a bond that ties you to your partner for eternity. And I can’t stop thinking that it’s beautiful, even in its darkness. It’s not something you’d want in your life, yet you still feel drawn to it — to this passion, this hunger, this tragedy.

[anghraine]

One thing about the Jackson films that bothers me deeply is that they are uncritically upheld as being full of "positive masculinity." Excuse me? This is the series that has Faramir ordering his men to beat Gollum, Aragorn cutting off the Mouth's head, & Gandalf beating up Denethor on multiple occasions (& kicking him into the pyre!). Sam's meanness toward Gollum, while understandable, is never questioned as it is in the book. Frodo is delusional to pity Gollum. Killing is fun, & mercy is silly.

Belatedly, I do agree. I get that the Anglophone media landscape can feel so saturated by absurdly reductive representations of masculinity that what the films do inherit from Tolkien in terms of emotional expression, friendship etc can feel revolutionary. But the films make a lot of minor and major adjustments to transform the story's visions of masculinity to something more conventional and particularly more violent in a way that is often endorsed by the narrative, or at least framed as an understandable if unfortunate exigency of war.

I once pointed out that Aragorn killing the Mouth of Sauron, an ambassador—however distasteful—is something that essentially operates on the worst kind of superhero logic, a sort of good vs evil righteousness-justifies-the-means thing. It's really glaring when based on a book where the character closest to the author is like "it's one thing, however regrettable, to fight to the death to defend ourselves and our people, but morally, evil deeds beyond self-defense cannot be justified by a righteous cause, not even lying to an orc."

Tolkien's version of the Mouth is an evil Númenórean sorcerer who, while he cannot really contend with Aragorn in a battle of wills, is nevertheless a person of the same kind and general capabilities who chose to serve Sauron. The way that the films use design to literally dehumanize the Mouth, to wholly distance him from the heroes he's literally akin to, and justify straight-up killing him although he poses no personal threat, because he's ugly and evil and (evilly) taunting them so they're mad and it's cool—yeah. It's not really that far removed from Gandalf clobbering Denethor being framed as a bit comedic and a bit cathartic, and seems part of a pervasive ethos of the films that seems to have completely fallen out of discussion of them.

I think we especially see this with the handling of not just my main faves, but Frodo, who really suffers in this more conventionally masculine framework. I often felt like the films want the real protagonists to be Aragorn and (to an extent) Sam, and Frodo feels a bit like dead weight from fairly early on. Adorable dead weight, but still, Tolkien's Frodo especially feels like a challenge to this kind of narrative ethos that the films are just not really up to handling.

It's not that everything about masculinity in the films is Terrible Actually, but I do think there are some unfortunate patterns like the ones you mention. And I'm constantly being recommended videos and posts about Aragorn (or others, but mostly Aragorn) as this unproblematic ideal of masculinity where I'm just ... yeah, no. He is interesting to me, including in the context of masculinity specifically, but I absolutely cannot buy the ideal positive masculinity thing.

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (15)

Chapter Fifteen: The Calvary Has Arrived

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: It all comes down to this final fight on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Chapter Warnings: Limited (Y/N), swearing, canon-typical violence, injury descriptions (blood, cuts, blacking out and bruising, loss of limbs, choking), needles and injections, Hemlock being extra cruel and evil, detailed torture and pain descriptions, mentions of self-sacrifice, begging and heavy angst, reader has a bit of a low moment, death, 'fixing' a death, I alter how the hangar fight goes ever so slightly, the Force and medical supplies suiting my needs, happy endings with nice emotions and light PDA

Word Count: 15.8K (Terribly sorry)

Author's notes: It's here! It's a rollercoaster! And Jen and Brad, we all know how it really went, okay? Happy reading!

Night had fallen by the time Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair had made more progress towards the base but even then, it was slow going. Patrols had increased and Wrecker’s injury was affecting him far more than he would like, they kept needing to stop to attend to it.

“Ow.” Wrecker complained as Hunter stuck him with another med patch.

“Did you think wrestling that creature was a good idea?” Crosshair snarked.

“At the time, yes.” Wrecker replied stubbornly.

“The base is five klicks away. Can you make it?” Hunter offered his hand out to Wrecker to get him back on his feet.

“Ha. Try and stop me.” Wrecker responded as he grasped Hunter’s hand.

Hunter waited a second to make sure the coast was clear before he led the way again.

--

Hemlock worked on drowning out the persistent blaring alarm as he walked down the corridor. His lack of success with you and Tech should not matter. He had enough to know how this squad operated. He still had everything under control. He stopped in front of the oncoming patrol group. “Guard the vault until the security lockdown is lifted.”

“Dr. Hemlock, one of the insurgents has been captured.” Scorch informed him.

Hemlock followed him down the side corridor towards the cells.

--

Hemlock opened the prison door to see a familiar face. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand as he entered the room. “Aligning yourself with insurgent clones…” He sighed, “Not a good look, Rampart.”

“You’re surprisingly calm, considering this secure and secret facility has been compromised.” Rampart said with a cool countenance. “I can’t imagine the Emperor will be pleased about that.”

Hemlock wasn’t about to let this failure of a man get under his skin. “All that time you spent on Kamino, yet you learned nothing about how clones think. I knew Clone Force 99 would eventually attempt to recover Omega and their Jedi. Their failure is inevitable.”

“The Jedi, I understand. But all this for the young clone too. I fail to see how she’s of value to you.”

Hemlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, this fool didn’t understand. “What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire, it makes me indispensable. Unlike yourself.” He waltzed out the cell.

--

“The longer this lockdown continues, the higher the chance you’ll be discovered.” Emerie advised cautiously as Echo kept working through the system. “We need to move. Now.”

“Why can’t I find any record of the vault Omega’s held in? Or this different cell you were talking about.”

“These databanks are heavily encrypted. The vault and the cell are several levels down. Hemlock keeps them under heavy guard, but I can get you inside.”

Echo unplugged and reattached his hand as he faced Emerie. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I was wrong about this place. And-” She inhaled sharply, “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

The sincere way in which she spoke allowed Echo to view her in a new light. He gave her a respectful nod before he donned his trooper helmet and signalled for her to lead the way.

--

“You want us to do what?” Eva double checked as Omega finished telling them the plan.

“It’s how we’re going to escape.” Omega reminded them.

“But it sounds dangerous.” Sami said worriedly.

“My squad I told you about? They’re here. If we can get out of this room and find them, we can all go home.”

“What about your friend?” Jax asked.

Omega had to push you to the back of her mind, as much as it pained her to do so. “My first objective is to get you all home first.”

Home. The word felt so foreign to them now.

“You really think this will work?” Eva asked softly.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Omega promised. “I’ve been trained for this. Let’s get into position.”

Doing as she said, each of the kids took up a seat at a different table to wait on Sami’s signal that they were clear to start.

Sami looked up at the window to see Dr. Scalder step away which was when she tapped her puzzle piece on the table.

Omega readied her tool as Jax and Eva approached the supervising droid.

“My game is broken.” Eva held the device out to the droid. “Can you fix it?”

Omega snuck up behind the droid and stabbed the droid’s power centre. The three of them manoeuvred it into her cell where she could get to work on reprograming it.

Eva and Jax kept an eye out for Sami’s signal and Eva saw the Pantoran knock over the stack of pieces which only meant one thing, “Dr. Scalder is on her way. Hurry.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Jax asked as Omega seemed no closer to getting whatever it was that she needed to do to the droid completed.

“Yes, but not on this type of droid.” Omega hissed as she hurriedly worked on the wires in the droid’s main control panel.

--

Dr. Scalder entered the lab and asked the specimen still at the table, “Where are the others?”

Sami stayed silent and held Bayrn close to her.

“Sp-39, I asked you a question.”

Sami pointed behind Dr. Scalder as she saw the three of them approaching.

“We w-were with the droid.” Eva said quietly, her head hanging in automatic submission.

Dr. Scalder sighed in exasperation. “Another scan wasn’t scheduled. Tell me what you were really doing.”

“Eva’s telling the truth.” Omega said calmy as the droid drew closer to Dr. Scalder. “We were with the droid.”

“Dr. Karr has been too lenient with you all. Return to your alcoves. A few days of isolation should remind you-” That was all she got to say before a needle pierced her skin and she fell unconscious.

“It worked.” Sammi gasped as Bayrn released a few happy babbles.

“You did great.” Omega praised. “Now, we have to hurry. Droid, guard the door. Sami, prep the sling for Bayrn.”

Omega dashed into her room and used her tool to get under the first panel before she could tear the rest down. Turning to the others and seeing that Bayrn was now secure on Jax’s back and Eva had her doll strapped to her, Omega asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Jax confirmed.

Omega led them into the walls as part to of their escape was underway.

--

Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair paused again as another ship passed overhead.

“He’s gonna need another med patch.” Crosshair advised Hunter as he heard Wrecker’s strained grunt and the way he kept bringing his hand to his chest.

“We’re out.” Hunter said regrettably. Seeing Wrecker so hurt was a rare thing and it made the decision to carry on forward to Tantiss that bit harder.

Wrecker got to his feet with a groan. “I- I can make it.”

Hunter and Crosshair shared a concerned look, but they followed in their brother’s insistent footsteps through the jungle yet again.

--

Emerie led the way to the vault, with Echo walking a few paces behind.

Echo took in the corridor awash with red beams of light. “The kids who are held in here, where’d they come from?”

“The Empire used bounty hunters to retrieve them. Their genetic material was required for certain medical testing. I didn’t know about them until recently. I couldn’t help them. Until now.” Emerie paused by the vault door.

“Well, how do the two of them fit into all this?” Echo asked as he thought about you and Omega. “These kids, are they like-”

“I believe they could be, yes. As for Omega, she’s vital to Hemlock’s main objective for the Emperor. Project Necromancer.”

“And (Y/N)?”

“Hemlock wanted her blood for the same purposes as these children, but he also had ulterior motives that his focus has shifted more towards. He stopped taking her samples a while ago.”

“Shifted to what?” Echo asked warily.

Emerie swallowed, “He wants her to join his operatives. He thinks he can… condition her the same way.”

All of what Emerie said made his blood run cold. “Don’t like the sound of that.”

--

“Everybody good?” Omega asked to the group behind her as they all squeezed along the path she had found to their destination.

“Bayrn’s getting restless. H- He won’t be quiet for much longer.” Jax warned.

“Don’t worry. Things are about to get very loud anyways.” Omega stopped and peered through the slats in the wall and saw that the Zillo Beast and the number of personnel watching it was still the same as what it had been when she’d first came upon it. “Wait here.” She removed the grate and sneakily clambered out and made her way to where the controls that were keeping the beast contained were situated.

However, just as she reached it and was determining which buttons did what, she heard Bayrn’s wails echo throughout the chamber, and she knew she had to hurry. She sussed out what controls would get her what she needed and when the button lit up and she pulled on the lever, she heard the winning sound of the system powering down.

As the troopers rallied to try to contain the now very awake and active Zillo Beast, she darted back and hid with the others in the wall once more and had the joy of watching her plan come to fruition.

The chaos and destruction that unfolded was something she knew Wrecker would be proud of.

--

Emerie opened the main vault door but was taken aback by what greeted her. “What’s going on in here?” She inquired as Dr. Scalder was escorted past- groaning and clutching at her head. But what concerned her more was the intense conversation occurring between Dr. Hemlock and Scorch.

“Omega and the specimens have escaped.” Hemlock informed her, rage simmering in his voice. “Due to Dr. Scalder’s incompetence, they exploited a weak point in within the walls. She will be dealt with.”

Just as he said that there was an intense rumble that shook the entire facility and the lights flickered off and on again.

“The Zillo’s loose in the containment level.” Scorch revealed as the information came through his comms.

Whatever was happening had not been what he’d anticipated, clearly, he’d been wise to seek the information from you and Tech, it was just an unfortunate setback that he had been unable to acquire it but no matter, he was still in control. Now that he knew Omega was out, he could go back to what he already knew about their ways. “Shut down the reactor and send a diversion to secure the transport hangar.” Hemlock said sharply. “Check on SP-42, Dr. Karr. Then find Omega. Consider your fate now tied to hers.” He exited the vault.

“SP-42?” Echo murmured, already knowing and fearing the answer.

“Yes.” Emerie confirmed quietly as the other troopers departed. She waited until everyone else left before she spoke to Echo in a louder voice, “I don’t understand. Where could the children have gone?”

Echo may not have understood a lot about the goings on in Tantiss but there was one thing about this that he did know for certain. “Omega. She released the Zillo.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s exactly what I’d do.” He replied with a cheery sense of pride. “She’s splitting their numbers and creating a diversion. Come on.”

The two of them jogged out of the lab and Emerie led the way to you.

--

Echo followed Emerie as she took another sharp turn down a corridor and then opened a set of doors that led to another small, tight corridor with a door a few metres down.

Emerie rifled through one of the compartments in the walls outside the cell and took out your lightsaber which she clipped to her belt before she grabbed the proper medkit. Then, she grabbed a small set of keys from her person and cautiously opened the door, “(Y/N), it’s Emerie and Echo. We’re here to get you out.”

Echo’s mouth went dry as he saw you for the first time since Teth and he took in the dirtied and blood-stained uniform. It was definitely better that he found you like this instead of Hunter but even then, he was still having to steady his own breathing.

“Emerie, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but you’re supposed to stick me with the needle before you say things like that.” You croaked through dry and cracked lips as you kept your eyes shut.

Echo took in the mix of fresh and fading bruises on your face and the way your body was racked with exhaustion. Emerie’s prior information did not even come close to accurate- this wasn’t conditioning, it was torture. “You just allowed this to happen?” He questioned angrily as he snatched the key from Emerie and strode over to your slumped form.

“Oh, now that’s good. He almost sounds like him.” You complimented with a weary sigh.

“I didn’t mean to- Hemlock- he was-” She stopped any attempt at defence because no matter what, she’d played a part in this. “I did what I could to help her.”

“Open your eyes and look at me.” Echo implored as he undid your chains and took off his helmet.

“No.” You whimpered. “It’s a trick. It’s always a trick.”

“It’s not a trick.” Echo reassured you as he rested both hands on your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

“Echo doesn’t have two hands.” You said, aggressively shaking your head as you kept your eyes tightly shut.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.” Echo pleaded. Time wasn’t on his side here and he needed you back with them.

He sounded so real; you couldn’t help yourself. You slowly opened your eyes and took in the familiar face and the eyes that were filled with worry as they looked at you. “Echo?” You whispered; your tone filled with uncertainty.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You’re here? This is real?” Even though Omega had told you this would happen, you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully believe it.

“It’s real. And the others are on their way.” He confirmed with a small reassuring smile.

You flung your arms around him and as he returned your embrace, you already began to feel more alive than you had since arriving here.

“Come on, we gotta get you on your feet.” Echo supported you as you shakily stood up.

“Where’s- where’s Omega?” You said through gritted teeth as your body protested the movement. You knew she had a plan of her own but with Echo and Emerie here, you had to wonder why she wasn’t with them.

Emerie gave you a round of E-bacta shots to get you closer to the level of fitness they needed you to be.

At the first injection, you automatically flinched away from her and into Echo’s side.

Emerie paused and chastised herself for being so thoughtless. She held up her hands in a pacifying gesture and apologised, “Sorry. It’s just bacta to help you heal quickly.” But she waited for you to give the okay before she went any further.

You regarded her suspiciously and made no moves to allow her to carry on. You were on edge, just waiting for the familiar effects to set in and for this to all come crashing down around you.

Echo felt your body go rigid as you leaned into him. He’d never seen you like this and it unnerved him. He was so used to seeing you remain unphased, no matter what came your way. Whatever torture Hemlock had done to you had left far more than physical marks. “I saw her grab the med supplies. She wants to help.” He reassured you gently.

You glanced at his face but saw honesty and so you nodded to Emerie to continue.

Once you were more relaxed, Echo answered your question. “Omega’s already helped us out. Her plan to release the Zillo Beast has worked very well so far. Their forces are a bit stretched and frantic at the moment.” He informed you proudly.

“Oh, she’s brilliant.” You murmured with affectionate admiration.

Echo nodded in agreement as Emerie finished tending to you.

“Hey, wait a minute, you do have another hand?!” You gawped before wincing as the final injection entered your skin- the pricks were still a painful reminder of what you had endured here.

“Not exactly the time for that.” Echo reminded you.

“We cannot linger here. We need to keep moving.” Emerie agreed hastily as she put the medical supplies away.

You nodded sheepishly. “Yup, you’re right, you’re right. Keep that for later.”

Echo picked up his helmet and put it over his head. “Can you walk?” Echo asked.

You rolled your sore shoulders as you took a steadying breath and nodded. “The bacta is working. Let’s go.” You called on the Force to help you find that extra bit of strength as you all exited the cell.

--

The three of them stopped again and Crosshair used his binoculars to scan ahead. He saw a squad of troopers with lurca hounds and everything he’d been trying to supress since arriving back here came rushing back. His hand trembled and his breathing came to him in short pants. He couldn’t do this. His brothers couldn’t do this; he wouldn’t let them. “They’ve got heavy patrols guarding the perimeter with lurca hounds.”

“Told you we should’ve brought Batcher.” Wrecker joked feebly, groaning in pain and bracing himself against a tree. He noticed the helmeted looks of concern that were sent his way from both his brothers. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m fine!” He insisted through another groan.

“No, you’re not.” Crosshair disagreed strongly. “Change of plans. You two, head to the communications array and try to contact Rex.” He drew his sniper rifle. “I’ll infiltrate the base myself.”

“Not happening.” Hunter objected.

“Yeah, we’ve handled worse situations than this. Countless-”

“Wake up, Wrecker.” Crosshair snapped. “Clone Force 99 died with Tech.” His voice dropped slightly, “We’re not that squad anymore.”

Wrecker and Hunter reflected on that for a moment and Crosshair was right, they weren’t, it was true. But they’d become something more, hadn’t they? Something that meant far more than just a squad title for a war effort. And Tech, alive or dead, was a part of that too.

“I’ve been inside that mountain. I know what we’re up against. If we all go in, we’re not all making it out.” Crosshair continued. “(Y/N) and Omega need you both. So, I’m doing this alone. It’s- it’s what I deserve.” He said, almost to himself.

Hunter wasn’t going to accept that or even entertain the possibility. “Don’t even think about Plan 99, Crosshair. They need all of us, and so do those clones.” He stood facing his brother, so he knew, even with his helmet on, that he meant every word.

“We’ve always known the risks. And so did Tech.” Wrecker placed a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder.

The sounds of the lurca hounds in distress got their focus back and Hunter looked through his binoculars just as the hounds were running away from their handlers.

“What’s going on?” Wrecker asked.

A deep banging and screaming of dying troopers answered his question as the Zillo Beast emerged from the base with a piercing roar.

Crosshair knew that could only be the result of one of three people. “Whose handiwork?”

“Omega’s.” Hunter and Wrecker said in unison.

“If she’s giving us a way in, let’s not waste it.” Hunter said before setting off towards the base again.

--

Satisfied that it was safe to emerge, Omega removed the grate and led the way over to the ladder that ran up the entirety of the base.

“You want us to climb up t-that?” Jax asked nervously.

“The Zillo got out this way. So can we.” Omega replied but she saw a familiar but fearful reluctance on Jax’s face. “What’s wrong?” She asked kindly.

“I’m not good with heights.” Jax admitted. “I- I guess I’d make a poor soldier.” He said shamefully.

Omega’s eyes softened. “My brother Wrecker hates heights too. And he’s the strongest soldier I know.” She touched Jax’s shoulder in reassurance, “Just stay focused on what’s ahead, not what’s below.” She waved them all over and led the climb up the ladder.

--

“The Zillo breached the bay doors and fled to the jungle after wiping out two full divisions of troopers.” Scorch said as he entered the control room. “We need reinforcements.”

Hemlock kept his hands behind his back but clenched his covered hand into a fist. “Send the shuttles after the Zillo.”

“But, sir, without air support, the rogue clones could exploit our weakened defences.”

“Of course they will. Do it.” Hemlock strode out of the control room.

--

Hemlock entered the training room and powered up the system. Even though he hadn’t wanted to use them just yet, the situation called for it and it was time they had a true test. Even though they’d only come up against you, Hemlock had no doubt that they were ready and could get him the results he needed. He watched with a dark smile as they emerged from their capsules.

He said nothing to them yet, he just motioned for them to follow him out but as he did so, he was interrupted by Scorch again.

“Sir, the Jedi has escaped.” Scorch told Hemlock. “Should I send a squadron to look for her?”

Hemlock massaged his gloved palm harder as he felt that rage flare up again but then a remarkable sense of calm overcame him, and a new idea emerged from the clarity. Perhaps this was the way to go after all. “No need, Commander. Send a squad to accompany the operatives to the hangar bay and when she is found, I want her alive. I want all of Clone Force 99 alive.” He nodded to his soldiers to leave for the hangar.

Now, you all would do the work for him.

All he had to do was wait.

--

The three of you waited until the corridor was clear before you followed Emerie around the corner and down towards another door.

Emerie slid her datapad into the panel and programmed the door to open, but it only opened a fraction before the system shorted out.

Echo peered through the gap and saw the wreckage ahead. “We’re on the right track. Omega definitely came through here.”

“And went where? How are they getting around unseen?” Emerie asked.

Echo followed up path of chaos up the way. “What’s at the top of this shaft?” He moved out the way so Emerie could look.

“It leads up to one of the transport hangars.”

“Any chance you know a shortcut?” Echo checked.

Emerie nodded and made to leave the area.

You didn’t follow them, instead you puffed out a short breath, “This isn’t going to work.”

Echo and Emerie paused and looked back at you.

“I can’t stay with the two of you. The fact we haven’t been caught yet is incredibly fortunate but the longer I’m with you, the more likely it is that’ll happen. We can’t risk either of you being discovered.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Echo asked.

“You two can go find Omega and those kids, I’ll find Hunter and the others.”

“You don’t know the way.” Emerie pointed out.

“Sure I do.” You motioned through the gap in the door. “Just follow the mess and head straight up, right? I can get there quicker than you can now that I’m free and feeling a lot better.”

“There will be soldiers and you’re not 100%. And there’s no clear way through either.”

“I’m a lot more capable when I’m not bound and tortured.” You argued pointedly.

“It’s still not a viable-”

“Echo…” You tilted your head in his direction. “Please tell her.”

Echo nodded to you and then spoke to Emerie, “She can do it. Plus, you won’t really be able to stop her. There are only two that could, one of them is somewhere in this base and the other is doing his best to get here.”

“He’s right. You’ve helped heal me and I think you’ll find I can be far more stubborn and irritating when I’m not in a permanent state of pain.” You said with a simple shrug.

Emerie sighed but conceded the matter. The debate wouldn’t get them anywhere and, thanks to the bacta, you were on the mend. Plus, you had skills that would aid you in this task. “Very well. You’ll need this.” She handed you your weapon.

You took your lightsaber from her with a nod of thanks.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to stop him.”

You offered her a slight smile. “Well, you did stop me bleeding out that one time so…”

Emerie wasn’t about to let you let her off the hook so easily. “I should’ve done more.” She repeated seriously.

“You’re doing more now.” You said, dipping your head in acceptance of her words.

Echo rested his left hand on your shoulder. “Be careful.”

You placed your own hand on his upper arm. “You too.” With that, you used the Force to widen the gap in the door and hurried through it.

Echo and Emerie began their more traditional route.

--

You took in the levels of destruction ahead of you and you had to hand it to both Omega and the Zillo Beast, they definitely didn’t do things by halves.

Calling on the Force, you jumped to the next highest safe point you could reach, and kept that going when you could, climbing quickly when you couldn’t, and the hangar was drawing closer by the minute.

You knew it wouldn’t be long before you saw them again.

But you also knew it would be far from over when you reached them.

--

Blasters drawn, the three of them had managed to reach the transport hangar and sneak their way in. The entire hangar was decimated, with bits of it’s interior now reduced to piles of scrap metal. Fires were dying all around them.

Just as Hunter was assessing the situation, he dodged the blaster bolt aimed right at his head.

They all took cover behind some scrap metal and looked ahead at the emerging squad of troopers.

“What now?” Wrecker grunted.

Crosshair was the first to peer out and he saw the stormtroopers but that wasn’t what unnerved him. The sight of four operative soldiers standing on a pile of wreckage is what alarmed him. They couldn’t handle this.

“How many?” Wrecker asked as he saw Crosshair press himself back against the scrapheap.

“Too many.”

“W-we can take ‘em.”

Crosshair steadied his shaking hand. “No we can’t. Not in your condition. We need to fall back.”

“Crosshair-” Hunter tried to argue, not trusting that Crosshair was planning.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you.” Crosshair placed a sticky bomb on the end of his rifle and fired it at a fixture hanging over the main area of the transport bay.

As they began their retreat, the troopers starting firing on them and advancing towards them.

They could only be on the defence as they fired back.

--

You heard blaster fire above you and- breathing hard after the strenuous climb- with one final jump, you reached the ruined transport hangar. Some wreckage blocked your path but you used the Force to push it out your way and the sight that greeted you had your stomach lurching. Troopers were everywhere and, although you had been blindfolded the entire time, you knew the four armoured soldiers making their way through the hordes of soldiers were the operatives Hemlock had pitted you against and were what he wanted you to become. You knew yourself that you still weren’t ready for this type of combat, but you couldn’t do nothing.

You took a revitalising breath as you centred yourself and blocked the lingering pain you were feeling from your mind before you ignited your lightsaber, the shining blue blade giving you that added strength you needed.

With a Force-aided leap, you sailed over the heads of troopers and placed yourself between them and the clones behind you.

--

For a moment, time stood still.

Hunter stopped falling back as he heard that familiar ignition sound and his head snapped towards the source and his breath caught in his throat as he saw you.

It was you. Standing in a soiled prison uniform but in a wash of blue light that stood out from the ember flames was you.

However, something was off as you blocked the blaster fire and struck down the troopers around you. Your movements weren’t quite as fluid or easy as they typically were. You moved stiffly, almost cautiously, and it was obvious to him that you were hurting. He could only let the worst imaginings take hold of him as he thought about what had happened to you and his blood boiled as anger raged through him.

Hunter got a hold of himself and fired at a trooper that was taking aim for your back.

At the sound of a body dropping next to you, you turned and followed the path the shot took, and sharp gasp left your throat.

Everything else around you slowed down and faded into the background as you caught his helmeted gaze. The paint, like his brother’s, had been stripped from his armour, but it was him. He could wear a hundred disguises, decorate his armour in a hundred different ways and you’d know it was him. You’d know him anywhere.

Time swiftly righted itself swiftly again once Crosshair’s bomb went off, shaking the already weak integrity that remained of the hangar. The entire room trembled.  

You cut through the final trooper before you turned off your saber and jumped over the falling ceiling beam. You saw the top of where the hangar bay doors used to be begun to collapse which threatened to block their way out and so you called on the Force and held the structure in place. You could buy them enough time to get out and then you could follow.

But you sensed the oncoming threat a second too late.

One of the larger operatives tackled your waist and you both went sliding along the floor.

--

Hunter and Wrecker watched as the once steady structure started to fall once more. Clearly, whatever help you were providing was no longer available. Now, the approaching gunship was their main concern.

Hunter shoved Wrecker out of the line of fire but the resulting explosions behind him threw him across the room where he clattered into a heap of wreckage and the knock-on impact from the blast saw more falling pieces land on top of him. Darkness engulfed him.

Crosshair killed the pilot and began to run over to the two of them.

Wrecker dashed over to where his brother had fallen, “Hunter!” He removed the metal and picked him up, but he didn’t get very far before a weighted bolas wrapped around his legs, causing him to trip and drop Hunter.

Crosshair caught up to Wrecker, holstered his sniper rifle, and took the vibroblade from the side of Wrecker’s leg and worked on cutting through the rope but he saw another operative heading straight for him. He wasn’t able to draw his blaster in time. The blow landed and sent him careening backwards.

Wrecker couldn’t do anything to help his brother either. The operative that had tripped him up and hit Crosshair now towered above him and pressed his electrostaff straight into the gash in his chest and the pain was excruciating. His entire body was engulfed by the electric current and he didn’t have the energy to fight against the man above him or the hurt anymore, it all got too much, and he succumbed to the darkness.

Stars danced in front of Crosshair’s eyes as his back hit against another piece of debris and his head snapped back against the metal, but he saw that Wrecker was in trouble and he made himself stay awake as he searched for his weapon which he saw a few metres to his right. But his attempts to grab it were thwarted instantly. Crosshair groaned as a foot stamped down on his wrist before he could reach his blaster.

CX-2 caught the vibrosword from his counterpart before he looked down at the pathetic form beneath him, “You should be more careful with your shooting hand.”

Those were the last words Crosshair registered before he saw the blade descend and he felt a deep, searing pain and his sight went black.

--

You and the operative that had attacked you had been engaged in a fight all on your own whilst that had all gone down.

The operative had gained the upper hand in the tussle and your lightsaber had escaped your hold in the struggle.

Right now, you were doing your best to stay conscious as the operative straddled your chest and wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing hard.

You powerfully facepalmed the underside of his chin so his neck whipped back, stunning him for a second but it was a much needed second.

With that second, his hold on your neck loosened and you were able to remove his hands from you. You pushed him off you and to the side of your body where, with a ragged breath, you got to your feet.

You stomped down hard on his stomach as he attempted to sit up. With one hand, you used the Force to keep him flat on the ground- his futile struggles spurring you on. With the other hand, you called your lightsaber to your it and activated your blade as you swung it down…

“Stop.”

Your blade hovered over the operative’s chest as you angled your head in the direction of the recognisable voice. Your breathing left you in short, uneven pants as you glared at him.

“Surrender or his head goes next.”

Your mouth went dry as you saw what the operative from Pabu was talking about. Crosshair’s shooting hand had been cut clean off and now the long vibroblade weapon was resting over his neck.

“Put your weapon down, or they all die.”

You scanned for the other two and saw another operative standing over Wrecker with an electrospear pressing down on what appeared to be an open chest wound and Hunter lay limp and unmoving on the ground.

The only reassuring thing about this situation was that they all were still breathing. Unconscious, but still alive. And that’s how you wanted to keep them.

You clenched your jaw and ground out a defeated breath as you disengaged your weapon and released your hold of the soldier beneath you.

Your operative got to his feet and snatched your weapon from you and, with a hard punch to your jaw, took your arms behind your back and held your wrists together in a strong and unnecessarily tight grip.

You were too dazed to do anything to resist it.

They moved you all out and back into Tantiss base.

--

Omega reached the top of the level that led to the transport hangar. As they’d all drawn nearer, they had heard the sounds of blaster fire, but it had all stopped now. She only hoped that meant Hunter and the others had gotten through.

She headed off for the hangar bay, the children following behind.

--

Echo and Emerie exited the lift and made for the but both of them slowed as they saw a group of operatives go down the corridor.

There were three soldiers unconscious on hovercrafts.

You were pushed along behind them, your arms held securely behind you by one of the soldiers, a fresh purple bruise on your jaw.

Emerie glanced at Echo and even with the helmet on, she could tell he was worried, “Is that the rest of your squad?” She asked as they all rounded the corner.

“Yeah.” Echo said, his voice low. “Where are they being taken?”

“I don’t know. But Hemlock will keep them well guarded.”

“I can handle that. But we have to find the children first.”

Emerie waited a second in case he wanted to change his mind. She could tell his mind was still with all of you, but he was pushing through for the current objective. “The science hangar is up ahead.”

--

Omega guided the others into the room and took cover by a crate as they all took in the destruction. Whatever had happened here wasn’t solely due to the Zillo Beast anymore- a firefight had occurred here too.

“Do you see your squad?” Eva whispered to Omega.

“Not yet.”

“Hey! You don’t belong here. Call it in.”

Omega jumped to her feet and started to back away from the two troopers, but two stun blasts shot above her head towards the men. She turned back around to see her rescuer was another stormtrooper.

“Causing chaos, Havoc 5?”

“Echo?” Omega gasped happily.

Echo removed his helmet and smiled, “Hey kid.” He then saw more children come out from behind Omega. “And other kids.”

“The shuttles in bay four are still operational.” Emerie informed him as she came back from checking them out.

“You’re helping us, Dr. Karr?” Eva said in surprise.

“I am. But we must hurry.”

Echo put his helmet back on and he and Emerie led the way to the shuttle at a run.

As they reached the shuttle, Omega paused and looked around her. “Wait. Where are Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair? And (Y/N), we’ve got to free her!”

“We got her out, but we split up and now, they’re all detained together.” Echo told her.

“You mean captured?”

“For now.” Echo turned to Emerie and slotted his blaster under his arm. “Can you fly that shuttle?”

“Yes. Why?”

Echo brought out a datacard and gave it to her. “Take the kids to these coordinates. We’ll meet you there.”

Sami, Jax and Eva all looked at one another anxiously.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jax asked Omega.

“There are more prisoners inside, including my family. I can’t leave without them.” Omega welcomed their group embrace and rubbed Bayrn’s head. “Don’t worry. Emerie’s taking you someplace safe. We’ll meet you there.” The kids let her go and stepped away.

“Here.” Emerie passed her datapad to Omega. “This will help you access all wings of the facility.”

“Look after them.” Omega instructed her sister.

“You have my word.” Emerie promised. She placed her hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Be careful, Omega. And…” Emerie took a short breath before she shared her final bit of what she hoped was useful intel. “And if you can, check out the maintenance closet in the prison level. It isn’t what it says, Hemlock spent almost as much time there as he did with your Jedi friend, and he didn’t tell me why. But he never did anything without a purpose. He’s hiding something there; I just don’t know what.”

‘Tech was more resistant to my methods this time.’ Hemlock’s words echoed in her head, and she couldn’t help it, theories and hope started to stir in her. She nodded to Emerie before she and Echo took off back to the base and back to the rest of you.

“You ready?” Echo asked as the door opened just as the shuttle with Emerie took off and away to safety.

She’d succeeded in her initial objective. Now it was time for the next one. “Let’s complete the mission.”

--

This was no nightmare.

This was no illusion.

This was no trick.

This was not a figment of your imagination.

You were not under the influence of any injection or serum.

There was no denying what you were hearing and seeing now.

There was no blocking out this type of agony that you were experiencing.

Hunter’s moans and screams of pain as the electricity crackled against his temples and jolted through the rest of his body were real.

It was all horrifyingly, heartbreakingly real.

And no matter how much you struggled against your captor’s hold, you were helpless to do anything but watch and listen.

There was no convincing yourself that it wasn’t happening.

And you knew would do anything to make it stop.

Hemlock studied the room. Your hands were now bound in cuffs in front of your body, but one operative still kept a vice-like grip on your shoulder. Hunter and the others were in their capsules, bound and powerless. Crosshair and Wrecker were still unconscious, and Crosshair’s right wrist was being sealed off by a droid. He ignored you for the moment, your time would come soon, for now, his attention lied with Hunter. He signalled for the machine to be turned off.

Hunter panted heavily as the torture finally stopped. Everything hurt, his limbs burned, his head felt like it was going to explode- and that was just from this. He could still fill a deep soreness in his ribs from the blast in the hangar bay. And right now, it may have stopped but he still felt the current in his veins, so the pain endured. He could barely keep his eyes open. He attempted to free his hands from the binders, but they were too tight. Then, he heard Hemlock’s cool, quiet voice.

“The last time we crossed paths, you had just lost a member of your squad. And it appears history may repeat itself. CT-9904 resisted my conditioning in the past, but I’ve made alterations to my methods. Something your… partner can attest to. If you all survive, you will make fine operatives.”

Hunter followed Hemlock’s gaze to where Wrecker and Crosshair were and the wave of guilt that he felt upon seeing what he’d brought on them made way for new type of hurt to enter the mix. Then his sights found yours and he saw the fear and distress in your eyes at Hemlock’s words. He had rarely seen you look so genuinely terrified and yet whatever else Hemlock was talking about got that from you.

“No!” You shouted as you violently fought against the hand holding you back. You couldn’t bear it if they suffered that fate or had to go through anymore of this.

Hemlock ignored you and approached Hunter. “And if not, well, there’s no shortage of clones to test on next.”

“We’ll survive. But you won’t.” Hunter said with as much strength as he could muster.

Hemlock regarded the clone pitifully and indicated to the operative to start the process once more.

Hunter couldn’t help the anguished shouts that left him as he felt that electric fire deep in his body once more, each nerve felt like it was burning away.

“Stop! Stop hurting him!” You cried out as you pulled against the hand on your shoulder. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You wanted to take his pain away.

Hemlock turned to you and hummed out a pleased laugh as he saw the torment on your face. He had you right where he wanted you. “Do you know I finally figured something out?”

You breathed heavily as Hemlock touched the recent bruise on your jaw but did nothing to stop him in case it made things worse for the rest of them.

“You didn’t succumb to my methods because they weren’t real. I was foolish to think a Jedi such as yourself would be so easily fooled by mind games. You needed the element of doubt removed and look at the results. One glimpse of the real thing and see how you quickly you fall apart.” Hemlock said smugly.

You weren’t looking at the doctor, you were looking past him to at the man you loved with every part of you.

The man who had brought you into a crazy, wonderful family.

The man who had shown you more patience and care than you had ever deserved.

The man who had enabled you to open your heart to everything he had to offer and who had shown you that attachment could be a beautiful thing.

The man who had your heart and soul.

But was now being put through the worst kind of pain he could experience.

And then you looked to the others. To the ones who had welcomed you instantly and who had risked everything for you and Omega and who were now hurting and endangered because of it.

And it was tearing you apart. “Just let them go. Let him go. Stop this, Hemlock, please.” You choked out.

Hemlock nodded again to get the operative controlling the machine to stop. He wanted the clone awake for this.

Hunter gasped in limited relief as the electricity turned off once more. He fought through the pain to keep his eyes open as he saw Hemlock beside you, a cruel yet somehow gleeful smile on the man’s face that worried him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. There was something deeply unsettling about the sight of him standing so close to you like that.  

“You know, from our time together, I can see why you would fall for her.” Hemlock commented to the clone. “She showed remarkable durability and resolve. She was quite a challenging subject.”

Hunter clenched and unclenched his hands as he watched Hemlock. It wasn’t just the physical torture that had his body feeling this much pain. After what you’d told him about Christophsis, he’d never wanted you to go through that hell again, but you had. He’d been far too late.   

“But of course, such feelings are a weakness, all too easy to exploit. Oh, you should’ve heard her cry out for you, just begging me to end your suffering.” Hemlock pretended to ponder the next decision. “Then again, perhaps you can.” He stood in front of you.

Your blood ran cold as you saw the look in Hemlock’s eyes.

“You wish for his pain to stop?” Hemlock asked you, a wicked and calculated smile on his face.

“Yes.” You said, your voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Beg.”

“No.” Hunter rasped as he heard the demand.

You shoved down the bile that rose in your throat at the thought. “Please.” You breathed.

“Not so resistant now, are you?” Hemlock taunted cruelly. “But I don’t think you mean it.”

“Don’t do it.” Hunter ground out weakly.

But you would. You would do anything. You kept your attention on Hemlock. “I’m begging you, please, please don’t hurt him anymore.”

“More.” Hemlock commanded, enjoying the distraught etched on your face and the pathetic attempts the clone gave at breaking free to stop this.

You didn’t need the pressure on your shoulder that came from the operative by your side. You did it freely. You didn’t care about the humiliation, you only cared about making it end. On your knees, you glanced up at Hemlock, your voice hoarse as you pleaded, “Please. Please stop hurting him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Hemlock caressed the side of your head. “You know what I want.”

The sight of you begging on your knees for that man caused him more pain than any machine could. Hunter, as weak as he was, still attempted to get out of his prison. You shouldn’t have to do this, not for him.

You did. You knew precisely what he was after, but you automatically shook your head in refusal.

Hemlock simply snapped his fingers.

Hunter tossed his head back and writhed and yelled in pain as the electricity coursed through his body once more.

“No, stop! Please!” You begged. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Hemlock held his hand up and it ceased once more. “Well?”

You swallowed tightly. And it wasn’t just Hunter you wanted to save; you had a family you needed to protect. “I join you, they don’t.” You negotiated quietly, hating the words as they left your mouth.

Hemlock considered the options in his head. Getting a Jedi under his command would be yet another testament to his work and that was worth more to him than these clones. It was a sacrifice he could make. “Join me and I will allow them to remain prisoners here. No conditioning required.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get for them right now. You squeezed your eyes tight as you resigned yourself to what you were about to do and ignored Hunter’s pained and faint protests. “I’ll join you.” You barely got the words out, but you’d said them now. You opened your eyes to that sadistic and twisted grin, the one from your nightmares. The one that he'd wear once he made some kind of monumental breakthrough in his research. And this time, it was warranted. He’d done it. He’d finally broken you.

Another Imperial entered the room. “Doctor, there is an incoming transmission from Governor Tarkin.”

Hemlock signalled back to the operative stood by Hunter’s capsule.

A raw and tormented scream left Hunter’s throat as his senses were overloaded once more.

You rushed to your feet and went to lunge for the doctor, but the operative held you back. “No! You said-”

“Think of it as a reminder of what will happen if you change your mind.” Hemlock said icily as he left the room.

If it weren’t for the bruising grip on your upper arms, you would’ve collapsed to the ground, but you were left with no choice but to stand there and live with what you’d decided and to hear Hunter’s cries.

--

The lift opened to the prison level and before the troopers on guard had time to react, Echo shot them both. He picked up the loose blasters and he and Omega advanced down the corridor.

More troopers came at them, but Echo easily took care of them whilst Omega slid the datapad into one of the terminals.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on?”

Omega turned to the clone that addressed her from behind his cell door. “We’re breaking out.” With that, she programmed all cell doors to open. “Here.” She tossed the clone a spare blaster she had acquired. “I’ll look for the others.” She told Echo, mentally including the so-called maintenance closet in that statement.

Just as she looked down one corridor, she saw another familiar face. “Nala Se!” She ran over to the Kaminoan.

Nala Se knelt down to the girl’s level. “Omega, why did you come back to this place?”

“I had to, but it’s okay. We’re all getting out this time.” She reassured her old mentor before she carried on past her, anxiously scanning for any sign of you all.

--

Omega hadn’t seen any of you, but she had found the door Emerie had referred to. She knew perhaps the hope she was feeling in her heart was foolish, but she couldn’t help it, it was who she was. And she’d rather know for sure than spend the rest of her life regretting that she never tried. She held her breath as she opened the door.

Omega’s exhale left her with an indistinguishable surprised and elated sound as she saw the figure.

He may have a supportive brace encasing his entire right leg.

He may be without his goggles.

He may look dishevelled and weary.

But there was no mistaking his face.

This was her brother. The brother she never thought she would see again. The one that had given up everything for them. Yet, somehow, he was standing there before her.

Omega stared at the man that had turned to face her when the door opened. “Tech?” She gasped, scarcely believing it. She needed him to speak, to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

Tech’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t dared take Hemlock’s words as the whole truth, but he recognised the child immediately and… and he felt alive again. “Omega?”

Another joyful sound left her throat as happy tears welled in her eyes. She dashed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Did it not work?” Tech whispered as he rested his hands on her back. He recognised the prison uniform. And he didn’t remember a lot since Eriadu, especially with the months spent enduring Hemlock’s manipulations, but he had thought the rail car had gotten away at least.

“No, it- well-” She stopped. “The main thing to know is Crosshair did betray the Empire and he’s back with us. We can catch you up on the rest once we’re out of here.”

The news about his brother made him sigh in relief. They had been without Crosshair for far too long and Hemlock’s lies had been the only moments he had to imagine what having him back would feel like but the happy emotions it brought had all been spoiled and tainted by Hemlock’s cruelty. Now, he could allow himself to feel that happy again and he could be confident in knowing it was true. Then, he remembered the last part of Omega’s statement. “Out of here?” Tech repeated, the very concept had felt like a distant desire for such a long time.

Omega smiled at him, “Come on, Echo is waiting. We’re breaking everyone out.”

Tech released a long, relieved breath, “An excellent idea.” He concurred. He followed her- a slight limp in his gait now- out of the cell that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever leave.

--

“We gave up hope that anyone was coming to help us.”

Echo held his helmet and addressed the clone that had first spoken to Omega when they’d arrived, “We’ve been looking for this base for a while.”

“Echo, I searched all the cells. They’re not here. But I did find someone else.”

Echo turned at the sound of Omega’s voice but what he saw had his jaw dropping and his helmet fell from his grasp. He said nothing as he walked towards his brother and clasped him close. “I don’t believe it. How- I mean- you called out the plan- we saw you fall.”

Tech hadn’t quite expected the hug, but he welcomed it all the same. It felt good to accept that fighting against Hemlock this time had been worth the pain. This was a truth he could trust. “You forget that my intelligence did not cease to exist after I shot that connection hinge.”

Omega smiled as she heard that loveable cockiness in his voice.

Echo released his brother but kept his eyes on him. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice fuelled with concern.

Tech grew more solemn again. “As much as could be expected. However, I’m afraid to say that I have failed our squad. Hemlock, he wanted information about you all. I resisted when I could but- but his methods were rather… effective at getting the results he wanted.”

Echo had seen what Hemlock’s methods could do so in a short space of time and Tech had been here for months. So, the very fact that he had even held out at all was something to admire. “Don’t worry about that.” Echo reassured him. “All that matters is that you’re alive.”

Tech gave him a grateful bow of his head before he straightened his spine. “I see that I am not the only one with a new look.” He commented lightly, gesturing to his brace and Echo’s mechanical hand.

Echo allowed himself a short chuckle, “Yeah, well, the situation called for it.”

Tech nodded in understanding before he scanned the group of clones around them all. “But where are the others?” Tech asked, fully realising that amongst these newly freed clones, there were four faces that were missing. And the worry that flashed across Echo’s face did nothing to ease his own anxieties.

Giving Tech’s shoulder one final squeeze, he spoke to the rest of the clones surrounding them. “The rest of our squad were grabbed by Hemlock’s operatives. Where else would he take them?”

“Well, they could be in the training room. It’s where Hemlock conditions the clones he deems useful.”

“I think I know where that is.” Omega said, grabbing the datapad. “Follow me.”

“Are you joking?” Rampart shoved past Echo. “The wisest course of action is to leave while we can.”

Echo glared at the man. “Clones don’t leave our brothers behind. And Hemlock’s also got someone who is just as important to us as any other clone.” He moved Rampart out the way and kept his speech for his fellow clones. “Listen, I know you’ve all been through enough. You deserve your freedom. But Omega and I can’t do this alone. Is anyone willing to stand with us?”

The clone that spoke to Omega spoke first, “I will. I’ve got one more fight left in me.”

That spurred others on. Soon more rallying shouts were declared throughout the group.

“Good.” Echo said appreciatively. Then he turned to Tech and took a reluctant breath, “Tech…”

Tech recognised that look but hearing that the rest of you were in danger had his loyal and protective instincts as a member of this squad come rushing back to him. “I want to go with you.” Tech insisted. “They need our help.”

“You’re not 100%. We lost you once, it’s not happening again.” Echo said firmly. “Get the injured to the hangar and secure a shuttle. You can help them there.” He gave Tech a spare blaster. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Very well.” Tech said with a heavy sigh. Deep down, he knew that his current situation made him more of a liability for such a high stakes mission. He needed to recover properly and get back to form and he could start by helping the rest of these clones.  

Echo put his helmet on once more. “I’ll trigger an alert in a different wing and reroute their troops. The rest of you, grab any weapon you can.”

Tech led the way with the injured, hoping that this would all come to a better conclusion that Eriadu had.

Before Omega left with Echo and the rest of their team, Nala Se’s voice stopped her.

“Omega, I must not allow my science to remain in the Empire’s hands.” She knelt down and placed a large hand on Omega’s shoulder. “The only way you will be free is if Hemlock is gone and the databanks are destroyed.”

“Then let’s get to the lab.” Omega said determinedly.

“No. Your place is with them.” Nala Se nodded to the clones.

Omega dipped her head in both a farewell and in understanding. “You’ll need this.” She gave Nala Se the datapad and watched her walk away before she joined up with Echo and left the cells.

Rampart watched the scientist go, a fresh plan of his own forming in his head as he made to follow her.

--

Hemlock walked back to the training room, working on dampening his simmering anger and irritation. The conversation with Tarkin had not been a productive one and now he was faced with having to deal with the lousy Imperial face-to-face.

He had it under control. Tarkin would just be another nuisance he had to deal with.

--

“The training floor’s two more corridors over.” Omega said to Echo as they eliminated the guards by the hall terminal.

Echo used his scomp to bring up schematics. “The pneumatic tube system runs throughout this base. Think you can use it to get eyes inside that room?” He opened a panel in the walls.

“It worked in the vault.” Omega ran over to the gap and crawled into the narrow space.

“Relay what you see, but stay out of sight until we’re in position.” Echo ordered before she disappeared. He handed her a comm.

“Rodger that.”

--

Nala Se had taken a grenade from a downed trooper as she made for the lab. She had accepted what her course of action would lead her to.

Covertly following her, Rampart grabbed a blaster from another body.

--

Nala Se entered the lab but just as she finished bringing up the databank and blood samples, a blaster clicked behind her, and she was staring down an unhappy looking Admiral Rampart. She activated the bomb behind her back, no one was going to stop her from doing what needed to be done. And if she took this Imperial down with her… well, that was an added bonus.

--

Omega peered out into the room from behind the ceiling grate. All was quiet. You were standing up, your hands in binders with an operative holding on tight to your shoulders, whilst the others were knocked out and in some type of capsule prison. “Echo, I have a visual on them. There’s an operative on guard but I don’t see the others.” She whispered into her comm. “I might be able to free them if you give me a big enough distraction.”

“We’re on our way.”

--

Echo and his group of clones entered the training room but as soon as they entered, the lights dimmed, the floor lit up in a harsh red light and parts of the floor rose up to form obstacles. They were ambushed by the other operatives in seconds.

--

You couldn’t understand why the operative holding you suddenly let you go to activate the downstairs area, but the sounds of blaster fire soon told you why.

You hoped Echo’s plan was going to work.

--

Omega managed to sneak into the room without incident. She caught your eyeline and motioned for you to be quiet as she went over to the main control box. She worked on Wrecker’s first, and she succeeded in removing one of the wrist cuffs. Before she could work on anything else, she felt eyes on her and she let out a fearful gasp as she saw the operative staring at her.

You acted quickly. You ran in front of the operative and saw your lightsaber attached to your belt. You lunged for it but with your hands bound, you were limited in what you could offer and a powerful kick to your chest sent you tumbling to the floor. Winded and gasping for air, you could only watch as Omega’s stun blasts did nothing to stop the advance of the soldier and he took a hold of her arm and dragged her into the centre of the room. You got to your feet just as Hemlock entered the room with the operative from Pabu.

“A glaring weakness in clones is their loyalty to one another.” Hemlock said to the young girl. “Thank you for proving my point.” Then Hemlock beckoned you over to him as you both walked towards the window.

“Now that you’ve joined our ranks, perhaps it is time to see what sort of matters you will have to deal with.” Hemlock said to you. He wouldn’t free you yet, not until he knew for certain that this matter was officially over and dealt with. Your attachment for the clones remained and therefore the margin for error was still too great so for now, you remained in cuffs and his prisoner.

You forced yourself to ignore Omega’s shocked gasp as she heard that.

“Shall we see if they fare better than you did?” Hemlock allowed the firefight to continue for a couple minutes before he pressed the buttons that would introduce his special toxin into the room.

You could only watch on in horror as the clones without helmets started to cough and choke whilst they desperately clutched at their throats before they collapsed to the ground.

“Perhaps an unfair comparison given that I didn’t use this for you but alas, sometimes such things are necessary. You will find that often the most pain gets the quickest results, but with your skills, you will make quick work of things, I am sure.”

“You joined him?” Omega said in dismay.

“I had to.” You croaked, your throat closing up as everything you loved fell apart around you.

--

Having entertained Rampart and his delusions of Imperial redemption for long enough, Nala Se didn’t fear the blaster bolt that entered her chest and as the light faded from her eyes, she took comfort in the fact that this final act of hers would bring peace to Omega’s life.

Rampart heard the rapid beeping of the grenade that rolled free from her hand as she fell, but before he could do anything, his life left him in a flash of blinding white light.

--

Having been the only one with the safety of a helmet to resist the gas, Echo was on his own against the three operatives.

He staggered forward as a knife entered the back of his shoulder. His blaster was knocked out his grasp, so he used his mechanical hand to defend against the swings of the sword from the operative that had cut him, and he succeeded in throwing the black-armoured clone against one of the walls, so his helmet came off and he too feel victim to the gas.

However, Echo didn’t have long to recover before he was knocked to the ground but just as he reached for his blaster, it was kicked away, and he glanced up to see another operative pointing a blaster at his head.

--

Hemlock kept his sights on the scene below. “Their efforts have failed.” Hemlock stated. “Predictably so.”

You were shoved back to stand in the middle of the room with Omega.

Omega glanced at you, but your face was a blank slate. Your posture was slumped and heavy with defeat. You had no fire, no fight in you.

“Sir, there’s been an explosion in the central lab. It’s been destroyed.” Scorch revealed as he entered the training room.

This news snapped you out of your fatigued and defeated state. Hemlock wasn’t untouchable and he knew it. You remembered the nervousness you’d picked up on when he’d first told you they were coming to the base, and you saw the way his body tensed after Scorch’s words. For all his victories and apparent calmness, he knew you were the people that could get to him which was why he’d done everything he could think of to tear you apart. The thoughts sent a surge of strength and resolve through you. What the fuck were you doing? This was your team, your squad, your family. You’d all never stop fighting for each other so why had you? You’d given up so easily and that wasn’t who you were, how could you have lost sight of that? You glanced over to Omega and nodded.

Omega felt hope rise in her chest as she saw the familiar spark and determination in your eyes. She then stole a look behind her to see Wrecker slowly waking up. “You failed too.” She said smugly to Hemlock. “Your data’s gone.” And she wasn’t just talking about the samples, she knew Tech was safe too.

Hemlock whipped his head around to face the two of you. He had what he needed; he could start again. “But I still have you both.”

Picking up on Wrecker’s movements too, you got ready to fight once more. “Hey, Hemlock?” You waited until his eyes arrived on you. “Go to hell.”

Hemlock glowered at you but before he could do anything more, Omega spoke once more.

“And you’re forgetting one thing. We have them.” Omega said proudly.

Chaos erupted.

Wrecker ripped himself free of his capsule and used the portion covering his legs as a shield against the blaster fire before he launched it towards the operatives, the impact of the piece of metal against one of the control towers took down the entire system in the process.

Crosshair and Hunter groggily woke up their confinement also loosened.

Wrecker shakily got to his feet and pushed against the electrospear that the operative shoved towards his chest. He ignored the pain of the electrical current and kept his focus entirely on meeting the soldier strength for strength.

You dashed over to Hunter and rested your bound hands just beside his head “My love, I need you to stand for me.” You murmured with urgency. You placed your hands under his neck and then moved them gently still to his upper back to support him.

Hunter strained to open his eyes as he took in your still slightly blurry form, but he never failed to recognise you or your voice. He nodded and inhaled sharply as he slowly rose with your encouragement.

Whilst you did that, Omega made a break for a loose blaster, but Scorch grabbed her. She struggled against him, but she was forced to stop as Hemlock paired them together with a set of cuffs.

“We’re leaving. Get the Jedi.” Hemlock said to Scorch, passing him a hypodermic with a sedative inside it. He then snatched a blaster from CX-2 as well as the set of controls he kept on his sleeve for his ship. “Deal with them.” He directed the operative before he dragged Omega out,

Scorch came over with as he saw you attempting to aid the clone sergeant to his feet. He speedily stabbed the needle into your thigh and pressed down on the plunger.

You reacted swiftly and slapped his hand away before you landed a kick to his gut, but you felt the broken skin and as you removed the needle from your leg, you saw that the tip of it was wet, and you knew that you hadn’t been fast enough. Some of it had entered your system. A wooziness overcame you and you swayed on your feet as you fought against it.

Scorch recovered from the blow you dealt him and as he saw the unsteady way you stood as well as the lack of clarity behind your eyes, he knew he had done enough to get you compliant. He grabbed your wrist and forced you out of the room as he hurried to catch up with Hemlock.

--

Seeing that Hemlock was escaping with you both, Wrecker thrust the spear above him and kicked the operative back.

Hunter wearily worked on standing up straight and finding the strength to go after you and Omega.

“Get them back.” Wrecker said to Hunter before he let out a roar and charged at the operative he’d been fighting. He tackled his waist and smashed through the cracked window.

--

The gas dissipated and Echo glanced up to see the glass of one of the windows had cracked and there were flashes blaster fire. Whatever was happening above him was the disruption he needed.

And that distraction developed as Wrecker came crashing through the window.

In the mayhem, Echo was able to divert the blaster pointed at his head to the second operative standing behind him and take cover. Even with one operative dead, he was still outnumbered but two more rounds fired past him to disband the operative forces. Echo turned and saw that Wrecker- despite being flat on the ground- had been the one to fire the shots but he was still in danger. Echo fired a series of shots to the operative that Wrecker had forced out of the window and that operative also fell dead to the ground.

But Echo couldn’t ease up. Another operative had recovered from the disruption and attacked them again. Echo opened fire back as he took cover behind one of the obstacles.

Wrecker was slower to react. The shot he took to the inside of his leg as he rolled for shelter was yet another painful sign of how out of it he was. But he needed to get it together, Echo still needed him, and he wasn’t going to let his brother down.

Echo carefully moved around the room. He knew there were two operatives remaining and they made themselves know quickly. Now that the danger of the gas was gone, he had removed his helmet to aid in his breathing but as he walked around the side of one of the wall obstacles, a wave of blaster fire was sent in his direction, and he quickly pressed himself back against the wall. He searched for another way to somehow get behind the operative who had fired on him but as he did so, he felt a threat approaching his own back. As he turned, he saw the operative with the vibroblade weapons lunge for him and his blaster wasn’t primed to take the shot to stop it.

With a loud shout, Wrecker got to his feet and picked the operative up by the neck and smashed his head through one of the walls. That took up the last of his energy, his legs gave out and he fell to the ground with a deep groan.

Seeing his brother go down so heavily alarmed Echo deeply which was why he wasn’t the one to kill the final operative that had emerged. No, those shots came from one of the clones who had rallied by his side for this fight. He gave him a grateful nod before he knelt by Wrecker’s side. The clone could barely keep his eyes open, and he was breathing in short, sharp pants, his pain was obvious. “Wrecker, where are the others?” Echo asked as he looked on worriedly as his brother.

“They’ve- they’ve gone after-” Wrecker broke off with a low groan and couldn’t finish the thought. He was too exhausted and sore to focus on anything other than staying awake.

Echo put it together. “I can help you get there but I need you to get to your feet.” Echo urged as insistent but as caringly as possible, but Wrecker made no move to stand. “Come on, Wrecker, you can do it.” He thought of the first thing he could think of to get him there. “Tech’s alive. He’s waiting at the shuttle.”

“If that’s supposed to cheer me up, it’s a bad way to do it.” Wrecker managed to grunt.

“I’m serious. Omega found him.”

Wrecker glanced at Echo and a brief rush of adrenaline hit him as he saw the serious and honest look on Echo’s face.

“It’s true. I saw him.” The other clone added as he came over to offer his help.

Wrecker allowed himself to believe that because it was now the only thing giving him the strength to even think about getting up. With a determined moan, he got to his feet.

Echo, along with the other clone, supported Wrecker as they all made their way to the shuttle.

--

Hunter had managed to stand and grab the spear that the operative had left behind, but everything was still blurring together in one dark and incoherent shape. He couldn’t fully tell one sense apart from the other, everything was too sore and disjointed.

But he knew there was still an operative up here and he had to focus on finding him.

Crosshair was also beginning to get to his feet and as he saw CX-2 creep next to his pod and aim his blaster at Hunter, Crosshair kicked his arm which caused the shot to go array.

Tracking the sound, Hunter threw the spear in the direction it had come from and heard the sharp blade meeting it’s target as CX-2 was speared in the gut and the power behind Hunter’s through saw doubly sure that he was dead as he was flung back into the power grid and electrocuted.

Hunter grabbed the fallen rifle and spoke to Crosshair through gritted teeth, “I’ll go get them. You should stay here.”

“Not a chance.” Crosshair grunted as he properly got to his feet.

Hunter picked up a second blaster and handed Crosshair the sniper rifle.

Supporting each other, the two of them hobbled out the room to go catch up with you and Omega.

--

The night air was cold as a storm raged on.

Thunder rumbled above you.

Lightening flashed through the black clouds.

The pouring rain pelted against your skin.

The wind whipped across your face.

But as unpleasant as it was, it did help get you out of your sedative state. You just had to wait for the right moment and so long as Scorch had a blaster pressed to your back and Omega was cuffed and attached to Hemlock, it wasn’t the right moment, so you pretended to still be as compliant as you had been when being led through the corridors out of the training room.

Hemlock led the way across the exposed and narrow walkway towards the landing platform. He was almost there. He could rebuild once he got away. He ignored the girl’s struggles and protests as he dragged her further along and pressed the button on the control sleeve that would bring the ship to them. Just as the ship was preparing to land, two blaster bolts hit the right and left engines and the ship erupted into flames.

You used as your moment to take care of Scorch. You smacked the back of your head into his visor and turned on your heels to grab his blaster.

In the push and shove struggle, both of you teetered towards the edge of the bridge. One particularly nasty shove from Scorch saw to it that you fell over the top, but you still had a hold of his blaster, so he toppled over with you.

You just about managed to take a scrappy hold of the one of the bars that formed the boundary of the walkway, Scorch fell past you into the abyss below. The metal was slick against your fingers and being cuffed wasn’t making holding on any easier, your grip was haphazard at best. Which was why you weren’t surprised that you couldn’t keep a secure hold and you slipped downwards, your fingers catching the edge of the platform.

You saw the scene unfolding across from you and you wished there was more you could do to help but all you could do now was fight to keep your head up as your legs dangled aimlessly. You called on every piece of strength you had to hold on and wait this out.

--

Hemlock thrust Omega in front of him and wrapped his arm around her neck as he held the blaster to her head. You were out of the picture for now, his main adversaries remained further down the bridge. “That’s far enough!” He threatened as he saw the clones

Hunter shook the rain from his eyes as he and Crosshair paused to figure out the next best course of action. He had to trust that you would hold on for long enough. Right now, his priority was Omega. He knelt down and kept his blaster trained on Hemlock.

Crosshair did the same, only he rested his rife on Hunter’s shoulder as he peered down his scope.

The two of them synchronised their breathing as the storm echoed around them but that didn’t distract them. Their entire focus was on the two people down the walkway.

“You won’t get past them.” Omega said, no fear in her voice.

“They won’t risk hurting you.” Hemlock said through heavy breaths. “And it’s not only you they have to consider.”

“Neither will you. You need me alive.” Omega countered. “And she’s a lot stronger than you think.” She said, knowing that no matter what, you would be fine.

Hemlock brought her to the edge of the bridge opposite to where you were hanging. “If I go over, then you go over.” He then bellowed down to the clones, “Drop the blasters!”

But Omega wasn’t going to entertain that outcome. Hemlock’s arrogance would be his downfall. She reached into her sleeve and grabbed the tool she had stolen from Emerie’s supply kit.

--

Hunter saw what Omega was doing and understood her plan. “Shoot the binders.” He told Crosshair.

“I- I- I can’t.” Crosshair stammered. He had rarely practiced with his left hand as the trigger hand and these conditions were less than ideal to make such a precise shot. “They’re too close. If I’m off- I can’t risk Omega.”

“She knows what to do, Crosshair.” Hunter said. He trusted Omega and he trusted Crosshair. He had all the confidence that his brother could make the shot. “Wait for her, then take the shot.”

Crosshair let that faith and his own desire to rescue Omega guide him as he rested his finger on the trigger. He could do this. He knew he could. He inhaled and exhaled steadily as he waited on her.

--

Omega stabbed her implement into Hemlock’s thigh and used his surprise to step away from him and she raised their cuffed hands in the air.

When Crosshair’s shot met it’s mark and separated them, she crouched down as she heard six shots hit Hemlock’s chest and she watched his body fall over the side.

--

Releasing a thankful sigh, you braced yourself on your forearms as you worked on hauling yourself back up. You felt a supportive hand tug at your arm and angled your gaze to see Omega doing her best to help you back onto the bridge.

Once safely situated and cuff free thanks to Omega’s tool, you stayed propped on your knees and braced your hands on your thighs as you caught your breath and looked at the young girl and all it took was that glance from you. She crashed into you, and you squeezed her close. “Are you alright?”

Omega squeezed you back and nodded into your neck. “Yeah… I’m okay.” She said through an exhausted but relieved sigh. “Are you?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m okay.” You said, your throat tightening as you realised what was about to happen next. It had been the thing that had gotten you through every night since arriving here. And it had been the thing you had so nearly given up and lost.

You both pulled apart at the same time.

You got to your feet and followed her gaze towards the two men still kneeling further down the bridge. You didn’t need to check with her, you both started running together.

Naturally, you reached them just before Omega did and you didn’t really slow down in your approach.

With adrenaline overpowering your own lingering pain and tiredness, you- getting caught up in the excitement of seeing Hunter again- foolishly forgot about his injuries and all but launched yourself at him. You collided against his chest with a happy cry and flung your arms around him and pulled him close to you.

“Ow ow ow.” Hunter mumbled with a sharp wince as he braced himself against your strength, but he couldn’t help himself, he clung to you just as tightly.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your words were muffled from where you pressed your face in the crook of his neck. You went to pull away instead, but he wasn’t letting you yet, in fact he readjusted his hold to keep you right where you were.

Hunter breathed you in and let himself get lost in the feeling of holding you and feeling you against him. The familiar shape and scent of your body providing him the comfort and security he needed to alleviate part of the pain he was feeling with his senses. He nuzzled into your neck and used one hand to cradle the back of your head whilst his other arm still kept you tight to him.

The two of you held onto each other like you were terrified it was all a dream and you might be taken away again. The bridge was cold and wet against your legs but after all that had just happened, it hardly mattered now. The rain continued its deluge against your body, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was this moment right here and now.

Only when his body did truly start to protest against the strain, did Hunter relax his arms.

You released your own arms and hid your face in your hands as the emotions of the time that had passed hit you all at once. Sobs mixed with laughter left your throat and racked through your body as you realised that he was safe. That Omega was safe. That they all were safe.

Hunter gently took your hands away and carefully held your bruised face. He used his thumbs to softly wipe some of the rain and tears running down your cheeks. He brushed some wet strands of hair tenderly away from your face before murmuring, “I love you.” A kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” A kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” A kiss to your other cheek.

You stared into his brown eyes as you got yourself under control and they grounded you so completely as you saw the feeling behind them. “I love you too.” You gasped breathlessly. You threaded your fingers in his damp strands and-more mindful of his injuries- leaned forward.

Hunter went to close the gap but the sound of someone managing a strained but somehow still very pointed cough caused you both to stop and you turned your head to see Crosshair and Omega waiting expectantly.

“What? No hugs for us?” Crosshair said with a light-hearted, albeit pained, smile at the two of you.

You huffed out a chuckle and together, you and Hunter slid into their embrace, and you all wrapped your arms around one another. You shared in that moment until Omega decided to break away.

You all got to your feet, but you noticed how unsteady both Crosshair and Hunter were.

With Omega looking out for Crosshair, you focused your attention on Hunter. “Lean on me.” You instructed him as you placed his arm around you, and you took on his weight as you all made your way to the transport hangar.

--

You all reached the shuttle and slowly walked up the ramp but the person you saw tending to Wrecker’s wounds had you all forgetting any remaining aches and pains.

All three of you inhaled sharply and stopped short. You shared a look to make sure you were all in agreement with what- or rather-who you were seeing.

“Yeah, you’re not seeing things.” Wrecker told you all with a cheery disposition.

Echo had a small yet delighted grin on his face as he took in the stunned yet happy reactions from all of you.

“Oh… did I not mention that?” Omega kidded, a joyous smile on her own face.

“Tech?” Crosshair all but whispered.

“You’re alive?” You and Hunter said together, emotion overwhelming both of you as you spoke.  

“You sound surprised.” Tech said with a small smile. What did catch him by surprise though was the way he was dragged into a large group hug with all six of you.

And as the shuttle took off and you all had that minute together, you were hit with a remarkable sense of home.

--

The shuttle landed in Pabu and the rescued clones steadily departed the shuttle first.

Echo, Omega and Wrecker were the first of you all to leave with Echo wanting to check on Emerie and Omega wanting to check on her friends from the vault.

Tech made to go too but hesitated as he caught the attention of a familiar face.

Phee’s eyes widened. She walked up the ramp and took in the messy yet totally recognisable man in front of her. “Well, brown eyes, it’s about damn time.”

Tech made to adjust his non-existent goggles but caught himself. “I was- uh- rather occupied for a while.”

Phee raised her chin and smiled. She came up the ramp and linked arms with the clone. “Now your survival is an adventure I want to hear all about.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the faintness of blushes on Tech’s cheeks.

“Well, it involved a grappling hook and some pretty fast thinking. I was falling…”

You, Hunter and Crosshair watched them walk away and you caught the completely astonished expression on Crosshair’s face. It was possible he was more taken aback by that than by seeing Tech come back from the dead.

“I have a question.” Crosshair asked as he stared at the fading figures.

“What’s that?” You said, pretending to have no idea as to why he looked so bewildered. You welcomed Hunter’s arm that looped around your waist and the look he gave you told you that he was willing to play along.

“We just spent the duration of that journey getting medical attention and catching Tech up on everything that had happened since you all ignored Plan 88, right?”

“Right.” Hunter agreed, ignoring the playful jab.

“And I was on Pabu and with you all a good while before everything went to shit.” Crosshair said.

“Uh huh.” You concurred, a slightly teasing smile on your face as you waited for him to get to the point of his question.

“So, please explain to me why no one thought to tell me about that.” He pointed with his left hand towards Tech and Phee. “Since when did Tech get- I mean how- just what exactly is that?”

“Oh… that.” You feigned a sudden realisation. “Huh, I guess they did get pretty close whilst we were staying here. How many dates was it before we had to leave, Hunter?”

Hunter matched your teasing tone. “Yeah, I don’t know. At least three or four- not that Tech truly realised that’s what they were. We really didn’t tell you?” He asked Crosshair, a smirk on his face.

“You two are impossible.” Crosshair groused before he walked down the ramp, muttering under his breath.

You laughed quietly as you watched him leave.

Hunter let out a low chuckle too as he brought you in closer to his side and he pressed his lips to the top of your head before you both walked out the ship.

--

Emerie observed the children from afar and was pleased to see them chasing the animals of the island and interacting with the Omega and the other young clones. “They’ve adapted quickly.” She said as Echo approached her side.

“Kids are resilient.”

“A childhood’s not something we ever had. Our lives have never been our own.”

“Until now. I’m heading to Pantora to help get some of the clones settled. I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find whatever you have to say very helpful for our cause.”

“I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.”

Echo rested a hand on her shoulder before he made for the shuttle once more.

Emerie followed a few paces behind.

--

As you and Hunter were making your way from the shuttle, Omega called out your name.

You paused and turned to see she had brought a group of kids over with her.

“These were the children I was telling you about. This is Eva, Jax, Sami and Bayrn.” She introduced each child in kind before she introduced you and said to them, “And this is my friend I told you about.”

“Hello.” You said warmly as they looked at you, both with curiosity and nervousness.

“I um, I filled them in on everything. I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded. “You contact Rex, I’ll catch up.” You said to Hunter whilst Omega went to go find Batcher. You crouched down in front of the remaining children. “Omega told me a lot about you too. I hear you all helped with her escape plan, that’s pretty impressive.” You said sincerely, keeping your voice tender and kind.

“Omega was the one that led it. It was all her. We didn’t do too much.” Jax said.

“A team is only as good as everyone in it. You all had a part to play, and you did it well.” You cleared your throat as you readied yourself for the next part. “Now, I know Omega has told you that I’m a Jedi, and did she tell you what that means?”

All of them nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. And I have to ask, have any of you ever like an object moved without you touching it, or you were somehow able to jump higher than you expected?”

You knew Baryn couldn’t really understand and wasn’t paying much attention as he babbled away in Sami’s arms, but you figured he was there for the same reasons as the rest of them nodded again.

“We’re going to look out for you whilst we work on getting you back to your families, but life will always be a bit different for you now, and you’ll still have to be careful. But I can teach you some things whilst you’re still here that should help and once you’re home, if you or your parents have any more questions, you’re welcome to come back.” You offered, smiling at them as they nodded. “Alright, that’s all from the grown up for today. Carry on exploring.” You said fondly before you stood up and went to rejoin Hunter and Omega

--

You, Hunter and Omega had taken up position by the weeping maya tree with Batcher lying by Omega’s side. You all watched as the clones walked around freely and the children from the vault got to enjoy being kids once more and it was a delightful sight to take in.

“With Hemlock gone and his data destroyed, they’re finally safe.” Omega said with relief.

“Mm-hmm.” Hunter agreed and released a relieved sigh of his own as the impact of that statement properly hit him. “And so are both of you.”

“Will it take long to find their families?”

“Rex and I are working on it, but we’ll look after them until then.”

“And that brings the adoptive parent tally up to eight- nine including Gungi.” You kidded affectionately before you laid down next to Hunter and rested your head in his lap.

“Like you didn’t just offer them that exact thing whilst I was speaking to him.” Hunter retorted playfully as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek.

You stuck your tongue out at him before the sound of the shuttle powering up grabbed all of your attention. You raised your head and saw Echo getting ready to depart with some of the clones that wanted to continue the fight. All four of you dipped your heads and smiled in farewell.

“What about the rest of the clones?” Omega asked as she watched the shuttle leave. “Will they stay here on Pabu?”

“Well, it’s up to them. They’re free to follow their own path.” Hunter exhaled tiredly but kept his voice light as he said, “We’ve all fought enough battles for one lifetime. Now we get to choose who we want to be.”

“Like what?” Omega asked.

You smiled at Hunter and placed your head back down in his lap. You closed your eyes and let the sun’s warmth seep into your skin.

“Whatever we want, kid.” The girl leaned against his arm and his voice and face softened at the action, “Whatever we want.”

Then, as the Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair came to sit down with the three of you, Hunter stared down at your utterly content form and stroked a hand past your brow and through your hair.

He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to be next.

Post S3 oneshot>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @allthingsimagines , @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia , @justsomerandompersonintheworld

[cheeekycharchar]

The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

[marielle555]

Meltdown and hate in the Astarion fandom. Where do the haters come from?

Hello everyone! If you love Astarion as much as I do and would prefer to see the sunshine-vampire happy in your game - free from the torment of hunger, with the opportunity to enjoy the sun he loves so much, the tastes and all the joys of life, the reflection in the mirror, if you are sick of the idea of “fixing” and taunting your beloved character, if you respect his personality and want him to be himself, doing what he wants, you help him Ascend. If you want a cool and fun “evil playthrough” (Astarion is “evil and fun” as his author, Stephen Rooney, said of him), if you're used to operating with logic and facts and take the gaslighting about how remaining a spawn forever can somehow unfathomably be a “good ending” for him as obvious nonsense and lies, you're doing the same thing. And then…

Suddenly you discover that love and empathy for a character is a “fetish of power”. Turns out that's what “gooners” do (yes, I too was sure that “gooners” usually focus on something else, especially considering the fact that the most vile and twisted “arts” with Astarion - it's all done to UA. If you've been looking for arts with him, your mood has probably sometimes fallen from seeing abominations on one resource or another). For example, you can find such a characterization of players wishing for happy passing with Astarion on Tumblr:

Post a video about Ascended Astarion on your YouTube channel, made with love for the character, write the words “Ascended Astarion” and “love” in the same sentence, and you have a good chance of seeing an amazing circus of “sexualizations” in your comments, “cycles of abuse”, "media literacy" joyful demonstrations of the only Latin word (“delulu”) learned by another young simplicitium, and other “pleasures” of this fandom. Astarion is sometimes hated so fiercely (while calling themselves his fans and often having a romance with him) that they are ready to jump out of their pants just to make fewer people in their game do him a favor. Still, it's interesting to try to understand where this strange attitude of treating choosing a happy “evil path” as something to do with sex came from in the first place.

In September 2023, Discord comments from Baudelaire Welch (at that time the romance feature lead in Larian) concerning Astarion and his 'bad' ending got into the gaming media. Baldur's Gate 3 writer's explanation of Astarion's 'bad' ending is a wake-up call for players lusting over RPG characters.

Baudelaire Welch writes:

“I feel with the bad ending, it's very much exactly that one sentence he says to you when you read his mind. He will always see you as degrading yourself if you continue to be with him, but that's perhaps what you like. It's ultimately reducing your relationship with him back to being a kink/form of gratification. Which is a fine thing to enjoy as a fantasy, but it's very much admitting that you failed to think of him beyond a sex object, and care about more than that. You're so attracted to him, you'd also turn yourself into one.

I think it's perfectly nice to fantasise about that, hell, I wrote the incubus scene where you can essentially make an irreversible sex-pact, and I think that's sexy. But it isn't something that I think is a lesson for real life. And I wanted the bad ending to really make you feel I failed to see this video game character beyond my own fantasies. The game was more real than I ever expected it to be.”

“He will always see you as degrading yourself if you continue to be with him, but that's perhaps what you like.”- This is the only check in the entire game, passing which does not provide any additional line or interaction. One can interpret this in many different ways, and it could be a topic for a separate discussion. But the fact is that this is concrete rails, absolute novelization and the imposition of “authorial will” in the simplest way possible - stripping the player of agency and the ability to react to it in any way, which is a violation of the basic principles of RPG games. Combined with the inability to do anything about it (it's really the only such check in the game), we're trapped. We have to validate this self-perception of his, while simultaneously allowing the author to stigmatize ourselves and fit us to her narrative, as in the tale of the Little Mermaid who gives her voice to the Witch in order to save the prince. In doing so, the character's IP is not violated. Plus it makes it possible for inconsiderate people (or those who want to impose it on others) to take that line as if Astarion sees Tav as beneath himself. And "it's very much admitting that you failed to think of him beyond a sex object, and care about more than that." It's hard for me to understand (I'm not a screenwriter after all) how the story rails in a game can elicit this kind of recognition from the player, but what it does look a lot like, though, is the equally "rails" and poorly scripted dialogue scene after the Ascension. Where there's a line that says, “I want your body.” And the naive player can poke at it with a sigh. Because all the other lines in that scene suck. Or it's also naive to think that since the game is so “progressive”, a lot of sex content, “threesomes”, brothels, bears, illithids, etc., it's probably so fashionable and “progressive” nowadays to say “I want your body” instead of the normal “I love you”, and the author just didn't take Astarion's trauma into account in her “progressiveness”. It's hardly possible to guess, without knowing the context of the story, that it turns out she did take it into account, it's just that you're the one who's supposed to be “ew what a sexualizer”. That's where the “sexualizers” with “gooners” come from, because what “media literacy” is in the inverted minds of “progressive” agenda lovers (no, it's not the ability to navigate the media space, distinguishing common sense and facts from bullshit and propaganda, you're wrong) - it means that when there is written on the fence/magazine who are the “gooners”, that's how you should call them. I hope those who were offended to hear that about themselves felt at least a little better, after all, an NPC who managed to read the woke author's opinion in a game magazine isn't the worst thing that can happen in life, is it? And we shouldn't blame the author, she doesn't work in Larian anymore, nothing bad will happen to Astarion in BG3 anymore, and it's not a fact that she really wanted to insult someone. She did a pretty good job of labeling her fandom, too:

«So, take the bear scene from Baldur's Gate 3. Why did it make such an impact? This is what it meant to me while I was involved with pitching it.

Look, this was not in the depths of my subconscious when I was pitching it. A sort of shit-eating grin was on my face when I was pitching it. But this is what it culturally means to me. It feels like a watershed moment in gaming history, where the fanfiction community felt like we were not a subculture within a fandom, but the majority audience that the game was catering to.

Just in perhaps one scene or, you know, in a series of scenes, but still the majority audience. Players in the fan fiction communities had been joking for years post-Early Access about the different degenerate things they wanted to do with Druid Daddy Halsin, and we gave them an incredibly silly scene which takes an identity moniker from the gay community literally. The gay bear becomes the gay bear.

And we gave them something which feels like it's from the tradition of CrackFic and present it as if it's a mainstream game feature. And then you feel like all the time you spent horny queer shitposting with your friends in your Discord is validated. It is real. It is a wonderful way of engaging with the game. It's seen. And how many other games on this sort of scale have made you feel that way?»

(quote from her lecture at Nordic Game, now it's also in gaming magazines).

“Degenerate things they wanted” and “horny queer shitposting” is what Welch herself says about the “majority audience that the game was catering to” - that is, her fanbase, which is supposed to catch and spread the “author's narrative” (which they do). The saddest part of this story is that the “kissing” scenes of patch 6, which traumatized people and provoked PTSD in some players, were also apparently written with “a sort of shit-eating grin” on her face and also for the pleasure of the shitposters. The shitposters got really pleased after patch 6, stepped up, started bullying survivors and all AA fans online, demanding more insults from Larian. Great fanbase:

In patch 6, these “kisses” with the mimicry of a rape victim, almost completely duplicating similar victim mimicry in sadistic 3D porn and “Rape Day” type games, were repetitive scenes of sexual violence, which violated the ESRB game rating rules (BG3 is rated M, and such scenes can only be contained in AO rated games). In patch 7, Larian fixed this abomination, and the game now features D/s kissing scenes as romance for the Ascended Astarion. Whether the fact that the player character in the Larian game is canonically submissive is a good thing, well, it can be viewed in different ways - for those who like that dynamic it's a great gift, for those who don't - another violation of player agency and deprivation of roleplay in RPGs (not Astarion is categorically dominant, but Tav is a priori submissive. Tav can't tell Astarion she doesn't want to play the role, there are no such lines. Astarion sees Tav submissive in front of him, who really likes it and behaves accordingly). How much it's even okay for a player's character to have canonically prescribed sexual tastes is a separate issue, but there are wonderful mods that can give you your roleplay in the game. But of course, a proper approach to this topic would have to have two lines, one for D/s and one for classic romance.

Fans of rape, fans of the agenda with the “toxic white male”, who must apologize and burn in the finale, and the “strong and independent woman” can only condescend to this “comic character”, become his mentor, or she is the “wrong”, the “gooner”, obliged to “make mistakes”, “want freedom”, whine and suffer - really wanted to bring back “their roleplay”. Non-con fans had it, made their mods and settled down. The “aggressive-progressive” fans of ruining people's games - not really. And, friends, before you get upset about the insults of such “representatives of fandom”, just answer yourself a question - why do they do it? For one simple reason - because you are normal. Normal person, normal player, AA fans are a smaller (in this game) but still part of that very real majority of gamers who want a happy, comfortable and immersive gaming experience, without any attempt to “preach” to them and shove their activism into romance. In the entire industry right now, games that try to “preach” anything are failing en masse, and only a very loud minority are struggling to defend their agenda. Hence the cries of “you're rewriting the character”. Which is another lie, since all the AA fans' demands came down to THEIR characters - Tav's facial expressions appropriate to the romantic scenes, adequate lines to choose from, the addition of a kiss in the epilogue. “A slave being grabbed by the throat and forced to kiss their abuser would terrify them?” - nobody is going to pay 70 bucks to have a slave suddenly appear in their game for the sake of someone's perverted “abuser” fantasies, and also this “slave” turns out to be in the place of their cool character in non-con scenes. Please, separately, in their games for non-con, woke, abusers, gay bears, shitposters, whoever you want, but not at the expense of the normal, ordinary customer, in AAA-class RPGs.

And Astarion was not going to be rewritten by anyone but these activists. Astarion is beautiful - his lines, his looks, his smiles and movements, everything about him is wonderful. Only his haters “rewrite” him in their headcanons, making up nonsense about “loss of soul” (the ritual did nothing to his soul, all their headcanons are based on one line Karlach said to UA “He could've had it all, but he kept his soul”), “cycle of abuse” (there is no such thing anywhere in the game at all, there is only UA's line about “breaking the cycle of power and terror”, no other “cycles” were found), “desire to break up” (the problem of a particular fool Tav, who thought that “Forever” meant “until Thursday” or “until the epilogue”), cruel and insensitive lines for Tav (like “You're like Cazador”), to which Astarion reacts with anger and pain, but completely adequately. They try to use Astarion as a social propaganda tool to “indoctrinate” the audience that the “right” choice is to not love someone like Astarion at all. It is permissible to “like” him, but by no means, to love him. You can use him, get the “cute vampire boy,” sigh at the end, “oh my poor baby, how bittersweet and dramatic!”. Or better yet, realize that he's “dangerous to the world” and shouldn't get powers.

It looks like the point of all this garbage is to show how someone like Astarion needs to be kept “on a leash”. For the sake of it, they also praise the “burning ending” calling it “dramatic” and “bittersweet”. For these characters who call themselves “fans”, Astarion should exactly suffer and be “on a leash”, “forced to conform to the rules of society”. Even a real good ending, instead of what is in the game, would spoil their “agenda”. Well, and to stroke their ego, in reality a guy like Astarion would never spit in their direction, and here the game allows them to “keep him on a leash” while using him as a sexual object. And the fantasy of a certain “stalker” who “obsesses” on them (necessarily physically attractive), and they can kick him, etc., and he will suffer, this can also be characteristic of those who in reality no one needs.

Is it worth getting upset about their hatred? I don't think this category of persons deserves any emotion towards them other than irony.

[book--brackets]

The BFG by Roald Dahl (1982)

Captured by a giant! The BFG is no ordinary bone-crunching giant. He is far too nice and jumbly. It's lucky for Sophie that he is. Had she been carried off in the middle of the night by the Bloodbottler, the Fleshlumpeater, the Bonecruncher, or any of the other giants-rather than the BFG-she would have soon become breakfast. 

When Sophie hears that they are flush-bunking off in England to swollomp a few nice little chiddlers, she decides she must stop them once and for all. And the BFG is going to help her!

Graceling Realm by Kristen Cashore (2008-2022)

Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, who is smart and beautiful and lives in the Seven Kingdoms where selected people are born with a Grace, a special talent that can be anything at all. Katsa's Grace is killing. As the king's niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his brutal enforcer. Until the day she meets Prince Po, who is Graced with combat skills, and Katsa's life begins to change. She never expects to become Po's friend. She never expects to learn a new truth about her own Grace--or about a terrible secret that lies hidden far away . . . a secret that could destroy all seven kingdoms with words alone.

Oz by L. Frank Baum (1900-1920)

Join Dorothy and her little dog Toto on the yellow brick road, as they set off to explore the magical Land of Oz. Can they find the Wizard, defeat the Wicked Witch of the West, and return to Kansas?

Stardust by Neil Gaiman (1997)

Catch a fallen star . . .

Tristran Thorn promised to bring back a fallen star. So he sets out on a journey to fulfill the request of his beloved, the hauntingly beautiful Victoria Forester--and stumbles into the enchanted realm that lies beyond the wall of his English country town. Rich with adventure and magic, Stardust is one of master storyteller Neil Gaiman's most beloved tales, and the inspiration for the hit movie.

Inkworld by Cornelia Funke (2003-2023)

One cruel night, Meggie's father reads aloud from a book called INKHEART-- and an evil ruler escapes the boundaries of fiction and lands in their living room. Suddenly, Meggie is smack in the middle of the kind of adventure she has only read about in books. Meggie must learn to harness the magic that has conjured this nightmare. For only she can change the course of the story that has changed her life forever. 

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine (1997)

At birth, Ella is inadvertently cursed by an imprudent young fairy named Lucinda, who bestows on her the "gift" of obedience. Anything anyone tells her to do, Ella must obey. Another girl might have been cowed by this affliction, but not feisty Ella: "Instead of making me docile, Lucinda's curse made a rebel of me. Or perhaps I was that way naturally." When her beloved mother dies, leaving her in the care of a mostly absent and avaricious father, and later, a loathsome stepmother and two treacherous stepsisters, Ella's life and well-being seem to be in grave peril. But her intelligence and saucy nature keep her in good stead as she sets out on a quest for freedom and self-discovery as she tries to track down Lucinda to undo the curse, fending off ogres, befriending elves, and falling in love with a prince along the way. Yes, there is a pumpkin coach, a glass slipper, and a happily ever after, but this is the most remarkable, delightful, and profound version of Cinderella you'll ever read.

The Witches by Roald Dahl (1983)

This is not a fairy-tale. This is about real witches. Real witches don't ride around on broomsticks. They don't even wear black cloaks and hats. They are vile, cunning, detestable creatures who disguise themselves as nice, ordinary ladies. So how can you tell when you're face to face with one? Well, if you don't know yet you'd better find out quickly-because there's nothing a witch loathes quite as much as children and she'll wield all kinds of terrifying powers to get rid of them.

The Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan (2010-2012)

Since their mother's death, Carter and Sadie have become near strangers. While Sadie has lived with her grandparents in London, her brother has traveled the world with their father, the brilliant Egyptologist, Dr. Julius Kane.  One night, Dr. Kane brings the siblings together for a "research experiment" at the British Museum, where he hopes to set things right for his family. Instead, he unleashes the Egyptian god Set, who banishes him to oblivion and forces the children to flee for their lives.  Soon, Sadie and Carter discover that the gods of Egypt are waking, and the worst of them--Set?has his sights on the Kanes. To stop him, the siblings embark on a dangerous journey across the globe -- a quest that brings them ever closer to the truth about their family, and their links to a secret order that has existed since the time of the pharaohs.

Discworld by Terry Pratchett (1983-2015)

In the beginning there was… a turtle.

 Somewhere on the frontier between thought and reality exists the Discworld, a parallel time and place which might sound and smell very much like our own, but which looks completely different.

 Particularly as it’s carried through space on the back of a giant turtle.

 It plays by different rules. But then, some things are the same everywhere. The Disc’s very existence is about to be threatened by a strange new blight: the world’s first tourist, upon whose survival rests the peace and prosperity of the land.

 Unfortunately, the person charged with maintaining that survival in the face of robbers, mercenaries and, well, Death, is a spectacularly inept wizard…

Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor (2011-2014)

Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil's supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.

And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she's prone to disappearing on mysterious "errands"; she speaks many languages—not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she's about to find out.

When one of the strangers—beautiful, haunted Akiva—fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?

[sharksfrommars]

An Asylum Ask.

I wonder how Canon Ford and Stanley, would react to Asylum Stan and Ford?

I have a few head cannons of this interaction.

The first is Canon!Ford and Asylum!Stan meeting in the Multiverse the first time and Ford would go straight for the attack until Stan blocks it and then Ford notices his robotic arm. 🦾 and easily knew that wasn’t his Stanley.

Both sets of twins would meet each other, twice.

The first time would be three days after each other’s portal fiascos. Both would checkout their counterparts. And A!Ford telling C!Ford telling him everything he went through being in locked up in an Insane for Three Decades with Bill possessing him.

Canon!Ford would be beyond Furious at Bill and Stanley, but mostly Stanley for even putting this Ford in that position in the first place. But A!Ford would get defensive and say that everything was his fault. Both would argue.

The second would be after Weirdmageddon. And both Ford’s coming to an understanding.

I’ve actually been thinking about this so much. Literally such a good idea. I love your mind.

The first time, it’s A.Stan and c.Ford, meeting in the multiverse. It’s on fucking sight for Ford, who is still mad at his own Stan about the whole portal thing. A.Stan wasn’t expecting to see a Ford either. He especially wasn’t expecting to be beat up by one. Stan was sure that this was how he was going to die, until Ford suddenly stopped. 

“You’re not my Stanley.” He said.

“Yeah, no shit. My Ford is still in my home dimensions.”

They stood awkwardly together for a while.

“Sorry” blurted out Ford, “I thought you were someone else.”

That got a hearty laugh out of Stan, who offered to buy Ford a drink. Ford declined, but Stan insisted. So Ford opted for disappearing into a crowd before this Stan could find him again. Ford wasn’t sure he was ready to sit through a meal with Stanley again. Even if it wasn’t his Stanley.

The second time, c.Ford had fallen into a.Ford’s dimension. C.Ford hadn’t realised it was a parallel dimension until he saw himself on the street, staring at him with a crazed look on his eyes.

A.Ford was sure that it was a hallucination. He had a lot of those. He didn’t want to stick around for the hallucinations to start telling him how evil he was. So a.Ford ran. C.Ford chased him, mostly out of a sense of curiosity. 

Eventually c.Ford caught up with a.Ford. 

And now, c.Ford wasn’t sure what to say. They were in a park, with a.Ford sitting by a fountain, looking at the ducks swimming in it.

“Dr Bauer tells me that the meds should’ve stopped the hallucinations by now. Why are you still here?” A.Ford said, not looking up.

“Ha- I’m not a hallucination, you fool! I’m you! From another dimension!”

“Dr Bauer would kill me if he heard I was talking to you, you know. He’s a shit psychiatrist, and he doesn’t deserve his doctorate. But, you’re me. So you already know that.”

C.Ford wanted to claw his eyes out. Instead, he sat. And watched the ducks swimming in silence. It was a while before either of them spoke.

“What happened?” C.ford said, “why do you need a psychiatrist?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. You are me, after all.”

“Just…. Humour me.”

So a.Ford explained. Granted, the explanation made little to no sense. And then the police came, because apparently a.Ford had “escaped the asylum”. So c.Ford decided to disappear.