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lil-gae-disaster · 2 months

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Freddie is dying ig 🚶🤷

(@schnitzelsemmerl & @hamalicious-soup -> OC mentions)

@unicornsaures @marsfingershurt @papers-pamphlet + all the others

My birthday gift to y'all 😁😁🎉

Jonathan sat next to his husband, next to their shared bed.

Although,

Husband was a bit of a stretch. They were not legally married, they would be hanged if they were to try, although being hanged seemed much more merciful than this alternative.

Was this how his dear fool had felt when Jonathan had been shot and unconscious all those years back? The desperation of being able to do something. Although, no, this was a completely different scenario.

Here, Frederick was not shot. He was not unconscious and unrecieving of his surroundings. Here he laughed and spoke with Jonathan. Although, those times had become rarer after the fatigue had gotten worse. Now he was just sleeping most of the time.

His greying hair, which had still strands of blond flowing through it like it was a sea of gold and silver, was damp with sweat. It had grown long, but it also has lost the powerful wildness it had when they met all those decades ago for the first time.

If Jonathan could go back and could tell his 5 year old self that this boy, this boy who had accompanied him all throughout his life, this boy would be the person they would grow old with, he could not imagine what the child would say.

They first spoke when they hosted a banquet, all that time back in Darlington. His hometown. His parents had invited friends from overseas, but Jonathan couldn't have cared less. He knew he could not be bothered with such, much unlike his brother. He had been considerably older and favored by their parents, so he knew how to handle such occasions.

But then Jonathan came face to face with an equally bored seeming boy. He had tight curly hair back then, which had shined like gold in the light of the ballroom. They had spoken, with much less of a language barrier since that boy spoke english well, and they had proclaimed themself to be friends.

After that, they had not seen each other again. No. That is not right.

Jonathans first time at the market, he had been freshly 13, he had met a similar boy. First, it was at the Jewelers station. Then, it was at the farmers where they had been buying food for their friend. It surprised little Jonathan that his parents had friends that lived in a village, as opposed to a mansion.

He had introduced himself, much happier and much less with that sneer his child equivalent seemed to wear if he was not in company of anyone.

This teenager was much happier and curious, obviously as new to the market as Jonathan had been. His hair was also shorter, it now barely reached his neck.

He happily talked with the noble boy, his speech now had more security in them, and much less of a feeling that he was talking down to someone.

Jonathan did not get the boys name, but he knew. He knew it was the same boy from those years ago. Or he wanted it to be.

They had not seen each other for some years after that.

Until he had ran away, dropped out of college, moved in a blacksmith and began his apprenticeship as a blacksmith. He was incredibly grateful that everything went so smoothly.

He had been returning from a walk and he had spotted him again. He was moving near the tailoring shop, which later proved to be due to his profession. Jonathans heart jumped at the sight of the young adult.

Now, Jonathan could scream at himself for not realizing his hearts desire earlier.

They talked regularily as long as their schedules allowed it. But they never moved from being just aquaintances.

Then, the war happened.

After Jonathan joined the cause in the winter of 1775, he entered his tent for the first time. And it was Frederick who greeted him. The man was happy, and he looked proud to be here, among the ranks of men fighting for the crown.

He had led Jonathan around camp, showing him where everything important was. And the brunette can clearly remember how he did not listen to the boy.

He was distracted by his ocean blue eyes. By the red coat that made the small red hue in his hair clear. The way his freckles on his cheeks moved when he talked. The way his eyes sparkled with pride.

Jonathan knew that night that he was gone. His heart now laid in the hands of the boy with the name Frederick Kenneth.

It did not help that the other two men with whom they shared the tent were already sharing a cot, so Frederick and Jonathan had to share.

And it did not help that Frederick offered to cuddle, at least during the winter months at first. To keep the warmth from killing them both before the battlefield could.

They had grown close during this time. They had become dear friends, with Jonathan oftentimes having to tend to a drunk Frederick after he came stumbling into their tent and flung himself onto Jonathan.

Frederick had also made sure to straighten Jonathans outfits because "you have a reputation here. I do not. Your appearance matters more than mine does." This made Jonathan protest while his heart fluttered. And then.

Then came the first mission.

Jonathan realized he could see Frederick never again.

He kissed him.

And regretted it all throughout the duriation of Fredericks leave. He rather they had no opportunity to talk after the mission because Frederick was too immersed in the aftermath and Jonathan knew without a doubt that the man avoided him.

Then, Jonathan got shot. He had been told after that, that Freddie had been sitting by his bed, weeping and neglecting himself just to pay attention to Jonathan.

And.

The confession. The soft, watery "I love you" whispered in a mess of alcohol and relief as he hugged Jonathan. That's the most significant moment during the war.

The after is, well, a story for their children to hear.

They have built a life here, Fredericks father has accepted Jonathan as his own.

They married.

They have lived their best lives here on these newly independent grounds.

The silent confessions of love and everything else has happened in those four walls.

Their daughter had walked and crawled on thie floor. They had raised a living being here.

It sounds so surreal.

"Jonathan" a weak voice whispered, but it was enough to pull said man from his thoughts.

"My dear boy, you're awake. How do you feel?" He asked in a franzy, hastily sliding closer to his undoubtedly dying husband.

"As fine as one can" he replied weakily, a shaky and with wrinkles adorned hand cradling Jonathans jaw.

"I think..." a cough. "I think my time here is coming to an end..." he said with a weak smile, his head slightly turned to the man he had known for over 60 years. Loved for nearly 50.

Jonathan frantically shook his head, tears already collecting themself in his eyes. "Please. Please say anything but this. You will recover, dear."

Frederick softly shook his head. "You will be on your own. I am sorry." He whispered with tears collecting themself in his own eyes.

"Frederick, love, please" Jonathan breathed, first tear running over his cheek.

The old tailor smiled softly and moved to play with a loose curl of his husbands hair."I can't wait to see my friends again" he said with a distant voice, but his eyes were wholly on Jonathan. His Jonathan.

Said man just held the hand that was not occupied with his hair. "Please don't say that my love" he begged "please" his voice was not above a small breath, he felt he couldn't get more into his lungs than that.

Frederick frowned. "I have to ask one thing of you, my dear boy" he said as his hair continued to play with that strand, a habit that had not changed with the years they both have changed and grown.

Jonathan nodded softly, the tears now freely flowing over his face. "What do you want? I will do anything." He said with a weak voice. Everything felt like it failed him at the moment.

Frederick looked Jonathan in the eyes with his own beautiful, ocean blue eyes. Jonathan had never known such beauty before he laid eyes upon Fredericks own eyes.

"I want you to not immediately follow me. Be it one year or ten, let nature decide your pace. You will manage without me." He said sternly, but still an undeniable amount of fondness in his voice that never seemed to go away, no matter how much Frederick may feel to Jonathan at that moment.

The retired blacksmith smiled. "Of course, my dear fool." He said. And what was what they were, weren't they? Complete and utter fools. They have thought their time together was unlimited, they'd die together, as one, but then Frederick fell ill, Jonathan did not.

The ill man chuckled a bit, which resulted in a coughing fit. He smiled weakly as he began to cradle Jonathans jaw again. "Tell Franzie and Katja I love them"

He couldn't hear this anymore. He knew that he had to, but he couldn't. He couldn't bear to hear his dear Frederick talk like that, not after the near fifty years of their life shared with each other day for day.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't exist alone without his dear boy, his Frederick, on this planet again. He needed Frederick to feel complete. And yet... "I-I will." He whispered, his voice now failing him completely.

He couldn't do this, he couldn't, not now, not after they had shared half a century with each other. Not after they fought in a war together. Not after they had held each other so often, telling each other that they are fine, that their cracks are their beauty.

Fredericks hand took Jonathan's. "But you will always be the one I love the most, my beautiful boy." He whispered with so much love in his voice. Jonathan forgot his tears, forgot his sobs. Because it dawned on him. After all those years, after all this long time, he would be alone again. Without a support to keep him upright. Without his Frederick.

"Fred-" he had to take a deep breath, to not cry at this instant. "Frederick, I-" a soft finger on his lips broke off his sentence.

Then, the hand moved to intertwine itself with the hand Jonatha had laid on Fredericks chest, where his heart still beats weakly.

"Shhhhh.... I love you, my Jonathan" Frederick whispered with a genuine smile, one single tear running from his eye to the pillow and a last kiss pressed to Jonathans hand.

Then his heart stopped beating.

Fredericks entire boy went limp, his hand let go of Jonathans, he was gone.

He's gone.

Jonathan is alone again. For the first time in 50 years, Jonathan is truly alone again. No Frederick to keep his darkness from consuming him. Nobody. He was truly alone. Jonathan wept. He held his husbands hand and wept into his clothes. He was pathetic, he knew that, but he could not just act as if Frederick never existed. They had known each other for fifty years, have loved each other for nearly 50 years, goddamnit!

He wept as he remembered them danging walz in the living room while their daughters were in the garden with the dog, who had died long ago.

He remembered all the "I love you"s whispered in those walls, protected by secrecy and the promise of love and adoration.

He remembered the smile as Jonathan presented Frederick with the rings. The rings which symbolized a promise of eternity spent together. Until death do them apart.

He remembered how he had thought of Frederick of the sun so often, it had become a nickname only for Jonathan to know about. Frederick was his sun, his personal and only sun.

He remembered how they had celebrated every achievement of Franzie. How they had made sure to include Annas other children too, since they were now as much family as Franzie was.

He remembered how he had helped Frederick pick himself up over and over again, how he had let it slip once what truly awful people had raised him in his first decade on this earth when they were gone.

How he had cradled Frederick after Isabell had died. After Catherine had died, how many times he quietly comforted Frederick at night when the girls were sleeping. How he had to pry the alcohol from Fredericks hands after Josephs death, how much of a support Frederick was in Jonathans grief.

And now he was gone. Jonathan was left alone in his grief. Left alone in this world for the first time in over 50 years.

He didn't know how long he wept or when he fell asleep, but he got awakened by the sun tickling his face.

Then he remembered. Frederick, his Frederick, his dear Freddie, his fool, his sunshine, his sun was gone.

He began to cry again.

Within those cries, he managed to remember the day.

"Happy birthday, my dear foolish Frederick"

#amrev oc #amrev #redcoat alexander au #:3 #character death #homosexual behavior #tw death #angst #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #hehhehehehehe #hehe :3 #NobleFarm

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scribe-of-hael · 1 month

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The Path to Hell is paved with good intentions

I think what is interesting is the drive that is the Autobots and Decpeticons. Mostly the cause of the Decpeticons and Megatron himself.

Alot of the time we see Megatron to be a crazy, battle hungry, warlord whos hel bent of causing destruction, conquering all in his path and who cares only about his goal to rule.

Over the years we have seen many version of Megatron. From silly goofy villain who's somtiems could acutally be a threat like in g1, to pash, cold, cunning like TFA, to being a crazy war lord who is incredibly cruel in TFP.

But these versions are mostly a Megatron who came from fighting, or had no good intentions to begin with besides being selfish or power hungry.

Then you have TFE and IDW/IDW2 (and possibly tf one). A different apprich to a character. Some may say its to make someone who has done cruel things as more sympathetic. But I think adds depth and personality.

Giving more than a crazy leader with silly goons, to a person who genuinely thought at the beginning, "I want things to change, for the better ,because it is broken"

Much howOptimus, the humble data clerk (hate he is a cop in idw tbh) and the hard working miner. Your everyday ppl, going through diffenrt struggles and honestly. I think woukd be fair to say that Orion wouldn't know the struggles of lower level bots that don't even have proper names..

Like D-16. The mech whis become Megatron.

Both Optimus and Megatron i think wnates to see a change , but how they both went about it i what added the conflict.

These two are basically your average everyday people. Megatron was an average everyday person. He wasn't born into the pits, net a warrior. A worker.

I think with alot of cartoon "villains" to we get older and started to see from a adult perspective. "Oh wait they are making sense." And how MESSED up the situation even was to drive these characters to this point.

Its no longer good vs evil, it is two ideals fighting aginst each other. What was once a fight for what these two sides believes in, turned into warfare and blood shed. To the mentality of Megatron being

"I can't trust anyone to right thing, besides me. I am the only one who can fix this, I can lead us."

You know what I could also see Optimus having the SAME mentality when comes to fighting megatron and restoring Cybertron. They are very much two sides of the same coin. I think that's what adds to the conflict between them. Optimus could be one bad day away from becoming Megatron onnthe sense of wanting to control the situation despite what costs just to not se Megatron when.

And you know he HAS done this. Yeeting the allspark for one to not let Megatron have ir but at the cost of Cybteron and its occupance. It was a loose loose situation regardless.

When it comes to alt-modist mentality, this high class vs low class, and the corruption of Cybertron. It is no wonder why so many people believes in the Decpeticon causes.

The reason why I clung so hard to Transformers Earthspark Megatron is because this was a break out from his character. To later learn it definitely took inspo from IDW who explored this character further sealed my admiration for him.

No one in the tf universe is less or more guilty. Both sides have done HORRIBLE things. Experimentation, brutality, killing innocence and their own soldiers just to get the won up. The autobots are not without their own blood shed. Only SOME of the autobots have a bit more regard for life and the planet they sit on. It doenst mean all of them do, and it doenst mean people within the groups around Optimus like it. But because they are painted as good guys we exapect them to.

Its when Decpeticons seem to take an interest in life do I find it way more compelling because it is out of their characteristics. They are the "bad guys"

Knockout being interested in Human cinema

Thundercracker being into writing and making movies

They are still PEOPLE. With interests and hobbies, internal conflicts and hesitations.

To see a Megatron not only fight aginst his own army , but take a human, a HUMAN as a friend that he TRUSTS?! That he gave up his Cybertronian already mode UP FOR?! Thats a bug FUCKING deal.

Just the contrast to TFW Megs to say TFP. Tfp depsite it beingbbetter for camouflage NEVER changes his alt mode. He is never willing to acutally change, he is so deeply rooted in what he is, who he is. What he is doing. That he is unwilling to change to the surroundings. No the surrounding will change BECAUSE of him.

While TFE realized a change was needed to fix things, to work together, to show I AM CHANGING, I WANT TO DO THE RIGHT THING.

This is not a Slander Optimus rant or a WOW Megatron is such a great guy essay.

Was mostly me rambling.

#Megatron #transformers #optimus prime #orion pax #maccadam #Rambles #tfa megatron #tfp megatron #tf earthspark #earthspark megatron #idw megatron #tf one #tf one megatron #I will stand by tfe megs #I love him #I wish we got to see more of his past with dotty #What drive him to that point instead of saying it #I wanna see it #Show me damn it

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bbcphile · 1 year

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Today, I’m crying about Li Xiangyi’s childhood, the way it taught him that losing meant he didn’t deserve to exist, and how that governed his response to the East Sea battle ten years earlier and to all the revelations at the end of the show.

Li Xiangyi obviously loves his shifu and shiniang, and they definitely loved him, too, given that his shifu wanted him to focus more on enjoying life and less on changing the world and obtaining victories, and given that his shifu sacrificed himself to try to save Xiangyi and his shiniang wanted to. So, his childhood with them definitely had more love, support, stability, and learning opportunities than his earlier life, which features such traumas as seeing his mom murdered in front of him, living on the streets starting at age 4, watching his older brother die in front of him and then forgetting his older brother existed, probably from traumatic amnesia/dissociation. That being said, though, his shiniang and shifu made some truly horrific decisions that caused some epic problems for both Li Xiangyi and Shan Gudao! It’s not just that they withheld incredibly important knowledge about Xiangyi’s early life and background from him (who his parents were, why they were murdered, that he had an older brother, the secret of his heritage)--although wow, that is a terrible way to raise a traumatized child–it’s also that they fostered competition instead of caring, both with the children they raised and between each other. I’m thinking in particular of the fact that, once shiniang and shifu separated, they each took a child (based on drawing lots) and had Xiangyi and Shan Gudao fight once a month to determine not just which kid was the better martial artist, but which adult was a better teacher, and, by extension, parent and person!

That last thing is just so infuriating and, frankly, abusive: it makes each kid think competition and winning is how affection is earned, and that any sort of mistake or loss or failure is the absolute end of the world, because you’re never just letting yourself down or not reaching your potential: you are proving that you don’t deserve their care and affection. It also taught Xiangyi that he was responsible for their caregiver’s happiness and reputation, and once you have that kind of overdeveloped sense of responsibility as a child, you carry it through into every aspect of your life, because you don’t know any other way of being. No wonder Xiangyi thought he carried the world on his shoulders: growing up, the mountain home/training center was his world–since it seems like he didn’t have interactions with anyone else until he left the mountain at age 15–so he had been carrying that belief for at least a decade without having seen any other models of ways to exist.

Also, we know Xiangyi thinks he owes his shiniang and shifu for having brought him into their family: having that added sense of debt makes everything so much worse, because he essentially thinks he owes his entire existence to them. It seems like Xiangyi felt like he had to win the competitions to prove he deserved to be there, but also to prove he deserved to exist.

For his early life, he only felt the positive side of this expectation, because he never lost, since his martial arts skills were so much stronger than Shan Gudao’s. He was unintentionally primed to assume the outcome was a foregone conclusion, because he didn’t have any real challengers. This also hammered home the idea that he was right about things, that he should call the shots, and that collaboration wasn’t really relevant to his life, since it wasn’t as if his shifu taught Xiangyi and Shan Gudao how to fight side by side to defeat other opponents. Losing seemed like something that happened to other people (namely, Shan Gudao), and given the emphasis his shifu and shiniang placed on the competitions, I imagine winning time after time was more than just an adrenaline rush; it was positive reinforcement that he deserved the good things that had come his way, had repaid the debt he owed his shiniang and shifu, and would continue to earn love, respect, a family, a home, and a right to exist.

But when he lost? When he had never had a model for what losing safely feels like? (When the only times he lost were when he lost deliberately to try to cheer up Shan Gudao, but was berated for it, and told it was shameful and wrong to throw a fight for any reason, so losing becomes even more associated with shame?) When losing wasn’t a way to learn, but a sign that he might lose his love, his family, his home? What happens when the scaffolding upholding his right to exist—his ability to win—comes crashing down?

Suicidal ideation. Because he lost not only the battle with Di Feisheng, but also his shixiong, his shixiong’s body, his fiancee, the lives of his men, his reputation, his new home (the Sigu sect), and being able-bodied. In short, he lost everything part of him always feared he’d lose and then some. So why would he think he still has a right to exist, after that? How could he believe someone telling him it wasn’t his fault, when all he has ever known is that the responsibility for everyone he cares for lies with him?

(I feel like it’s really telling that he didn’t go back to his shiniang’s or shifu’s home after everything went to hell; he said it was because he had been unfilial and couldn’t bear to go back after his shifu died, but it also seems like, given that he had lost everything else, he felt like he didn’t deserve the comfort, family, and home it represented, so staying away is his punishment.)

Given all this, it makes total sense that Li Lianhua wants so desperately to think of Li Xiangyi as dead: he can’t actually reconcile being alive and having failed. So he tries to create a new persona that doesn’t want to be the best in the jianghu or thrive on praise and responsibility, while he tries to correct what he thinks of as his mistakes, before he dies of Bicha poisoning.

He tries to live the life his shifu wanted for him, where he enjoys pleasures like wine, food, relaxation, and growing things instead of focusing on making a name for himself or winning, and he tries to stay away from people, attachments, and love, because you can’t lose them again if you don’t have them to begin with.

But of course, saying someone is a different person doesn’t make it so. He still wants to be the best–the best physician, the best at scheming, the best at detective work–because he still doesn’t actually know how to be any other way. So he still has the same problems as Li Xiangyi: he still withholds information and commands more than collaborates (it’s frankly amazing he works as well with Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng as he does), still has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility (he believes he has to be the one to save those he cares about and stop everyone else, whether Shan Gudao or the emperor), and at the end, is still suicidal (because now he thinks he’s responsible for the death of his shifu, for not seeing Shan Gudao’s plot, and probably in some warped way for the Nanyin situation once he learns the truth of his heritage, because the man has never met a situation he can’t take the blame for).

It doesn’t surprise me at all that Li Lianhua doesn’t fully get how much he means to Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing at the end, or that he thinks they just want their version of Li Xiangyi: he can’t imagine being loved and still having made a mistake.

#mysterious lotus casebook #mysterious lotus casebook meta #li xiangyi #li lianhua #tw: suicide #Shan Gudao #I had more to say about how LXY loses everything once and decides he deserves nothing #while Shan Gudao lost every day for a decade and decided he deserved everything #and how both maladaptive coping strategies are from the absurd competition they grew up with #but it was already too long #so it's going here #some day I will actually finish my fics and post them #but for now it's meta time

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bitimdrake · 3 months

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I don't know if you've already been asked this, but I was wondering if you could rank the Gotham vigilantes by combat level? Like, I've heard Black Canary is actually a really skilled martial artist, and was wondering how they compare to each other.

This question first puts forth how we classify Gotham vigilantes. Black Canary is indeed a vigilante who has often been in Gotham, but can we truly call her first and foremost a Gotham vigilante? What about the other Birds of Prey? The Outsiders? Alan Scott? Catwoman I think is safe to count by now, but Harley and Ivy have had more recent rehabilitations so?? For sanity, I'm going to keep this fairly limited.

Second it illuminates for me personally the gaps in my knowledge. I have barely read about Kate Spencer/Manhunter and skipped a lot of Kate Kane/Batwoman. I haven't read much after Flashpoint. And hey, what is even going on with Bette Kane these days?

Anyway my primary answers to what you've sent here are:

You have heard correct; Dinah is indeed known as a very skilled martial artist.

Trying to rank vigilantes one-by-one is a fool's errand and will only lead to petty infighting about "no my fave should be better" and "this comic where X won a fight against Y is clear proof, and that other comic where they lost against Y is clearly OOC"/"no, it's the other way around!!!" arguments. There is no clear order, no matter what anyone might try to convince you of, and characters will almost always be portrayed stronger and cooler in their own books, and weaker and not as good as supporting characters in someone else's book.

I think at most we should do rankings in groups:

She Gets Her Own Category

It is simply narratively important to Cassandra Cain's story for her to be the best in the world, in a way that it is not and never has been important to any of the others' narratives. Based on the metric of who's won what fight, you could maybe argue this, but based on narrative weight, no way. And I put story first, so. Perfect for a year, etc etc.

Top Tier Adult Vigilantes

Dinah, Bruce, Dick, Jean-Paul Valley, Jason, etc. Helena probably goes here, although I remember less focus on her hand-to-hand since the crossbow is so iconic.

Put two from this group in a fight, and it's not a terrible stretch for the writer to pick either as the victor.

You Go, Kid

Tim, Stephanie in and after her Batgirl era, and I think current Damian although my knowledge after the reboot tapers off.

Gonna be a struggle for them to beat one of the adults above, but they are still incredibly good fighters.

Trying Their Best

Pre-Batgirl Stephanie, early Damian. Both have grown out of it since, but in Steph's early years we were regularly being told or shown that she just didn't have the training to hold up to other Gotham vigilantes. And though Damian was surely a fantastic martial artist for a ten-year-old, it was also made regularly clear in his early preboot appearances that he wasn't half as good as he thought he was, and the older vigilantes could kick his ass if they wanted to.

#*#ask #anon #*dc #dc #batfam #dc meta #i'm really not sure how to rate barbara though #like she's incredibly skilled clearly and has so much training #but also has an obvious disadvantage in mobility and (more pressingly) we don't see her fight very often so it's hard to judge

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Hellooo. it's been a while since you posted your stories but im willing to wait! just hope you're doing fine but here's my request, when the reader is Matt's sister and they have an argument one night and she suddenly leaves Matt's apartment, After that, she is taken by human traffickers and gets hurt or something like that (angst pls hehehehe) thank you so much love u. and I hope you're doing well!

Thank you for your request and your kind words, Lovely! This took a while for me to even get to and I am so incredibly sorry for that. This is my first time writing Matt with a Reader that he is not in a romantic relationship with, but I love a good challenge. I hope I got it right the way you imagined it and that I did your idea justice. I'm doing so much better, by the way. I hope you're doing okay and I love you too :)

Brother | Matt Murdock x Sister!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Sister!Reader

Summary: After a fight with your overprotective brother, you find yourself taken by human traffickers and it is on Matt to save you before something worse can happen to you.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of human trafficking, graphic descriptions of blood, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be angst with hurt/comfort or without, so I just did it with comfort because I felt like it fit with the direction this story was taking. I hope you like it, nonnie, and I hope the rest of you enjoys it as well. I only have little sisters so I don't really know what it's like to have a brother, but this is fiction and I see Matt as a very protective person, so... enjoy!

Having siblings isn’t easy.

Having an older brother who takes his overprotectiveness as seriously as having a full-time job even less so. It’s not because you had to compete for your parents’ attention as children - Your father passed and you never knew your mother. You grew up in a catholic orphanage and while for some siblings, that might have been the death sentence to their relationship, you and your brother never lost sight of each other. You two are the only family you have left and after suffering the loss of your father, you needed to catch each other. You both felt so alone, your brother more so than you; he’s always been different, which is something that he’s not at fault for, and you’ve been his rock, always being there for him because not many people were able to understand what he went through as a child. It’s a lack of understanding that’s dragged on into his adult years, and while he often told you before that he envies how perceptively “normal” you are, without you, he would have no one. It’s why he is so protective of you, and you get it, you do, but it’s hard and sometimes his behavior can get a bit too overbearing even for your liking - and you can take a lot.

Matt Murdock carries the burden of a dark past and a dark present, a constant reminder of his past that has changed his life forever. At eight years old, he got into an accident that took his eyesight and heightened his other senses to the point it became almost unbearable. And he had never told anyone but you when you were old enough to understand.

You’ve been carrying his secret for as long as you can remember, so when he came to your apartment one night, bloody and bruised and dressed in a black get-up that might as well have been pajamas at that point, you were pissed, of course, but you weren’t surprised. It’s just another secret you have been carrying for him. and perhaps it’s also been for your sake because having to explain to people why your blind brother does rooftop parkour in the middle of the night dressed in a clad black shirt and some jeans is not a discussion you want to have.

That’s why you’ve never considered yourself anything but normal. You are the normal Matt needs, the normal he has needed especially as a young boy, and in return, he’s made sure to protect you from harm every day ever since you were born. It has nothing to do with heightened senses or disability; he loves unconditionally, and he’s so afraid of losing the last family he has left, he does everything in his power to make sure it doesn’t happen.

At first, you didn’t mind, and you guess you still don’t, but it’s only natural to feel like you’re being controlled at times with a brother who perceives everything, hears and smells everything, and senses danger in every corner of life, even if it’s not real. That’s what gets you, that’s what annoys you and that’s essentially what led you into his apartment that night, frustrated beyond compare. You know he’s your brother and you should be thankful for his support, but some lines should not be crossed, not even by family - and he has really knocked it out of the park this time.

“I was trying to protect you,” Matt says and you’ve heard the same excuse so many times before, it makes your blood boil.

“Protect me?” you snap. “By showing up to my date’s workplace in the middle of the night in your silly little Devil suit? Is that what you think protecting someone means? Stalking an innocent guy your sister has been on two dates with and hasn’t even said anything about taking things further than that and putting the fear of God in him?” Your voice is loud and echoes through the apartment. He flinches, the volume hurting his sensitive ears, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s not the first time he has successfully scared a possible suitor away by being his intimidating himself, but he has never done it in his suit before, let alone threatened a man who has done nothing to you with violence. You were merely experimenting with him, going on a few dates after meeting him online, and he had been nothing but nice to you from the moment you first laid eyes on him in person. Last night though, you received a text from him, telling you that he can’t do this anymore and that you’re over, and it didn’t take you all too long to figure out why he doesn’t want to meet with you anymore. He’s scared, rightfully so, and he hasn’t even done anything to prompt any kind of punishment from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. But the vigilante is your brother and to him, anyone who even dares to touch you is the enemy in person.

You accept his lifestyle, you care and you want him to be safe. You’ve never tried to change or stop him the way other people have, but he has also never done anything this extreme before. You know your anger is justified, but the look in his eyes, the stern expression, and the way he places his hands on his hips as if you’re a condescending child make you feel small for no reason; he is the one who should be ashamed, and you refuse to stay down this time. You’re a grown woman and you can take care of yourself.

Matt raises his eyebrows slightly. “He sounded like bad news,” he says. To him, that is an explanation that suffices. To you, it’s the opposite.

“And how would you know that?”

“The way you talked about him… I did some research and I got a bad feeling, so I paid him a visit. I just wanted to make sure you were in the right hands, and it didn’t feel like you were.”

You let out a low groan, “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Language,” he retorts.

“No, you listen to me, Matthew! I know you care about me, but that doesn’t mean you get to control every aspect of my life as you please,” you say, and your words hit hard. “I’m your sister, not your property, and I deserve privacy. I deserve to make my own mistakes and date people from the internet however the fuck I please, so no! I’m not caving. You were wrong with what you did and you ruined something that could have been possibly beautiful, and I hate you!”

The last part of your speech is harsh and part of you wants to take it back as soon as you’ve said it, but your vision is blurry red with anger, and taking it back is not something you do, you never have.

Matt swallows and he calls your name softly.

“Dad would turn in his grave if he saw what you’ve become.”

“Hey,” he calls your name again, but the steam coming out of your eyes turns you deaf to his pleas.

You shake your head and grab your back. The adult conversation you planned to have with him went straight out of the window the second you saw the determination in his unfocused eyes, and he’s taken one step too many.

With a loud huff and a promise to kick his ass if he even thinks about contacting you anytime soon, you storm out of his apartment, the door falling shut behind you.

Matt is left behind with an aching hole in his chest. He’s angry, he can’t deny that; your words have cut a little too close to him. You know what buttons to push to elicit a reaction, but this was new, even for you.

You sounded so happy when you told him about this guy you had met online. You went on a few dates and the smile in your voice had been evident as you talked to him on the phone. He told himself he wouldn’t make any hasty decisions, but the more you talked, the more he wondered who this guy was, so he did his research and visited him. He was just trying to be the best brother he could be, and the guy you were talking to seemed a little too perfect. People aren’t perfect. But perhaps he misjudged him.

Ever since he could remember, his sister’s safety has been Matt’s number one priority. Losing his father so soon and being left with his little sister at Saint Agnes, blind and overwhelmed, had been the worst part of his life, but he made it through. He pushed through the pain because of you. Without you, he wouldn’t have survived. He owed you so much and yet he has failed time and time again to properly show you how grateful he is. Instead, he makes the same mistake over and over again, and now it feels as if he has truly lost you.

He wanted to keep you safe, but instead, he pushed you away. He hurt you. He broke your heart in a way not even a guy from the internet could break your heart, and it hurts him to even recall the sound of your voice or the words you threw at his face. You had every right to do it, but it still hurts him just the same because you were right - if Jack were here right now, he would be the last person on Matt’s side.

Having siblings is hard, but being a big brother with trust issues who tends to go overboard to take care of his sister who is more than capable of doing it on her own is even harder. And there is no one to blame but himself.

He calls out your name to his phone several times that night. He listens for you in the bustling core of the city. He searches Hell’s Kitchen from his apartment for your scent and anything familiar, but he receives no answer. You’re gone. You left him. The one thing he once asked you to never do, you’ve done and the realization becomes frighteningly clear; he has probably lost you over something as small as your dating life, and it’s the most stupid thing he has ever done.

You leave his apartment with determined steps, deep down knowing you will come back as soon as you’ve both calmed down. You avoid the subway or calling an Uber, reveling in the feeling of the cool night air on your skin. When you cross a particularly dark corner into an alley to take a shortcut, you can hear Matt’s voice in your head telling you to turn around and take a familiar route, but you’re angry and you want to go home. You need to get out of your head, so you take the road less traveled - In hindsight, you should have listened to Matt’s voice in your head because even though he is infuriating, he is often right, even if he’s just taking the form of your common sense.

The way out of the alley is suddenly blocked by two large men, their shoulders broader than two of your heads next to each other. You grab your bag, reaching for the maze Matt always insists you carry with you. You’re an idiot, you realize; you switched your bag that morning, forgetting to transfer the small bottle from your old to the new one, and your bag is empty when you reach into it.

You try to remember the self-defense techniques from your training at Fogwell’s, but soon enough, there’s an entire crowd of men in that dark alley and you swallow. You should have listened to your brother.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

There is no way you are going to make it out of this one.

By lunch the next day, Matt still hasn’t heard from you. He’s pacing his office, he fans out his hearing, he tries to reach you through email, even, but there is no sign of life from your end. The number of times he has texted and demanded that you get back to him, and just let him know you’re okay, is probably in the hundreds. By the time the clock strikes twelve, he grabs his coat and storms out.

Foggy shouts after him, but he doesn’t turn around. He takes the subway to your apartment and knocks. No answer. He climbs over the fire escape onto the roof and tries to get into your apartment that way. You lack security, he knows that. When he reaches your apartment, the place is silent. Except for the steady dripping of the broken faucet, there is nothing that would suggest someone is even living there. You didn’t pack any clothes, your suitcase is still in your closet and the fish you insist on keeping haven’t been fed in a whole day. Considering you came to him straight from work the other night, he makes the connection between you leaving his apartment and never even reaching yours in the first place, and that’s when the panic officially sets in.

With one swift motion of his hand, he wipes your dining table clean. The mail you’ve kept on it falls to the floor and he lets out a frustrated shout. Everything smells like you, but your heartbeat is missing. You’re gone, but you didn’t leave - you’re gone and you haven’t come home, your friends don’t know where you are, and when he calls into your work, they say you haven’t come in all day; you’re gone and it’s then that he knows something is terribly wrong and you are very likely in danger. A danger he has put you in by being the oaf of a brother you often call him. You’re in danger because he chose to interfere with your life once again, acting as if you’re a teenager and not a grown woman, and that made you so angry, you felt the need to leave the safety of his home, and now you’re gone because of that, because of him. He tears at his hair. Damn it, he thinks, and he instantly starts to hate himself again. But is it really again if he’s never stopped hating himself?

He answers Foggy’s call with his chest still heaving and he tells him what happened in one short sentence, and except for your name and that you’ve possibly been kidnapped because of his enemies, there’s not much else he needs to give his friend the day off. He tells him to find you and call as soon as he’s found you and knows you’re okay. Because Foggy cares. Foggy is your friend, too. But Foggy isn’t Matt, and he isn’t made for the fight his friend is about to embark on as soon as the sun starts to set.

Matt sees red. He’s not even sure where to start, he only knows he needs to find you. He needs to make up for what he did because he refuses to lose you. A fight can’t be the last conversation he has ever had with you, and he definitely couldn’t live with himself if the life he leads on the side somehow gets his sister hurt or worse, killed even. He loves you more than life itself and he owes it to you and his father to make sure you make it back safely to him. That’s what he promises all those years ago, and this is anything but your fault.

Twenty-four hours have never felt longer. You wake up with the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs digging into the sensitive skin of your wrists. The pain that spreads through your skull is sharp and you can feel the heat of blood dripping down your scalp.

“What the-” you groan when you lift your head.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. For a second, you wonder where you are, then the realization sinks in; the men in the alley, their disgusting grins, and then the blow to the back of your head that has left you incapacitated for God knows how long.

You struggle against the chains that keep you bound, but the metal is strong. Bruises adorn your body. Your clothes are torn in various places, but you’re still dressed and it seems like no one has touched you, which settles your nerves a bit, but the fear still bubbles up in you and fills the air with the scent of your sweat.

As minutes turn into agonizing hours, your bones start to ache from the position, and you're tired, but sleep is the last thing on your dizzy mind. You have lost all track of space and time, no one has come to see you, you haven't received any water or food and all of your screams for help have met deaf ears or no ears at all. Your voice is sore at this point, and you give up on yelling because it is of no use, and Matt has taught you better.

Your mind races with thoughts of finding an escape, but the truth is, you are not your brother and he once told you never to do anything stupid. You're not as trained as him, you're not a vigilante and you shouldn't even be in this position, but you are, and it sucks. You never thought it possible that you would truly end up in front of the gun at some point, even though Matt has warned you many times before and it's the part of his superhero life that has him worry even more than a normal brother. Perhaps that is why he overreacted, and perhaps you should have thought about it twice before shouting at him and being mean to him, knowing your words will stay with him for a long time; he likes to blame himself and you gave him material for days. Knowing you might die makes you regret your words and the tone of your voice because damn it, you love your brother and you can't bear to leave him alone, let alone leave him with the guilt of your possible death at the hands of people you don't even know or understand why they have taken you in the first place.

The reality of the situation weighs heavily on you. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Though you bite your cheek, shake your head, and try once again to break free of your chains. If you want to get out alive, crying isn't getting you anywhere, and you wouldn't be a Murdock if you weren't ready to fight for your freedom. You are a tough son of a bitch, but a lot of people underestimate that. If you can be tough now, you're not sure, but you have to try.

Just when you think you can't bear it any longer, the creaky door to your holding place creaks open, revealing the silhouette of a man. It's the same man from the shadow in the abandoned alley Fear clenches at your heart, fear you try your best to swallow as he approaches you with his steel black boots, his footsteps echoing ominously in the room. The man kneels to your height, meeting your sour gaze that you throw him, and his eyes bore into yours, both of them filled with pure malice and mocking curiosity.

“Such a pretty thing,” he coos.

God, you want to bite him, but not in a friendly way.

He smiles, his teeth yellow in the dim lighting of the room - you now suspect it’s an abandoned warehouse at the docks, hearing the soft waves of the Hudson outside through the door he just came in through. Men, a young woman, and a warehouse at the docks can only mean one thing, and it makes you shiver.

“You know how much money I would get for a pretty face and body like yours?” he asks, and his laugh at your shocked expression sends even more shivers down your spine. He grabs your chin and you hiss like a snake, trying to bite his finger off, but he is strong and he’s more amused than scared. “Feisty, I like it. Tell me, has Daredevil taught you that?”

The name catches the breath in your throat.

“You’re mixed up with him, aren’t you? That’s why he cares so much?”

How he knows, you’re not sure. Your smart remark gets lost in translation when he grips your face tighter and seethes, “Answer me!”

You hate this man with a passion.

“Fuck you!” you spit back.

His palm lands flat across your cheeks and you flinch. “Let’s try this again. I know you know Daredevil. Now, the how is not important here,” he says. “What's important is that you tell me the truth or this thing gets real ugly real fast and you're gonna be on a ship to Russia in the next thirty minutes. I suggest you don't waste my time. Tell me, sweetie, how well do you know him?"

You stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You can't sell out your brother, even if it would save your life and a journey to Russia to be sold into sex slavery, most likely. Telling them about Matt would blow your cover, too, and that would cause even more problems. Besides, you hate this man and you are not going to play his games, no matter how scared you are. Still, his words hit a nerve. A big one.

"I don't know him," you say. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." You’re surprised your voice sounds as steady as it does, but you’re glad because it shows you’re not scared, making you a worthy opponent and stalling, which is exactly what you need.

You have never been as religious as Matt, but this time, you pray to the God you were taught to believe in that he will let the devil out to find you, and that soon.

The man’s breath reeks of cigarettes and whiskey when he leans down. "Oh, I think you will," he slaps you again, "You see, we have ways of making people talk. And trust me, sweetheart, you won't enjoy it."

The palm of his hand soon turns into his fist. You whimper but stay quiet. Your defiance earns you a kick with his steel boot right to your ribs, and you momentarily lose focus and ear, and you can feel consciousness slipping from you as something seems to burst inside of you. Blood trickles from your split lip as your vision turns into a stormy ocean and a dull throbbing echoes through your head. With each question that goes unanswered, another body part becomes the target of his torment. Your bones ache, your throat hurts and the blood covers half of your face now. He's broken your nose in several places, that much you know, and you're sure he's managed to break your little finger. Your ribs are bruised if not fractured, too, and something inside of you is screaming as it burns through your organs. You're sure there is blood in your stomach. Even through all of it though, you stay quiet. You don't answer, you simply endure.

“Is that really how much you care about him?” the man pants, his fist raining down on you once more. “That you’d die for him?”

Your eye is swollen and tears gather in both of them as you look up at him. You hold his gaze, the blood from your mouth landing in a pool of spit at his feet.

“I’m far from dead,” you croak out.

His fist lands on your temple this time. The liquid multiplies. Hot blood trickles down your face and your neck, painting a gruesome picture on the floor below you. You can barely see with the broken flesh of your face, barely move with your broken bones, and your muscles ache from trying not to fall over. You can’t pass out.

You remember the one time as a child when you accidentally knocked your head after falling off of your bike and Matt was there, telling you to focus on your surroundings so you won’t lose consciousness. You do so. You refuse to let the man win, you refuse to let them take you. You need to win.

With each hit, it gets harder to stay awake. You force yourself to count the dirt on the walls, but as your eyes start swelling shut completely, the first tears start to fall. You are so tired, you can see the light behind your eyelids. You can see your dad and the faint silhouette of your grandma. You’ve missed them. They tell you to fight, but at the same time, their arms are wide open and telling you it’s okay, you won’t be alone. You can’t fight forever, and in some wars, you just can’t win. At least if you die before they can ship you off, you won’t end up in Russia and they will never find Matt.

Just as despair is starting to consume you completely and you are more than ready to give up, there is a clanging sound at the other end of the room, metal on metal. Something hard hits the floor, followed by a series of grunts that travel from the docks into the warehouse. The man's grip on you vanishes, replaced by the sound of more bodies hitting the floor, hard. You blink through the haze, suddenly wide awake again, your eyes widening as you recognize the shadow in the distance. Your fear of death subsides, replaced by the dull feeling of relief as salvation stands before you.

“Oh, thank God,” you say.

He rushes to your side, calling your name in a hushed yet hurried tone. He's worried sick, you can tell. He can smell the blood and hear your erratic heartbeat. Your breathing is labored as the broken rib digs into your flesh, and you're sure your lung is about to collapse with all the fluid inside, but you don't care. He's here. He's found you.

"Matt?" you ask as if you can't believe it when he touches you. The lower part of his face turns into a smile, but something wet trickles down the inside of his mask and onto his lip. A tear. His tongue darts out and he licks it away, trying to hide the fact that he is both dying inside and relieved to have found you.

His touch is gentle as he carefully frees you from the handcuffs with a simple tug at the metal. He catches you when you lose balance, wrapping his arms around you. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice almost as hoarse and broken as yours.

He has found you, but the state you’re in breaks his heart.

“You’re safe now. I’m here.”

Feeling his arms around you instead of the hands that were set out to hurt you before breaks the dam you've been holding up all this time. The tears start streaming down your battered face as you cling to him. Your strength descends into vulnerability.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you sob into his shoulder. “I was so scared. They wanted to get to you and I refused to tell them, but I was so close… Oh, God, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He holds you even tighter, feeling your skin for the injuries that lie beneath. “Shh, don’t apologize,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault, not yours.”

You shudder.

Matt holds you tighter, his voice choked with his own tears. "I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy and I shouldn't have let you leave. If I hadn't... You mean everything to me. I'm so sorry."

“No,” you whimper, “don’t say that. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You’re hurt. Jesus-” He can feel your broken ribs, the shifting of your nose, and smell the copper of your blood.

“Language.”

For a moment, he chokes on his tears and chuckles before holding you close again. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me, Matty.”

“Never.” He moves so he can hold your face in his hands, pressing your forehead together. “You’re my sister,” he says, “and I’m always going to protect you with my life. I promise you, I won’t ever let this happen to you again.”

You nod weakly.

“Over my dead body,” he says.

“Please don’t say that,” another fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes.

He wipes your bloody cheeks. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

You shake your head as you respond, “It’s okay.”

“It’s only okay when you’re okay, and you’re not.”

You feel so fragile in his arms, he cradles you like broken glass to his chest. "We're getting you out of here," Matt says softly, "I won't let them hurt you anymore. Just hold on a little longer. We'll get you out and then I'll get you to the hospital, I promise."

You nod weakly. He carefully lifts you into his arms, mindful of your injuries, and begins to navigate through the warehouse, relying on his instincts entirely.

A few hours later, you find yourself draped in an uncomfortable hospital gown and forced to stay the night. Matt is often reckless with his own injuries, but for you, he would even threaten the safety of his identity. He got Claire to catch you in front of Metro General, and she was more than nice to you. Now though, you're alone in the poorly decorated hospital room, and the loneliness creeps up your spine like a parasite. You curl into a ball and stare at the door, waiting until the clock strikes a full hour for the person you need the most to strut through the door.

He is right on time. Matt made a promise and he's made sure to keep it. There he stands in clothes that nowhere near resemble the suit he left at home. It's just him in his red glasses, but the poor yellow lighting casts a sad glow onto his face.

His steps are heavy, burdened by the weight of his perceived failures. As he enters the room, he removes his glasses, and the gates open wide. You extend a trembling hand toward him. "Matthew," you say softly, "Come here." His sobs are silent, but they shatter your already bruised heart. He takes your hand and you pull him close and to your side. "I know you think you're a bad person, but that's not true," you tell him, trying your best to keep your tears at bay, but seeing him so broken makes it an impossible task. "You're my brother, and I love you more than anything."

The pain in your voice stirs something within him.

"This is not your fault, okay? Listen to me! When I said Dad would turn in his grave," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper and it cracks straight through when he whimpers behind his closed lips, "I didn't mean it. He would be so proud of you," you say. "I get it now, why you did what you did. I'm so sorry... you're not a bad person, you're my hero."

Tears still streaming down his face, Matt climbs into the hospital bed beside you. Back at the orphanage, he would do it every time you were sick. He would find his way into your room and climb into your bed, holding you close, sometimes even receiving the same stories your father would tell; they weren't all that creative, but they were the memories of your childhood that have stuck with you. Matt cradles you gently, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace, and you do the same. Your tears mingle with his as you hold each other, crying silently in each other's arms, both because guilt is a treacherously heavy feeling and because you have never been more relieved to find yourself in a hospital bed than you are at that moment. It means you're safe, and safe is what you want to be.

You sniffle eventually and squeeze his hand. "I love you," you say, and then add, a bit more sheepishly, "Bro."

Matt finds a low laugh deep in his chest and lets it out. "I love you too, sis," he says, and he mimics the tone of your voice.

As your tears begin to subside, you find solace in the warmth of Matt's embrace. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and fluorescent lighting, fades into the background as you focus on your brother's heartbeat beneath your ear.

Time stands still, and the weight of the world seems to lift ever so slightly. Just for a moment, but a moment is enough for you to finally breathe. You take a second and just breathe, just for a moment. You need it.

Eventually, you both find the strength to pull away slightly, though your hands remain intertwined. Matt makes sure you are comfortable, tucks you in, and kisses your forehead. It's your childhood all over again, but it's the kind of nostalgia you need to stay alive, stay sane, and push through the hell you've endured. Matt's red-rimmed eyes meet yours. "We're going to get through this," he says, "Together." It's the same thing he has said many times before, and somehow he has always managed to be right, so you don't doubt for a second that you can believe him.

You nod. "Together," you agree.

The hospital room may be devoid of comfort and familiarity, but it's better than the warehouse Matt rescued you from. Lying side by side, you find solace in the presence of your brother, your hero. He has always been your hero, sometimes you simply forget.

With a final squeeze of your hand, Matt whispers, "Rest now. You have a lot of healing to do."

But it's not just you, it is both of you. Together, as you said. The sounds of the hospital start fading into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing and you slowly but finally find yourself drifting into the abyss of sleep.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x sister!reader #sister reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #human disaster matt murdock #daredevil x reader #reader insert #no y/n #platonic #angst #x reader #lizzi answers #request

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captain-azoren · 2 years

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I want someone to tell me what "non-evil" thing Azula was supposed to do when Aang was going into the Avatar State that wouldn't have been incredibly incompetent or out of character or made no sense in general.

How would you have written Azula in a way that makes her less evil but keeps the story the same? Just make her smirk less?

I see a lot of talk about Azula's agency and the choices she makes, but if she's trying to win, why would anyone expect her to anything differently?

And before anyone starts, this is not making excuses, this is trying to understand where the character is coming from.

Azula sees Iroh as a traitor and a disgrace. She legitimately hates him. Of course she's going to do a lethal sneak attack on him. Zuko betrayed her, their family and their nation. He also hates her. Azula had no reason to like him, so why is it so hard to fathom she wants him dead by the end of the series?

Azula isn't going to feel remorse because she believes she is the good guy, or at least that the Fire Nation winning is for the greater good. And newsflash, so does the vast majority of the FN. If any other loyal soldier in the FN had to make those choices, they likely would have done the same.

Nearly every single FN soldier had been trying to kill these kids. That includes Zuko. Zuko was literally RIGHT THERE fighting Aang and Katara in the crystal catacombs, but he doesn't get called evil or heartless all because he was too incompetent to strike a killing blow on Aang while he was powering up and then later expressed regret.

Except Zuko only regretted betraying Iroh. Need I remind people Zuko hires a damn ASSASSIN to kill a 12 year old in the next season? If you think Azula coming the closest to killing Aang somehow puts her at a higher grade of evil than 99% of the villains who attacked the Gaang, you have moral myopia and are full of shit.

Azula isn't going to bat an eye at killing Aang because Aang being a child is secondary to Aang being the single greatest threat to her goal. You cannot reasonably expect her, within the circumstances, to politely ask Aang to surrender. You cannot expect her to just lay down and accept defeat when her level of skill, her tactical cunning, and her upbringing under Ozai all point her towards shooting Aang in the back.

Why shouldn't she try to kill Zuko and Katara? She's the enemy and he's a traitor. She hates them and she's pissed. This isn't some moral event horizon.

Azula hates Ursa because she felt neglected and that Zuko getting more attention was unfair. It might be a misunderstanding, but as a child it isn't Azula's responsibility to sort things out.

Azula has arguably the least agency due to her age and having the most oversight by a powerful adult, so yeah I'm not letting that go.

I'm not saying Azula isn't bad. She has a pretty unpleasant personality and dies some shitty stuff. But it's only some, and on the whole she isn't even particularly bad compared to the other villains in the franchise. Is the smirking bad? It is only if you consider having nasty thoughts to be a crime. A bad sign, but just a sign.

But that's all it really ever boiled down to, isn't it? That damn smile of Azula's that shows you just how much she enjoys hurting people. Well the fact is, no matter how much Azula seems to enjoy her actions, no matter how little remorse she shows, it doesn't make her actions any worse than if she had a cold, emotionless or angry frown. It makes her unpleasant, yes, but ultimately you have to judge people on their actions and less on their thoughts and feelings.

No matter how conflicted Zuko was, he still stole that girl's horse when he could have kept walking, hard as it was. No matter how jolly or enlightened Iroh was, he still waged war for decades.

If you expect me to forgive Zuko and Iroh for all their wrongdoings just because they turned things around, then I'm going to hold Azula to that same standard and say that, smirk or no smirk, her actions are, not excusable, but forgivable.

And yes, I do sincerely believe that Azula caused less harm to the world than Zuko and Iroh in the months she was actually active. I understand that conquering BSS was bad and burning down the EK would have been an actual atrocity, but I also understand that conquering BSS was something the FN as a whole was aiming for and burning the land have zero objections by any of the FN military.

Azula also suggests it to keep Zuko from saying something stupid and to get on Ozai's good side. I do not believe she suggested burning the land because she sadistically wanted to kill thousands of people. Azula probably thought it was a brilliant tactic for stampings out the last few rebellions for good.

Is it bad? Yes, it's very fucking bad, because Azula doesn't understand the sheer gravity of what she's saying or the devastation of Ozai's escalation. But that's true for everyone in that room but Zuko. It isn't JUST Azula, it's the whole damn Nation.

You know what Azula does that's just plain mean? Destroying a sand castle. Taunting Zuko about Ozai going to kill him is pretty cruel. Azula probably could have found a nicer way to get Ty Lee on her team.

But don't give me any bullshit about Zuko being Azula's abuse victim. It was a toxic rivalry. And I guarantee you if Zuko had gotten the upper hand on Azula sooner he would have done what he could to humiliate her, because he hates her out if envy, not just because she's mean.

And why should Azula be nice to Zuko, who is always belligerent and angry towards her for being better? That is how she sees him, in her eyes Zuko is the bad sibling who needs to be humiliated and taught a lesson because he's stubborn and entitled and spoiled by their mother who loved him even when he failed, unlike their father who gave attention when it was deserved and earned.

Yes, that's a fucked up way of seeing things, but that's how Azula sees it, that's what she believes is right, and you shouldn't expect her to know otherwise because she IS 14 and has no exposure to anything else.

Azula DOES regret some things, she regrets always having to use fear to control people, but as the series itself spells things out, it's literally all she knows, it's all that she thinks she's even capable of from her failed attempts at being normal in the Beach.

Azula doesn't think she has a choice,band if you don't think you have a choice, then THERE IS NO CHOICE. There is NO opportunity or chsnce to change without guidance, and what so many dumb casuals and antis just don't GET is that Azula really doesn't know right from wrong. That these supposed second chances she's getting to change her ways are utterly pointless if she lacks the wisdom to see them as choices.

None of us are excusing Azula, because that would defeat the purpose of wanting her to finally understand for herself what she did wrong and to get better, but we can't blame her for everything either.

Just because what she did wasn't right doesn't put her beyond forgiveness. The right thing to do would be to trying and actually guide her and help her, not just throw second chances at her and be shocked when she makes another bad decision.

This is a hard pill to swallow for some of you, but a victim is a victim, and no matter how bad or abusive they are, a victim NEEDS HELP. So get over your hangup and do something useful, and if you can't do that, then stay out of the way and let someone else help.

I'm sick of people trying to convince me to forsake a kid, no matter how cruel or messed up she is. Stop telling me to give up hope, stop telling me to keep fighting to save that one little kernel of goodness buried deep down.

I've been doing this shit since I was a teenager, both for myself and for actual people who made bad choices. Even if Azula laughed at Zuko's pain or was willing to kill, she deserves to heal from her abuse as much as she needs to right her wrongs. Fuck anyone who thinks it's okay for her to suffer.

#azula #rant

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xaz-fr · 3 months

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The Manor, a cult and a brothel

This lore has some adult themes in this cult that including sex, drugs, manipulation and is pretty problematic as a whole. This is some adult lore. Please read at your own digression.

more WBW this time about The Manor. A stately Southern Plantation style manor deep in the woods surrounded by swamp that seems to rise up out of the mists after long hot days. It's here that the Master lives with his little 'sex cult', or that's what the members of Cypress Hall call them. The Manor also acts as a den of sin, for gambling and as a brothel, but also hosts one of the best shows in the community.

The Master (above) is the head of the Manor. An older Skydancer who's all grace and charm has seen him out of many sticky situations. No one knows where he came from or what his real name is. He simply is the Master and all who live in the Manor follow him. Some more unerringly than others. He's a powerful magic user and very rich.

Axich is the Master's current 'favorite'. A deeply jealous young Skydancer who constantly needs attention and validation. He has a terrible personality but he's very pretty so is basically allowed to get away with whatever he wants. He isn't cruel but he is a brat. He often gets into fights with Nep about extremely stupid things. He's the Master's personal arm candy and bed warmer and apparently is... quite talented :o

Nephilim and Reivyn (said raven) are a couple. Neph is the 'former' favorite of the Master but if you ask Neph he's never not been the favorite. He just doesn't fuck the Master much anymore. He's a thief who got caught by the Master and got bent to his will to work for the Master as a dancer and concubine. He hasn't been a concubine in many years now but he still dances during shows, both private and public. Rei is a card shark and plays music and sings in the in house band. He's incredibly good and is both a great cheat and a liar. The only thing he seems to really enjoy is Neph and their children and getting drunk while gambling. Somehow he's better at cards when he's drunk. The Master hates him so fucking much but he's useful so he's allowed to stick around.

Silky is the Master's librarian. He's got a magical skin condition that makes his flesh almost see-through. The Master finds him a delight but Silky is quite... shy about it. He's one of the Master's private use members of the cult. Silky is pretty brain washed by the Master who keeps promising to look for a cure for his condition but it's been years with nothing to show for it. He's very soft spoken and shy so is rarely seen and thus others don't know how easily he's being manipulated or taken advantage of.

Tanduay also suffers a condition like Silky except she's been cursed by a witch. She isn't even sure why anymore? Se now is cursed to be partially smoke. The Master, like Silky, dangles the promise of breaking her curse over her head but it's been years with no progress. She's the Manor's cook and tends to all the needs of those who live here and the patrons. She has a daughter with the Master who's the light of her life but suffers the same curse as her. The Master seems more interested in studying their daughter than breaking either of their curses. Like Silky she is not for customer use but she does have sex with the Master sometimes. Less so since their daughter was born.

Fayne is the Master's high strung and incredibly loyal and competent butler. Big Alfred energy from this guy. You need something done you bring it to Fayne. He ensures the Manor runs smoothly and that the guests and 'merchandise' are having a good time. He's been with the Master forever, since he arrived. No one quite knows what hold the Master has over him as they don't sleep together and of anyone in the Manor Fayne is the one to tell the Master to fuck off the most. Fayne isn't for public use BUT it isn't uncommon for Sanya or Axich to see his stuffy sex negative self as a challenge and coheres him into sex with them. Usually publicly which is great for the sluts but an often embarrassing experience for Fayne himself wen he comes part of the show.

Sanya is the pearl of the Manor. The bell of the ball. She joined the cult because she saw hot guys were in it and wanted to bone down. And that's what se does. She's the most well known courtesan in the Manor and is quite popular demand. Unlike other members of the Manor the charms of the Master don't work on her. She'll fuck him if he asks but him being a charming cult leader just goes over her pretty cotton filled head. Despite being a courtesan for purchase she does have her own desires and preferences. She loves fooling around wit Tanduay because she's cute and watching the other Spiral just dissolve into smoke when flustered in peak for Sanya.

Zurina is the brood mother and costume designer for the Manor's players and prostitutes. She joined the cult because of Sanya but unlike her friend she drinks the swamp water about the Master. The Master is wonderful and perfect and can do no wrong. As you'd expect with a sex cult there are quite a few of the Master's children about and Zurina is the matron who looks after them when her time isn't bought by a patron but because she's quite cold to those outside the cult her services are rarely rendered.

The children of the Manor

Vernay, Tanvir and Azrael. Vernay is the eldest child of the Master as a preteen. Her mother is Tanduay and she helps her mother in the kitchens. The Master 'studies' her and her strange curse she shares with her mother but doesn't seem interested in breaking their curses. Tanvir and Azrael are the of the Master and Zurina. The Master wanted to see the affects of breed change scrolls on children and has been quite pleased with the results, even if Azrael is nearly as large as he is even as a baby.

Then there are the twins: Samael (boy) and Oriel (girl). The children of Neph and Rei via magical entwining. No one's quite... sure why they came out with different elemental eyes? Neph is an ice dragon and Rei a Shadow but the Manor exists within the domain of Light. There's been speculation that despite not being the Master's children he had some involvement in them being contrasting elements.

#flight rising #fr world building #world building wednesday #cypress hall #the manor

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sofoulandfairaday · 1 year

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1 for the ask game

from: choose violence ask game

1. the character everyone gets wrong

Err... all of them? I'm not even kidding. More on this here.

Bellatrix: fortunately there's been progress in the fandom, but for years everyone loved to describe her as an overly sexualized, crazy, shrieking mindless slave, when she's actually quite the opposite. She is sadistic, but not insane, she's passionate but not irrational (she is the only one who knew Snape was a traitor; to me, it's because of a peculiar mix of rationality and intuition that shows her to be actually quite intelligent). Nothing suggests her being promiscuous in the text and I would actually argue the opposite of her (why would she ever lower herself to sleep with someone who she deems her inferior - so basically everyone -, even just to satisfy mere physical desires? This post, to me, is Bella at her core).

Narcissa: this is canon Narcissa, all of you are perfectly entitled to your soft babygirl headcanons, of course, but then again you are perfectly entitled to be wrong <3 [also, shameless self-promo: x]

The blorboification continues for every single member of the Black family and I hate it so much you have no idea:

Andromeda: somehow described as a soft little girl who loved her mean, mean sisters so much and had to run away? Bitch stood up to seven centuries of tradition, and abandoned her sisters and parents, to marry a boy she had fallen in love with maybe two years prior (we know this based on Tonks' age). Good for her, but as I have said previously, both Narcissa and Andromeda (and Sirius, really) strike me as a bit selfish. The one with the romantic attachment to the idea of her family, the child most like Walburga, is Bellatrix.

But this is nothing, NOTHING, compared to what this fandom does to Regulus and Sirius.

Regulus: canonically a Voldemort fanboy, with newspaper clippings of him everywhere, and a blood supremacist. Sirius says it better than anyone: Reggie is soft. But not in the way the fandom believes, nope. He's just a coward who, much like Draco years later, was super excited to be like Bellatrix (Lucius) until he realized what killing really meant, what fighting a war really was, and most importantly because Voldemort touched him personally (Kreacher, whom he loved). Voldemort was probably a little more deranged than he had been at the beginning of the First War, and someone that had inherited the Black pride/haughtiness probably didn't like being branded like cattle and treated like a slave, on top of everything else.

Sirius: fanon Sirius is basically another character. Canon!Sirius is: tall, canonically incredibly handsome, quite masculine (in an explicit and toxic way, especially as a teenager in the fucking 1970s - the skirt-wearing, feminist one-liners spouting version of Sirius is something I just cannot get behind), a dick, a bit classist ((don't come @ me with your "oh, but what about Moony?!" because a) we don't know Remus' wealth when Lyall and Hope were still alive, we only know he can't get a job as an adult because of his condition and b) Remus is Sirius' exception, in the same way Lily is Snape's when he calls her a Mudblood - everyone else is in his eyes)), brave to the point of recklessness, quite cruel, funny, witty, magically talented, loyal to a fault, extremely charismatic and everything else outlined here. For the same reasons, I'll say Remus too.

Don't even get me started on Severus Snape. Other people have spoken on this better than I could ever. At least here on Tumblr, though, it seems to me that things are getting a little better after years of absolutely bizarre takes. Or maybe I've blocked all of the idiots idk.

Dumbledore. More on this here and maybe I'll outline my ideas better in a future post.

Also: I do not accept any characterization of Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch jr, Reggie, and Rabastan Lestrange as anything less than violent blood supremacists. Yes, they can be nuanced and gay (and only for each other might I add), but these people are the KKK (metaphorically, of course, because I hate comparing real-world tragedies to completely fictional ones, but still).

Lucius: a complete dick, but definitely not abusive. The man couldn't raise a hand to Draco if the Dark Lord threatened to kill him over it.

Speaking of which: my darling Lord Voldemort. Not much to say about him really because I know that some people do write him in a very interesting way (and I am open to interpretations of his character even if they are different from how I see him - and I have a very fucking specific vision of him). The problem is that perhaps three (3) of these people write him with Bellatrix and that saddens me.

Now, I mostly read First Wizarding War stuff or Death Eater stuff so I can't really speak to many other characters, especially in Harry's generation, but anything other than cowardly Draco is not a good Draco characterization to me. Ron is hands-down the best one in the Golden Trio and Ron Weasley bashing is pathetic. Hermione has faults but is ultimately a strong, take-no-bullshit girl and I'll take that over basically any and all female YA protagonists. And Harry is sassiness personified, but with a heart of gold, and oh-so-caring. Which is also why I can't read dark!Harry for the life of me. It just makes me giggle.

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cleverthylacine · 5 months

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Ship and HC what you want--but I hate Ravage & Soundwave parent-child headcanons so much. I'm finally gonna say it. They can be adult best friends rather than lovers, but the family thing makes my skin crawl. Here's why.

The following is just my personal opinion. Everyone who reads this is free to engage with it, but I don't want to fight about it, and I am not trying to make anyone give up their headcanons, whether those are romantic, sexy, familial, or just friendly.

(The Ravage I write in my fics and RP, like ES Ravage, prefers she/her pronouns. I am aware that Ravage uses he/him in other continuities.)

I am really freaking uncomfortable with most of the common familial headcanons about Soundwave and Ravage, Soundwave and his cassettes in general, and the whole cassette thing. And I will also die screaming before I tag erotic content between two fully sapient beings as "bestiality".

I would rather think of Ravage and Soundwave as bonded lovers (and the birds as her siblings) then think of Soundwave as either of the following:

An Abusive Father who sends his own children directly into the heat of battle out to fight as child soldiers; or

A Large Adult Son who allows his parent and her siblings to be mutilated so he can drag her off into places like mining colonies and war zones, where she ministers to his emotional needs while also fighting for him in the heat of battle, and has no life or relationships of her own.

Because no matter how many cat memes you draw, neither of those things is cute. You have the right to ship whatever you want to ship same as me, but I don't want to read either dynamic.

He is NOT the single father of the year if he's yeeting his children onto battlefields.

He is NOT a good son if his mother is telepathically linked to him, programmed so that he can yeet her out into battlefields in less than a second, and unable to have any romantic or QP partnerships of her own.

If he is her lover (conjunx) or her QPP (amica), and the meeting they had in Rodion was a meeting of two neurodivergent adults who learned how to help and support each other in dealing with their disabilities, and they both want to be together even in the depths of hell, then they have a much less horrific and unhealthy relationship.

I was once made to play IDW Ravage as not Soundwave's partner in a dreamwidth game because they didn't like the ship, and she was a miserable, unhappy person who had given up her entire life to serve Soundwave and Megatron.

This really solidified my feelings about not just why I think their relationship is romantic and adorable, but also why I think a parental relationship between them, going in either direction, is incredibly fucking gross.

Making them mutually interdependent neurodiverse adults with complementary support needs, who love each other in a mature way or even an 'adult' way changes the narrative.

If Ravage is Soundwave's life partner, then the forced cassettification has imposed a power differential on them, but it is significantly lessened by the fact that they were already together and interacting as grown-ass adults who loved each other before that took place.

In other scenarios, she's being thrown by her father up against mechs 4 times her size, OR she's a devoted parent who has been emotionally enslaved by cassettification and can't even have an adult relationship of her own because who the hell is going to want to be her partner knowing that she has an unbreakable telepathic link with her son? And you can't really say she's trading this emotional labour for protection when he's yeeting her out into the front lines every third episode.

IDK, I think glorifiying parents who send their children to war and enmeshed parenting that renders someone an appendage to their child is a lot less problematic than letting them meet as adults and learn how to help one another.

Every time I see someone draw humanformer Soundwave and Ravage as a collared pet, I want to scream, but I don't, because everyone has the right to write and draw what makes them happy.

My friends know NOT to send me links to art that diminishes Ravage.

Ravage may look like a cat, but she passes the Harkness test, and her entire arc in IDW was about getting people to respect her as an equal despite the thing where she looks like a cat.

Her brain and spark are equal to that of any other Cybertronian. It's not bestiality. There's no reason a telepath would care more about the shape of her body than the feel of her mind.

I would rather think that she's getting love and respect and hot overloads from Soundwave than think that she's selflessly devoted to him and to Megatron for all of her days until Tarn locks her into that fucking refrigerator. Or think that she's a child soldier.

#ravage/soundwave #ravage & soundwave #suck on this antis #ship manifesto #ravage #tf ravage

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stitching-in-time · 2 months

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Voyager rewatch s4 ep9: Year of Hell pt 2

I definitely haven't seen this one since it first aired, because the only things I remember from it were Janeway and Tuvok hugging, and the ship crashing. Literally everything else in this was like new to me, which was completely wild to experience after more than two decades.

Why I didn't rewatch it again in all this time, I don't know- I remember thinking 'ugh' whenever I'd see it on a rerun and flip channels, but it's actually a lot better than I gave it credit for??? Maybe as a kid all the sad, scary stuff the crew goes through just made more of a negative impression on me, and I know I would have been very worried that somebody would get killed off back then. I had a deeper attachment to Star Trek characters than any other shows I watched, so the stakes always felt a little bit higher in Star Trek, versus other shows I didn't care about as much.

But anyway, I was clearly way too young to realize how hot the whole crew was yet, because I didn't remember the part where Chakotay and Tom are aboard the Krenim timeship at all. And oh boy, watching it as an adult? with Tom in that costume with that v-neck top? Incredibly distracting. Like, excuse me sir, how dare you be that pretty?? All tall and blonde and blue eyed with your tousled hair and your unbuttoned shirt?? Illegal levels of hotness!!! go to jail for 1000 years!!!

But aside from making my fangirl brain go brrrr every time Tom appears on screen, I do think the scenes on the ship with the Krenim bad guy, Annorax, were very interesting and well done. We learn that Chakotay and Tom have been held captive there, in solitary confinement, for two months, before Annorax decides to let them out. He brings them to have dinner with him in an attempt to convince them to work with him to help him get his timeline back, and restore Voyager in the process. Tom is pissed off and skeptical, but Chakotay plays it more diplomatically, and tries to hear Annorax out. Annorax does a convincing job of presenting himself as cultured and reasonable, until he tells them that the little feast he's treating them to is actually a macabre repast made up of the last existing delicacies from civilizations he's erased from existence. He tells them how he's been manipulating the timeline with the time weapon on his ship for 200 years, existing outside of normal time, trying to get the calculations right to bring the entire Krenim empire back, like some sort of Flying Dutchman in space. Chakotay and Tom are horrified, and Tom won't hear of helping him, guessing that the only reason Annorax is asking them is because he hasn't been able to find and destroy Voyager yet. He storms out, but Chakotay stays, hoping there might be a way to use the time weapon in a less violent way to accomplish what Annorax proposed.

Meanwhile, back on Voyager, the seven remaining crew members are fighting tooth and claw to keep the ship together, hiding in a nebula to avoid the Krenim and try to repair their failing systems. Janeway, as usual, powers through it all by throwing herself into work, rarely eating or sleeping, risking her life time and again, and ignoring doctor's orders to rest when she gets sick or injured. (She has a rare moment of sentiment when she finds the watch Chakotay gave her still in his quarters, despite her order to recycle it. She doesn't know of he's alive or dead at this point, so she's too moved to be angry, and she picks it up, and puts it on her belt, like a good luck charm.) The Doctor tries to relieve her of command when he thinks she's pushing herself too far, but Janeway hits him with the reality that she can just say no- they have no security officers, they have no brig, no energy for more forcefields- he can't enforce any orders on anyone. He tells her he'll record her refusal in his log, and that she could face a court-martial for disobeying, to which she responds with a wry smile that they'd have to get home before she could ever face a court martial, and she's the one who's going to get them home, by continuing to work. Even making it out alive to face a court martial would be nice for her, compared to what they're going through. She walks off, leaving the Doctor to contemplate his abstract principles, while she, as always, is forced by necessity to do the real, hard work to hold things together and shoulder the responsibilty for the ship and crew, alone.

Back on the Krenim ship, Chakotay works with Annorax to learn how to use his time weapon, and Tom buddies up to the crew, trying to gather what info he can from them that might be useful against Annorax. He tells Chakotay the crew are unhappy in their endless mission, and that they could be convinced to mutiny against Annorax with their help. Chakotay says no, and wants to try to use the time weapon, which Tom disagrees with, and they come pretty close to having a fistfight over it, since Tom (rightly) thinks Annorax is a maniac, and that Chakotay has been swayed over to Annorax's side. Whether Chakotay actually has been swayed or not is kind of open to interpretation- Annorax certainly was giving him a lot of seductive speeches about what an art form the manipulation of time can be, and Chakotay seems to earnestly believe he can find a way to use it for good. And if he was actually just playing a long game, and trying to earn Annorax's trust so they can get the better of him, he absolutely should have told that to Tom, rather than letting him think he's sympathizing with the enemy, and thus giving him a good reason to not follow his orders. At any rate, Chakotay seems to finally realize that Annorax is a madman who can't be reasoned with once he learns that his centuries of meddling with the timeline stem from accidentally erasing his own family in one of his attacks, and that everything he's been doing has been a desperate attempt to get them back. They watch in horror as he uses the time weapon to erase an entire planet, and Tom finally convinces Chakotay to go with his plan. Tom gets his Krenim friend to let him send a message to Voyager, and to help them shut down the time weapon so Voyager can attack.

By the time Voyager receives Tom's message, Janeway has assembled a small fleet of allies to stand against the Krenim- Voyager is nearly crippled, so she sends the rest of the crew to the alien ships, and stays behind on Voyager to coordinate the attack that now has a fighting chance, thanks to Tom's help. This is the scene I always remember, of Tuvok attempting to convince Janeway not to stay on a compromised Voyager to die. But Janeway waxes poetic about how a captain always goes down with the ship, and how Voyager is more than just a ship, it's their home, a part of their family that she can't abandon. Tuvok knows her too well to argue, so he gives her a Vulcan salute, and accepts a hug from her in return. Her face as he returns her embrace for one rare and probably final time, when she almost breaks down as she says goodbye to him, only to snap herself back to composure, to send him away in order to do what she has to do, is an absolutely devastating moment, and an incredibly subtle piece of acting from Kate Mulgrew.

Even standing alone on her wrecked ship, battered and filthy, with Chakotay's watch tucked into her belt, Janeway still exudes the air of a Captain, and leads the charge to the Krenim ship. (Which looks so much like Babylon 5! I honestly have to wonder whether it was intentional- I can't imagine anyone working on Star Trek wouldn't have been aware of that show, or what their space station looked like. Though whether it was a nod to them or a dig at them, I don't know.)

As soon as Annorax sees Voyager, he wants to destroy it, but his second in command holds fire long enough for Tom to take the time weapon offline. Even with regular weapons, Voyager is too damaged to fight back, so Janeway decides if she's going down, she'll take them with her. Only Kate Mulgrew could sell that incredibly cheesy 'time's up' line with so much conviction that I buy it completely. I get why her whole crew would die for her- I would die for her too. If you watch this show and still say you wouldn't die for her, you're lying. Janeway supremacy forever <3

Somehow, Janeway figures that taking out the timeship might reset the timeline, so she has her ships disengage their temporal shielding and rams Voyager into the Krenim ship, destoying them both.

And the timeline resets!! How? I have no idea! How did she know that would happen? I also have no idea! Would it have been nice if that theory were introduced into the script earlier, and played with a bit more so it didn't seem like a crazy last minute add-on that was too convenient to be true? Yeah! Am I mad enough about it that I'm gonna complain about it too much? No! Do I just enjoy the badass ferocity of Janeway ramming her ship into a bad guy's ship to save millions of lives, even if she has to risk her own to do it? HELL YEAH!!!

So we end up back on Voyager before the Year of Hell began- everything is pristine and lovely, and the crew is looking forward to their little opening celebration for the new astrometrics lab. A Krenim hails them, gives them a friendly warning that their territory is in dispute, and recommends going around their space for safety. Janeway thanks him, and sets a course to avoid their space. They go on their merry way, never knowing the year they endured in another timeline.

And the last scene is of Annorax, back at home, with his wife, going over his time manipulation research, and ignoring her until she insists the research can wait, and that he should have breakfast with her. He agrees, but his research is still there, and it's a chilling thought that without knowing the 200 years he spent trying to fix his mistake, he might make it all over again one day. (But seriously, in 200 years, he didn't figure out that blowing his ship up would reset the timeline and bring his wife back?! Like that's literally all he had to do?! But Janeway guessed that correctly in one split second hunch?! Not the best writing in the world, but hell, I'll give it a pass because Janeway badassery! I love you, my captain!!! No thoughts, just Janeway!!!)

Tl;dr: The ending wasn't as strong as the beginning, but it was an exciting ride, with some really fine moments. I won't be waiting another 20 some years to rewatch this again, I can tell you that!

#star trek: voyager #voyager rewatch #rewatching star trek #star trek voyager #star trek #captain janeway

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schrodingersauthorii · 8 months

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Fanfic idea: Matoba gets deaged, experiences the healing power of the Fujiwara’s parenting kicking and screaming

Hnnng, brain just spat out the best Natsume Yujincho fic idea. I have peaked, nothing will ever top this theoretical fic. I will labor in vain for YEARS trying to squeeze out a fraction of its potential.

Context: I am a believer in Animal Transformation Fic supremacy, of course I gotta figure out how to turn SOMEBODY into a cat, and Matoba is target #1 since it’d be funny because a) he likes cats and b) he has a canonically acknowledged sweet tooth and cats can’t taste sweet. Okay. Whatever: I have an incredibly hand wavy premise about a failed magical assassination attempt and cat hair, and a somewhat shaky logic to put cat! Matoba in the Fujiwara house.

Then, I realize: what if I had the same exact plot, except Matoba got deaged instead?

*slaps roof* You can fit so much angst and exposition in here.

Things I could put in this bad boy:

+ Older Natori, teenage Matoba interaction- My take would be Matoba remembering the one (1) meeting with the kimono, and then adult Natori swooping in to save his ass after the attempted assassination. So a total role reversal, where Natori is suddenly leagues ahead of Matoba. And Matoba can’t conceptualize the fact that *he* should also have seven more years of experience, so he naturally assumes that Natori was just A Really Good Exorcist Prodigy that quickly outstripped him because he’s so much better than deaged! him. Natori is, of course, squigged the hell out about that. It is completely unnatural for him to be idolized by *Matoba.* And also why didn’t he notice all these red flags for trauma before. He is a *baby,* why did anyone let them near exorcism at that age?

+ The eye stealing yokai still sees deaged! Matoba as clan head, and attacks him at Natori’s apartment. This has a lot of political ramifications, but also a lot of emotional ramifications, since Matoba *knows* that if he’s clan head, then his father and likely several other older relatives are dead. My take on the Matoba clan head is that, due to the extreme risk and probable high turnover rate, much of the actual political power is actually somewhere else in the clan. I get the impression that Matoba is a bit of a mover and shaker- more active than this theoretical body would probably like. Whether they were involved in the assassination plot or not, they’d benefit from an even younger and less experienced clan head. So Natori is highly motivated to keep Matoba’s survival and deaging a secret until they change him back.

+ Of course Matoba is injured. This is *fanfiction,* is it not? So we have fifteen year old Matoba suddenly seven years in the future- people have just tried to kill him, the eye stealing yokai came after his eye- therefore his father is dead, he has no contacts besides Natori because of the known conspiracy to kill him and being seven years younger than everyone expects, and now he’s (temporarily) half blind and with disabling injuries. (For plot convince, just bad enough to limit mobility and require assistance but not for hospitalization or to be too difficult to explain.)

+ Because Hiragi needs to be able to drop him off at the Fujiwara’s because someone broke into Natori’s apartment and she didn’t know where else to go.

+ Natori and Natsume don’t like it, but Madara’s much stronger than most shiki or exorcists, and nobody would think to look for Matoba there. They take the gamble that the Fujiwara’s will let Natsume’s friend stay without much explanation, and they do.

+ Matoba: he’s not my friend, he just feels obligated to help. Touko: oh, so this kid is TRAUMATIZED traumatized, just on the other end of the spectrum. And possibly on the other spectrum.

+ Same age Matoba and Natsume interaction- Matoba’s inability to communicate and befriend anyone like a human being vs Natsume’s inhuman inability to not befriend everyone, fight. Natsume would feel rather conflicted about it, but ultimately decide that he can’t hold things Matoba hasn’t done yet against him. I think that Natsume would tolerate a lot of the things that drove teenage Natori away for longer, and that he’d pick up on the cues Natori missed because he never looked pass the surface. They’d get down to their core differences a lot more quickly, and I think that deaged! Matoba would concede much more quickly than later series Natsume under the circumstances. What’s he going to do, when Natsume, Natori, and the Fujiwara’s- the only people he’s interacting with, the people helping him at his most vulnerable- are all telling him the same thing?

+ Fujiwara Shigeru and Touko and teenage Matoba: I have absolutely no doubt that they read every book on the psychology of troubled teens they could get their hands on, and they are READY. There’s nothing Matoba can do to shake them, and he has try his absolute hardest or else his entire worldview will shatter. But biting wit and rudeness doesn’t phase them, nor do admissions to cross dressing (canon! The chapter isn’t translated yet, but apparently that’s a thing!) and liking the male actor Natori Shuuichi. They. Are. Unflappable. He has to drop the ayakashi bomb to prove that The Unsighted Can Never Understand, and He Is Fundamentally Unlikable. Does not work: the Fujiwara’s tell him that they already knew, but not to tell Takashi since they want him to come to them when he felt ready.

+ One last hurdle: the whole assassination, deaging thing? *22 is still a baby.* There will always be room at the Fujiwara’s house for traumatized babies forced to grow up too soon.

+ (Takashi is Not Happy. But he can’t make a big deal about it because Matoba’s having an actual breakdown because There Are Truly Good People In This World After All and technically the results are all things that he wanted. But there IS a reckoning eventually. Cool motive: still a massive breach of boundaries.)

+ Nyanko-sensei and Matoba: Matoba absolutely *loves* him- he’s one of the ceramic cats that he literally obsessed over, and he enjoys the fighting. He just fundamentally doesn’t understand why Nyanko-sensei and Natsume haven’t gotten a ring and made it official. This is actually one of those core values differences: Natsume and Nyanko-sensei see not having a contract as a sign of trust and respect, while Matoba is a “tell the gravedigger that he better dig two” kind of person. This is an… interesting combination with the Matoba clan’s history, and helps explain part of why he’s Like That. You’ll never break a promise if you set people’s expectations low enough. + Natori gets roped into the revelations party; exposes the conspiracy; and tracks down the spell that went wrong. There’s a heartfelt conversation about how Natori isn’t the person Matoba thinks he is because he’s fifteen. Matoba resolutely Does Not Believe Him. Natori (accurately) comes away thinking that Matoba has a teenage crush, and resolves to ignore it. He’ll get Matoba back to normal, and he probably wouldn’t even remember anything so it’s not worth worrying about.

+ Gonna have to see where the manga goes, but if canonical events favor it, this is where Matoba would get kidnapped by Ban and his sister. Either to further their political agenda, or out of twisted familial duty a la ‘we can’t trust these outsiders to keep you safe, so we’ll abduct you ourselves.”

+ Spellbreaking! Butt kicking! Politics!

+ Matoba does, in fact, remember everything when the deaging is fixed. He has Conversations with Natori, with Natsume, with the Fujiwara’s about it. He’s genuinely regretful about his actions against them, but he exists within a Horrible Exorcist Society and he’s realistic about that. He offers Natsume instructions on self-defense techniques AGAINST exorcists, no recruitment offer attached. + It takes much longer for Matoba to tell Natori that he still likes him- has always liked him. Natori’s ready to throw him in the lake by the time he gets through all the disclaimers and caveats about what their status and duties would allow them to do about it. “Have you ever seen a conflict of interest statement from an exorcist? No? It’s because nobody cares! Make out in a sealed closet or secluded worksite like a normal person!”

+ My head canon is that the Matoba clan head can’t just break the cycle by giving up an eye: the eye stealing ayakashi would just kill him, and go after the next person in line’s eye as long as the Matoba clan exists. There are very big limits to what Matoba can do, but he does make an effort to tone down the cut throat pragmatism. Small ripples are already forming in the world of exorcists. Happyish ever after?

#natsume yuujinchou #natsume's book of friends #natsume yūjin chō #fanfiction #natsume yujincho #fanfic #horrible exorcists #Natori Shuuichi/ Matoba Seji

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