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(more miuposting) thank you all for
being mature and understanding that just because some of my faves are the Problematic Girls doesn't mean i think it's good they behave that way or that we should all put up with people who behave that way etcetera. i'm so traumatized by Twitter Tactics still ha ha.
anyway
it seems we've all come around on Toko but i know a lot of folks still shy away from the golden girl Iruma Miu. and i get it. i would never say you Need to like Miu, nor am i offended when people dislike her: she is extreme in a way that i think even surpasses Toko.
Miu is selfish and Miu crosses boundaries and Miu is really horribly rude at the worst times. however, Miu also, canonically/semi-canonically:
has psychotic breaks/delusions and depersonalizes (Shuichi FTs)
is so excited someone's paying attention to her that she doesn't mind if it's a fight/negative (Kaede FTs)
admits that her personality is an act (Love Hotel)
is so lonely she's willing to have a baby just to ensure her partner doesn't Leave (Love Hotel)
doesn't have Friends (Kaede FTs/Summer Camp)
is actually quite bothered she has no Friends but Toko does (Summer Camp)
acts surprised that Kaede is worried about her (Kaede FTs)
admits no one pays attention to her Inventions very much (Shuichi FTs) and invites Kaede for a sleepover the moment Kaede does (Summer Camp)
gets provoked by Kokichi for no reason, constantly, in a weird sexualized way (most of her English interactions with Kokichi - i'm told it comes off differently in Japanese)
continually talks about how no one understands her (every FT ever)
immediately falls in love with Shuichi in an Obsessive way because he acted like any person would and stopped her from self-harm (Shuichi FTs)
is genuinely sad when she thinks Shuichi doesn't want to be near her (Shuichi FTs/LATU scenes)
this is all unsurprising to me, because most people don't even try to talk to her like she's a Human Being, and when they do, they immediately get mad/aggressive and won't de-escalate. no, i don't expect Therapist Talk out of DR characters, but man, fucking...of course she's a weirdo who thinks she's a cyborg, when you even have Shuichi saying it's creepy when she's happy:
in her mind, he only ever Cares about her when she's having a breakdown! he considers her Pube Blood Food a sign of a "genuine" love confession! Miu's behavior makes total sense to me.
this does not Justify how she is, no. but i see a lonely and alienated girl who decided to act out in an attempt to get some attention, even if it's bad. Miu reads as severely mentally ill to me and just because her mental illness isn't cute, aesthetic, or quiet doesn't mean she doesn't deserve healing.
#i imagine i may get Shit for this#and i get it#a lot of people point to Miu's treatment of Keebs & Shuichi & Kaede as proof she's irredeemable#i get that too#i have a Lot of thoughts on that#but i don't know how to phrase them rn#i still think she deserves to heal. be held accountable by other characters yes but also heal#Kaede fully admits she worries about Miu over multiple pieces of media and i believe Kaede#things like this make me wish we had Kaede POV Love Hotels incidentally#btw i don't hate Shuichi at all#he tries his best#danganronpa#miu iruma#iruma miu
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Better Than Anyone Else - Castiel Imagine (Supernatural)
Title: Better Than Anyone Else
Pairing: Castiel X Reader
Requested: by @zizzlekwum
Word Count: 1,306 words
Warning(s): cussing, kidnapping, insults, Dean can't really keep his mouth shut
Summary: (Season 5) (Y/n) and Castiel are taken hostage by angels in the hopes of getting information on how the Winchesters plan on stopping the apocalypse. (Y/n) finally reaches their boiling point with the angels that try to make Cas feel like shit.
Author's Note: I swear, Cas is one of my favorite characters to write for.
Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)
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I was seething.
I watched as the angels strutted around Cas and me. We were tied across from each other. Cas with some weird kind of chain and me with just rope.
They just kept poking at him.
Mocking him for his humanity. His caring nature.
It pissed me off.
"Isn't it pathetic," one of them asked. "Knowing that your choice to help the humans is pointless? You trusted them... cared about them... all for it to go to waste. They don't care about you, you're just a tool to them."
"Leave him alone," I snapped, tugging at the ropes harshly. I didn't even wince at the feeling of the material burning my skin.
"Shut up, you gnat," the 'head angel' of the group said. "You are one of the biggest reasons Castiel forgot his purpose."
"He didn't forget his purpose," I hissed. "He found it."
She held her blade to my neck, grabbing my hair so I couldn't wiggle away.
"He's one of the most caring creatures I've ever met," I continued, ignoring my fear. "He's a hero. Not just to me but to so many others. You are just trying to make him hate all he's done so he can be guilt-tripped into helping you. If you were worth helping, you wouldn't have to do that."
The angel nearly growled at me before stepping away.
I started combatting words with words.
"You mean nothing to them" was met with my response of "You're amazing and I'm honored to even know you."
"If you didn't have powers, they'd drop you like dead weight," was met with, "Don't listen to them. The boys and I think you're brilliant. You're amazing... a hero."
"They obviously don't need you... they would've saved you by now," was met with, "Sam and Dean will be here soon, they just can't teleport."
This continued until the doors were slammed open. I smiled to myself. Sam and Dean stormed in and started fighting. Sam quickly cut the ropes from my wrist and ankles and grabbed the blade the had rolled from one of the angels.
"One second," I said to Cas quickly, going after the main angel.
I sunk the blade into her stomach, ripping a key from around her vessel's neck.
"Didn't know angels used such basic locks on shit," I muttered, undoing the lock. Cas stood up instantly, moving me out of the way so he could smite an angel that was behind me.
The action died down and we all looked around to check on each other.
"All of us alright," Dean asked. I nodded. "Let's go, Bobby's waiting for us."
We went to walk out but Cas called my name. I turned back to him. He gently grabbed my hands. I blushed as I watched how careful he was as he healed the rope burns.
"Thank you," I mumbled, looking up at him.
I noticed how close we were. I took a deep breath in before turning around and following Sam and Dean. Cas teleported out.
"How are you feeling," Sam asked as Dean started driving.
"I've been better," I muttered. "They just kept insulting him. Like they knew it would hurt more than hitting him."
"What did you do," Sam asked.
"Defended him," I replied. "He deserved that. Even after they held a blade to my throat, I just wanted him to know that we cared."
There was a moment of silence.
"(Y/n)," Dean said carefully. "Do you promise not to hit me after I ask my next question?"
"I can't promise something like that, I've heard some dumb questions come out of your mouth," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Do you... love Cas," he asked.
My breath stopped in my throat for a moment.
I looked down. Was love the right word? Was that too far? I definitely liked him. He was sweet and brave but... love? He'd be uncomfortable if I said love. I sighed... maybe I did love him.
"I don't know if 'love' is too far or not," I finally admitted.
"Holy shit," Dean sounded so excited. I chuckled. "I fricking knew it! Sam, you owe me twenty bucks!"
"You bet on me?"
"...No," Dean suddenly turned guilty when he realized that I was unhappy with his choice.
"Sam."
"It was Dean's idea," he said, throwing his brother under the bus immediately. I looked at Dean.
"(Y/n)... listen..."
--time skip--
I was looking through Bobby's basement for him. He was working on some project and just needed me to help him grab some things. I was happy too. Working with Bobby was not as scary as some would assume.
I was heading back up the stairs when I heard Cas and Dean in the kitchen.
"I just want to know why (Y/n) defended me so adamantly," I froze, realizing neither one had noticed me.
"I can't tell you that, Cas, you need to ask them," he replied.
"You know and won't tell me," Cas said it as a statement, not a question.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I can't."
"Dean, I don't understand-"
"I'm sorry, Cas, but this is (Y/n)'s business."
I guess I didn't know how long they had been going around in a circle. Still, what happened next made me want to throw what I was holding at Dean's head.
"Is there something wrong with (Y/n)? Are you worried about them? What do I not know-"
"Guys," I heard Sam try to intervene.
"(Y/n) loves you, Cas," Dean finally snapped. "There! You know why now!"
My heart just sank, "How fucking dare you?"
Dean looked at me with a panicked look.
"(Y/n)-"
I held up a hand. I walked to the living, placed what Bobby asked for on the table, and then walked out of the house.
"Where are you going," Sam asked, going to stop me.
"On a walk," I snapped, slamming the front door shut behind me.
I don't even know how far into Bobby's yard I had walked. I just kept going. I was angry and stressed and embarrassed. I was ready to fight Dean and leave him tied up in the trunk of his own car.
"(Y/n)," I heard the deep voice from behind me. I ignored it. "(Y/n)."
"Cas, I really don't wanna-"
I ended up walking straight into his chest. I took a step back and looked up at his face.
"Cas... we can just forget that," I motioned toward the house. "We don't have to worry about it."
"No."
"No?"
"I don't want to forget about it," he muttered. "It made me very happy when I heard you loved me."
"Oh," I mumbled.
"I... I love you too," he had a small grin on his face, seeming nervous. Angel of the Lord... nervous.
"You do?"
"Yes," Cas nodded.
"Oh," I mumbled again.
He stepped closer to me. I felt my entire base heat up at the motion. Being this close to Cas... or anyone really... was kind of new to me. I watched him closely and saw him furrow his eyebrows.
"This is where I'm supposed to kiss you, right," he asked softly.
"If you want to."
"I want to," he replied. I smiled widely at him.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his lightly. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket. It felt like I was going to lose him if I did. He slowly reached out to touch my sides as he relaxed into the kiss. It was a perfect moment.
I slowly pulled away, trying to hold back a laugh as he tried to lean forward and kiss me again.
"I love you," I whispered, my forehead touching him.
"I love you too," he mumbled back. "And I'd like to kiss you again."
"Be my guest," I chuckled, pulling him back into a kiss.
What a perfect moment?
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#supernatural x reader#supernatural imagine#supernatural fanfiction#castiel x reader#castiel fanfiction#castiel imagine#imagine#fanfiction#x reader
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I don’t know who needs to hear this, but...
y’all need to accept the fact that ALL of these characters are and can be horrible people. This is not anti post, this is a let characters be morally grey post. They’re flawed, accept that already.
I’m tired of seeing posts like but--but Nesta-- But Nesta what? We already know what her flaws are. They’ve been highlighted from day one. They’ve been acknowledged by every character including herself. They have never once been excused, nor empathized with though she needed that severely. She has made friends and no friends by being the way she is. She has made friends who understand her, and has a family who doesn’t understand her. Friends who take into account that she has been through horrible things, and a family who has not. A family who in her own POV has left her behind, because they did. I said this about Feyre, I’ll say this about Nesta, if in a POV someone says someone wronged them THEY DID. But she is not easy, and sometimes not nice. We know this, we accept this. I stan her for this because emotion often is not beautiful, but stop pointing out her flaws like we don’t know. We all know! We also know that she was aggressive for a reason, she was hateful for a reason, she was in a very low place, and she deserved healing and better, unjudgmental treatment by other people which she didn’t get. She helped in a war, she tried to get Feyre back, she talked to the High lord, advocated for the humans, showed she cared for Cassian in ACOWAR, etc, too. We know her perspective is biased and she’s never once been excused for her mistakes, but other character’s are not treated like Nesta is (like Lucien is, Like Eris is, Like Jurian is).
So, let me go through the ways that all of these characters are imperfect and that you just have to accept as a reader. Okay? Okay.
Elain is not going to be you’re pretty little doll that has done nothing wrong, because she has and she should. Elain was not a good character in ACOTAR, just as much as Nesta was not a good character. Elain does sometimes seem a bit oblivious to what is going on around her. Elain may be very nice and pleasant but that is and will not be all she is. She is allowed to make mistakes and she should be held accountable if she does. When she doesn’t do too much (because she doesn’t) or when she is not very helpful (whether by plot or by Feyre/Nesta’s POV-whether that is noted or not), we can be like okay, she’s in a bad way, because she was, she’s healing herself. But don’t be a hypocrite and please don’t make her victim of other people. Her narrative right now is that “Nesta coddles her,” but we already know that blame game. We’ve seen it in Nesta’s own POV. No one is in charge of anyone’s actions but themselves. If she wants to help, she can. Stop saying the IC won’t let her or Nesta won’t let her, if Elain wanted to help she can. She will find a way... or at least put her foot down, which we’ve already seen she can do. If Elain wanted to reject the bond right then with Lucien, she could, but she doesn’t. And, If Nesta says she wasn’t there and she chose Feyre (no matter how skewed that perspective is), and Elain shows in Nesta’s POV that she didn’t show empathy either to Nesta or even love in a way that Nesta could see, or try to understand where she was coming from vocally in the scenes she was featured in regardless of whether she was capable or not of helping Nesta (because she didn’t (i.e scene in library, the treatment spiel, and the “did feyre pay you?”, and also never being around while Nesta was there, but also ACOSF when she took a drink like she couldn’t handle the situation, and then laughed like nothing at all was wrong)) then she wasn’t there for her. She’s a complex character just as everyone else. Let her be a complex character! Flaws are not bad, please stop trying to negate flaws like they shouldn’t exist. She’s great and she stabbed the King of Hybern to protect her sisters, she let the fae into her home, and she chooses to be kind in a world that’s not very kind to people like her, and she’s got a whole lot of story to tell, but she’s a normal character not a disney princess. She’s not close to anyone. Why? That’s not anyone else’s predicament except her own. Neither is her life nor her actions. Okay?
Mor can be loved because she was very supportive to Feyre in Feyre’s POV, understood because she is the first LGBT character in this book and she lives in a world it seems where she has to hide who she is, and we as readers understand that she has been through also horrible things. However, this does not negate the fact that she is a horrible person sometimes, to both her friends and people outside of their little group. She was not good to Nesta on SEVERAL occasions, even when Nesta was not bad to Mor. This weird love-triangle kept happening because she didn’t want to just admit that she didn’t like Azriel romantically, whatever the reason was. She’s a complex character. Hate her/Like her, but acknowledge that no matter what you choose, she has fucking flaws.
I see posts sometimes about how people don’t understand where this Rhysand came from, like “he’s so awful in ACOSF, SJM did this to make Nesta look better.” What? He’s been a dick always. He’s just not a dick to Feyre but that could be argued as well really. We as readers can acknowledge though that he like all the rest have gone through horrible things, and though the horrible things he has done are not excused (i.e. murdering children, killing people, his court still having so many problems and their solution being lets go to Vallahan, putting up an evil front to just keep people in line, not instilling any action to help those who need it or not treating people like subject who depend on him as a ruler regardless of whether he likes them or not (i.e the Hewn City/Illyria)) we acknowledge that he can be understood at the same time that he is also a hypocrite. Generally he’s not bad on an individual basis. but he’s not “good!” He’s morally grey. As they all are, but because he’s a ruler, he should be 10x more responsible for all of these problems and for all of his flaws.
Azriel is a sweetheart and sometimes he’s understanding, and doesn’t seem judgmental. But he’s a psycho! I’m sorry. He’s got a lot of things to work through, I mean. We acknowledge that he has been through HORRIFYING things, but we also should not neglect the fact that he’s a creep and he tortures people on a regular basis. There’s no reason he should have had that insane long infatuation with Mor and now seems to have one with Elain. We understand why he does this, psychologically, but it does not excuse him for making Mor uncomfortable for 500+ years. Take all of him or none of him.
Cassian. I love Cassian, but he does not think before he speaks, he does have his head up the IC’s ass, and he’s does not connect dots very well. He’s sweet and he’s supportive, and I have less of a problem with him than some other characters, but!!!! He’s got flaws and those are not bad. Those do not make him unlovable, but he’s got them and they’re not going away.
Feyre has this same issue. She does what she needs to, she’s loving, she gives people a chance, and yes she was there when people needed her, she has also suffered a good amount, but Feyre’s suffering has been acknowledged by everyone. It has been given voice to, it has been reflected in empathy by every single character even when Feyre herself has not been a great character. She tends to be very one-sided in things, as in her own view is the only one that exists (though that’s everyone of them really as we’ve seen, there’s no nuance there) but she’s also not very emotionally intelligent and she does get into everyone’s business, when she should probably let people do their own thing (this has been her trait forever since ACOMAF I think). But she should also take more of a stance to be a ruler, because unfortunately she has that responsibility, and she should hold Rhys more accountable for the actions he does. It should not be a “let’s have sex and all is well” sort of situation. She’s a very biased perspective, but so are all of them. But she’s not perfect and we should never feel that she is. She is not the light of heaven that has glorified Prythrian, she is just an average human-to-fae girl trying to live. She deserves love, yes, but not more than anyone else and loving her should not mean hating other people, which this fandom and the book have a hard time realizing.
Amren... sigh... I don’t like her too much but for the thread I’ll continue. Amren is probably the only reason anything gets done, realistically, because at least she’s always thinking about the logistics of things. She’s horribly rude, and doesn’t seem to care about anyone’s opinion, but she’s 15000 years old or what not. Emotions probably have to be beneath her at that point, but that doesn’t mean I have to love her, and that doesn’t mean she’s an unflawed characters. She’s very flawed and I think that’s acknowledged but I don’t think any character has really held her accountable for being who she is, they brush it off and are like “Amren’s Amren.” But she’s morally grey for sure, getting to be a darker shade if you ask me (i.e Tyrant Amren). But I acknowledge that even though I hate her, she’s not ALWAYS horrible.
I don’t know what it is, maybe it is the narratives insistence that the IC are good that makes everyone go off their rocker, but my god, I think I would love all of these character’s more if there wasn’t this insistence that they’re the “good guys” and just have them make mistakes, have them eat their mistakes equally, and have them move on, learn to do better, maybe fuck up again. That’s life lol that’s interesting, morally grey characters. But I write this post not to say they’re all horrible, but to say that it is unnecessary to point out the flaws of other characters in defense of another one. They’re all horrible. Acknowledge it, breathe it in, love them or hate them anyway, but know (whispers for dramatic effect) they’re all horrible. And that’s okay, because that is not all they are.
Have a good day.
#nesta archeron#cassian#feyre acheron#elain archeron#rhysand#mor#azriel#amren#acosf#acotar#acofas#acomaf#acowar
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Okay time for a little rant.
This is NOT for the people who simply really like and sympathize with Catra (I like her a lot, she's a super compelling character), this is for the people who stan Catra to the point of toxicity, and hate Hordak and think he shouldn't even have gotten a hint of a redemption arc.
Hordak was raised in a hive mind, basically without free will. He was presented with nothing but what Horde Prime taught him. To Hordak, that was what was right. He was following the wishes of his god, his brother, the closest thing he ever had to a friend. This deity taught him nothing but war and destruction. And as so often happens, the abused became the abuser. When he found himself on Etheria, yes, he could have magically decided to turn away from all of Horde Prime's teachings, and become "good," but remember, to him, good WAS war and concurring and death, as long as it was done in the name of Horde Prime. What do you expect from him? He knew nothing but what Horde Prime told him. We have no idea how old Hordak was when he was cast away from Prime. He could have been, comparatively, a child. Since his defect was just discovered, it makes sense to think that he hadn't been alive for very long before that. Even if he wasn't, that only argues his case stronger. A lifetime of living a certain way (in a hive mind with little to no free will) doesn't suddenly go away when you're no longer in direct contact with your god/abuser.
Does that make anything he did ok? Absolutely not.
He was monstrous, and perhaps we could even call him a monster. Should he be held accountable for how many people he hurt? Of course. But does he also deserve the opportunity to learn true right and wrong, repent, change, and find healing? Fuck yeah. Does he deserve the opportunity to be forgiven, and welcomed into the family (like Catra and Scorpia)? Yes, yes I think he does.
Does everyone have to forgive him right away and be totally ok with him? No, of course not. That will obviously take time, perhaps years, if ever. But at the very least he should be given the opportunity of redemption and healing.
We don't really know how Catra came to be in the fright zone. But what we do know is that she had an extremely abusive and manipulative mother figure, who basically shaped her into the (dare I say monstrous) person she becomes in some of the latter seasons. Like Hordak, the abused became the abuser. But there's a difference here, imho. Catra had Adora (and later Scorpia and Entrapta). Adora was there, all the time, showing Catra love, showing her right from wrong. And what happened? Catra chose (yes I said choose, shoot me) to abuse, time after time. She abused Adora, she abused Entrapta, and she abused Scorpia.
Catra had a choice. She was shown what was right and wrong. She had someone, several people in fact, who cared for and loved her. Yet she still chose to continue the cycle of abuse. I understand that it's not even close to easy to break that, but she had people willing to stay by her side and help her, and she chased them all away.
Did she deserve the opportunity to change and be redeemed and loved? Yes. But, she was given that, multiple times, through her whole life (by Adora and Scorpia and Entrapta) and she kept turning it down. Don't get me wrong. Im glad she was given the opportunity to heal and be loved and get that wonderful happily ever after, BUT (I say again) I think it happened far too fast.
Im really not here to complain about how things were handled with Catra (I could, and I have my reasons, but that's not what this post is for.) Im here to point out the hypocrisy of those who stan Catra, but hate Hordak and hate that it was even hinted that he might get a happy ending.
We either need both, or neither, imho.
Catra was abused and manipulated in horrible ways by her mother figure, but was also loved and cared for (and given chance after chance) by Adora, Scorpia, and Entrapta.
Hordak, for the majority of his life, had no influence save an abusive, tyrannical deity (who basically mind controlled him until he was cast out), and started to soften almost the moment he was presented someone who legitimately cared for him.
They were both responsible for tons of pain and death in the war. So how can you say that one deserves a chance for redemption, with all her wrongs wiped clean, while the other deserves no chance?
I could also talk about the ableism in people not wanting the disabled character and the autistic character to have their happy ending, but that's a whole other post.
Basically, neither Catra or Hordak really DESERVE a second chance (or in Catra's case, a lot more than second), but that's the beauty of redemption. And it's one reason I loved the show so much, because it showed that there's always hope that the darkness can turn to the light, no matter who the darkness may be.
Sooooo there's my rant. I'm not going to argue, so if you're looking for that, kindly heck off.
#hordak#catra#she ra and the princesses of power#she ra#entrapta#adora#scorpa#entraptdak#abuse#emotional abuse#cult survivor#religious trauma
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ACOSF FINAL THOUGHTS. 3/5
It was good. But it could have been EPIC. I think I got caught up in the hype and should have remained blissfully ignorant. Loved Nestas journey and her finding happiness. WELL DESERVED.
However lots of loose threads, ignored angst, rushed ending, pregnancy plot overshaowed a lot - 2 chapters wasted!
It was Nestas book with Cassians POV to balance. It was interesting to read how skewed, almost backwards it was the way Nesta saw things. Like the IC behaviour/comments at times to her was counter acted then with Cassians interpretation. Really showed her low her self esteem was.
I know it's Nesta letting go and being happy with herself and I believe SJM wrote it this way to be deliberately CLEAR that the IC are NOT perfect and are 100% capable of being total pricks. BUT that they are not held accountable for their actions the same way Nesta is, was frustrating. Cold hard facts: Nesta never murdered/stole/lied/tortured/assaulted anyone. She was a bum and a drunk who spewed hurtful shite. An angry bitch. However the only thing she ever wilfully killed was the King of Hyburn at the NC's request. The level of disgust from Amren/Rhys/Mor directed at Nesta in the beginning was uncomfortable to read and didn't sit well with me.
I'll have to read it again but I was not satisfied . Nestas character arc started half way through ACOWAR. She stepped up when they needed her to.
Feyre agreeing despite her experience in Spring was a step backwards for me. Then again it's exactly what Nesta needed. Cruel to be kind. And Feyre had Nestas back repeatedly throughout the narrative.
Loved Nestas story all of it, training, friendships, self love, etc etc. Gwyn and Emerie ❤ All epic. And she's well...more interesting! Detail on Cassian killing all those monsters, scene in the big, wow so good.
Feysand overkill or perhaps Rhys overkill. Sorry SJM but you need to pull back.
Nessian happened the way I thought it would. That Cassian isn't perfect is normal. His heart is Nestas, it's pretty clear. Smut scenes, I've read better sorry !!! Intensity was not the same as previous books. More sexy and less crude for me. Missed Cassians swagger but I guess we are in his head, and he's a big cuddly insecure bear. With a big d**k.
More thoughts (in my humble opinion).
Feysand pregnancy DRAMA. Unnecessary. Keep it, just don't let it happen the way it did. I've already said I thought the sacrifice should have been for Gywn/Emerie and there is a simple tie in IMO (see previous posts). Or perhaps Cassian actually stabbing himself rather than hurting Nesta with the Queen. But I get SJM and 'losing' her power, that much power just undermines the remaining plot for next few books. Nesta could just blast them all to hell. And she stole it in anger and has let it go with love. Growth! She is clearly still hella powerful. We don't know the half of it.
For me the above was the most irritating. The ending squeezed in. And I like Feysand. But Nesta healing with Feyre needn't have been so convoluted. Or drastic. More private, perhaps a real angsty, tense conversation and confession. They didn't discuss anything.
The last few chapters too much went on...important moments; first females to win The Rite, sidelined. Accepting the mating bond, sidelined. WTF is Nestas power now, sidelined. Queen dead, sidelined. An ILLYRANIAN FEMALE KICKING ASS sidelined. I mean Christ that was Cassians goal! And nothing. NOTHING. Not even a handshake.
Rhys. It was plain uncomfortable. But someone mentioned SJM deliberately wrote Rhys that way for this book and that's true. In the Feyre POV she mentions "two mates" the reasonable one and the asshole so that, I think, is telling. He's def more HL and pulls rank in this book with everyone.
Rhys clearly witnesses Nestas trauma from her nightmare but there is no recognition with Nesta. Not a peep. Yet he clearly feels massive regret. Is that for our benefit, the readers? That at least we know. Don't hate on Rhys. (I like Rhys btw)
I'd have liked a full circle scene where they are back in THAT sitting room admiring baby Nyx and Nesta just says a few things. Cooly and calmly. She's happy they intervened, but for all their wisdom and years of living it left a lot to be desired. Nothing too crazy, just a few delivered lines, Nesta style.
Felt Nesta lost a little of her fire. But maybe you see it more from the others POV. Though they always provoked her and it was a defence mechanism. And she was a bitch at times. With others outside the IC it's clear she is not like that. Make what you will of that.
I know SJM doesn't like to over detail things but a moment with Feyre/Nyx/Nesta alone would have been nice.
The sisters never meeting Gwyn or Emerie. A scene like that would have been powerful.
Amren is as Mor rightly said is a "cranky old bastard". And "Welcome back to the Night Court Nesta Archeron" screamed, now that you've scrubbed up love come on home. I don't know. Amren was clearly done with Nesta she was the one that stood by her the most and got sick shit of her. All Amren can command is respect now and Nesta really wanted hers, possibly the most.
Can I make a point about people harping on about slut shaming. Amren made one catty observation, that Nesta would ride almost anything. No other character mentioned it. Not one. And Nesta enjoyed her bed partners, she refers to some of it (threesome!). There was zero shame. And SJM hates slut shaming. So stop. It's not a thing.
I'm nitpicking but there was a lot of hurt just left off. Perhaps that was the point. SJM was like, fuck it, Nesta doesn't want to feel that anger or resentment anymore she wants to live and be happy. She's found inner peace with herself and those that matter most. Me wanting justification for how they treated her at timea is not the point!!! Lol.
The painting, that stood out for me in ACOFAS. It hurt to read it. Maybe Feyre had nothing to paint of Nesta. They didn't talk. Share thoughts. I think Feyre asking Nesta herself to show her memories of The Rite so she could paint it would have had more impact. But it read very plainly like now you've earned your spot here...or I like you now or something. She was deliberately not there, perhaps until she wanted to be. Or finally accepted and embraced life with the IC. It was an unnecessary detail that just fueled the Feysand halo (again I like Feysand).
Nesta made those weapons therefore they are hers. Amren is power hungry. Rhys seems happy to hand them over. High King drama, I can see it. It could happen.
It's clear that Nesta didn't want to leave the NC, therefore she had to fall in. People have a problem with 'who's boss' but we've only ever had court dynamics from Rhys/Feyre POV. And they are the top dogs in the NC. We are going to have to get used of seeing Feysand make decisions from the outside. It's THEIR court. And to be fair, Feyre always had Nestas back.
And yes I believe you always have a choice with Rhys. I know some scoff at that.
Rhys kneeling to Nesta further proves our gal is a Queen. Feyre is the only one he's ever bowed to. SJM gave us that moment for Nesta and we will have to be content despite he's questionable aggressive behaviour. He clearly has issues with family given his past.
Enjoyed seeing a bit of Elaine. Finally. And Nesta delivered some home truths! Elaine needs to find some backbone. Really looking forward to her story. Go mad SJM!
Feysand POV should have been the fallout of Rhys keeping baby drama from Feyre. Now THAT I would want to hear. And perhaps Feyre saying to Nesta I'm "secretly glad you told me".
Eris I always found super interesting. It's clear to me he knows Mor is gay. Him helping her would have meant she was trapped in the AC. 'Rejecting her' allowed Rhys and Co to save her and to have freedom. She screwed him by keeping it secret. His arc will be with Lucien I think.
Az and Elaine not for me. Sorry. I'd like Lucien to find some happiness. I've spoken of this before see other posts. Az tortures people for a living, he has serious issues.
I've already spoken about Mor....remember her lol. Where is she! Ha! Actions speak louder than words with Mor. Winnow please my mate is being a dick, teach me to dance, dress shopping. But I guess she's Feyres friend, Nesta has hers. Nesta feeling ashamed as to how she treated Mor, will be interesting to see how Mor feels about that oul time when I was such a hypocrite, lol, what I really meant was....
There are 2 more books and a novella so who knows. Nessian ain't over.
Going to look forward to the fanfiction!
Thanks SJM.
#acosf spoilers#nesta archeron#nessian#a court of silver flames#elriel#feysand#sarah j maas#sjm#lucien vanserra#elucien#azriel
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Not to go on ancient tangents again, but you know. I’ve been thinking.
I checked The Old Guard’s IMDb page again this week and it’s still sitting at 6.6/10 which while not horrendous, isn’t great either. And yet..elsewhere viewer and critic reception has been good, and strong. And positive.
Not accounting for the types of people who may be reviewing on IMDb, I keep thinking about the reasons people are giving it negative reception. Or what I personally consider possible legitimate reasons.
(Nixing any reviews that just called it ‘woke’, ‘liberal garbage’, ‘politically correct pandering’. ‘feminist shit’, ‘gay guys and women empowerment, who needs that??’ and ‘wokeflix’ aside because, IMO those automatically negate a review from possible critique and straight into bullshit territory). I have to think about some other comments I saw.
Some of which seemed to be:
(Under a cut because this gets long)
Low Budget
Badly Acted
Poorly Shot
Poorly Designed
Weak Storytelling
Weak Villains
Anti-Climatic
Generic
Cheap Overall
Within this realm, was some critique towards Gina’s directing (that i don’t agree with at all), poor storytelling (another I don’t agree with) and perhaps one that I REALLY don’t agree with ‘terrible acting’.
Now, I don’t know NEARLY enough about film making to comment on the technical elements, I can say with some assurance that I can at least recognize good acting the same way any casual viewer can? As well as decent, good or strong storytelling.
Because to me, the acting is NOT terrible. To me, the acting is phenomenal? And that is shown pretty strongly! Even breaking down every single character and the like, (yes including the villains), there are a TON of strong points from EVERYONE. And I do mean everyone. From Andy to Celeste, there ISN’T a weak point in any of the acting that I am aware of.
And believe me. I’ve watched enough times to notice.
When I think of the acting in this movie, lets say outside action sequences, I think about how pained Andy looks sitting in the Charlie Safehouse, looking at her hand and asking herself questions we can’t hear. Thoughts we can’t see but understand are happening. I think about Nile in Afghanistan after she becomes immortal, trying to take it all in and just vanishing with her ipod to have one moment to herself. Or how Joe’s brow creases and his hitched ‘I must get this out or else’ breathing when he gives the van speech. Or Nicky’s snarl on the kill floor. Booker talking about his sons. Quiet clarity from Celeste.
I think about Merrick giving his little inane speeches with utter determination and belief. Copley talking about his wife, Keane doing whatever he has to do. Kozak and her detached coldness.
Or how these interactions are always laced with feeling, depth and emotion. A movie with bad acting where you ‘don’t give a shit about these cookie cutter people’ *as some commenters have claimed*, would not make you feel this much. If the characters were poorly acted, why would the audience at large be overcome by feeling for them?
Even Quynh and Lykon, we GET A LOT with them. Even the smallest, most blink and you’ll miss it lines leave an impact.
How come my breath is still held during the van speech, even with my I don’t know how many rewatches? How come Andy’s pained shrieks in the medieval England sequence and Quynh’s terrified cries still hurt enough that I sometimes feel tempted to mute it? Or when Andy screams after Booker shoots her? Broken, betrayed and horrified?
Nile giving her description of her nightmare about Quynh, getting more and more passionate with the rawness of the dream she feels? Feeling Quynh’s pain and rage as her own because it’s just THAT real to her? Quynh panicking when Lykon won’t heal? Asking Andy ‘what’s happening’ with true terror in her voice?
You think you can have something like the Malta scene and think ‘yeah, these actors are moving like zombies through this project’. Why? How? I am not trying to be critical, I legitimately don’t understand.
And on a meta level, KNOWING how much work the actors put forth into their characters, all the little touches added in by themselves. I just question things. I suppose.
What make as good movie? I suppose the answer is always up to the audience at large, and no one person is going to have the same experience. And I’m not saying The Old Guard HAS to be a movie everyone enjoys. Of course it doesn’t. And I would never expect it to be as such. It’s either going to be your cup of tea, or it won’t be.
But I think it’s kind of unfair to completely lash out at it and blast it with comments like ‘bad acting’, ‘bad storytelling’, ‘terrible plot’, ‘boring characters’ just because it’s not running on a Marvel budget and full of CGI and a large cast quickly recognizable to mainstream audiences. Or Idk. the next Taken movie.
Does a movie have to be massive to be good? I don’t think the Old Guard at all qualifies as an indie movie, and it had a decent budget and delivered, in my opinion. Or maybe I do still have those rose-tinted glasses for it. But I think my brain is functional enough to be able to openly critique something, whether I’m obsessed with it or not.
And I gotta say..some of these critiques seem very illegitimate to me, but that is a whole other post.
I guess, end of the day, I want to see it succeed (though I think it has) and I want to see it getting the type of recognition it deserves. And feel salty about the 6.6 rating.
#the old guard#nate rambles#meta#i guess?#or is a rant#an essay?#i don't even know i'm just feeling things tonight#basically tl'dr I love this movie and it does not deserve the hate the outside gives it#and basically i saw those van speech gifs again and got lost in marwan's expressions and needed to wax poetic on a larger scale
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About Zhongli's state in the game right now..
I just want to vent(?) and let out my thoughts about this whole ordeal as a Zhongli simp. Take note that if you are someone who has Zhongli or wants Zhongli/is planning to roll for Zhongli and wants to read this post, be prepared. Because as much as i hate to say it, this one is gonna be harsh. I wish it wasn't, but the truth really hurts and is also something that i struggled to accept sjdjdjchsk
Ngl i'm probably going to get hands thrown at me because of this post but i really, really want to vent about what Mihoyo did to his character. This week has been a roller coaster when it comes to Zhongli. From being super excited for his release, being elated getting him, to being absolutely devastated at all the comments and information that had come out prior to his release.
Basically, as a 5*, Zhongli is very underpowered and underwhelming. This is something i hadn't noticed myself because my Zhongli still didn't have a proper build and weapon yet, but when i did, i felt my own happiness plummet at the weight of the reality.
I don't care if he is strong as a support or a dps, and no i don't want him to necessarily be good at being dps. But this will include a lot of stuff regarding damage because he is a five star with nuking potential. It's also this way because he is THAT underpowered. Even having him be a very good support would be a blessing, but as it goes, he is not.
First it was the comments in Youtube videos, arguing with each other about how bad/good he was. Those comments made me question a lot of things. But i felt absolutely crushed when Jinx and Tuner uploaded their stream of their Zhongli and Xinyan testing.
For those that don't know, Jinx and Tuner run a youtube channel where they test many things in Genshin and provide objective information about them based on the results of their testing. When i saw how incredibly disappointed and frustrated they were with Zhongli, i felt really, really sad. After all, they provide maths. Not only are they one of the genshin youtubers that i trust but they also study characters closely and tell you if a particular 5 star character is worth pulling for or not. And you guessed it, they concluded that Zhongli was NOT worth pulling for as a five star character because he is so heavily underpowered.
Then there comes the arguements presented.
Majority of people thought that Zhongli was going to be more of a support character rather than dps, and i could see why, but ironically he has more potential as a phys carry. And this information comes from the testing that Jinx and Tuner made.
However
Xiangling is still a better physical carry than Zhongli especially when you take into account the abilities she can use while attacking. Zhongli's pillar has questionable energy recharge generation, something that i too had noticed. Every tick of the pillar does NOT guarantee an energy, and it drove me crazy. Meanwhile you have Xiangling who can easily bring out energy with Guoba if she so wanted.
And you need C6 Zhongli in order for him to heal like Noelle too by the way. And Noelle is a 4* that is guaranteed on your first time playing the game. 👁
Zhongli's shield is good for sure, but then you have Noelle who can shield + heal. In terms of stuff being done, Noelle's is better. Zhongli's shield is strong yes, but it can STILL disappear after one or two hits from enemies (at least from our experience in higher AR. I have no idea if the same applies to lower AR).
Now for his meteor. Yes, his meteor is good. Not only is it spammable, but it deals great damage as well. BUT THEN you have Ningguang who can be a better burst spam and possibly deal more damage than his could do (remember, Ning has a lot of jades that could each deal 1k if built properly). The duration for petrification is 3 seconds too, which, a lot of people argue isn't enough time (personally, i have no problem with this since i do not mind it much). And apparently his meteor got nerfed because it does not increase geo damage and phys damage as it used to in the beta testing with petrification.
How about his ability in being able to break shields by holding E? Truth be told, i expected that he was going to be able to explode all shields in one go, but it does not work for every one of them apparently. Shields by hilichurls do break with just one E hold. But the ones by Mitachurls don't. I also tried breaking the Geo Hypostasis's pillar using his E hold and it did not break immediately. This could differ however. 👁 I'm still not sure if its because i have not properly built him right for breaking them or not. And about Stonehide Lawachurls... it's the same as the Geo Hypostasis pillar. The geo shield does not break immediately.
I'm not saying all this because i am mad at Zhongli. Rather, i am disappointed at what Mihoyo did to him. I am absolutely happy to get Zhongli. He is the one character i had been looking forward to for MONTHS. I saved resources in advance for him and even held off on leveling up my current team so i could dump all said resources on him when i get him. I stayed as AR35 for many many weeks because i wanted to level him up properly before ascending my World Rank. I think he is super fun to use especially with his burst and i absolutely adore the animation and when he crosses his arms and does his 'osmanthus tea' monologue at the most random times with his lil hand gestures. Even just listening to his voice while being idle fills me with so much happiness. There is so much joy in getting him. Which is why i am very disappointed at Mihoyo for how they butchered his character.
After Jinx and Tuner made their video about the results of their testing with Zhongli, i was genuinely saddened but i gradually came to accept the truth. It sucks, it hurts, but it is the truth. Even they said that they wanted Zhongli to be a GOOD character, but he is just insanely underpowered right now. You can invest resources into him and make him work, but compared to 4* and the other 5*, it takes so much effort. To make him decent, you'd have to level his stuff up so much but that also applies to four star characters and they perform better than him. Husbando > meta yes, but i gotta say that it still stings when my underleveled Xiangling and Fischl could do a much better job being a dps and support respectively than him when he's many levels above them.
Which brings me to the main point of this post.
Why was Mihoyo scared of making him strong? OP? Why did they nerf him so much? He is a 5* character Mihoyo, make him be STRONG at something. It's why he's a five star. But no. They watered him down so much to the point where even four star characters can do his own job better than him. His pillar doesn't even deal damage upon being destroyed just like Geo MC's. The range of his pillar's resonance is too small, and given the fact that his auto attacks can push enemies (except for the bigger ones of) or can be easily walked out of range to is 👁👄👁
And it deals criminally low damage. Like, why? Why not rack up the numbers? What is the problem????
The more i think about it, the more i can see the points that people have been pointing out. If the issue of energy generation with his pillar is RNG based, then that's simply screwed up. It already adds into the lists of problems that doesn't help with how underpowered he is. And as i am writing this post rn, there are lots and lots of Chinese players enraged about how weak he is as a 5* and causing HUGE fights in forums. People in the genshin subreddit had been debating again and again over heated arguements about his abilities. Even if you visit the genshin subreddit today and check every post about Zhongli, you will see people in the comments mention stuff about how he performs in the game and his abilities.
Mihoyo, give him a buff. I know that giving buffs isn't your thing, but there is honestly thousands and thousands of people expressing their disappointment and anger in how weak you've made him. He is a fan favorite. I love him. Majority of the genshin fanbase do. His character is really good and it hecking sucks that he is having major difficulties in fitting in on the game right now. He deserves better. Make him strong. Buff him. Adjust some of his abilities. Literally give. our. geo. dad. justice.
Those who don't care about damage is probably rolling their eyes at my rant rn but given how objectively weak he is compared to the other characters in game, it won't hurt if he gets a buff.
When the survey for Zhongli and Xinyan comes, rate him low. I know. It sucks. It's despicable. Even i hate it. But that is why we have to do it. If we become honest to Mihoyo about how much weak they made him, then maybe they are going to consider buffing or adjusting his abilities.
I'm sorry for the negative post. There is still hope for geo dad. He is incredibly fun to use but if you are debating on whether to pull for him or not, my answer would be
If you absolutely love him as a character, go for it.
Otherwise, just wait for now. Because his state in the game isn't looking so good at the moment.
For those that already have him and are also disappointed or saddened by what happened, take comfort in knowing that tons of people are still using Zhongli (including me who went through such roller coaster of emotions lmaoaoaoa) regardless of the information that he is behind in terms of being a dps and support. And that there is still hope for him (WAIT FOR THE SURVEY AND RATE HIM LOW YO 😭😭😭 IT WON'T GUARANTEE THAT MIHOYO IS GONNA BUFF HIM BUT WITH ALL THE PEOPLE RAGING RN THERE IS A HIGH POSSIBILITY THAT THEY WILL LOL)
Have some goofy screenshots that i took while playing as Schlongli
#[nanderthal.]#genshin impact#genshin impact zhongli#zhongli#hang in there my lovelies 😭😭#i hate it too but sjfjshfoehdoshs#our hope lies in the surveys#and the rage; ironically enough#other than that if you really want to use him then go for it 🥺#there is no one stopping you#he is super fun to play after all!!#he just deserves better goddamnit mihoyo 👁😭#give us that OP petrification#or even better pillars#anYTHING MIHOYO
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Christmas Party Panic
Christmas/Holiday present and general OC fun for @brainyxbat and @spyrkle4 and @barely-nok read to find out which BH6 character or OC says the f-word.
Seth stretched, their back tingling and aching as they pulled a lush, soft Christmas sweater over their chest, where the scars of surgery had primarily healed, and their back, where the scars were still a little raw.
“Good morning my king,” Morgan mumbled, sleepily reaching for her tube of toothpaste and almost putting lotion on her toothbrush instead. Seth gently corrected her, far more used to being awake early in the morning than their drowsy girlfriend.
“Morning, sugar,” Seth smirked, “Are you excited for the party?”
“For the… That’s today?” Morgan still didn’t understand how she’d been invited to this party. By all accounts, it didn’t make sense. Things between her and Hiro were tolerant, maybe even a tad protective, but not exactly warm. Wasabi and Fred kind of liked her, but all of them liked Seth and Seth loved Morgan, so Morgan made it to the guestlist for The Lucky Cat Cafe Christmas party.
The guestlist was actually getting pretty long. That was Ari’s fault. If it were up to Hiro, it would just be Big Hero 6, Ari, and Megan. Fred had insisted on inviting Seth which had landed Morgan on the guestlist as well, but Ari was the one throwing around invites to anyone who smiled at her. Which included all of the Ferns, Sienna, Rachel and her folks, and now some random coffee patron.
"You can't add strangers to the guestlist, Ariel.”
“Doesn’t seem like she’s a stranger to me,” Ari smirked, jerking her head towards Wasabi, who was nervously stumbling over his words and rubbing his neck as he talked to a short girl with green streaks in her hair.
“Look at him,” Ari gigled, “he’s smitten. You’ve got to let him invite Venus. They’re so cute together. You got to invite Megan.” Hiro blushed at the mention of Megan.
“That’s different. And isn’t he already inviting someone?”
“No, that’s different, Khary is his brother. You’re inviting me.”
“You’re not invited, you live here. Khary doesn’t live here. He’s cool though, and I know him, so it’s okay. I don’t know Venus. Too many people are coming to this party.” Hiro ran his fingers through his hair, seeming a little irritated and not very festive. Ari knew that this was difficult for him, his first Christmas without Tadashi. She’d hoped surrounding him with friends, old and new, would help him, but he just seemed uncomfortable.
Ari placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”
“Last year it was just different. I’m glad that you’re here, you’re the best change that ever could’ve happened. But last year… And Morgan…”
Ari frowed. She hadn’t been around Morgan much but she liked her. Morgan was confusing and intriguing and always seemed like she was down for a good though slightly illegal time. Rachel had met her once and quietly commented that Morgan reminded her of Katie, if Katie was human and nice.
“What about Morgan?” Hiro didn’t seem to like Morgan much, though Ari had never really understood why, until Hiro answered her.
“Morgan was Tadashi’s girlfriend. Now she’s what? Turned around and found somebody new?”
“Seth is really cool, you shouldn’t be upset at them.”
“I’m not upset at them! I don’t care about them. I’m upset that Morgan moved on so fast.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her, Hiro. But maybe talking to her today will help.”
Hiro was about to disagree when Wasabi came over, grinning like a fool.
“I got Venus's number! And she’s coming to the party.” Wasabi did a quick little happy dance.
“Congrats,” Hiro muttered, disappearing upstairs.
“Is he okay?” Wasabi asked.
Ari bit her lip, wondering how much she should explain.
“He’s just nervous about the party,” she finally managed.
“Ah. Well, me too, actually. I should, uh, I should go home and change…” The fact that this was kind of a date with the cute Botany Major had just occurred to Wasabi, and his face morphed into a panic.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your brother!” Ari called before Wasabi could run out of the cafe.
Wasabi hesitated, “What?”
“Didn’t you invite Khary?”
His eyes widened, “I forgot my whole brother.” Ari stifled a laugh. She knew as well as anyone that love could make you do boarderline stupid things.
"Well, don't forget him before the party."
"I won't," Wasabi promised, heading out.
Unlike her brother, Ari was excited about having so many people around for Christmas. While she loved Aunt Cass and Hiro, she knew her family was much larger than just them. It included all the wonderful people who had come into her life this past year. She wished Juniper could be on the guestlist, and that Karmi could be more than an unanswered invitation. She missed her dear friends and hadn't stopped worrying about either since the mutations, which had hit everyone pretty hard. They deserved a nice Christmas after everything that had happened. She just hoped Hiro would be a little more in the Holiday spirit later.
Hiro wasn't the only reluctant party guest. Actually, it seemed like reluctance was infectious. Morgan hadn't started feeling merry and Wasabi's last minute invite couldn't even leave her bedroom, too nervous and indecisive.
"Sweetheart," Malia Woods said, putting a hand on Venus' shoulder, "you look wonderful. This Wesley fellow will be lucky to be your date tonight."
"Are you sure?" Venus spun in her Santa dress, looking like a million bucks, and her mom laughed.
"Yes, Cath, he's going to swoon when he sees you."
"Jack was making fun of me earlier," Venus frowned. She really did hate her older brother and his cruel jokes.
"Jack has been reprimanded. And he's out with friends tonight anyway, you have nothing to worry about. Come on, honey. Let's get you to your party."
Venus nodded, taking a deep breath, mustering her confidence, and putting on a Santa hat.
"Let's go."
"Come on, Morgan, let's go! We need to leave now if we want to run errands before the party." Seth was many things but late was rarely one of them.
"Hold onto your horses, babe. It's not easy looking this perfect."
"It's not that hard, I do it all the time," Seth retorted, setting down three tins of decorated cookies and crossing their arms.
Morgan laughed, "I can't argue with you there…" Finally she emerged, makeup flawless, wearing a sweater that matched Seth's. Seth's was green and said "All I Want for Christmas is You," with an arrow pointing at Morgan. Morgan's was red and said the same, with an arrow pointing at Seth. As tempting as it had been to buy even dumber couple's sweaters, they'd settled on something sweet that would still nauseate their friends and family.
"We look great," Seth said, grabbing the cookie tins.
"We're missing something, hold on." Morgan produced two pairs of reindeer antler headbands and plopped one down on Seth's head, before putting on her own.
"Perfect," Seth agreed, though they knew it was cheesy.
They were not half as cheesy as Sadie’s boyfriends, who opened the door to their apartment donned in a two person Christmas sweater that declared that Bennet was the naughty one and Dalton was the nice one.
“Oh my gosh,” Morgan snickered.
“Are you guys okay? Dalton? Bennet? Is this a punishment? Blink twice if my sister is holding you hostage.”
Dalton jerked his head at his slightly shorter boyfriend, “It was his idea.”
Seth’s mouth formed an O, “Bennet, I thought you were the sensible one.”
Bennet smirked, “This is great. Dalton has to hug me the entire time we’re wearing this.” While Bennet tended to gravitate more toward giving gifts and Dalton was more centered around acts of service it was obvious that one of Bennet’s love languages was physical touch.
“I’m touching his butt,” Dalton said with a shrug and a sly smile.
“Is Sadie here?”
“Yeah, but she’s being a real Grinch,” Bennet said, loud enough for Sadie to overhear.
“You guys left me out of the Christmas sweater,” Sadie said, coming over.
“Sorry,” Dalton said sheepishly.
Sadie smiled, “I’m not mad at you, goof. What’s up, Seth, Morgan? You guys look adorable.”
“Thanks. We brought you cookies! We have one more delivery to make before we go to this Christmas party later, so we can’t stay, but I’m really glad we got to see you!” Morgan seemed a bit more cheerful, but she was still nervous about the party.
“I’m glad I got to see this,” Seth said, gesturing at Dalton and Bennet.
“Have fun at your party, I’m sure these cookies will be great,” Sadie said, taking the tin.
“Did Morgan make them?” Bennet asked, a bit skeptical.
“No, don’t worry,” Seth laughed.
“Hey, I can bake!”
“Mm, sure you can, sugar.” Seth kissed Morgan’s cheek, having to tiptoe per usual, though not as much since the incident.
“I know you have to leave but you’ll have to join us for hot chocolate and S’mores sometime after Christmas. Dalton makes the best,” Sadie said.
“We’ll hold you to it.” They had one more couple to visit before they headed to the party, which was already getting started.
“Ari, this is my little brother Khary. Hiro, I guess you two probably remember each other?”
“Yeah, what’s up, man?” Hiro and Khary exchanged a fist bump and Khary shook Ari’s hand.
“Just vibing,” Khary laughed, “It’s nice to meet you, Ari.”
“Nice to meet you too. Wasabi talks about you all the time."
"Wasabi?"
"Oh that's their nickname for me. You can use it too, Khare."
"Cool. It's uh, it's nice to know you have friends who care enough to give you nicknames." Wasabi smiled a moment but it was clear he was distracted, watching the door, waiting for his crush. The door opened and Wasabi held his breath, but it was just Megan and Chief Cruz.
"Hey, I know you, you go to my school!" Megan said, coming over and striking up a conversation with Ari, Hiro, and Khary.
"Yeah? I think I might've seen you around… I'm Khary."
"Megan. You were in Mary Poppins, right? I wrote about your performance for the school paper."
"Oh, cool!" Wasabi was obviously overjoyed that his baby brother was getting along with the others, but he was more concerned about his date. What if she decided not to come? What if she thought all this was too much? But, sure enough, Catherine "Venus" Woods made her grand entrance, instantly taking Wasabi's breath away.
"You look amazing, Venus. I'm so glad you came."
Venus instantly blushed, "You look nice too, Wesley."
"Oh, uh, you can call me Wasabi, all my friends do."
She nodded and made a note of it, "I really like your sweater."”
“Oh, really? I made it.”
“You made that? Whoa. You’re so talented.”
“You’re pretty talented yourself,” Wasabi commented, “I’ve seen the project that got you into SFIT. That’s crazy cool.”
Venus instinctively pushed her hair in front of her face, nervous and blushing.
“T-thank you.” Khary nudged Wasabi’s leg with his foot and Wasabi remembered that he and Venus weren’t the only two people in the universe.
“Venus, this is my little brother Khary.” Wasabi affectionately grabbed the teen by his shoulders.
“Oh,” Venus smiled, “Nice to meet you!”
“And these are my friends Ari, Hiro, and Megan. Ari and Hiro’s aunt owns the cafe”
“You work here sometimes, don’t you, Wasabi?” Venus asked, since he was the whole reason she’d become a regular here.
“Yeah, it’s been my part time job since high school.” He frowned, momentarily, thinking about Tadashi who had gotten him this job and more importantly had gotten him to this point in his life. This Christmas would be hard. He glanced at Hiro, noticing for the first time that all these changes, all these new people that Tadashi hadn’t known were really shaking the kid.
“We’re late,” Morgan said, her leg jittering in the passengers’ seat, “maybe we shouldn’t go. Maybe we should just drop off the cookies with Kei and skip the party.”
“We’re gonna drop off these cookies and at least make an appearance at the party. Fred asked me to come, and I’m sure everyone is going to be glad to see you.”
“Sure,” Morgan rolled her eyes.
“Hey, our friends love you.”
“Your friends,” Morgan reminded, “you’re the one everyone likes.”
“That’s not true. Hiro’s little sister likes you.”
“Oh, yeah, well she’s different. She’s cool. Have you seen what she can do with the…” Morgan mimicked water bending, and Seth laughed.
“Not sure if I have. Haven’t exactly been on the anti-hero scene as long as you, babe.” Seth kept Morgan talking, distracted from her concerns about the party until they pulled up at their second stop.
“Kei’s gonna love these,” Morgan said cheerfully, still over the moon that she had met and befriended her favorite performer.
“We did good,” Seth agreed. Seth loved that Morgan had gotten to meet her idol but DJ Parasite had become so much more than music they drank to, Kei had sort of become like a mom to Seth. A really weird, young, cool mom.
Morgan knocked on the door to Kei’s apartment.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” Kei yelled across the apartment, and there was a crashing sound before the door was unlocked.
“Oh my gosh,” Kei said, eying the sweaters, “you two look adorable. I didn’t think I could ship this more but I do.”
Seth laughed, “Thank you.”
“Mr. Claus won’t match with me, but, ugh, I’m loving this.” Kei drew Morgan and Seth into a hug without warning, pulling them slightly into the apartment.
“We made and decorated cookies,” Morgan said, holding up the tin.
“Oh! Thank you! I think I have your presents ready, hold on.” Morgan and Seth stood there, waiting, as Kei disappeared, yelling down the hallway, “BABE! DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE GIFTS FOR THE KIDS ARE?”
Seth couldn’t help chuckling at the response, “They’re under the Christmas tree, dumbass.”
“Right, obviously.” Kei dashed over to the tree and came back with two matching gift bags.
“It’s simple but if you don’t like it tell me, or, well just I’ll probably end up getting you something else as well so that’s a placeholder for now.”
“Do you want us to open it now?” Seth asked, taking the bag addressed to them.
“No, I don’t wanna see your faces if you’re disappointed in them.”
“I’m sure we’re going to love them, Kei,” Morgan assured.
“Hope so. Oh! Before you leave, look up!” Seth and Morgan looked up in unison, a blush tinting both of their faces when they saw the mistletoe over the door. Seth glanced at Morgan who nodded and leaned down for a quick but sweet kiss.
"See? Moth uses the mistletoe!" Kei shouted down the hall to her husband.
"I don't need a parasite plant to kiss my parasite wife!"
"Well, we'll let you get to kissing," Morgan snorted, "we have places to be anyway."
"So are you excited for the party now?" Seth asked as they walked back to the car, pulling out the bit of tissue paper in the bag and revealing a lovely little bird ornament with soft fake feathers, "Oh, this is cute! What did you get?"
Morgan opened her own bird ornament, which was made out of gears and other steampunk parts. Morgan giggled, "Kei is nutso. These are going on our tree immediately."
"Are you excited about the party?" Seth asked again, for the third time today, actually.
The rest of this story will be in the fucking reblog I guess
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Eternal Empire After Effects
In addition to that post I made a while back about how your characters deal with either the boost in Force sensitivity or the brand new sensitivity for your smugglers/troopers/agents/bounty hunters. I want to talk about the general fucked up-ness that the Commander has to deal with post-KotET.
Like DAMN. Bare minimum, they’ve had to deal with carbonite poisoning, the general mind games of Valkorian, and then they had their mind literally broken in the last chapter. At worst, they get all that, plus taking a lightsaber to the gut. To say nothing of having to fight an impossible war for a little over a year straight with everyone’s hopes and dreams riding around on their shoulders.
A lot of the posts I’ve seen about other people’s ocs has some form of lingering effects from everything. And I just want to talk about it for a minute, cause I live for filling in the scenes we don’t see. [Take this with a grain of salt, as I’ve never played a dark side character, so my perspective will be skewed.]
Long term physical effects:
They were poisoned slowly over the course of 5 years, you can’t tell me that one little dart thing can fix that, at least not right away. This could take the form of lingering nausea, migraines, dizziness. The symptoms of heavy metal poisoning would fit well here. And I hc my consular as having some permanent nerve pain from it.
The stab on Asylum is absolute bullshit in the game. Valkorian or no, there’s no way they’d be walking out. I think I posted a pic I took before, but the stab is easily close enough for the heat transfer to damage the spine. Bone cracks and warps with heat, so you can see the problem there. The wound is almost dead on for where the stomach sits and the lungs, liver, kidney, and intestines are all in range to get badly burnt (yeah I know, alien anatomy might be different, but we’re assuming its mostly the same).
We’ve seen what a lightsaber can do to a blast door in The Phantom Menace, take that and apply it to a person, and Arcann held that blade there a loooong time.
Yes, Valkorian saves them, but I think of it more as he kept them from dying, and not, he completely stopped the blade from cooking them from the inside out. So the three days Lana mentioned are horseshit. The Gravestone’s tiny ass med-bay is absolutely not equipped to handle an injury like this.
I always figured a better way was Valkorian kept them alive long enough for Lana to threaten her way onto an appropriate station and made the doctors fix them. Even so, getting what amounts to several organ transplants, implants to bypass possible spinal chord damage, replacement ribs and vertebra, and a whole lot of skin and muscle grafts will leave your Commander pretty messed up, even with magical Star Wars tech and Force magic. And their allotted recovery time seems to be the length of the base’s construction on Odessen, so there’s no way in hell they’re really done healing by the time they have to go back out into battle.
Specific injuries aside, a year is a long time to fight more or less constantly. At least during the base game you sort of had rests between chapters. They’re gonna rack up an impressive list of injuries, alongside wear and tear like their knees and feet having trouble from the constant running and jumping. And their elbows and shoulders will break down from hours upon hours of absorbing the recoil of a gun or the constant flurry and clash of a lightsaber.
Long term mental effects:
As ugly as the physical stuff is, the mental effects are just as bad. Depending on what class they are, having the goddamn Sith Emperor riding shotgun in their head will fuck them up big time.
Classes who faced off with him more-or-less directly, like the Knight, Consular, and Warrior, are going to have the worst time of it because they KNOW what this sort of thing leads to. The warrior has seen the dead eyed puppet on Voss and knows that could be them soon. The consular had to deal with the emperors children and the First Son. They’ve seen a prominent and powerful Jedi master absolutely crumple under the power of the emperor and he wasn’t even IN there. And Knights have already experienced the emperor’s control first hand.
Not to say the others won’t have trouble with it, it’s just that the reasons will be a little less direct. The smuggler and bounty hunter are used to being their own people, not tied down to anything or accountable to anyone, and now there’s the threat that everything they have will be taken from them and there’s no amount of sneaking or shooting that will save them. Troopers built up their command from basically nothing and now they’re Republic heroes, but Valkorian now threatens the lives of everyone they’ve sworn to protect. The agent is easy, they’ve suffered mind control before, they’ve been slaves in their own body, and they’re terrified of it happening again. And inquisitors were literal slaves who clawed their way to the top, and they’d sooner die than be a slave again.
So just having that asshole there means constant stress for the whole of KotFE and KotET. Insomnia must be a given. How do you know you’ll wake up as YOU? That Valkorian won’t hollow you out in your sleep and walk around in your skin the next day? And for the Knight, Agent, and Inquisitor, I’d think panic attacks are probably a thing, even if they don’t let anyone see it.
The stab will definitely cause some trauma. Pretty sure any wound that gruesome would. And if they didn’t have nightmares before, they sure do now and I’m willing to bet that they might shy away from lightsabers for a while, which leaves an interesting dilemma considering they’re in a war with Force-users, and some of them are Force-users themselves.
Fighting a guerrilla war with an absurdly powerful adversary has to be incredibly taxing, especially for classes who’ve never had to command anything. Smugglers and Bounty Hunters are very screwed here, assuming they care about running the Alliance well. And the burden of saving the galaxy is a heavy one. I can definitely see classes who have saved the galaxy multiple times to be getting increasing bitter about always having to be the one to clean up the messes. Why are THEY the ones who always have to suffer? Why isn’t there ever a hero to save THEM when they need it?!
Agents get their own little special bit here with the bullshit that is Vaylin’s conditioning. They know exactly the kind of misery she’s going through, the powerlessness that one single phrase or word causes. I can understand that the writers couldn’t figure out or bother with a whole separate scene of the agent refusing to use the conditioning, cause then they’d have to figure out how to not have Vaylin murder them on the spot. But goddamn we could’ve at least seen them struggle with it! Maybe an extra few lines of them pleading with Vaylin because they desperately don’t want to use her control phrase. Ugh, at least behind the scenes an agent can have a break down about how they’ve become exactly like the intelligence officers who’d decided that they were too much of a liability to go without a leash they could pull. And now they’ve pulled an identical leash on Vaylin.
And then we have their mind being broken. That could be a post in and of itself. Valkorian came within a hair’s breadth of destroying them entirely, and they were so broken that they didn’t even know their own name. And in the space of 10 or so minutes, they scrape themselves together and fight a god. It’s very impressive (and I’ve got my own issues with that fight) but I don’t think you can pull yourself together that fast after being that messed up without some lingering issues.
Chronic insomnia and night terrors, full blown PTSD, panic disorders, severe anxiety; something THAT traumatic will absolutely leave marks.
And after that? They just keep going. Yeah, things calm down, but they’re still at the head of a very powerful faction now (if not ruling Zakuul), there’s no going back after this. And they’ve got a massive restoration project ahead of them as tensions continue to simmer between the Republic and Empire. The more dutiful characters must be near the end of their rope. There’s no rest, just the next fire to put out, and they continue to run themselves into the ground. And the more flighty characters are now forever shackled by the Alliance. There’s no flying off into the sunset for them. No more anonymity as a bounty hunter or smuggler. Their old life is over, whether the wanted it or not. And how can they really relax when there’s this many people looking at them for direction. They’ve become just like those asshole military leaders who they used to mock.
And for just about all of my characters, they hide it. No one can know that they’re falling apart at the seams. Either it’s about personal pride and acting unphased cause they’re just THAT good, or because they’re trying to be the leader the Alliance deserves and don’t want to disappoint or frighten them by showing just how badly they’re coping. Either way there will be a breaking point.
And even after it all comes out in the open, and they (hopefully) get the help they need. It’s never completely over. Chronic pain and fatigue, depression and anxiety, persistent insomnia; these things don’t just disappear, they’re an ongoing struggle that helps color their future actions.
I just… I really like considering things like this because it hits close to home. Seeing them struggle with some of the things I deal with makes them feel more like people. Cause god knows the writers aren’t gonna put this kind of stuff in there.
#swtor#mental health discussion#chronic pain discussion#physical injury discussion#kotet#kotfe#relicwrites
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(gif by lilkisara)
REUNIONS Maul x Ahsoka
I said I’d write it and I did! The last episode was absolutely amazing and put a lot of things in perspective. I love Maul and Ahsoka with all my heart. Their motives and final show down was perfect for the ending. Yes I wanted a team up but this creates a whole other layer of perfection added to their characters.
Short and sweet :3c
SUMMARY Rated G - 1,425 words
They meet again on Malachor by chance or fate, neither of them really knows. It’s been almost two decades and still, the ache is there.
-------------------------
“You.”
Ahsoka was filled with anger. Had she not had Kanan and Ezra at her side, she wouldn’t have held herself back from killing the former Sith there and then. As she should have all those years ago when he had stolen the shuttle. By all accounts, he should have been dead. All those years later, Kenobi’s words echoed in her head. He was difficult to kill.
“You survived?”
Maul’s distorted smile grew wider as he turned around to face her, the Sith Inquisitors disappearing further into the temple. She had beaten all the odds that were stacked against her. Truth be told, Maul had assumed he had been the sole survivor of Order 66. It made sense really. He didn’t care enough to stick around to watch a ship be swallowed by a moon’s gravity. To his knowledge, she had been dead before they even reached the atmosphere.
When Maul had climbed up into the shuttle and escaped into hyperspace, he held no remorse towards his actions. After all, she had asked for chaos. His kind of chaos. She had asked him to play his role and Maul had taken his part to heart. He had followed orders. Good soldiers follow orders, do they not? Indirectly, she had sent him to march down that hallway and meet death. She hadn’t shown him any mercy or any kindness, so why should he have?
With a shout of rage, Ahsoka charged him like a fury, her lightsabers trailing behind her. She raised them up and they clashed in a blinding shock of light. It forced Maul to back up in a defensive stance, his leg extending back for balance. She pressed on, making him take a few more steps backwards. She slammed her blades into his double-edged lightsaber again with enough force that he stumbled backwards, taken by surprised at the speed and force of her action. His back bumped against the wall and he quickly brought the weapon up again to protect himself from another onslaught. She wanted to kill him, it was clear enough by the blazing look in her eyes and the way she wasn’t holding back. He had seen that grimace on her face once before. Ahsoka had been pushed beyond her breaking point by the mere sight of him.
The sheer force of her strikes spoke of all the resentment, ache and loss she had suffered over the years. Fair play. But Maul had suffered as well. The zabrak snarled, holding off the pressure of their weapons so that it wouldn’t cut his head clean off of his shoulders. He had suffered partial loss before but he doubted this was one he could recover from.
Their lightsabers locked with each other. It forced Maul in an awkward position, the buzzing of the weapons ringing in his ears and the white heat lapping at his throat. In the light of their blades, he could see tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t been a Jedi for a long, long time. She was letting her emotions go through her freely, using them to fuel her. To Maul, it only made her more human.
“You should have died on that ship.”
Ahsoka said lowly through gritted teeth so that only he would here. Something about Maul made her ashamed. She hadn’t meant to snap in front of her companions. Thankfully, Kanan understood. After all, he had lived through the Clone Wars if only for a brief period. He had seen his master die in front of him just so that he might have a chance to escape. If there was bad blood between the former Sith and former Jedi, it would be settled here. No matter the outcome.
“So should you have, Lady Tano.”
Maul replied aggressively, using his robotic foot to kick her in the stomach and give himself more room to manoeuvre. When Ahsoka had raced him for the only way off the sinking Destroyer, he had finally seen her true colours. War had changed her. It had changed both of them, and yet her opinion of him hadn’t changed. He was a selfish, stubborn, and cruel half-droid scum.
“Well it wasn’t for a lack of trying on your part, was it? I gave you your freedom!”, Ahsoka shouted back, her chest heaving heavily and her voice breaking with emotion.
They stood apart in silence, weapons lowered at their sides while they sized each other up. Freedom? Surely she didn’t believe those words. Surely she was trying to save face in front of the others. There had been no motives other than her escape as to why she had let him out of his cell. Ahsoka Tano wanted her and her trooper friend to survive and live. If it meant sacrificing someone who she didn’t think deserved her mercy, so be it. Her plans had been to bring him to Coruscant for justice. But with no one left to assess his case, it had been easy for her to make a decision. No matter how wrong she knew it was deep inside. She had thought of Empress Sabine. Qui-gon. Finn Ertay. And all those nameless civilians he had killed. They weren’t just casualties, they were victims. They deserved justice for Maul’s crimes and she would be the hammer that brought it down upon him.
“How noble of you! You’re no different than your masters... Just as self-serving and delusional. What were your words again? I’m not rooting for you?”
She gave another cry as they charged each other and clashed. Their weapons were quickly discarded, flying across the dusty floor of the temple and at the Jedi’s feet. The pair of them tumbled onto the floor, kicking and punching to gain dominance. Maul gained the upper hand, locking her arms behind her back.
“I gave you countless opportunities to save yourself.”, he snarled down.
“You know I would never trust a Sith.”
Her words were seething with hatred. So that’s all he had ever been to her. A Sith. Even after the order had abandoned him, after his master had replaced him over and over, after he had lost his entire family to the Sith, that’s all he would ever add up to. This was how everyone saw him. A Sith. It made Maul’s blood boil, more so than usual. So be it. He would utilise the emotions swirling like a storm inside him just like his master had taught him. He would exact his revenge, as promised.
“You’ve made that quite clearly, padawan.”
Using the Force, Ahsoka shoved Maul off of her, holding him down onto the floor in front of her as she rose to her feet and dusted herself. She was in pain, both physically and emotionally. Seeing Maul only opened old wounds she was certain had healed.
“I’m tired of fighting... especially you.”
She whispered out of breath. Even if her eyes were focused on him, he could tell she was looking past him. The girl he had meet in the tunnels of Mandalore didn’t exist anymore. She had lived through and seen too much to have remained the same, unlike him. Maul took pride in his suffering, used it as both a shield and a weapon. Ahsoka ran away from it.
She had run all her life. From people, from her feelings, from who she’d become. She had lost sense of what it truly meant to be herself. To serve a purpose that wasn’t meddled and sullied by war and men. No more. She was free.
“Trust me, my Lady, so am I...”
There was truth in his voice, although Ahsoka wasn’t sure he had spoken at all. The question remained. If she didn’t want to fight him anymore but also didn’t trust him... why had she let him slip through her fingers? What had happened between the trooper and her? What had become of him? He must have meant a great deal to her.
Maul pulled himself up, one hand holding the structure behind him. He chuckled at the absurdity of his words which cued Ahsoka to do the same. It was an emotionless reaction to their display of force. There would never be trust between them, the mere thought of it was as ridicule as it had been before the Republic even fell.
“I could never trust a Sith.”, Ahsoka repeated.
“It’s a good thing I relinquished that title long ago then.”
In the corner of her eyes, she could see the smirk she had learnt to be wary of. What was he getting to?
#maulsoka#maul#ahsoka tano#ahsoka#darth maul#sw rebels#star wars rebels#tcw#tcw s7#the clone wars#fics
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[Good Omens] Winging It - Job 39:13
Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael. Rating: T
Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.
A/N: Well, someone’s in for a rude awakening.
***
“... What the Heaven.”
“What the Heaven indeed,” Aziraphale murmured, but Crowley barely heard him; he was too busy staring down at dark, jagged scars over Gabriel’s shoulder blades while he rested, motionless, on a mattress on the ground. Those had been open wounds, Aziraphale had said, before he’d healed them and miracled away the blood; Crowley was rather glad he hadn’t been there to see the mess. Maybe all that trouble with traffic had been a blessing in disguise.
Well. Not a literal blessing, of course, he didn’t do those unless absolutely called for - which was to say, not unless Aziraphale asked - but still, a lucky coincidence. Even without witnessing the worst of it, seeing the scars was enough to make his plan of grabbing him and kicking him all the way out of the bookstore, whether Aziraphale agreed or not, seem… a little less viable.
In theory, he could still do it. Gabriel deserved it and if he’d simply become a demon the way he had, then he wouldn’t have held back. But he wasn’t a demon, was he? He was human, in a bad shape, with marks on his back that made Crowley mightily uncomfortable every time his gaze fell on them. His own wings - which were always there, if not necessarily on the same plane of existence, black as coal but whole and functioning - ached at the thought. And yet...
Shut your stupid mouth and die already.
Maybe just a couple of swift kicks, or a bout of intestinal parasites...
None of this would have worked out if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit a good person.
In the end, Aziraphale’s voice in the back of his head was stronger, as always. Biting his tongue to keep himself from cursing aloud, Crowley tore his gaze away from Gabriel’s back to look at Aziraphale. “What were they thinking?” he asked, knowing full well his angel likely had no clue whatsoever. “Wasn’t he the golden boy? And-- they let Satan keep his wings, for Hell’s sake.”
Aziraphale shrugged. “I don’t have the foggiest idea, I am afraid. He didn’t tell me much of anything. Well, couldn’t tell me much of anything. But I think… I think Michael did this.”
Uuugh, Crowley thought. “Michael’s a wanker,” he muttered, glancing down again. He had little doubt that Michael could subdue Gabriel if so she chose; she was a warrior, the one who had personally cast Lucifer out of Heaven during the first War, while Gabriel had always been the bureaucrat and messenger. And a poor one, too - official accounts glossed over how badly he’d freaked poor Maryam out with the Annunciation. Still… “Can’t have been just her decision.”
“No,” Aziraphale agreed. Deciding to destroy him - well, that was one thing. He wasn’t precisely high up, and he supposed that what he had done did amount to treason. Gabriel was… not quite as high up as it gets, obviously, but still a big name. “No angel could just do something like this to him without consequences. It must have been an order from above. I just can’t imagine why.”
Crowley made a face. “And it’s been just a week. They turned on him quicker than a traffic light,” he muttered, and slid a foot beneath Gabriel, turning him on his back so that he wouldn’t have to look at those scars any longer. There was no reaction; he was out like a light, eyes shut as his head rolled over his shoulder, face pale. “Look at that, two nipples. Shadwell would be relieved.” Or disappointed, come to think of it. “Is he unconscious, or asleep?”
“Ah, uh… asleep. I made sure he slept - he really needed it.”
“And gave him the most wonderful dream?” Crowley joked. Aziraphale shifted, causing him to groan.
“Not the most wonderf-- just reasonably pleasant,” Aziraphale defended himself. Crowley rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers to conjure up some water that was decidedly not holy.
Time to wake up the sleeping beauty and find out what in the seven Heavens was going on.
***
Gabriel had never, in the entirety of his existence up to that day, slept.
He never had any need to; angels do not get tired and consequently need no rest. He was rarely idle at all, with the work of millions of angels to oversee across the universe on a daily basis, and it was fine with him. Idleness bred laziness, and he was meant to be an example of virtue. No place for that in Heaven, as there was no place for any of the seven deadly sins.
He attempted to take God’s judgment upon himself. A crime born of pride. Seize him.
Metatron’s voice thundered somewhere in the back of his mind and almost, almost made it through to his consciousness along with everything that followed - his sentence and the punishment, the hands holding him down and the stony faces and the pain - but it did not. A reasonably pleasant dream was what Aziraphale had bestowed upon him, and a reasonably pleasant dream was what he was having.
“You doodled on the report again,” Michael was muttering, raising an eyebrow at him in that way of hers that showed polite annoyance and hid her amusement.
Gabriel shrugged. “There was a lot of blank space.”
“There is a lot of blank space everywhere here, but you don’t see me writing on the walls.”
“Only because I haven’t caught you in the act yet.”
“Very funny.” A roll of her eyes, and Michael looked back at the sheet. “What is it supposed to be, anyway? One of those primates on Earth?”
“It’s Sandalphon. He has a sandal in one hand and a phone in the other.”
A quiet stare. Gabriel shrugged again, grinning. “I think it’s funny.”
“... Of course you would.” A quick half-smile, and Michael placed the sheet in the folder under her arm. “Anything else? No more forms?”
“Uh, no,” Gabriel muttered, leaning an elbow on the form he’d actually finished filling in. Best to miracle the doodles off them before handing them over going forward. Or give them to someone who’d appreciate his frankly flawless sense of humor. Sandalphon usually did, only that he was a little bit sensitive about his name.
“All right. I’ll see you at the meeting.”
Once alone again, Gabriel picked up the form and looked down at it. From his serious expression as he tapped the pen against his chin, anyone looking would have thought he was giving some serious consideration to important matters. And in a way, he was. How many flies were usually buzzing around Beelzebub’s head - a couple dozens? He couldn’t remember. They had last met about a century earlier, so he’d have to go on a guess.
A couple dozens, then. Gabriel clicked the pen, and began adding dots around the head of a caricature with red eyes and long fangs. Did flies have fangs? They probably didn’t have fangs and Beelzebub didn't either. Maybe he should send an official letter downstairs, just to ask. They were reserved for important communications, and the Lord of the Flies would probably answer with insults, but--
“Wakey wakey!”
“Crowley, wait--”
Something cold suddenly hit him, splashed over him, and in an instant everything - the form and the doodle and the pen in his hand, the desk he sat at and the reassuring whiteness all around him - was gone. Gabriel opened his eyes, blinking out water and sputtering, to see old dusty bookshelves all around him, and a demon towering over him with a grin. What in the world…?
“Hey, Gabe,” the demon Crowley said, grin widening. “Tell me, how did the landing go?”
***
"Hell can't claim him."
Uriel spoke with the utter certainty of someone who’s stating the tenets of the universe, and with more than a hint of outrage at the mere idea. Which was how they all spoke, really; there was an abundance of certainties in Heaven. However Michael couldn’t help but think that, over the course of the past week, a good chunk of them had been crumpled, and tossed in the waste bin.
Yes, in theory, Hell had no claim on humans over the course of their lives; they could try to influence them, both sides did, but that was about the scope of it. In theory, the fact this one particular human had been an angel until only a short while ago should make no difference. Not until his human life, that ridiculously short lifespan, ran its course.
But, in theory, none of this should be happening either. The Great Plan was supposed to be the same as the Ineffable plan and they were in the right to try all they could to see it through, following the one and only plan they’d ever known of. In theory, they had done everything right.
And yet, they had failed. It was disconcerting and downright worrisome; without certainties, you start questioning. And questioning was dangerous… but apparently, so was sticking to the plan.
Please, no! Please! I did everything right! I followed the Plan! I did everything right!
“Of course it can’t claim him,” Michael spoke, trying to ignore Gabriel’s screams in the back of her mind. She could at least pretend to be certain of that, even if the world should have ended a few days earlier and then… didn’t. It kept existing, a world where the Antichrist refused to bring forth the Armageddon; where Holy water did not kill a demon and Hellfire did not kill an angel; where obedience was harshly punished and rebellion was not. "He didn't Fall the way they did."
"Right. It's more like what happened with Adam and Steve,” Sandalphon agreed.
Uriel frowned a little. "Wasn't it... Ava? Ada?"
"Maybe, something like that. Never met them,” he said, and made a face. Sandalphon didn’t have strong feelings for humans one way or another, but the few times he’d actively interacted with them, things hadn’t generally gone very well for the mortals - Sodom and Gomorrah being the prime example.
To be entirely fair anyone would have been more than slightly miffed in his place. Get on Earth with another couple of angels in human disguise to see if the city is redeemable, get hospitality from some weirdo called Lot, and suddenly a mob is outside demanding that Lot lets them meet his guests. A biblical meet and greet, so to speak; not the sort where you sit down to study the Bible, clearly, but rather the kind where you plainly do not sit down for several days afterwards.
If you’re human, of course, and Sandalphon was not human. He was an angel with very little understanding of humans, their customs and their base instincts, but even he could tell that trying to force said base instincts on anybody unwilling was bad enough to spectacularly fail God’s test - regardless of the shape or form of your intended target.
And failure came with a hefty price tag, which was why Sandalphon took very great care to never fail. They all did, and they had never failed to not fail, not once in six-thousand years… until they had, in some way and for some reason they didn’t even understand.
But only one of them had paid the price. Someone who’d been loyal and obedient and steadfast in his duties, to see that everything went according to the Great Plan and ended with the triumph of the Heavenly forces, the triumph of good. And some thanks he got for his trouble.
A dangerous thought, that. Almost unthinkable. And yet Michael suspected she wasn’t the only one to battle with it, or else that little meeting wouldn’t be happening at all and they would have moved on, forgetting Gabriel’s name like they had forgotten those of the Fallen so long ago.
“It’s not like with the Fallen,” Uriel spoke up, as though she’d just read her mind. She was tapping a finger on the table, staring at it rather than look up at them. “God must have a plan for him. Some sort of plan.”
“Ineffable plan?”
“Perhaps.”
“So we don’t know what it is, and Gabriel doesn’t know what it is,” Sandalphon muttered, folding his hands on the table. “What will he do? Out there as a human, alone, with no plan to follow?”
Michael held back a sigh. “God might give him a sign as to what he should do. I suppose--”
“We could check on him,” Uriel spoke up suddenly, causing her to trail off and turn to look at her. Her finger was still tapping on the table. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find him.”
“There isn’t supposed to be any unnecessary contact with--”
“With the Fallen, no. Except that we did have contact, and we were not the ones who got cast out. And Aziraphale - he’s been fraternizing with one for millennia, and he received no punishment either. But either way, Gabriel is not a Fallen. He is a human - contact with him is not prohibited.”
“Unless it is and we don’t know it, Uriel,” Michael snapped. She hated that uncertainty, the fear of doing the wrong thing without knowing it. She wanted nothing more than having normalcy back, with Gabriel among them and the certainty of being in the right in the great scheme of things. Until the botched Armageddon, back when they had the Great Plan to stick to, all of their choices had always been so easy they were hardly even choices. “And we might pay the price.”
“Then I will, if it comes to that,” Uriel said, and finally looked up. Still, she did not look directly at Michael. She was staring at the wall beside her, as though she saw something there no one else could. “You were not here, when Aziraphale stepped in the Hellfire.”
Michael nodded. “No. But I was there when the demon Crowley splashed in Holy Water asking for a towel . I know what happened - nothing.”
“No, something did happen. Here. With Aziraphale,” Uriel replied. The light tapping on the table stopped. “He blew Hellfire towards us. Barely missed, and only because we retreated.”
“More like scrambled,” Sandalphon muttered, sounding more than slightly embarrassed.
Michael frowned. “Hellfire would have destroyed you if it touched you. Anyone would have, as you put it, scrambled in your pla--”
“Gabriel threw out his arms,” Uriel cut her off, causing Michael to turn, taken aback. Uriel finally looked up from the table to meet Michael’s gaze. “When the fire came towards us. He threw out his arms in front of us, to pull us back with him. You see, this is what’s gnawing at me. It’s not only that he was the only one to face punishment for something we all did.” Her features twisted in something bitter that might have looked like a smile to the untrained eye, and yet was anything but. “He shielded us. And we tore out his wings.”
“No. I did.” Michael’s voice was collected, distant. In the back of her mind there was the glint of the blade, the pulling and tearing, the cries and thrashing as he tried to escape. He’d suffered, but he hadn’t bled until the end, until he was an angel no longer. “I tore out his wings.”
And I pray I’m not made to tear out yours. If the order came, she… wasn’t sure she’d obey, not again. It was a terrifying thought, disobeying God. Never before had it entered her mind.
“We held him down for you. We’re in,” Sandalphon said quietly, and that sealed the matter.
None of them paused to consider that maybe, just maybe, Gabriel may not be happy to see them.
***
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s not happy to see me.”
“Crowley, please--”
“I mean, it was cute how he tried to smite me like he can still do that, but…”
“My dear boy--!”
“Fine, fine. Shutting up. For now.”
Huddled against a wall, a blanket tangled around his legs, Gabriel struggled to even grasp their words. He could have if he focused, probably, but there was so much going on, too much. The pain was gone, at least that, but there were the rush of blood in his ears and the rhythmic pumping in his chest, the ache in his throat caused by the scream that had left him, the way the room seemed to spin around him, how his body shivered against the cold water his skin - so many sensations he was unaccustomed to, and so many other things, familiar things, that were missing. Things he dared not name.
You know what is missing.
Two pairs of hands grabbing him, holding him down. The weight on him, the grasp, the glint of a blade and the plea in his ear.
“Be still. You’ll make it easier, Gabriel. Please, be still.”
But he hadn’t been still, had he?
“Can you stand?” Aziraphale’s voice cut through his frantic thoughts, snapped him out of the memory. He looked up to see him holding out a hand, towering over him. He stared at it, but didn’t take it.
“It’s not permanent,” was all he could say, his voice raspy.
“Wonderful,” the demon muttered. “All the more reason to be quick and kick you while it lasts.”
Aziraphale ignored his comment and nodded. A gesture of his hand, and the cold water soaking Gabriel’s hair and skin dried up; a white shirt appeared to cover his torso.
“That’s good to know. Care to tell us what happened?”
Oh no, no, absolutely not. If he allowed himself to think back of it, to remember what had happened from the moment Metatron had spoken to the instant he’d blacked out before Aziraphale’s store, Gabriel was fairly certain he’d have gone insane. He stood on shaky legs, feeling ridiculously faint, and let himself drop on the nearest chair before shaking his head.
“... All right. You don’t have to.”
“What? No, no, he absolutely has to!”
“This may not be the right moment--”
“It is for me!” The demon - Crowley - stepped forward. Gabriel tried to sit up straight, so that he wouldn’t tower over him so much, but his head spun and he could barely lift it. “Look, I was nice enough not to kick you into the stratosphere, so how about you thank me by explaining--”
A sudden rumbling noise caused Crowly to trail off, taken aback. Both he and Aziraphale could only stare as Gabriel let out a groan, hands folding over his stomach. It took another grumble for Crowley to realize what it was… and when he did, he laughed. It was just too funny, he couldn't help it.
Of course, Gabriel didn’t laugh, too stuck-up to see the humor of the situation. He glared up at him, almost folded in two. His features twisted in agony. “You– you did this, demon! What is it?”
Before Crowely could reply that he’d be doing so much worse if he felt like hurting him, Aziraphale spoke.
“I believe it is hunger, Gabriel.”
A confused look. “Hunger?”
“Happens when humans go hungry,” Crowley supplied helpfully, with some frankly unnecessary emphasis on the word 'human'. Aziraphale did his best to ignore it. Very little seeed to make sense, and keeping a cool head would be easier if his demon and his former superior didn’t keep squabbling like especially ill-tempered roosters.
“When was last time you ate? Or drank?”
That gained him a disgusted look. “You know full well I do not–”
“You no longer get a choice, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale cut him off, calm but not going out of his way to be sympathetic. From what he’d seen in the past six-thousand years there were plenty of drawbacks that came with being human… but getting to enjoy food was not one of them. “If you need something filling, I could recommend–”
“I refuse to sully my celestial body with gross matter!” he protested, gaining himself a sigh from Aziraphale and a very loud snort from Crowley.
“I haaaaate to break the news, Gabe,” the demon said as everything in his voice, expression and body language spelled absolute delight over the situation, “but right now you and your body are about as celestial as Schubert’s Ave Maria sung by a band of drunk capuchin monkeys.”
If looks could discorporate, Crowley wouldn’t have discorporated at all because Gabriel was terrible at glaring. He supposed that ‘give the evil eye’ was not part of the insufferably self-righteous Archangel job description, which meant he’d had no practice whatsoever in the longest time.
Possibly ever since the battle that had preceded the collective nosedive of fallen angels from Heaven, but Crowley couldn’t be sure, because he hadn’t really taken part to it. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it turns out that ‘oh, hey guys, I was just leaving’ is not enough to get heavenly forces off your case. He’d been cast out before the actual battle even really started.
“This is temporary!” Gabriel snapped, and stood. His attempt at pretending his wobbly legs were not wobbly at all wasn’t very successful. “I don’t need to eat and-- and I have nothing to tell you.”
Crowley made a face. “Oh yes, I’m afraid you do.”
“What do you even care?” he snapped. Crowley stared at him a moment, then tilted his head on one side.
“Oooh, I see. It seems we had a little bit of miscommunication, so let me clear this one up, yes?” Crowley leaned in, right in his face, yellow slit eyes staring at his own. He hissed more than he spoke, and never mind most of the words he uttered had no sibilants at all. He still pulled it off, somehow. “I don’t care that you got your wings ripped off. I don’t give a single blessing about you or what you’re going to be doing going forward, believe me. What I want to know is why. Because if something is going on, I’d really rather know before it happens to an angel I actually… Er. An angel I kind of give a toss--”
“A-hem.”
Aziraphale clearing his throat caused the demon to pause. He turned to glance at him, and so did Gabriel. He had both eyebrows raised.
Crowley let out a sigh. “Really now?”
Aziraphale said nothing, but his eyebrows climbed further towards his hairline.
A groan. “Oh, keep ruining my reputation, why don’t you,” the demon muttered, and turned back to glare at Gabriel. Behind him, Aziraphale looked rather smug. “... Sorry, where was I?”
Gabriel blinked, too confused to even ask and still desperately trying not to let the words - got your wigs ripped off - sink into his brain. If he thought of that for one moment, of what had happened, he’d scream. “If… something is going on?”
“Oh, right, right.” He cleared his throat, and the threatening hiss was back. “Because if something is going on, I’d really rather know before it happens to an angel I care about.”
Gabriel’s eyes shifted from Crowley to Aziraphale, who refused to look away. Aziraphale had expected a reprimand, disapproval, something - but instead, all he got was an empty gaze. “Nothing will happen to you. God wants you safe. That much was made painfully clear.”
… Wait. Wait a moment. Had the order come from God? And had it been because of what he’d tried to do… to him? “What-- the reason they did this to you-- you don’t mean…?”
“It is all wrong!” Gabriel snapped, and his voice was nowhere as firm and he probably would have liked. Under Aziraphale’s stunned eyes, he burrowed his face in his hands. “It’s all wrong. I followed the plan, enforced the rules. I did everything right. You broke all of them - you traitor - something had to be done! Someone had to!”
Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Am I hearing you say God got it wrong? That you know better than the Almighty?” he asked, causing Gabriel to wince and tear his hands off his face, outraged and terrified at the same time. Metatron’s words - God’s words, by extension - echoed in his ears.
A crime born of pride.
“No! I would never!”
“Sounds an awful lot like you said it. Or you admit that God got it right, and you deserve this? You can't have it both ways, Gabe. M aybe you did go against the Ineffable Plan, after all.”
Gabriel's features twisted in anguish. “How was I supposed to-- I didn’t know-- I couldn’t know!”
“No, you couldn’t. Sucks when the game is rigged against you, huh? No plan that you know of, everything is a choice, every choice you make could be the wrong one, and you won't know which it is until it knocks you down. Welcome to humanity, ssssucker. Can I offer-”
“Huh, hello? Is the store open? I’d like to have a look around, is anybody there?”
Three things happened in only a few moments. First, Aziraphale told himself that he should really learn to shut that door properly. Second, Crowley thought that Aziraphale should really learn to shut that door properly. And third, the moment they turned Gabriel stood and ran - through the shop, past a bewildered potential customer and through the door. He yelled something that sounded a lot like ‘thanks for the pornography!’ over his shoulder as he disappeared, which made Crowley suspect something was wrong with his hearing.
Aziraphale groaned. “It’s best if we go stop him.”
“Why? I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“He doesn’t know how to human, he could get himself hurt.”
So what?, Crowley almost asked, didn’t. “Naaah, I'm sure he’ll be fi--”
There were screams coming from outside, screeching brakes and a loud crash, followed by more screams, and cries for an ambulance. Aziraphale’s gaze slowly shifted towards Crowley.
“... Well, look at that,” Crowley said, tilting his head on one side. “Maybe he already found his way back.”
“Tell me you didn’t--”
“Nope, not me. He ran into the road. Did everything by himself,” he pointed out. Aziraphale sighed and they ran outside as well, leaving behind a very confused man muttering, in a small voice, that maybe he should return another day.
***
“The wings of the ostrich wave proudly, but are they the pinions and plumage of love?" Job 39:13
***
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#good omens#ineffable husbands#ineffable bureaucracy#archangel gabriel#crowley#aziraphale#archangel michael#archangel uriel#sandalphon#beelzebub#winging it
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The Miys, Ch. 52
Happy Tuesday, everyone! We have a pretty fun chapter today, so I hope you all enjoy it.
Also, we have another cameo from a character who was submitted to the character contest. @dierotenixe, I hope you like it!
Speaking of, I am currently at 408 followers, which is mindblowing. I love you all and I appreciate every note I get on these chapters, especially the comments and reblogs. You each keep me going every single day with this story.
Alistair showed up, not bright-eyed but at least early the next morning to discuss the results of the festival. I was barely out of bed, stifling a yawn as I greeted him at the door and shooed him inside. Not having been allowed entry on the one occasion he had previously ventured to my quarters, he glanced around as though cataloguing the contents. A snore erupting from the bedroom sent his attention whipping that direction with wide eyes.
“Coffee?” I offered calmly, refusing to be embarrassed or laugh at his incredulity.
“You allowed me inside your quarters while a gentleman caller is still here?” he hissed in reply. I took that as a yes and staggered toward the kitchen. “That is incredibly uncouth, Sophia. I expected better of you, at least.”
“Not a caller,” I yawned again, handing him a steaming mug. “They live here, and they don’t have to be on duty for another two hours. Figured I’d let them sleep in. It’s been a very eventful few days, they deserve it.”
He scowled at me in disdain. “You could have simply asked me to come back at another time.”
I waved his objections off, gesturing toward the armchair. “It’s fine, I swear. I would have still been in my pajamas, and GK and Lyric would have been here, most likely. They usually swing by for a few hours if I’m going to be home alone all day.”
A particularly loud snore prompted a sleep-husked objection and a grunt before the snores got much quieter. I ignored the eyebrows that threatened to leave Alistair’s face in favor of the ceiling and flicked open my data pad instead. “How did the numbers from yesterday look?”
“What? Seriously? You really expect me to just ignore – “
“Alistair,” I interrupted sternly. “I told you I would be in my quarters, working, for the next several days. I don’t know what you expected, but you probably won’t find it. I’m staying home so I can recover from handling the festival, which means I’m not getting primped for work, my partners will likely be here, and yes, one snores.”
“Partners? Plural?” he nearly shouted, redder than embarrassment could account for.
“Oh, bloody hell, you posh wanker,” Conor’s voice bellowed from the bedroom. “Some of us are sleeping! Either pipe down, or feck off! Jesus…”
Instead of the reaction I expected, my assistant was immediately mollified. “Ah, well then. Messers. MacMaoilir and Okima, I’m guessing?”
I quirked an eyebrow curiously. “Does it really matter?”
“I believe it quite matters.” He actually sounded offended. “Those two are clearly smitten with you, and good men, besides. I was worried you had some other dunderheads here.”
“You do realize it could have been a woman?”
“If a woman snored like that, I would have much graver concerns about you and your taste in partners, I assure you. Such as a female what? A warthog, perhaps? While we may no longer be on Earth, I do believe that is still illegal. Or at the very least should be.”
“Well, then. Now that I have Uncle Alistair’s approval…”
“Bite your tongue.”
“Can we please work, now?” I begged wearily.
Getting down to business, Alistair provided a summary of the data he had spent the previous day reviewing. Mostly, it confirmed the early reports: Overall, the festival had been a rousing success with minimal complaints reported. The low-stimulation session was viewed highly favorably, with a note to include it in future events, accompanied by requests from those who had been able to attend a ship-wide social event for the first time.
Tyche’s suspicion about natto was partially confirmed, as well. “Can you please explain to me why the food festival as resulted in a sudden increase in rotten soybeans from the food consoles?” Alistair asked, drily.
I shook my head and held up my hands. “For starters, they’re fermented, not rotten. Second, please tell me it is not programmed in the consoles under that term?” I shut my eyes and mentally crossed my fingers in vain hope.
“Of course not,” he scoffed, prompting a whoosh of breath from me. “However, I was curious what dish was so popular, so I searched the database from Earth.”
“I think it ended up being the single most-popular dish we could track,” I admitted. “But it’s still decidedly not rotten.” I always tried to be impartial to foods I didn’t like, and I was trying the hardest I could remember with what was decidedly my least favorite food.
“Fine. Controlled rot.”
I sighed and pinched my nose. “Lots of foods are fermented, Mr. Worthington, including several I am sure you quite enjoy.”
“Alcohol is not a food, Miss Reid.”
“Bread. Cheese. Sour cream. Yogurt,” I ticked off on my fingers. “Miso. Fish sauces. Kimchi. Just about any hot sauces or anything with vinegar…” I glanced at him pointedly.
“Bread is not fermented,” he grumbled.
Behind us, a sleepy voice interjected. “Leavened bread is, especially sourdough.” I turned to see Maverick scratching his bare chest and stretching, his hair sticking out at angles from sleep. “Was the natto really popular enough to make it into a report?” Without asking, he gathered our coffee mugs and shuffled off to the kitchen to refill them. When he returned, he had one for himself. “Besides, you left out pickles.” He dropped a kiss on top of my head before collapsing on the couch next to me.
“It was either that popular, or that disgusting,” Alistair confirmed before taking a grateful sip of hot caffeinated heaven. “Either way, people are requesting enough that poor Noah has asked if we need their services to augment the atmospheric scrubbers.”
“People could be using it for pranks,” Maverick warned as he slung an arm around my shoulders. “Granted, some people probably actually like it, but still.”
I wrinkled my nose and thought for a minute. “If that’s the case, I’ll suggest to Xiomara that we check the sensors to identify who did it and make them eat the stuff. Not a fresh server of it, the actual server they used for the prank.”
“She would never agree to it,” Alistair warned.
“Au contraire,” I smirked. “She likes the taste but hates the smell. And the medbay can fix food poisoning. To her, it would be a very solid case of the punishment fitting the crime.”
Hands flung in the air with exasperation, my assistant surrendered. “If you get that policy passed by the Council, I will…” He thought for a moment. “I will learn to swim.”
“From the mermaid,” I insisted, inciting a yelp from Maverick. How Conor was still asleep, I had no idea.
“Fine. From the mermaid,” Alistair agreed, sticking his hand to shake.
Laughing, I shook my head and took it. Maverick shook me slightly. “What mermaid? I thought mermaids were made-up. Please tell me they’re real. I wanna see one.”
“Kinda real?” I hedged, glancing at him. “Nixe is the beginners’ diving and swimming instructor. I don’t know what happened to her before coming on the ship, but her file shows she suffered an incredibly significant brain trauma. Like, she should be dead kind of serious. Our best guess is that she was a professional mermaid performer at some point, because she has an amazingly detailed memory of a life that didn’t exist and a swimming tail that ended up being some of the most expensive nanotech anyone on the ship has ever touched, let alone seen. Even Noah was somewhat impressed by it.”
“That’s sad but kinda cool,” Maverick admitted, only slightly disappointed.
Alistair scoffed before ending up on the receiving end of my best death-glare. “And she’s nice and patient,” I asserted, somewhat angrily.
“She’s barmy,” he argued.
“And I don’t care,” I ground out. “She is on this ship, so she needed a task. Teaching swimming makes her feel useful, and she is incredibly. Good. At. It. Grey and Noah cleared her psych eval – she’s no crazier than anyone else on this ship. And anyone who can swim in over forty pounds of gold gets an automatic lifeguard certification from anyone on this ship who can swim. Believe me, I ask frequently.”
Alistair opened his mouth to respond, but discovered one of the virtues of having a conversation that included Maverick. “Wait – how much weight? And gold?” my partner asked, astonished.
“Forty pounds,” I confirmed. “They’re actually diving weights, but tests show they really are solid gold. And they could be made of paper for all that they slow her down.”
“She could at least have her memories restored,” Alistair begged, trying to get me to see his version of reason. Before I could snap a response, Alistair’s gaze snapped up over my shoulder on the opposite side from Maverick. Apparently Conor hadn’t been able to sleep through our argument.
“They can’t be restored,” he stated, quietly but factually. “Asked Grey about it once, Charly did. The brain tissue was regrown, but without an exact scan of her brain – down to the molecules – those memories are gone.”
“But Miss Reid has her full memories from before she was attacked,” the argument came.
“Cause our brains are scanned every sixty seconds we are on board,” was the response. “Only exception is when we’re asleep or bathing.” Maverick squeezed my shoulder at hearing this, before grabbing Conor’s hand to reassure him. It was still, and probably would always be, a sensitive topic. “On top of that, we are constantly being healed of minor ailments and even aging.”
That was news, even to me. I chanced a crick in my neck to look up at him. “Why aging?”
He stared down at me, pointedly. When I still did not understand, Alistair gasped softly. “Children,” he nearly whispered. “So there are people who can carry and raise children.”
I swore under my breath at my stupidity. “Of course,” I groaned. “With the exception of Derek, everyone on board is old enough that we would be largely middle-age by the time we reached the colony. Hell, a lot of us already are.” I tapped my knuckles on my lips, brain firing on all six processors to calculate the impacts. Absentmindedly, I handed Conor my coffee and ignored Alistair’s curious glance as I heard it gulped down before footsteps headed to refill it. “Do we know how much of the aging is being ‘healed’? Are we staying at the age we were when we came on board, or are we getting younger?”
“I’m not sure,” Conor admitted as he walked back in and returned my mug, shoving me and Maverick over so he could sit in his usual spot. “Noah?” he called out. He didn’t ask the question on our minds, as we were all aware that Noah was listening to everything in my quarters.
“Good Morning, Conor,” was the reply. “To answer your implied question, any environmental factors that cause humans to grow old are consistently being repaired, along with damage due to cellular senescence.”
“How?” I asked. I was absolutely floored. Human…. Terran scientists had been trying to figure that out since recorded history.
“Food and drink additives to limit telomere shortening, along with therapeutic chemicals in the bathing system,” was the slightly chagrined reply. “Everyone brought on the ship was treated for progerial genetics and non-superficial environmental damage that would lead to premature aging.”
“Are we getting younger?” Maverick whispered. Given his childhood and mine, I couldn’t blame him for the fear in his voice, and squeezed him back just as hard as he grasped me.
“Only marginally,” Miys clarified. “By the time we reach the colony planet, only five Terran revolutions of aging should be reversed from when we left your planet.”
To my surprise, Maverick looked horrified. “Noah. Does that apply to every person on the Ark?”
“Only those who are outside of their maturing period.”
“So, not any humans who were under the age of twenty…five?” Alistair ventured suspiciously, seeming to pick up on what Maverick was suggesting.
“No, Administrator Worthington. Only humans whose aging exceeded the equivalent of thirty Terran revolutions of standard aging are provided telometric and progerial treatments.”
“Thank you, Noah,” Maverick sighed, running his free hand through his hair and nodding at my assistant. “And thank you.” To myself and and Conor, he clarified. “Derek is only seventeen. Sam is not even thirty, and Zach is twenty-six. It wouldn’t be fair for them to barely get out of puberty – or in Derek’s case, stare down the end of it – and have to go back. Can you imagine?”
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#the miys#original fiction#humans are weird#humans are space orcs#science fiction#aliens#found family#mental health
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xii. a little grief, grappling your chest,
this was broken into multiple parts for length, the next will be posted probably sunday
==================================================
After the final prisoner had taken her leave, a strained silence had descended upon the assembly. Each set of questing eyes offered tentative glances at their fellows, unsure what to say, or if anything needed to be said at all.
Then Raubahn's shoulders dropped, the tension flowing out of his body as a wry smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"Well," he said mildly. "That was... certainly a show of spirit, wasn't it? Wouldn't have thought a slip of a girl like that would have the fire for that sort of temper. Not after a near moon spent in that hole."
"Don't you? I've met enough of her kind to think otherwise," Merlwyb groused, her tone sour. "Too proud by half for their own good, the whole miserable bloody race. We could send her to the gallows or a firing squad on the morrow and she knew it, and still had the nerve to speak out of turn."
"I doubt it was gall so much as anger. We did falsely accuse her, after all."
She scowled at him.
"Navigator's teeth, Raubahn, don't tell me you're actually defending an imperial prisoner."
"...That's stretching things a touch," he said, tapping the surface of the table with his index finger. And it was, though in truth he was full glad to see his first impression of the Garlean girl had been inaccurate. He could respect an enemy with some spirit. "Right, well, at the moment we've only one other who seems willing to work with us and that's the engineer lad, Albinus jen Marsyas. Witness statement was fairly unremarkable."
"We didn't expect much from any of this lot in the first place," Merlwyb snorted, though with no real rancor. None of them had particularly been in the mood to pore over the character accounts of people whom they were well aware would likely not be amenable to the Alliance's terms.
The Seedseer lifted a slender hand.
"Floor's yours, Kan-E-Senna."
"Thank you, General. First I should like to point out that each of the statements we received did confirm the prisoner's account of events. In addition, Commodore Sleittidin's testimony also confirmed that she is a chirurgeon as she claims. That had been somewhat in question originally if you'll recall-"
"Speaking of which," Merlwyb interjected with a fierce scowl, "what in all the hells were you thinking, Loezwyrn?"
The man winced at the displeasure writ large on his Admiral's face.
"I'd thought to keep my peace unless it became necessary otherwise, ma'am, but reading those accounts-"
"If you needed to recuse yourself then the time to say so was before the hearing began, not in the bleeding middle. To make no mention of the theatrics before a prisoner? You are an officer of the Maelstrom, not a mummer."
"Let it go," Raubahn said. "We'll mark the Commodore's abstention from the decision on the court record. Seedseer, if you have aught to add, please continue."
"I think it unjust to place a heavy sentence upon a noncombatant. Her only real crime appears to have been enlistment in the legions rather than conscription. She could well have held her tongue and kept her healing skills to herself, yet she did not. She has to the best of my knowledge made but a single personal request since her arrival at the Spire, and it was to see the other prisoners well cared for."
"You make her sound almost saintly," he said with a short laugh.
"I hardly think her to be anything so lofty as that, but it would be foolish of us not to make use of skills that she has freely offered to the Alliance - be they in exchange for her life or no. Whatever is ultimately decided about the others," she finished quietly, "I want this one. I will treat with the elementals to make room for her if needs must."
"Yes, but for what?"
"There are any number of folk that would benefit from her presence." Kan-E-Senna's patient smile carried the air of someone who thought she had just been asked an inane question indeed, but had graciously decided not to make mock of it. "The Conjurers' Guild, for example."
"Conjury?" Merlwyb sputtered incredulously. "You want to make a conjurer of a Garlean?"
"Perhaps, and perhaps not. Time will tell."
"Garleans don't have a scrap of ability to use magic, Seedseer. Not a one of them can lay a finger to their own aether, that's why they've all the machina in the first place. She'd be of absolutely no use to anyone expecting her to be, well, a conjurer."
"Though this is neither the time nor the place to explain to you why, that is not quite true nor is it accurate," she said. "Frankly, even were it the unvarnished truth this is the decision I have made and I mean to stand by it. I want the Garlean girl. I will not withdraw the request."
They all stared at her. Kan-E-Senna stared back, calm and impassive, and no one could hold her gaze for more than a few moments before looking away. Lifting her chin so her voice would carry farther across the room, she continued as if the argument had never taken place.
"In any case, circumstances being what they are, I move that we extend clemency in this case and consider commutation."
"Motion acknowledged." Raubahn idly tapped the toe of his leather sandal against the edge of the table. "Do we have a move to second?"
"Well do you know my opinion of the whole damned affair, General Aldynn," Merlwyb said. After a moment she added, somewhat grudgingly: "...That said, I take the Seedseer's point. We are all going to be in dire need of those with healing knowledge in very short order. As low a bar as that is, it's still more than we've got out of most of her fellows. I mislike the notion of trusting to the integrity of any imperial, but-"
"As a friendly reminder, Master Garlond also hails from the Empire," Kan-E-Senna pointed out gently, "and he has ever served as a faithful ally to our cause."
Merlwyb did not smile. Her already stony expression took on an even darker cast, the corners of her mouth tight with suppressed anger.
"Cid Garlond? Aye, he was a good man," she acknowledged. "For all the precious little bloody good his loyalty to us did him in the end, the poor bastard. They've not yet recovered his body, either, so I hear."
They all sat in solemn silence for a moment, reminded of yet another casualty of the Empire's seemingly endless ambition and greed.
"...Anyroad, if you want to give this girl a chance I suppose there are worse candidates." She shook her head and laid her quill alongside her stack of papers. "We'll see how long it takes her to balk at the terms of the sentence, but that'll be her problem, not ours. Aye, I'll second Kan-E-Senna's motion to commute the sentence."
"That's a move and a second. Show of hands?"
At first Raubahn Aldynn thought they might refuse after all, now that the choice was before them. The reminder of their friend and ally Cid Garlond, missing for weeks, the last sighting of the master engineer that of him and his beloved Enterprise set afire by Bahamut's flames and off-course to crash somewhere into the depths of the forest, seemed to have sobered the mood of the room considerably.
But one by one, with varying states of reluctance, each of their hands raised aloft - save the Commodore, who had abstained as promised.
Slowly, he nodded, raised the gavel, and brought it down upon the wooden surface. May the Twelve forgive us.
"Motion passes unanimously."
Seeing the matter settled for all intents and purposes, Merlwyb glanced down the table. "Your plan is far from foolproof, you know. It's still possible she could betray you to her Empire at the first opportunity."
The warmth of Kan-E-Senna's answering smile was like spring sunlight filtered through leaves.
"I'm well aware she could, Admiral," the Padjal said. "But from all I've heard of her thus far, I think she won't."
~*~
Heedless of the murmurings of the others in their cells, Aurelia coughed and let her head fall back against damp stone with a dull thud. There was the sound of something scurrying in the rushes mere fulms away and she decided she would have more peace of mind did she not attempt to investigate it. She had enough on her mind as it was.
The waiting, she decided, was worse than anything. Worse than the moments surrounding her capture, worse than the last moon of imprisonment, worse even than the tension of that hearing. She could deal with the Eorzeans' spite towards her, bureaucratic or otherwise, feeling it was little more than what she and the rest of her fellows deserved if one came down to it.
But she had no idea if she'd even be drawing breath by this time tomorrow and the anxiety was beginning to wear on her.
She had a pounding headache in addition to everything else, and when she touched a hand to her brow she found it as warm as she'd expected. There was a twinge of unease as Aurelia's fingers brushed her third eye, but she ignored it. There was precious little in the range of its perception that was relevant. Depending on what was to happen, upon whether or not she'd even be alive this time on the morrow, a bit of momentary discomfort was nothing.
She didn't even jump at the rattle of the bars or the rasp of the key in its lock. She'd known it was coming. The Eorzeans had made their decision, it seemed, and rather quickly.
"It's time," the guard began, then with a frown illuminated by the torch on the wall: "You taken ill? You look about to drop stone dead."
Aurelia only shrugged. The guard was correct, of course. But she had been running on low-level terror for so long that she had all but forgotten how to slow down or rest and she could not well afford to stop now. It meant she'd paid little enough attention to her physical state; even her leg, which now ached as much as she'd thought it would after that display, remained little more than background noise.
The guard grabbed her crutches and held them out when she didn't move.
"Out with you," he said. "They're askin' to speak with you and you don't keep folk like them waiting. Come on."
The journey up the staircase and towards that room was, of course, the same length it had ever been. But it seemed somehow to stretch for days while also bringing her to her likely doom with a terrifying swiftness. Step by step, inexorable, almost against her will.
You are a daughter of Garlemald, she reminded herself. Garleans do not cower from a foul end or an uncertain future; we face whatever is to come with a cool head and a brave heart.
'You can choose to accept your fate, or defy it, but you cannot deny it.' That had been L'haiya's last piece of advice to her, right before Aurelia had left for the capitol, before her life had so drastically changed at the tender age of sixteen summers - and as ever, the memory brought with it a sharp twinge of regret. There was no time to dwell on it, however.
She squared her shoulders and straightened her back as best she could when the door opened.
Even so, her resolve was sorely tested when she stepped once more across the threshold. The man who had testified, the closest to a familiar face she had, was no longer present, and the neutral faces of the remaining five behind that table gave no indication as to what she might expect. Her heart began to beat faster.
The scarred Highlander gave her a mirthless smile, his lips thin and tilting in a lopsided way as she lowered her weight onto the rickety bench once again.
"Welcome back, Mistress Laskaris," he said, not without a small measure of kindness. "You're looking a bit pale. Are you ill or merely worried for yourself?"
"Only a fool or a saint would lack any sense of self-preservation whatsoever," Aurelia said quietly. "Perhaps I am a fool, but I am of a certainty no saint. I am full aware that my life is in your hands and I shall continue to draw breath at your pleasure. Thus, if you please, let us proceed."
At his side, the silver-haired Admiral raised an eyebrow but did not comment.
"Well-spoken," was the Ala Mhigan's mild response. "I agree. Admiral Bloefhiswyn, if you would, the floor is yours."
The silver-haired Roegadyn woman at his side drew herself to her full height, and as if on cue all eyes fell upon her. Aurelia could well understand why. Even when she had dictated from her seat Admiral Bloefhiswyn had seemed to fair radiate a commanding presence, and it was even more evident now that she had been granted full authority over the upcoming proceedings.
"We have come to a decision regarding the matter of your sentence, as I am certain you have surmised. Should you be amenable to our terms as they are presented with no alteration, we vow to abide by any bargain we make with you. You understand, of course, that your unconditional surrender to Maelstrom forces upon the battlefield precludes any further negotiation of terms on your own part."
She glanced at each face. The Highlander looked upon her with open pity, although the pretty green-eyed girl's smile had not wavered.
"I do," she said, in a voice that by some miracle did not waver. "Let's have your terms, then."
The air in the room seemed to chill a few degrees with a single arch of the woman's right eyebrow.
"You don't mince words, do you, girl? Very well."
That flat silver gaze was hostile, unswerving, and enough to nearly unnerve the source of its ire for all that the Admiral's tone remained utterly neutral as she spoke. Aurelia's hands knotted together painfully, knuckles white and shining and her nails digging into the meat of her palms.
"Aurelia jen Laskaris, it is the decision of the court," the Admiral continued, "that your conflicting loyalties notwithstanding, it would be unwise to waste a potential asset insofar as your healing skills are concerned. You were not among those who masterminded Project Meteor nor have you attempted at any time to escape or to cause harm to any of our personnel since your capture."
Get on with it, she wanted to scream, but instead forced herself to sit stone still and ramrod straight, her expression a placid mask.
"Under Eorzean common law you would customarily be sentenced to a minimum of five years in prison or an equivalent amount of time in hard labor. However, the recommendation given to this court, upon advisement from multiple of our own number - including one of our own adjudicators who has since recused himself from further involvement - is that your sentence be commuted to five years of public service."
She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, though it caused her a series of painful coughs, and felt the tension flow out of her body as her posture sagged forward with a combination of exhaustion and relief. The latter seemed to course through her like a remedy for a blissful few seconds of awareness before it was replaced by a fresh wave of apprehension.
Boons like these did not come without strings attached, after all.
"With immediate effect, upon your departure from the Emerald Spire you will be transported to the city-state of Gridania, where you shall be remanded to the wardship of the Hearers' Council on behalf of the Grand Company of the Twin Adder, and set to a labor of their choosing. After five years served the particulars of your case shall come under review."
Gridania. She vaguely knew the place, for all that knowledge was limited to outdated maps from her father's old study.
"In order to accept this offer of clemency in full, you are to formally renounce your imperial citizenship. You will be barred from making any attempt to return to Garlemald on your own power, so long as you live. Should you be discovered to have made contact with any agent of the Empire for this reason, your life will be forfeit."
Aurelia squeezed her eyes shut.
So, that was the catch, it would seem. She'd live, but it would be a life spent in exile, on the condition that she never see her homeland again.
She could throw the Eorzeans' offer back in their faces and refuse, and the thought was initially a tempting one. But she was quite certain she would die if she did that- and she knew in her heart of hearts that the strange vision she had seen in the camp, the conversation between Bryn and Sazha, was something that had actually transpired. If it was real, that meant Sazha had spent his last days attempting to buy her a second chance, risking his own reputation in the process.
Alea iacta est, Aurelia, she told herself. For better or worse. You are left to your own devices now. No home, and no country.
And with that thought her next words fell heavy from her tongue:
"I accept your terms."
All of them, even the girl, looked surprised, clearly not having expected her to acquiesce without some sort of token resistance.
She didn't listen to anything else that was said after that, instead staring down at her hands as the enormity of the Eorzeans' unilateral terms and what they meant in a more personal sense began to sink in. She'd never realize any of her girlhood dreams, she'd never see any of her professors or old schoolmates in the capitol again, she'd have to give up her ambition of a fledgling medical practice brought to the far-flung corners of the Empire.
And her family -- Gens Laskaris would disavow any knowledge that she had ever darkened its halls. To be taken prisoner in battle was one thing - and shameful enough as far as they would be concerned - but to deliberately defect? That was akin to spitting upon the floors of the Imperial Palace before the Emperor's throne, turning one's back upon the unity of empire and country, and openly declaring oneself a traitor.
I'll never see Ala Mhigo again, either, she thought. I meant to visit at least once after my service was done, and now- never.
Aurelia felt herself flinch from the sting that realization brought with it.
None of this would have happened had she not so fervently wished for her independence. She knew that in part it was her own inner restlessness and sense of wanderlust that had led her to this, and a part of her hated herself for it, for knowing she could never have been happy with the life that her uncle - and her mother and father, to some lesser extent - had laid out for her since her childhood.
Would that she had been born in some other part of the star, she thought sadly. Would that she could be a woman of some other heritage and of humbler means with naught to her name that any man would covet, nor any family who would see her as a glorified brood mare with a bloodline to be bargained as collateral for their personal ambitions.
But wishing would not make it so. The past could not be altered and she must needs accept the consequences of her choices. If the end result of that choice was defection and exile, then her course was set.
And Sazha - Sazha had wanted her to survive. He had told his second-in-command to see to it that she would not end her sojourn to the south with a noose about her neck. To throw her life away after she knew he had gone to such lengths to try and save it would not only be foolish, it would be an insult to his memory, and she wouldn't see any efforts on her behalf wasted.
But the hard lump that had seemed to form in the back of her throat lingered, no matter how much she tried to reason with herself.
#chrysalispen writes#reborn by fire#chapter 12#this ended up being way longer than i expected screams
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I remember wondering during s5 why everyone’s past transgressions were being mentioned...O calling out Clarke for experimenting on a grounder, Monty bringing up how Bellamy helped kill 300 grounders, Clarke calling out Echo for MW, etc. The show hit us in the face with them repeatedly, almost excessively, as if to tell us they’re still relevant 6 yrs later. At first I thought it was to put everyone on even moral ground since none of the mains were actually correcting their past choices...
…except Bellamy at the end (& maybe Clarke, although we saw her correct choices she was currently making based on L’s mistakes not necessarily HER past choices). But it’s clear the writers were laying the foundation for s6. S5 was coming face to face with things they had done & never properly moved on from, s6 will be coming to terms with the past and doing better. Which is why I’m intrigued to see Bellamy’s regression next season since he’s the only one who actively “broke the cycle” in s5
Yes. Totally. When people started to be held accountable for their transgressions, including people who NEVER WERE BEFORE (octavia, lxa) and had affected other people because of this, when I saw that they were bringing the past traumas and mistakes back, I understood WHY they’d left so much up in the air all this time. Because the JOURNEY to resolving these traumas is NOT a smooth one. And it lasts FOR YEARS, sometimes your whole life.
I’ve never actually seen a tv show where they didn’t just solve or forget traumas or psychological problems (wait I think The Walking Dead might be in this category too.) Or it’s a new phenomenon.
But if we have Bellamy backsliding a little bit into s1 Bellamy, then that actually is realistic. That’s part of the process of healing and growing. In season 3 a lot of people were mad at Bellamy for acting like s1 Bellamy. They thought he should have learned his lesson in MW and always been the hero from then on. And that’s just not the way growth, trauma, or development works. You are ALWAYS affected by your past, but HOW you deal with it shows how far you’ve come.
ALSO, I think that Clarke and Bellamy grow by leapfrogging each other. Clarke teaches Bellamy and brings him forward, then she falls back, and he teaches her something and brings her forward, then he falls back and she leads the way, then she falls and he aids. Again and again and again. And I think that’s ONE of the reasons they are soulmate pair, because they make the other stronger, and support the other when they are weak, and together they can go farther than they ever would have gone on their own. For who they could have been without each other? All we have to do is look at s3. Pike and Lxa. That’s their shadows. Without Bellarke, Bellamy would have been like Pike and Clarke would have been like Lxa.
Well. It all works with the way I’ve been seeing them as a paired set of heroes, as well as their individual character development.
Also, it’s possible that even though s6 Bellamy might be reminiscent of s1 Bellamy, maybe it’s the best part of that Bellamy, not the selfish ass. Maybe wanting to make a home for his people is like when he created a home at the dropship. Maybe it’s more protective Bellamy than over protective? Maybe Bellamy wants to live the good life, which he SHOULD, and feels the “peaceful” society allows this…. until he finds out they aren’t good. Then comes the “be the good guys” dilemma.
I would LOVE to see evolved Bellamy letting himself love who he loves (Clarke) and making a safe home for his family. And enjoying himself. And thinking he deserves it. I mean, maybe it seems selfish, but it’s okay to take care of yourself, too, and your people, as long as you aren’t hurting others.
And then they’ll find out it IS hurting others. And they will have to do what is RIGHT instead of what is right for their people.
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Could We Start Again, Please?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairings: Twelfth Doctor/Missy (implied), Bill Potts/Heather
Warnings: Major Character Death, Alternate Ending to series 10, Major Canon Divergence
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Status: Complete but part two of my The Doctor Falls series (You don’t have to read part one to understand what’s going on)
Word Count: 2800
Summary: When the Doctor falls, Missy rises.
Tags: Heavy Angst, With cute lesbians, While Missy is sad
I don’t know if the tagging system is still messed up, but you can read this work on ao3 under my username colorofmymind! Kudos and comments will be much appreciated!
With a gasp, all the air rushes into her lungs. Everything at once feels completely at rights and out of control, her hearts beating at a pace she knows goes against their natural rhythm, but they should not be beating at all. A calculation taking the span of a nanosecond tells her she needs her hearts going at least eighty beats per minute if she is going to survive, so she simultaneously counts her breaths and adjusts their volume to achieve this rate. Simply put, it’s a manual override of her basic biological functions. Her eyelids had fluttered open with the sudden rush of air, but she’s only managed to blink stupidly, frustratingly, as her eyes operating at full capacity— unlike her hearts, lungs, and other vital organs—are not necessary for her to stay alive.
Staying alive, surviving, carrying on. With all her experience, so innately a part of her core, Missy has a more complex and nuanced knowledge than any other creature in the universe on the most universal want: the perpetual avoidance of death, of end. At one time, that came at any price. In this case, however, there is a discrepancy even her beautiful, brilliant brain can’t account for. Perhaps it’s because her brain is functioning at the level of a 21st century backup generator, but that is really besides the point right now.
She should not be alive right now.
There had been no contingency plan in place because in no scenario had she considered her past self’s somewhat deserved retaliation. There are no Time Lords who could have saved her this time; she is the last Time Lady they would ever spend their resources on now. Yet, unmistakably, she lay on the same ground where she flirted with death once more and had somehow been revived, like a debtor of a long overdue payment miraculously having escaped the clutches of his dreaded collector.
Logic rules that there can only be one other alternative, an impossible one but so is he (irritatingly and incredibly so). The thought of Doctor flashes to the front her mind, and she sits up faster than she had fallen. She cries out immediately upon doing so, her hands arresting the spot where she’d been shot with the Laser Screwdriver, which flares as if in a hot rage. Gritting her teeth, she casts about for her umbrella and finds it quickly enough. Her body and voice cry out once again in resistance as she uses her umbrella to leverage herself to a standing position, the pain from the shot still as intense as it was before.
That answers one question. She hasn’t been healed, something has merely enabled her hearts to restart, so it is likely that she has very well lost the ability to regenerate. Whatever she does now, she’ll have to do with trepidation and care. Still, it’s certainly not the worst body she’s been stuck in, and at that she laughs to herself. She’s done this entirely to herself, a thought that has often crossed her mind over the last 70 years. While her past self has probably long since reached his TARDIS and regenerated into her current incarnation, there is some irony in his actions. His plan having failed at ending her life, she’ll be stuck in this state for the foreseeable future, a Time Lady who has realized the errors of her past and wants to do what’s right, everything he despised and feared becoming.
With that she sets off through the forest to find the Doctor. The trees thin as she traces her path back to the settlement, and the distinctive scents of fire and burning metal begin to assault her senses. Missy quickens her pace, trepidation and care forgotten as she spots the Cybermen bodies by the dozens littering the ground around her, the smell of ash and smoke and death clinging to the air like petrichor after a storm, one she knows the Doctor has brought down on this land.
“Doctah!” Her shriek echoes in the barren wasteland. She’s running now without abandon, eyes scanning the area for any sign of him when she notices the girl, Bill her memory supplies, standing besides her curiously wet companion, but that can’t be possible, she looks undoubtedly human again—
The next thing Missy knows her face is in the dirt and the ash, and every part of her body aches with acute degree. She drags her feet over the Cyberman body she must have tripped over in her distracted state. Her umbrella probably had been flung some distance away from her fall, so she sticks her right hand out, latching onto an arm, that should be enough to support her into a sitting position at least, when a sickening realization hits her. The arm isn’t metal. She snaps her head upward to look, to prove it isn’t true, it can’t be.
It is him. Undeniably. The Doctor lays in ash and debris like a forgotten soldier, the red inner lining of his coat splayed out by his sides as though he lay in his own pool of blood. She stares in silence, gathering herself to sit besides him and take one of his hands in her own to feel for anything, a pulse, regeneration energy, even a device to feign the appearance of death.
Nothing.
She stops breathing for several seconds herself; it’s an uncontrollable response, out of respect for her fallen friend who long since took his last breath. His sonic screwdriver is gripped in his other hand, which she lifts out of his grasp, inspecting it for an answer, something, that might restore him. The last action performed by the device had been a sonic pulse, causing a mass explosion of the Mondasian Cybermen but also must have rippled across the entirety of Level 507. This was the catalyst for her hearts restarting. He had saved her one last time, without even knowing it.
“Missy!” A voice she faintly recognizes as the human girl’s shouts at her. “What the hell are you doing here? Where have you been?! We thought you’d run off!”
She lets out a shaky breath before replying, never tearing her gaze away from the Doctor. “Is that what he told you?”
“I,” Bill starts and falters. After a moment or so she answers, “He didn’t say anything about what happened with you. Either version of you.”
Missy blinks away the tears forming in her eyes and finally looks up and away from the Doctor. Here and now is not the place for her grief, at least not in front of his companion and...whoever this other girl is. Missy actually has no idea where she came from.
“You’re...human again,” she comments lamely.
“Oh! Well, sort of, not really,” Bill denies bizarrely and incomprehensibly. “I’m in a body that looks like the one I was in when I was a human, but I’m still technically dead. That’s actually me over there.”
She points over to a fallen Cyberman a few meters away. “Heather saved me,” she finishes with a beaming smile with eyes only for the wet blonde girl Missy presumes to be Heather standing to Bill’s right.
“How romantic,” Missy says, trying not to sound sardonic. These humans and their happy endings. The universe has none to spare for her. That’s probably right.
“The Doctor would have been glad to see you’ve found happiness, as am I.” Bill looks at Missy curiously, the disbelief transparent on her features. “I was the one who caused you to become a Cyberman in the first place, no matter which incarnation caused it. Perhaps it was both of our faults. In any case, it should have never happened. I’m glad to see that this is one of my mistakes that has reversed itself,” she explains.
Bill looks back to Heather, seeming to wordlessly reaffirm that she had in fact heard those words come from Missy. In all fairness, Missy had been introduced to this companion of his as a “monster” and she even self-admitted to throwing a little girl down a volcano. A little skepticism of her goodness is to be expected, healthy even.
“I can’t believe it. I thought you were a monster, and the last ten years only made me more sure of that,” Bill confesses, the weight of those ten years visible in the set of her shoulders, the intensity of her gaze and the pain behind it. “But, even after all that, and everything you did to me, which was awful and cruel, I’ve realized maybe he wasn’t wrong. The Doctor, I mean. You have turned good. At least enough of you has.”
Missy opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Just a short time ago, she would have laughed and scoffed at a human attempting to give her wisdom and judge her character, in fact she had done so in the past.“No, I’ve not turned good,” Missy had said to Clara after her accusation of the contrary, killing two men in the square to prove it. One of them had been a married man with a child, she recalls. She had held onto that for so long, the belief she was bad, irredeemable and revelled in it. Her time in the Vault has taken care of that last problem at least, but she could never be sure of the former two. But if a woman who has been tortured by her for ten years can see a glimpse of morality in her, then perhaps...perhaps that is something.
“Bill, I think it’s time to go,” Heather says.
Ah, that does bring up a good point. She is alive but still requires transport. So does the Doctor. They had left each other to die on battlefields before, this is true, but it was different then. It was their battleground, the center stage, one or none of them left as the curtain drew to a close on that adventure, always the promise of rage, the game, of return. This is and is not her battleground. Yes, her former self in a way created and enabled it, but he’d abandoned it, no final climactic fight with the Doctor. The Master and Missy reserved that honor for each other. She was not here, either version, to battle the Doctor or protect him, and for that very reason alone, he must certainly be dead.
She thinks briefly back to two weeks ago, when she flippantly vowed “If somebody kills you and it's not me, we'll both be disappointed.” That was the planned end, always, scripted from the day they’d broken their pact to travel the universe together and faced each other as best enemies. But it was theoretical at best, they always survived one way or another, and it all started again. She wonders what he must have thought, possibly what he said, before he died. Missy cards her fingers through the Doctor’s mess of grey curls, only for smoky ash to lodge under her nails. She instead opts for holding his hand, once warm in her own just hours ago, turned cold.
Bill protests, “But the Doctor—and Missy—we can’t just leave them.”
Missy looks up once again, surprised. While Bill has obviously somewhat reevaluated Missy’s character, she was not expecting an offer for help, at least not for herself.
“Of course we can’t. And we’re not going to,” Heather grins back.
Before Missy can properly register it, she’s travelling with incredible speed through time and space, until she’s greeted with the warm psychic presence of the Doctor’s TARDIS. Simple as that, she’s back within these walls. So is the Doctor, still beside her, his hand held by hers. Bill and Heather stand to the side.
“I suppose this is the only place he’d rest in peace. If there’s any place he’d do that,” Bill remarks.
Missy notices the blonde one starting to move for the controls, and with that she’s up and blocking the girl’s path, although with much more difficulty than she’d like. (She really must look into what the TARDIS has in terms of pain medication.)
“Oi! What do you think you’re doing? This is a very complicated sentient space time capsule that requires a careful and knowledgeable hand to guide her. She may just seem like a second-hand gas stove at first, but she’s really like a sweet, unreliable old dog, and only a few people know how to take care of her,” she explains with a silly if strained simile. Humans seem to respond better to that than just her shouting she’s superior, even if it’s true.
“I want to pilot us away from the spaceship, and I know how to fly her,” Heather insists, pulling the lever to start dematerialization. “I’m the Pilot. I can fly anything.”
“Really!” Bill exclaims.
“Yeah,” Heather replies with a wink. “You’re not an exception either.”
Rolling her eyes, Missy takes this opportunity to continue piloting them away while the lovebirds chatter away with their innuendoes and desires and promises. At least, she thinks that’s what they’re doing at any rate.
“So I’m like you now. I’m not human anymore.”
“I can make you human again. It's all just atoms. You can rearrange them any way you like. I can put you back home, you can make chips, and live your life, or you can come with me. It's up to you, Bill, but, before you make up your mind—” Heather rushes to the doors, opening them before Missy has any time to stop her. Luckily for all of them, they are in Quadrant 3 of this galaxy and not the time vortex. A single blue supergiant illuminates the blackness of space. Any protests she had formed quickly fail her, instead captured by the beauty of the star. She cannot remember a time before now where she could admire something like this; a star burning, something she could always appreciate, but of its own accord, a master to none like her. And that’s okay now.
Missy realizes that she has long tuned out the ongoing conversation until Bill is suddenly in her line of sight. Bill has her lips pursued, clearly about to say something she’s conflicted about but has deemed important enough to share.
“Missy, I’m leaving—with Heather. A lot of things have obviously changed since we got on that spaceship together: you, me, Nardole, and the Doctor,” Bill declares, casting a glance at the Doctor lying still on the console floor. “I think somehow I still want to travel the universe after all this, but that’s going to happen with Heather from now on. I’m also okay with leaving because I really believe you can take care of yourself now and the TARDIS. You have before anyways. Just really try not to be like that bloke that came before you, alright?”
Missy has no idea how to respond. Of course, it’s not like she wanted Bill and her gal pal crowding up the TARDIS, but she also has no clue as to where to go next with the Doctor’s TARDIS and his lifeless body on her own.
“Oh and another thing, yeah? Whether the Doctor’s dead or not, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. You have to take care of him. Promise me,” Bill’s voice shook.
It doesn’t take her a second to respond. “Of course.” In any scenario, she would always be there for the Doctor. A memory she’d not been trying to recall, of “Love is a promise” in his voice spoken in a graveyard, reverberates in her brain suddenly. She forces down it, down below the endless layers of freshly surfaced regrets, where she hopes to never recover it.
Bill nods and then turns away, walking in a semicircle until she reaches the Doctor’s side and kneels beside him.
“You know what, old man? I'm never going to believe you're really dead. Because one day everyone's just going to need you too much. Until then,” Bill bends down to kiss his cheek. “It's a big universe, but I hope I see you again.Where there's tears, there's hope.” Her voice cracks at the last sentence, and Missy cannot find it within herself to chide the human’s sentimentality even in her own head. Bill stands finally, going to join her star-eyed lover.
“Just one thing. I've been through a lot since the last time we met, so I'll show you around.”
They clasp hands, and jump out of the TARDIS, flying on an unknown path, sure to include a variety of attractions and dangers with it. Plenty of love and kindness as well. As the TARDIS doors slam shut, Missy knows they will be more than fine.
She is left alone with the Doctor and his TARDIS.
#my writing#fanfiction#twissy#best enemies#space spouses#bill x heather#immortal space lesbians#space girlfriends#missy#the master#gomez!master#twelfth doctor#the doctor#bill potts#heather#doctor who#hope y'all enjoy angst#and cute lesbians#next part should be coming soon
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An Analysis of Villianey
( This is Part 1b, Part 1a here)
Section II: Tragic Backstories
This is another super common way to make villains sympathetic. Giving someone a terrible childhood is a short cut to make someone feel bad for someone. Tragic backstories are super common and sometimes making the villains the most compelling character in really good ways. Both to make the characters truly a person who is empathetic or just understandable. There are three ways I think this can be done really well.
You can make them a redeemed character like Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Megamind (Megamind) or Peridot (Steven Universe).
An anti-hero/grey characters who don’t join the light side but acts heroically but on their own code. Wade Wilson (Deadpool), Dexter Morgan (Dexter), Punisher (Marvel), Harley Quinn (DC) or Don Vito Corleone (The Godfather)
A bad guy who remains bad at the end, we know why they are bad but aren’t ever fixed. EX: Merrin Meredith (Septimus Heap), Morgana (BBC Merlin), Voldemort (Harry Potter), Bane (DC), Or Davros (Doctor Who)
One important thing about writing these stories is to be done right you do have to choose the end game. How the character acts in relationships during the story changes which outcome is compelling and even feels possible. Things to consider: rather they have any guiding belief system if this backstory includes trauma how the heal from that, their relationship to the power system, and how much they change their actions to move towards saying sorry and becoming better. Not every character is written in a way where a character can become better, or even should. The Diamonds (Steven Universe) keep having their characterization, actions, back story, and relationships altered leaving a confused story arc. The Diamonds are also on a list of characters who should not be redeemed because of the severity of their actions. They are written as space fascists no matter how sad they are it’s problematic to pretend the trauma of a dead love excuses attempted genocide.
A revolting part of this trend is tragedy porn. Stories of violence, poverty, mental illness, child abuse, disability, domestic abuse or sexual assault are exploited for shock value and making money from real pain. This is used to create a reason for a character to be broken or evil. A cheap gritty story of how our villain got there instead of writing an interesting motivation or taking into account the cultural and psychological damage of associating trauma and mental health with villainy. This also plays into the trope of mental illness being dangerous or a problem of morality. If it’s just because they are too broken you can kiss it away and fixing the trauma fixes the problem of horrible acts of violence. If you do write traumatic backstories as motivation for their actions have the behaviours actually track with trauma. Catra’s (She-Ra 2018) trauma is inherently tied to her motivation as the villain and essentially to her role as the deuteragonist of the narrative. But they show how and why this trauma matters, and choose to display the abuse in a way that while explicit and horrific isn’t exploitive and the refrain from showing realistic physical abuse that too clearly mirrors real life trauma. Her narrative of becoming the antagonist makes sense with her history of indoctrination, betrayal, fear of violence, and psychological trauma. It mirrors the narrative of the hero as well throwing off their primary abuser in both instances making it possible for this story to not demonize trauma. Another important thing to keep in mind when writing these kinds of narratives is to do research and represent any mental illness at least mostly accurately.
Another frustration is when people use these backstories to form a “well they could never have done/known better” and therefore they did nothing wrong mindset. This an oversimplified reading of good storytelling and the reading for poorly written characters. The idea that no one could ever know better is used in defence of characters like Kylo Ren (Star Wars), Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter). However this excuse really only extends so far it tracks best with children when we see them alter perspective when exposed to other ideas and when the behaviours mirror what was done to them. Abuse and trauma don’t always make angry violent people and the majority of people who do become angry hurt people but not murders. Then you do have indoctrination but there is a reason the Nuremberg defence doesn’t excuse everything.
This excuse also falls apart somewhat when you can point to another character [or real life person] in the same or similar situation who did change. This whole way of viewing things become an exercise in letting people who have hurt others go without their actions analyzed and without being held responsible. In a literary analysis standpoint it’s lazy and in reality, it is dangerous to do this with anyone who was hurt in the past. Empathy and understanding are always important, understanding why people end up where they do is key to life. Some people do horrific things with no trauma, and who did know better searching for a sympathetic reason doesn’t help make things better. And even more so those who have been abused or manipulated and did wrong should be helped to work through trauma and learn to understand and change from they have done in the past not have all of their behaviour excused with a handwave. People shouldn’t be taught that abuse forgives abusing, later on, they should know they never deserve to be treated poorly and they can’t love abusers better. And of course, this is often applied enviable around factors like race, gender, power level and perceived hotness.
Anti Heros I think are criminally underrated wanting them to either be good or be bad. We romanticize the ones we should see as good [usually hot people] or demonize the ones it’s easier to see as all bad. Anti-heroic characters are hard because the lines differentiate these from redeemed people and real villains are connected to personal morality. But making them black and white is rationalizing when they make choices that are truly harmful as part of their “good” actions. Making them all bad strips the way they are often societal outsiders and the way they learned in the stories to move and act in life. This is the grey morality people claim to want in characters, and claim to see in their faves but people don’t appreciate it when they happen.
Constant manipulation of tragic backstory to say a character didn't really do anything bad, or they deserve redemption excuse also strips away truly tragic stories like the life of Inspector Javert (Les Miserables). Fall from grace stories can be really interesting like Walter White (Breaking Bad) or Harvey Dent (DC). Because sometimes life does eat someone up and they can’t find it in themselves to act in a different manner. Tragic stories are still okay, villains aren’t always going to be the good guys because they are meant to be just that villains. That is how they were written and how the best fit in stories and tell the story wanting to be shared. Sometimes villains made to many choices to hurt other people to be capable of total transformation to hero. These characters can still be three dimensional and interesting but they aren’t people who “done nothing wrong”. They did do something wrong and in the story that is fine, it’s what works in the narrative. Not every person can be healed with forgiveness and a hug.
The concept that Deserving redemption is tied to how sad their life was before but it isn't, it's based on the actions they do during the story. a careful narrative that shows the path a person took to get the right place, the ways they changed and what influenced it is much more important. Let's use Tony Stark (Marvel) most of Iron Man 1 and iron man 2 are dedicated to him trying to be a better person, to use his remaining life to make the world better and atone for his wrongs. Tony Stark starts off as an unrepentant war criminal allowing the way he was groomed to ignore harm and gain power as an excuse to never address any of what he did was harmful. He drowned his trauma with addictions, shallow relationships. Yes, his trauma as a kid and during the narrative are driving pieces but why he is so heroic, why his phoenix narrative is one of the best in history is the choices he makes with what to do with that pain, he uses it to be earth's greatest defender. You do have some snapshot redemption stories that are good namely Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader (Star Wars) but I think [save the ret-cond Anakin force ghost] this wasn't so much meant to be proving he is a good person, but just acknowledging that no one is truly dark or light side. Anakin’s life is more told as a Shakespearean fall from grace, but even if this arc comes out of nowhere it works because the actions are narratively and thematically done correctly.
People who are obsessed with redemption also often don’t do a real analysis of societal structures, cultural history or context. It’s not that they really are deconstructing societal factors, or understand trauma, mental health or what really causes crime and antisocial behaviour when they try and justify via trauma and no other choice. I think starting to create and analyse content on a wider more holistic standpoint would be a good exercise to apply empathy to real-life crimes of desperation, end the killer = crazy myth, and stop letting people blame hate crimes on white kids being bullied.
[other posts on this topic: Zuko and good redemption arcs, trauma and justification of violence, Catra, Adora & trauma part 1 & 2, the diamonds still suck ]
#topic:#analysis of villains#meta#media criticism#abuse and media#trauma and media#abuse apologism#exploitation#fandom#type:#my post#txt#cw:#abuse#violence#rape mention#character:#tony stark#catra#zuko#yellow diamond#blue diamond#anakin skywalker#other:#redemption arc#ableism#abuse culture#fan culture
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