#i’m very compelled by white no face and his attitude and his actions

[goatpunches]

“The first thing I taught you is that you are powerless in the face of many things in this world.”

[thealexchen]

i’ve actually read both of the articles that you mentioned earlier! I could see where both of them were coming from at varying points, though shannon liao’s struck me as a tad harsh, as someone who felt very seen by Alex, particularly with regard to her asian-american identity, and the cultural details and familial attitudes you see displayed throughout the game (especially in episode 5.) I could see why others would like them to be more overt, but they’re still present & relevant as is, imo.

I'm happy you read and enjoyed them! Well, since we’re on the subject, I might as well give my fuller thoughts about all this. This answer got horrendously long, so I'm putting it under a read more. I really wanted to talk about this more fully, so thank you for sending this ask!

I definitely see Robert's point in his article. Alex didn’t need to be Asian for the story of True Colors to be told, but it’s still meaningful that she is so that Asian fans and fans of color can look up to her and feel represented. The Chens buck a lot of stereotypes too: Mrs. Chen was not a “tiger mom” and her kids and husband remember her fondly. Mr. Chen doesn’t push Alex and Gabe to excel in school, and in fact neither Alex nor Gabe went to college, but they still had happy futures. Alex isn’t the best friend or the Asian schoolgirl or the dragon lady or the Asian nerd. But at the same time, when Robert says "Alex never really talks about her thoughts on Chinese culture,” that’s like— well, what’s wrong with talking about it? Why not talk about it more explicitly? The words “Asian” and “Chinese” and “Vietnamese” aren’t even used in the game when "gay" and "lesbian" were, and that's a little disappointing.

I figured people would figure out Alex was at least Chinese because of her last name, but I saw some streamers unsure of what Alex’s ethnicity even was (“Alex is… Chinese, right?”). That was disappointing because Asians tend to be treated as a monolith when we’re so internally diverse. Also, it’s completely possible to miss that Alex and Gabe are also half-Vietnamese. Their mother’s name is Giang “Wendy” Chen, a Vietnamese name, but that’s only in the credits. There’s far less Vietnamese (and Southeast Asian) rep than Chinese, so I wish that had been made more explicit.

In Life is Strange 2, Sean and Daniel’s struggles (personal and institutional) were centered around their identity as half-Mexican boys. True Colors almost seemed to be going in the opposite direction in that Alex’s Asian heritage never really becomes plot-relevant, but Alex and Gabe’s background comes into focus in the last chapter.

Part of Shannon’s critique was that because Alex’s parents aren’t in the picture, the game can’t explore Asian culture through a familial lens. There is some truth to that: for children of immigrants in particular, their parents are their strongest (and sometimes only) link to their race and culture. I thought a big missed opportunity was exploring Alex’s possible sense of isolation and struggle to reconnect with her Asian heritage after being separated from her family.

After growing up with two Asian parents, eating Asian food, celebrating Asian holidays, likely speaking Asian languages, etc. it would have likely been disorienting and lonely for Alex to suddenly be raised by non-Asian foster parents and lose all those traditions all at once. Possible comments like “I really miss Mom’s pho” or “Do you know how difficult it is to find hoisin sauce in the stores around here?” could have inferred more at that specific kind of loss and isolation in Haven Springs. The game touches upon this very briefly when you look at Gabe’s shrine, and Alex does comment “I don’t even know if I’m doing this right… but I felt like I had to do something.” In this way, I find it especially poignant that she still held onto cultural traditions after so long.

But I still thought Shannon’s critique was overly harsh. The little details really do add up, like in Alex’s childhood home, and meant a lot to me too. And most importantly, there was representation behind the scenes too: Alex was voiced by two(!) Asian American women and the lead writer, Felice Kuan, is Chinese. I think Alex naming her mouse Shu-shu was my favorite detail. Because it’s the one detail you can’t miss. Every streamer remembers Shu-Shu’s name and loves how cute she is and they can probably infer it’s a Chinese term. It just is so visible and empowering in that way and my heart felt warm every time I heard someone say “Aw! Shu-shu!"

But that doesn't mean Alex's Asian heritage didn't matter at all. I really appreciated that Alex's backstory still mattered because she came from a poor, working-class immigrant family. Her life circumstances were used for drama, but none of Alex's suffering was racially motivated and that felt tastefully done. I’m gonna paraphrase a comment I saw on alliebeemac’s playthrough of episode 5: "It's no coincidence that both Alex and Ryan lost their mothers at a young age, but because Ryan's father was a military veteran and had a high-paying job as a Typhon foreman, he got to keep his childhood whereas Alex's entire world was torn apart... And if you want to look at it even more metaphorically, the white patriarch Jed was able to preserve his own image as a hero and 'good old boy' of Haven by literally sacrificing an immigrant family to the mines with the expectation that nobody would come looking for them. Whether you're an immigrant or whether you're a foster child, the system is saying 'we don't care about you.'"

And at the end, Alex tells Jed, "You want to look away and pretend the men you hurt weren't people. But I won't let you.” It's a deliberate stand against Jed (a white man)’s dehumanization of poor laborers, including her Chinese immigrant father. Jed isn't explicitly portrayed as a racist, but his actions come from a privileged, and subsequently racist and classist place. For me, it worked better than LiS2's portrayal of racism because it was subtler and more personal. Alex stands up against Jed out of a personal sense of justice for her brother (and her father).

Do I wish we had more? Yeah, absolutely. I wish Alex got to actually speak Mandarin or Vietnamese in the game because that's so rare in games, even though I knew that would be unrealistic because Erika Mori is Japanese. I wish the character artists had at least made a version of Alex and Gabe’s models without shoes, because it just didn’t look right to see them wear shoes in the house (especially in bed??) and even LiS2 had Sean and Daniel in their socks in some scenes. I wish Alex and Gabe talked more about their family while Gabe was still alive and Alex could have had that comfort of someone who misses the food and customs they used to celebrate. But like I said, one piece of media isn’t gonna please everyone. And Asian representation in particular is so tricky because not only is there not enough of it, but Asian Americans are so diverse and come from so many different backgrounds. Children of immigrants are going to feel more connected to their Asian heritage than third or fourth gen kids or mixed race kids for example. Everyone is going to have a different definition of “Asian culture” and “accurate representation.”

But on a meta-level, it really means so much to simply have an Asian face on the box of a major Western game ❤️ Like even just seeing the way Alex's eyes crinkle when she smiles or how other characters find her attractive (like Steph’s note during the LARP preferring Alex’s natural black hair), it feels so affirming. It’s incredible to see an Asian girl be called the hero of her own story, to see her succeed and fail and cry and laugh and fall in love and kiss another woman and be comfortable in her bisexuality. It acknowledges that the queer community includes Asians, that Asian girls can also be curvy, that Asian girls can and do struggle with mental health. And like Erika Mori said, Alex is a fully-realized character and that’s what makes her so compelling, first and foremost. She also has a strong moral compass and dreams and fears and is such an incredible role model for people of all backgrounds, and that’s what makes her identity as a queer woman of color so much more meaningful.

[randomfandom815]

Defending the women of LOST/Sexism in LOST

People say they don’t like Kate Austen because she’s “annoying” “can’t choose between Jack and Sawyer” “always wants to join every single mission”. Kate has way bigger things to worry about than sorting out her romantic feelings. Yes, she is developing feelings for both Jack and Sawyer, but she doesn’t have time to figure them out while trying to survive on the island. And the fact that people don’t like her because of the whole “I’m coming with you” thing is a little ridiculous, because they’re hating Kate for wanting to protect her friends and do whatever she can to help. You know who else does that? Jack. But plenty of people love him for those very same reasons. Yeah, a lot of Kate’s character was centered around the love triangle, but that isn’t the character’s fault, it the writers’s.

Then there’s Claire Littleton. People always complain about her “my baby!” thing, but... she only actually says that a few times, AND, if your child was taken from you or you thought your child was going to be hurt, wouldn't you be worried out of your mind? Wouldn’t you want to do anything to help them? People also criticize Claire for her entire Season 6 arc. She was alone, on the island, thinking everyone had abandoned her, with only the MIB for company. She was also tortured by the temple Others, who she thought had taken her child. Claire was a single mother who just wanted to keep her son safe, give her a break. 

Sun-Hwa Kwon is a character who actually doesn’t receive that much hate, but there is still the fact that people don’t like her because she left Ji Yeon to go back to the island for Jin. Here’s the thing: Sun had no way of knowing what was would happen on the island. She had no way of knowing that Jin had time traveled to the past, and she had no way of knowing what would happen with the MIB/Locke. She thought that she would be able to go to the island, bring Jin and the others back, and the two of them would reunite with Ji Yeon. And then in the submarine incident, Sun didn't want Jin to stay. She wanted him to live and take care of Ji Yeon. It was Jin who made the decision to die with her, not Sun.

Shannon Rutherford is a very unlikable character. Even I don’t enjoy her character, or Boone, and that is a view shared by many other people in the fandom. Many people call her selfish, spoiled, and just plain rude. And she was all of those things, but that wasn’t her entire character. Remember, they had all just been through a plane crash, landed on an island with no chance of rescue. Also, friendly reminder that she was only 20 years old. She was scared, and her way of coping with that was to try to do something normal. Let’s not forget, in Pilot, Part 2, she volunteered to go on the mission to fix the transceiver. She was constantly feeling useless, and it didn’t help that other characters, especially Boone, were constantly putting her down and mocking her. When she started to see Walt, she genuinely made an attempt to help him, even though she wasn’t sure if he was even there. Her death was untimely, and I wished we had gotten to see her grow more as a person. Also, her death was used for shock value and to further Sayid’s character development.

And now, one of the most hated characters of LOST, Ana Lucia Cortez. Now, while the characters I mentioned above were shit on and criticized, Ana Lucia was absolutely hated by the fandom. People hated her attitude, her toughness, her dislike of most of the people around her, and the fact that she killed Shannon (who, by the way, was just as disliked by many Ana Lucia haters). You know who else has a similar attitude? Who has that same toughness and dislike of people? Who else killed someone? That would be Sawyer, a fan-favorite, white male character who is beloved by the fandom. Now, for the last point, what I am comparing here is Ana Lucia killing Shannon to Sawyer killing the man he thought was Frank Sawyer in Australia, right before flight 815. Ana Lucia killed Shannon because she was trying to protect the people she was leading (including Sawyer!) from who she thought was the Others, and killing Shannon was an accident. Sawyer killed the man completely on purpose and out of revenge. Oh, and it wasn’t even the right person. Yes, I am aware of the man Ana killed long before flight 815 out of revenge, but if we can take her very small amount of character development, in which she refused to kill Henry Gale, a known Other at that point. Whereas Sawyer was still willing to kill a bunch of people in Season 6, the end of his character arc. And yet, Sawyer is still in most people’s top five characters lists (just to be clear, I do not hate Sawyer at all, and this is not anti Sawyer but pro Ana Lucia). You may argue that people love Sawyer because of his character development, which I do agree with. However, Ana Lucia was never given the chance to have Sawyer-like character development because she was killed off in the same season that she was introduced in. She wasn’t even allowed to be in the church in the flash-sideways, and she didn’t get to “move on.” Ana Lucia deserved way better than the death for shock value that she got.

Next up on the list is Juliet Burke. She, like Sun, also isn’t the target of a lot of hate, but there are still things that need defending. The first thing is, of course, her sudden change of mind when it came to detonating the hydrogen bomb in Season 5. Yes, it was selfish of her to endanger everyone on the island just because of the way Sawyer looked at Kate. But if the plan did actually work, which she thought it would, that meant she would lose everything she had gained over the past few years, including Sawyer. Juliet is incredibly kind and feminine while also being badass at the same time, which is amazing because you don’t usually see those two traits coinciding (usually a badass character isn’t very feminine and a “traditionally feminine” character isn’t a good fighter). As for all of her motives in Season 3, Juliet was trapped on the island for three years. All she wanted to do was leave and go home to her sister. Yes, she manipulated Sun, but right after that, she made things right by helping Jack make a plan to stop the Others. Her death was heroic, and I’m glad she was finally able to be happy in the flash-sideways. (I am declining to mention her whole relationship with Goodwin and all the drama with Ben, although I might dive into that in another post). 

Now, the character Rose Nadler has almost nothing that needs to be defended. She is a constant wise voice of reason who isn’t concerned with the drama of the rest of the survivors. Her relationship with her husband Bernard is very sweet, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing the smart thing (like stopping his SOS sign idea). Not only that, but Rose has one of the best (and most meta) lines on the show: “If you say live together, die alone to me, Jack, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

Another character who doesn't need much defending is Charlotte Lewis, but not for the same reason as Rose. Charlotte was done dirty by the writers. Of the science team, she is the least fleshed out and explored. She had a single flashback and a little bit of exposition information from Ben, but that’s pretty much it. Every significant thing she did was for the sake of other characters. She had a fake-out death so Ben would reveal that he had a spy on the boat. She was taken to the Barracks so that members of Jack’s group would have a reason to go there. Her going to the Barracks was also an excuse to get Miles and Kate there. And she only died/was dying for shock value, to up the stakes of the time flashes, to provide more questions to the characters and the audience, and to further Daniel’s character development. In the flash-sideways, all she did was go on a date with Sawyer and further his character development. She didn't get to go to the church and move on. Daniel and Miles, the other members of her team, on the other hands were given compelling backstories and centric episodes.

Penelope Widmore is similar to Charlotte in that there isn’t much to defend because she doesn’t do much that affects the plot. Nearly everything she does is about Desmond, and the writers barely even gave her a personality. I’m sure Penny was an actually interesting person, if they had bothered her to give her any storyline that didn't involve her love interest.

Danielle Rousseau is a character that kind of slides in and out of the story as needed. Now, Danielle isn’t the subject of a lot of criticism just because she isn’t very focused on, but from what I have seen, here’s what I have to say: Danielle was alone on the island for sixteen years. And for sixteen years, she had to live with the knowledge that she was forced to kill the man she loved and her team. Not to mention the fact that her daughter, Alex, was taken away from her when she was just a week old. Can you blame Danielle for being paranoid? Her death was not a fair end to the character, and it was only used to kill off Danielle quickly and provide shock value.

Her daughter, Alex Rousseau, is similar to Charlotte and Penny in that she doesn’t need to be defended because everything she does is to affect other characters. In this case, those characters are Ben and Danielle (especially Ben in the later seasons). Danielle’s entire character is centered around the fact that she lost Alex and has been searching for her, and Ben’s motivations after Season 4 are largely motivated by Alex’s death. She herself doesn’t have much of a character arc, and her death was only to provide shock value and further Ben’s character development.

Another character that falls into the category of not having much to defend because every action is for someone else is Libby Smith. Once the tailies and the main survivors joined together, she was almost immediately shoved in a relationship with Hurley. The only things we knew about her backstory were that her husband died, she was a clinical psychologist, she was in the same mental hospital as Hurley, and she gave Desmond a boat. That’s it. She didn’t have a centric episode, and she only appeared in other people’s flashbacks. Her death was only to provide shock value and further Hurley’s character development, as well to show that Michael betrayed the survivors. 

Notice how many of these women died for shock value and/or to further a man’s character development? Notice how many of these women are disliked for traits that other characters are loved for? Notice how many of them barely exist as their own character without a man? I love LOST, I really do, but their treatment of female characters needed a lot of improvement.

[galaxycosplayart]

A Man on a Roof

A simply short story I wrote heavily inspired by a dream I had. I tried my best to do research on 1920's fashion and culture, as well as try to make the New Orleans theme authentic. Constructive criticism is appreciated! (There's also some lgbtqia+ representation in here since I'm basing this off my dream where I was the narrator and I am in fact LGBTQIA+) ---

The sound of jazz resonated throughout the rather extravagant hotel venue, loud and upbeat. People swung along: dancing to the sweet melodies like there was no tomorrow. The band’s performance was booming with energy, passion and life; the colourful music painting a perfect picture of the ‘20s in all of the attendee’s minds. The dance floor was packed of all different shapes, ages and sizes. This gathering was one you wouldn’t forget. The sights, the sounds, the feeling; this 1920s themed extravaganza surely did live up to that title. I would know. I was smackdab in the middle of it all.

I’m going to be honest: I don’t really like parties. Too populated, too loud, too obnoxious – but I can’t say no to some swing. This party really was worth coming to, and for once I have to say I had the time of my life. Something about the general aesthetic, the beaming faces of everyone there, the historical backstory, it just made me swell up with joy (and excitement!). I was on my own, my parents were probably off making friends with other adults. In my hand was a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. I am but 13-years-old, after all. I continued to sway, careful not to spill my drink, when I happened to notice a boy leaving the party. He caught my eye, not for attraction, but intrigue. He looked to be a young man, around 16 or 17, but he was somewhat tall and lanky. Unfortunately, I didn’t get enough time to take a proper gander. Fortunately, nothing stopped my compelled urge to follow.

---- He was going to the roof. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. No, he trotted nonchalantly to the elevator, his footsteps in sync with the music. He seemed to caper with the pleasant melodies coming from the venue. As he entered the elevator car, he lingered on to the tune with each step. The door closed before I could join him, and I watched the floor-level indicator above the gate gradually flicker to the roof of the building. Now, I know tailing people isn’t very polite, but I had taken a liking to the man’s... energy. Once taking a separate car up and searching a bit, I spotted the man near the edge of the flat roof. He continued to tap, now bathed under the glow of the full moon, illuminating his dancing figure. Since I could finally see his face, I can tell you he certainly was a rather attractive man. His warm amber skin basked splendidly under the moonlight; his eyelids shut. His low-ponytail of curly black hair swayed with him as he stepped, the music taking control of his body and mind. His outfit was truly vintage: a neat white dress shirt beneath some dark brown suspenders, the shirt tucked into his black dress pants. He also wore a dark chocolate-coloured bow tie and a light-grey longshoremen cap. Strong jazz could be heard, slightly muffled from the floors below, but that didn’t stop the young tapper from Charleston-ing his way around the roof.  Listen, I’m no professional dancer, but I like to have a bit of knowledge in any given topic. My little knowledge prompted a question in my head, “Aren’t you supposed to have a dancing partner for this particular swing?” I said nothing aloud though, for my focus was on observing this man’s joyous pep. I leaned against the wall, quietly enjoying the stranger’s strut, when the moment was cut short by the sound of giggles. He opened his eyes, revealing mahogany brown irises, only adding to his beautiful appearance. He and I both turned to see a group of young women, looking to be around his age, goggling the boy. I mean, you could say I was too, but I didn’t interrupt or jest at his actions; I merely gazed politely. The nearest girl walked up to him and began to chat, which ceased his dance. This disappointed me, he seemed to be enjoying himself and they decided to throw off his rhythm. He appeared uninterested in talking too, giving the girl a bored look and responding in short answers. From what I heard, she was clearly chatting him up, probably attempting to make a move on him. However, this encounter was also interrupted; for it was his turn to spot me. We made eye contact; his line of sight aimed downwards at my short figure. I immediately panic, thinking, “Crap. How am I supposed to explain why I’m here? ‘Hello sir, I followed you upstairs, I liked the vibes?’ Hell no.”  As I ran through all the possible excuses or justifications for why I decided to basically stalk this man up the hotel, I didn’t notice him making his way towards me. Nor did I sight the annoyed look of the girl he just left behind. He comes up to me, and soon realizing I was lost in frantic thought, gently places a hand on my shoulder. I snap out of my frenzied state, jumping at the touch and looking up once more to see him a lot closer than he was a couple of seconds ago. “Hey, you alright? You seemed frozen in time, dere,” he said with a gentle smile. His accent was faintly reminiscent of downtown New Orleans, which explained how his energy matched the parties so perfectly. It was smooth and peppy; an endearing tone. “Oh, yeah, of course,” I say quickly, still trying to find the right words. “I- uh- I liked your dancing,” was all that came out of my mouth, and I mentally facepalmed with the awkwardness that came with the broken statement. Instead of cringing at this display, however, he instead laughed. “Thank you, cher. And what are you doing, all alone on this here roof?” he asked kindly. “Just... exploring. I happened to notice you dancing when I got to the roof, so I kind of... watched for a bit,” I replied sheepishly. I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did explore the roof a bit before I found him, and I did spot his Charleston when I did. I just happened to omit the details of following him up the elevator car. And through the lobby. From the party. No biggie. “That so? Well then, can you dance?” he asked, extending a friendly hand and dishing out a genial grin. I panic again, but this time for a different, more trivial reason. “Oh, no, no I’m not that good at dancing-” “Really? Ya seemed to be enjoying it down there at tha’ party.” “...You saw me there?” “I watched you follow me, sha.” “...” Well, this was incredibly embarrassing. If I wasn’t already blushing from this whole ordeal (which I incredibly doubt – my face felt very hot), I most definitely was now. I should be thankful for his carefree attitude, because when my spluttered apology attempted to vocalize itself into comprehensible words, he simply waved it off and laughed once more. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he assured light-heartedly. “Still, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me. It’s fun to have a dancin’ partner, ya know?” “I- well... I guess a bit of dancing wouldn’t hurt,” I admitted. He extended his hand once more in invitation. I hesitantly accepted, and as soon as my palm fit into his, the grip strengthened as I was whirled to his side in the open area near the edge. As the next song started to play, and we couldn’t help but get lost in the music, I heard one phrase be exclaimed from the still-anonymous boy beside me, “Laissez les bons temps rouler!"  ---- I had easily resumed my cheerful demeanour by dancing with the man, enjoying our time to the fullest. Despite my lack of expertise in cutting a rug, we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. It was more of feeling out the music and letting the rhythm take you, relishing a fun stranger’s presence. Sadly, this enjoyment was often interrupted by a third party, who continued to loiter around on the roof; each individual taking their turn in attempting to woo the boy. Louis, as I now knew him, also kept up his trend of giving the girls a cold shoulder, and we exchanged a cheeky grin each time one would storm off huffing. However, something did confuse me slightly. Well, the women were exceptionally beautiful. They also didn’t seem rude, or arrogant; they actually seemed rather kind and friendly. Some even referred to Louis by name, meaning he was probably familiar with the ladies. They simply were shooting their shot, and Louis would keep refusing one after the other. Obviously, he wasn’t obliged to humour any of their advances, but it’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the idea of dating them. I am a curious – and frankly, unfiltered – soul, so as the last dame trudge off to the group, I turn to my new friend and say,  “Hey, mind if I ask you something?” “Sure, what's on your mind, cher?” he replied smoothly, as we both watch the gaggle of women finally exit. “You know em’? The group there, I mean,” I clarify, though there wasn’t such a need for it anyway. I just have a bad habit of... shedding light on things that aren’t as dark, you feel me? “Yeah, they’re good friends of my brother’s. Why?” “Oh, well, they seem awfully interested in you.” “Yeah, they do that now and then. I’m used to it.” “Can’t take a hint, huh?” “Yeah, you right.” I decide to sit down as the current song begins to fade out, allowing myself a small break before the music resumed. Louis takes a seat beside me, sighing. I press further, while simultaneously pondering why I was so curious about his decision to dismiss these dates. Looking back on it, it was really none of my business, but something about the rejections just felt oddly... familiar. Still, I probably shouldn’t pry into other people’s matters. “May I ask why you constantly say no? I mean, they seem like lovely ladies. Are they just not your type?” He doesn’t reply at first, so I immediately jump to the conclusion that I upset him in some way. He’d be justified in feeling so, but I soon come to realize he was thinking of how to answer. After a few moments, I got the reply. “Sort of. I mean... in a way? They don’t know that though,” he says with a smile, to which I respond by giving him a quizzical look. What was that supposed to mean? I’m pretty embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner when he sees my expression, and states, “Oh. I’m gay.” I stare at the boy for a few moments, blinking. I then burst out into laughter. What a heteronormative approach I took to my questioning. Me, of all people! He was amused with me, and we share a joyous laughing session to the realization.  “Ah... no wonder I related to your rejections,” I say with a cheerful grin. He quirks an eyebrow, and asks me with a curious twinkle in his eye,“Hm? What are you talking about sha?” “I’m bi. And non-binary. That’s partially why I found it so ironic that I didn’t get that sooner.” We chuckled once more, now aware of how hysterical the situation was when the final song of the evening began. He gets up first, helping me up, and we find ourselves dancing our way into the night.

[abigailnussbaum]

The Boys 5x06, “The Bloody Doors Off”

I’m generally quite positive about this episode, but before I get to that, this really needs to be said: the trope of “doors open at the asylum, murder and mayhem ensue” is really poisonous to the mentally ill, and should have been discarded a long time ago. It’s particularly common in superhero stories, which are, after all, very fond of the setting of a superhero asylum. Off the top of my head, both The Gifted and Batwoman have employed it in the last two years. Which means that even as it’s patting itself on the back for skewering the tropes of superhero stories, The Boys is indulging in a particularly vile one. And while we’re on the subject of things this episode should have been above: that joke about transgender strippers. It’s not as bad as it could have been, because the gag isn’t “she’s got a penis!” (and MM’s response is immediately “I don’t care for strippers regardless of their genitalia”). But it’s still fetishizing the trans body - which, I suppose, is hardly surprising given the show’s generally judgmental attitude towards kink.

That being said, this is probably the best episode of the season, largely because it plays to the show’s strengths: tight thematic and plot coherence (finally justifying the decision to move the show to a weekly format after weeks of shapeless installments), strong characterization, and a willingness to complicate seemingly black and white situations that belies the show’s reputation as an outrage machine. So yes, this is an episode that features Homelander crushing a man’s skull while in the throes of passion (apparently we need to have at least one of those per season), not to mention a man with a giant, prehensile penis. But it’s also an episode that deepens our understanding of Frenchie, introduces us to a new character who is almost instantly compelling (while also complicating that reaction significantly), and forces us to reexamine our feelings towards Maeve without telling us anything new about her.

The common theme running through the episode is the things you’ll do for the people you love, how you live with the consequences of those choices, and what they make of you. We finally get to meet Lamplighter, the boogeyman whose murder of Mallory’s grandchildren broke the Boys apart years ago and has hung over Frenchie in particular. And we find out why that is - Frenchie was supposed to be keeping an eye on Lamplighter, whom Mallory had just recruited to her investigation of Homelander, and left his post to tend to a friend who was ODing.

Shawn Ashmore is inspired casting for Lamplighter. He’s got the sort of look that can just as easily convey sympathetic concern as selfish entitlement, and slide between the two with ease. Which makes Lamplighter both less hatable than we might have expected, given what we know of him, but also hard to trust. (To be fair, I’m reading a lot of Johnny Jaqobis into the performance, and that was Aaron, not Shawn; but honestly, those two are surprisingly similar for how solid both of their careers have turned out.) But the episode really belongs to Frenchie, who not only takes on Lamplighter’s admission that he didn’t know Mallory’s grandchildren were in the room he set on fire, but finds enough common ground with the man to confess his own part in that night’s disaster. When Lamplighter asks “did [your friend] live?”, it’s a moment of human connection that we don’t often see between the Boys and their quarry (and leads to Frenchie’s heartbreaking revelation that Jay lived, only to die of another overdose shortly after). The episode ends with Frenchie begging for Lamplighter’s life from Mallory (and also trying to make peace with Kimiko, who is otherwise sorely underused).

At the same time, the episode doesn’t encourage us to feel uncomplicated sympathy towards Lamplighter. As MM points out “I meant to murder an innocent woman, not her grandchildren” is hardly a defense. And even more disturbing is Lamplighter’s repeated refrain to Frenchie, “why didn’t you stop me?” Whereas Frenchie doesn’t want to be let off the hook even though he had a good reason for abandoning his assignment, Lamplighter is looking for someone else to blame for his own actions, even to the perverse extreme of blaming an opponent for not fighting back. And, as we see in the present, he’s still killing innocents, burning experiment subjects who don’t pan out or refuse to play along, while claiming that he’s being forced.

Which ties into Maeve, who for the first time is called to account for her part in the plane crash last season. Maeve sees the video of the crash as indicting Homelander, which is also how we’ve been trained to think about it. But when Elena watches it, she sees a woman she’s been taught to think of as heroic abandoning others to save her own life, begging fruitlessly for mercy but finally just saving her own skin. Like Lamplighter - and more importantly, like Annie earlier in this season, when she was about to kill Hughie at Homelander’s command - Maeve might reasonably say that she didn’t have a choice. But she still did those things, and hid them. Her final line to Elena - “why are you looking at me that way?” - sums up the episode’s core message.

It’s a message that is also echoed in the Annie-Billy-Hughie storyline, though it’s a bit more wobbly in that context. The idea of having Annie and Billy bond over their shared love of Hughie is a solid storytelling beat, but I’m not quite sure what to make of Annie’s “he’s too good for either of us”. Annie kills the driver to save Hughie, and the show doesn’t let her off the hook for that (her long look at the baby seat in the car once she gets in). But it’s still a choice she made in order to save someone. Hughie killed Translucent for no reason at all - or really, because he wanted to feel strong and powerful after weeks of stewing in grief and rage over Robin’s death (and Annie, though she knows the Boys were responsible for Translucent’s death, still doesn’t know that Hughie is the one who pushed the button). I’m not sure he’s too good for anyone. 

(Meanwhile, the fact that Annie was on the verge of killing Hughie to save her own life just a few episode ago seems to have been memory-holed, even though it would have been a really obvious thing for Billy to throw in her face during their fight early in the episode.)

The other big thing that happens in this episode is that we find out Stormfront’s background, and between what she says to Homelander and what Lamplighter reveals to the Boys, it seems clear that her plan is to create a superpowered neo-Nazi army and use it to take over the world. It’s good to finally have some answers (and I admit that this is a more interesting turn of plot than the one I anticipated last week, a false flag terrorist attack). But I also feel that the show is in danger of outthinking itself. Having Vought be a company with roots in Nazi Germany was a clever touch earlier this season, but making Stormfront a German Nazi herself - and making the entire genesis of superheroes a Nazi project - undercuts a lot of what the show has been saying about American racism and how much its superheroes are rooted in it. Suddenly we’re back to that familiar trope, invasion by an army of foreign and foreign-inspired Nazis. It’s not unlike the way that Winter Soldier whiffed its central revelation, choosing to focus on a fifth column of hidden traitors instead of admitting the more terrifying truth, that after seventy years there’s really no way to disentangle “good” SHIELD from “evil” Hydra, because the former has been hopelessly corrupted by the latter.

When I wrote about last week’s episode, I praised it for skewering rainbow capitalism in its depiction of Vought’s plans to “sell” Maeve’s queerness and her relationship with Elena. Since then, several people have pointed out that The Boys was speeding well ahead of the actual industry it’s lampooning - in a blockbuster market dominated by superhero movies, there are currently no queer superhero characters (though there are several on TV). Which means that the show’s satire can end up missing its mark - instead of pointing out how capitalism squeezes everything good into an easily-digested, marketable form, one can easily read this subplot as saying that a gay superhero would be bad, full stop. 

I think a similar dynamic is at play when it comes to Stormfront’s secret plot. An army of superpowered neo-Nazis is scary, but is it really scarier than the President of the United States not only refusing to condemn white supremacists on stage at a national debate, but addressing them directly in terms that can only be taken as an instruction to riot if he loses the election? Is it scarier than videos of police that repeatedly show their sympathy towards white supremacist, to the point of standing by when one of them fires into a crowd of people? It doesn’t take superpowers for fascism to take hold - it didn’t in Nazi Germany, and it doesn’t today. By pretending otherwise, The Boys is neutering its social commentary exactly where it should be most trenchant.

[corvid-lullaby]

FFxivWrite: Prompt #2 Sway ~ Sway of the Heart

Characters: Nishiki, Kiryu, Kazama, oc Warnings: None Relationships: NiShikiya (Nishiki x Nishiki Y1 aka Shikiya),  Slight/Platonic NishiKiryu (Nishiki x Kiryu) Notes: Primarily based in the past Word Count:    1,346 FFxivWrite2020 Master Post

~~~~~

“Yo, don’t talk shit about my old man, okay?” the koi said in aggravation.

Nishiki groaned while rubbing at between his brows with an index and thumb. He leaned back against the school seat he had claimed for the past season, while letting his feet sit crossed over his desk. A simple, small juice box was dangling by the straw, which he lazily sipped the sweet currant juice from. The young high-schooler was giving his class mate a half-lidded, annoyed look.

“Look. I’m just sayin’ I find it kinda weird. Your birthday was yesterday-”

“Yeah yeah, he just forgot is all. Stop worrying your little head over it, Michi.”

A deep sigh, but from the smaller, dark haired boy. Michi brushed some of his simple, medium length hair behind his ear before moving to sit on the right side’s edge of Nishiki’s desk. With his arms folded on his lap, he turned his head to look at his classmate solemnly. Although, there was a deep undertone of pity in his darker blue eyes.

As for the young koi, he gave an over-animated shrug. The dangling juice box started to rattle and bubble with the last sip, where it would be snatched and haphazardly tossed onto his desk’s surface. Nishiki was obviously becoming aggravated with his friend’s nose prodding around. “Listen. Kazama is a really busy guy. I can’t expect him to keep tabs on all of us like that. It happens every year anyway, and he tries to make up for it-”

“with some small amount of cash he personally tells you to just take out of his wallet,” Michi finished, without bothering to hold back the attitude in his words. He meant well, Nishiki knew, but the subject was something Nishiki preferred to avoid. The nose on the koi’s face wrinkled. He couldn’t help but turn his head to look out the window his desk conveniently was placed against.

The conversation ended as thus. Eventually Michi gave up within the silence between the two, where he returned to his seat before class began again.

Later, the fated koi returned to the orphanage. With how stressful the air was at school, he couldn’t be happier to be back home today. That was said through his large, goofy grin that was plastered onto his face, and how he excitedly tossed off his shoes, and even how he was almost skipping down the hall. Just around the corner, just as he expected, Kiryu was standing in the dining area. He looked exhausted, but that was normal around this time.

“Hey, bro! How’d training go?” Of course Nishiki was happy to see him, even when he was still damp with sweat in his martial arts uniform. He even threw an arm over the other’s shoulders Sure, the koi was a bit popular at school, but none of his friends there held the same close bond he had with his adopted sibling. Kiryu wasn’t only his brother, he was his very best buddy. Someone that he trusts and loves deeply.

The sudden weight thrown over his shoulder caused Kiryu to grunt and his body to shift to support that weight. “Ah! It went about as well as expected I guess? Kazama is pretty ruthless in his training.” The young dragon paused, rubbing at his own chin in thought. “Oh yeah! He wanted to see you whenever. I think he’s in his office?”

“Oh yeah!?” Of course he was excited! His surrogate father often forgot about his birthday, but wanting to see him the very next day was something unheard of. It usually took several days to a week. This soon-ness was very different, and, to Nishiki, a good sign.

Being even more chipper, he went to Kazama’s office. Nishiki wasn’t quick to knock, instead taking a moment to listen if it was even alright to at first. He heard some rummaging, but no mumbles of talking, so he assumed it safe. He knocked, which was quickly followed up by his pa’s rather straight and flat voice, “Come in.” The koi hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything, where the other’s voice raised the suspicion that he had.

Upon entering, Nishiki confirmed that he had. In a way, anyway. Kazama was at his desk with a phone against his ear, which was tucked between face and shoulder. He looked up at the entering Koi, who bowed politely towards him, offered a half-hearted smile, and returned his attention to the papers on his desk. After a moment of scribbling, the back of the pen in his hand jabbed once towards the other end of his desk. There, a single bill sat. Nishiki took it, bowed in thanks again, and left.

After leaving and shutting the door behind himself, the young man stood there. The bill was stretched open. One thousand yen, which was the typical number. Michi’s worrying from earlier today came to memory. Why did he feel compelled to grasp onto some hope that his foster father would have done something a little different this time? He wasn’t sure. He was more concentrated on trying not to think about the more thoughtful gifts and actions his adopted sibling, Kiryu, got instead. Nishiki couldn’t help but let out a deep, shaky sigh.

Mumbling began to be heard from the office behind him.

“Hello? Ah, finally. I was getting ready to give up. Sorry I couldn’t call yesterday. There was business with Kiryu that needed attending to.”

A prick was felt. Yesterday was Nishiki’s birthday. The conversation continued.

“.... Mhmm. It’s about him, of course--No, not Nishiki. He’s never been fit for this sort of thing. Do me a favour and set up an appointment for Kiryu and I, will you?...”

The words started to get foggy. Even the bill in front of Nishiki started to look blurry. He had always been living in willful ignorance and denial, but this was something he was unable to ignore or convince himself otherwise. It was the first time he truly felt a darkness begin to stir in his heart.

With brows furrowed, he made his way back to the dining room. Kiryu was still there, but looking more refreshed and in regular day clothing. Miss matching in style of course. Kiryu was never great at fashion anyway, but seeing it now brought a small grin to Nishiki’s face.

“Oh hey! About time. Did you wanna go out for some ice cream?” Kiryu was always uncanny with his timing on his ability to cheer someone up unintentionally. Nishiki’s grin widened. He couldn’t help but agree. Why wouldn’t he agree to it?

Upon leaving, the koi did pause in the front yard. He turned and looked upwards at a window on the second floor. It was to Kazama’s office, where he could faintly make out the man still diligently working at his desk. That strange and alien tinge of something horrible returned to his chest. Trying to ignore it, he turned and went scampering after Kiryu.

‘I told you to stop fucking digging in there, man. It isn’t healthy.’

A few blinks and reality returned to him, thanks to that comforting voice at the back of his mind. Within his vision was an all too familiar grave.

‘Yo you’re even going white knuckled there. Cut it out and leave it already. Neither of us needs that sort of shit anymore.’

“Hm. I suppose you’re right, Nishiki,” the ex-patriarch replied with a faint hint of emotional exhaustion. Shikiya’s gaze lowered to a mixed bouquet of sunflowers and miscellaneous white flowers. Having split personalities did have its conveniences. In this case, one protecting the other, although it was more for the sake of both of them. Turning away from Kazama’s grave, Shiki took the bouquet with him. He had the intention of leaving them, but decided otherwise.

‘Hey, I think you forgot something,’ Nishiki quickly pointed out.

“Did I? I thought they would be happier in a vase at home. They’er more suited to be with you, and I have a feeling they would be happier that way, too.”

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Chapter Six

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For Masterlist

‘I have a question.’ I said to Klaus when he finally joined Elijah and I in front of the house, where we had been waiting for at least twenty minutes.

 ‘Of course you do.’ Klaus rolled his eyes, loading the last of his things into the carriage.

 ‘Why are there only two horses?’ I asked, eyeing the beautiful creatures before us—Elijah was already sitting on a deep chestnut, while it’s companion, a stunning white mare remained without a rider.

 ‘Because you’re riding with me.’ Klaus said simply.

 ‘Why?’ I pressed, a little irritated, ‘I am perfectly capable of riding a horse on my own, thank you very much.’

 ‘I don’t doubt it love.’ Klaus smirked at my antics and stepped into my personal space, ‘but we only came with two and don’t have the time to commandeer another, so up you go.’ 

I opened my mouth to protest at his attitude but it snapped shut when he lifted me onto the horse in one swift movement. Klaus joined me after, sitting behind me. As if my back being flush against his chest wasn’t torture enough, I was encompassed with his scent and warmth when he leaned forward to take the reins. I don’t know how he managed it, but he always smelled intoxicating; the smell of the woods, rain and whiskey all rolled into one—it made my breath catch and made me want to bury my face into his chest and never leave. Definitely a normal reaction; I needed to calm down.

 It was going to be a long ride.

 Honestly, as soon as we started moving, it was a little easier not to be consumed by Klaus’ touch as I took in the sights around us. We were riding in front, with the carriage behind us and Elijah behind the carriage. It was incredible to see so many small villages when we passed vast fields, trees and flowers. It was breathtaking, even more so was watching the sunset; it was if we were racing toward it, desperately trying to catch it in time. When it was replaced with the moon, I felt my whole body completely relax and my eyes started to droop. We had been riding all day, without a rest, and surprisingly the slight rocking was therapeutic. I felt Klaus stiffen in surprise when I leaned my head back and rested it on his shoulder. He started to speak, but I was too far-gone to understand it.

 It took another two days of riding, including an eight-hour break for the horses, and us before we reached the house in England. Unsurprisingly it was even more extravagant than the last one and Klaus had ordered that I stay in his living quarters just like before. I’d settled in rather quickly, not finding the house to be vastly different from the last one, at least until I realised it had been a week since I had seen my family.

 As soon as I’d had the thought, my hand came up to my throat, fingering the silver locket that rested there. My mom and dad had gotten it for me for my sixteenth birthday, and I hadn’t taken it off since. I unfastened the chain from around my neck and opened it, smiling slightly at the pictures that rested there. One was of Jeremy, Elena and I and the other was Mom and Dad when they were graduating collage. My smile turned bittersweet as I stared at their faces, the prickling in my heart reminding me that the loss would always haunt me. But I shook that feeling away and refastened the locket around my neck. They would always be with me, no matter what, just not in the same way as before. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and stood from the end of my bed, deciding I wanted some air. I made my way through the house and almost reached the front door when a strange sound made it’s way to my ears. It sounded like metal clanging and it was coming from outside. My curiosity got the better of me and, I pulled open the door and followed my ears, what I was met with shouldn’t have surprised me but it did.

 Klaus and Elijah were standing about ten feet away from the house and they were sword fighting. I almost couldn’t believe it—sometimes I forgot for a moment what century I was in, and moments like this slapped me in the face to remind me. I had no idea who was winning, but both of them were giving off an aura of strength and power in that moment.

 ‘It appears we’ve gained an audience.’ Elijah commented, amused.

 ‘It appears we have.’ Klaus’ eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, not breaking from his stride for even a second.

 ‘Are you doing this for practice or fun?’ I wondered, perching on a rock that rested close by.

 ‘Practice, mostly.’ Elijah said after he and Klaus shared a sad look that made me frown.

 ‘Well I want to fight the winner.’ I declared, cracking my knuckles, ‘so I can show you how it’s done.’

 Klaus released a genuine laugh that made my cheeky grin grow into a sincere smile. Elijah smiled too, but his amusement was much more restrained compared to his brother. It was both nice and strange to see Elijah have such clear affection and loyalty towards Klaus. I knew that in my time, he had worked with us because he believed his family to be buried at sea, though when Klaus had been on the brink of death he had admitted that wasn’t the case. That was when it hit me. The caskets—they were Klaus and Elijah’s family.

 ‘Have you ever wielded a sword before, love?’ Klaus’ teasing voice broke me out of my thoughts.

 ‘No, but how hard can it be?’ I shrugged, seeming more confident than I felt.

 Klaus and Elijah stopped fighting all together to fix me with incredulous stares; though it was clear Klaus was amused as well.

 ‘You’ve never wielded a sword and you think you can win in a fight against us?’ Klaus clarified.

 ‘Well… not realistically but I’m too stubborn for my own good.’ I smiled innocently.

 Klaus opened his mouth to reply, but one of his men joined us in the clearing.

 ‘Lord Klaus, Lord Elijah, the alpha of the werewolf pack that resides here has requested a meeting.’ Trevor said, his tone respectful.

 ‘Very well. Send him an invitation to dinner for this evening. I will go and prepare,’ Elijah told him, handing me his sword, ‘it appears Klaus is already engaged with an important matter.’

 Trevor looked confused, but didn’t question his words. I waited until they were both out of earshot before I spoke.

 ‘I don’t think I’ve even been called an important matter before,’ I snorted, standing from the rock and getting a feel of the sword in my hand. It was heavier than I was expecting, and I was sure that without my vampire strength I wouldn’t have been able to hold it upright for long.

 ‘Aptly said, if you ask me. You not being able to hold your own in a sword fight is a travesty that needs correcting immediately.’ Klaus smirked, gesturing for me to join him.

 ‘Okay, just to be clear I have no idea what I’m doing.’ I was starting to freak out a little now—I knew he couldn’t kill me, but that didn’t mean being stabbed wouldn’t hurt.

 ‘Relax, love.’ He smiled his dimpled smile that made my dead heart flutter, ‘I think you’ll find I’m an excellent teacher.’

 ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ I teased. We shared a grin before his expression turned serious.

 ‘The most important thing is to never take your eyes off your opponent. Their actions and movements can tell you their next move before they’ve even thought about taking it.’

 ‘Got it.’ I nodded.

 ‘Next, the sword isn’t an object that you are using. The best sword fighters think of their weapon as a part of them, an extension of their own arm.’ Klaus said, his voice seeped with power and confidence; it was impossible not to listen to every word he said with rapt attention.

 ‘Okay.’ I frowned a little, not sure about that; how was I supposed to think of a sword in that way?

 He smiled a little, ‘you’ll get it. The final rule, you learn better by doing and learning from your mistakes.’

 I barely had time to react before his sword came at me, I rose my own just in time and they kissed with a clank that echoed in the forest around us. I cocked my brow at him and pushed against his sword. I couldn’t help but smile at the expression of surprise on his face, though when he recovered and his devilish smirk took over, I knew I was in trouble.

 XxX

 ‘Alright!’ I laughed, holding my hands up because Klaus had somehow managed to knock my sword out of my hand, ‘you win.’

 ‘What was that, love?’ he cocked his head to the side, a faux expression of confusion on his face, ‘I didn’t quite hear you.’

 ‘I said you win, jackass.’ I smiled sweetly—he hadn’t known what that word meant, but in the course of our training session, he had quickly learned it wasn’t anything good.

‘I’ll overlook the verbal abuse as it’s quite clear your pride has taken a beating,’ Klaus teased, his eyes shining with mischief.

 ‘You, Klaus Mikaelson, have just issued me with a challenge,’ I carried on before he could speak, ‘I will beat you at least once before I go back to my time, and it will be so amazing that you will never underestimate any woman again. Especially me.’

 Klaus’ brows rose in amusement and I could tell he was biting back a laugh at my behaviour, ‘so be it love. I look forward to it.’

 ‘As do I.’ I replied, picking up Elijah’s sword from the ground, both of us walking back towards the house, but when I saw Trevor flashing from the house I remembered what I needed to talk to Klaus about.

 ‘I need to talk to you about something.’ I murmured, my tone going from light to serious and I could tell that Klaus noted from the frown on his face.

 ‘Yes?’

 ‘When the doppelgänger gets here, who are you planning to have watch her?’ I started, placing a hand on his forearm to get him to stop walking.

 ‘Trevor or Elijah are highest up in level of command. I was going to have them split the duty.’ He replied, his eyes flickering over my concerned expression, ‘I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a good idea.’

 ‘I was just going to suggest that it might be in your best interest to compel Trevor to watch the doppelgänger and bring her to you when the time as right. And you should compel Katherine not to run and to ignore anything about a ritual or sacrifice.’

 ‘That’s very clever.’ He complimented me, his head tilting in acknowledgement, ‘are you saying that I cannot trust Trevor or Elijah?’

 ‘I’m not saying you can’t trust Elijah.’ I shook my head firmly—I knew that despite his blossoming feelings for Katherine he remained true to his brother, ‘and I don’t think you should kill Trevor either, just compel him so you know he’ll remain loyal.’

 ‘Very well, I will take your advice.’ He smirked before he continued, ‘though I do hope you’re not leading me astray, Evangeline.’

 I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder, recognising the teasing lilt in his voice. But my merriment soon disappeared when I thought about having to see Katherine in the flesh again.

 ‘You know I’m only jesting, don’t you?’ Klaus asked, his smile gone from his face.

 ‘Yes.’ I offered him a small smile, ‘I was just thinking about how Katherine will be here soon.’ In four days to be exact.

 ‘You haven’t told me about how you know her.’ Klaus said, his hands clasped behind his back.

 We started to walk again and I followed him blindly, the journey was spent in silence as I pondered over what I was planning to tell him. I’d probably already changed the future so much, why start lying now?

 ‘Katherine, or Katarina as you call her, is or will be the vampire that turns me.’ I told him, my voice soft.

 ‘Is that how she escaped the ritual?’ he frowned, trying to put the pieces together.

 ‘It’s a very long complicated story.’ I sighed, taking a seat on the grassy bank overlooking a nearby river—I made a mental note of its location for the future.

 ‘I’d love to hear it. If you want to tell me.’ He flashed a dimpled smile that made my stomach flip but I just rolled my eyes.

 ‘Everything? You want to know everything that Katherine did in my time? How she evaded you? What you did when you ventured into my life?’ I sent him a challenging look that he didn’t waver under.

 ‘Tell me.’ He said firmly.

 I shrugged and I told him everything, starting at the beginning when Stefan and Damon came into my sister’s life. How I’d transferred collages to be closer to her, because I knew she needed me. How she had learned that Stefan was the one who saved her the night our parent’s car drove off Wickery Bridge. I told him about Katherine coming back into our lives, how she had played the Salvatore’s and Elena, how she’d hated me because I was respected amongst my friends. When I relayed that she had turned me out of spite, his fists had clenched in anger until I assured him that I was happy as what I was. I told him about how she had triggered both Mason and Tyler’s werewolf curses, how she’d also transformed Caroline. I told him that she was planning on gathering all the required ingredients and offering them to him in a bid to win her freedom. I told him about the arrival of Elijah; how we had planned to work with him until Damon got it in his head he couldn’t be trusted. Then I relayed how he had been daggered until we realised we needed him. I told him that Elijah was the one who informed us of how the past ritual failed; Trevor informed Katherine of Klaus’ true intentions and helped her flee. I told him that they had run for five hundred years and had bartered their freedom from Elijah in exchange for the doppelgänger. Elijah granted Rose freedom and murdered Trevor.

 When I reached the point of him arriving in town, I looked away from him, not wanting him to witness the sadness and anger in my eyes. I told him about possessing Alaric, him trying to kill Bonnie, him turning my aunt to use her as a vampire in the ritual, Elijah promising to help us stop him and his brother’s eventual shift to his side. I told him everything up until the point of Stefan leaving town with him so that Klaus would help his brother. I didn’t elaborate on why Damon needed help and I didn’t tell him that his blood was the cure, or that Elena was Katherine’s doppelgänger. I was sure to refer to her as “the doppelgänger” whenever I mentioned the ritual. I didn’t know if that information would make any difference, but telling him so much just made me feel stripped bare and vulnerable, I wanted to know something that he didn’t. Honestly I didn’t think it would make much of a difference, he already knew more about my life than anyone outside of my circle of friends back home and it scared me.

 ‘That’s a lot of information to take in.’ he murmured, and I looked over to him for the first time in a while.

 He wasn’t looking at me, he was staring into the river in front of us, and he seemed miles away from the conversation and me.

 ‘Tell me about it.’ I let out a breathy laugh.

 I started when Klaus’ hand was suddenly on top of mine. When I recovered from my fright, he had already entwined our fingers. I squeezed his hand and gave him a look of confusion.

 ‘I’m sorry for the pain you have endured.’ He said and I was blown away by the sincerity in his blue eyes.

 ‘You don’t need to apologise, Klaus.’ I offered him a sincere smile, ‘like you said, you haven’t done anything wrong and if I’m successful you won’t have when I return. If we completely fail, you can apologise in six hundred years.’

 He chuckled and shook his head, both amused and surprised.

 ‘You are like no one I have ever known.’ He murmured, his free hand brushing my curls behind my ear and caressing the side of my face.

 ‘I’m sure plenty of women before me have heard that very line.’ I teased, hoping he didn’t notice my blush.

 He smiled softly, but didn’t elaborate and I was glad. Klaus had this way of looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world, priceless and exquisite beyond compare. As you can imagine, being on the other end of that stare was more intense than I can put into words. But a part of me revelled in it, appreciated it, because honestly I couldn’t remember the last time anyone showed even a little bit of interest in me, let alone looked at me like that. I shook away my wayward thoughts and cleared my throat before standing.

 ‘We should get back. Won’t the alpha be here soon?’ I wondered quietly, standing from the bank and turning to cock my brow at him.

 ‘You’re quite right. I suppose we should,’ Klaus sighed and pushed himself up off the grass as well.

 He offered me his arm before we started walking. To his surprise, as well as my own, I took it without hesitation as I tried not to think about how… normal his touch felt. His skin underneath mine was warm and comforting, I realised with a start that Klaus made me feel safe. Definitely not something I thought I would ever associate with the hybrid.

 When we reached the house, I realised how long we must have been gone when we saw the servants starting to lay food out on the table. The alpha would be arriving a lot quicker than I thought. Both of us departed to our rooms to get ready after we shared a smile. I simply changed into another dress that didn’t have sword rips, dirt or blood on it—it was a deep green colour and honestly I was going to miss this kind of fashion when I returned to the future—it was incredibly comfortable. I would have had a bath, but there wasn’t any time; they literally had to fill up a massive metal tub with boiling water, it took quite a while. It was wonderful, but it also made me incredibly grateful for the plumbing advancements in the twenty first century. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I made my way down stairs, running my fingers through my long curly hair on the way, trying to free it of any tangles.

 ‘Ah, Evangeline there you are,’ Klaus said in a voice I had never heard him use before.

 I frowned in confusion until the smell of wolf invaded my nostrils, alerting me to the alpha’s presence. I assumed Klaus was in host mode, or lure-my-potential-enemies-into-a-false-sense-of-security mode.

 ‘Here I am.’ I forced a smile and took the empty seat across from the new face.

 He was kind of scary looking; he was covered with scars on his face, his shoulders were incredibly broad and I’m pretty sure that one of his biceps alone was bigger than my head. His dark hair and eyes seemed to heighten the aura of darkness that hung around him. Definitely not a guy you wanted to cross.

 ‘Now that we’re all here, the discussion can begin.’ The alpha said, his voice was deep and gravely in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

 ‘Absolutely. We are more than happy to live in peace with your kind while we are here, none of us have any aversion to werewolves, despite the rumours that are going around at the moment,’ Elijah’s calm voice relived some of the tension in my shoulders, but only a little.

 ‘How do we know if you’re telling the truth?’ biceps asked, his dark eyes assessing all of us in turn, I frowned at the disgust on his face.

 ‘Well if we weren’t, we could have killed you already,’ I smiled sweetly; his clear dislike for vampires was making me a little bitchy.

 ‘And what makes you think I would be threatened someone like you?’ he sneered.

 I cleared my throat and forced a small smile, ‘someone like me? I’m not sure what you mean?’

 I saw Klaus’ hand come up to hide his smirk—he knew how pissed gender repression made me and I was pretty sure this guy was gonna add the fact I was a vampire into it.

 ‘A woman like you has no business having an opinion in important matters, the fact that you’re a leech doesn’t make you more important.’ He growled.

 I pursed my lips and nodded, calmly reaching up to my neck and removing my locket. I took Klaus’ hand and dropped the jewellery into it—he looked a mixture of confused and amused but before he could question me I lunged across the table at the alpha, successfully knocking him to the ground with me landing on top of him. It was a few seconds before anyone reacted, I heard chairs scraping back but I paid it no attention and punched the alpha in the jaw hard enough to break the bone. He roared in outrage and tried to strike me back but I simply snapped his arm and was about to do the same to the other that rose to strangle me when I was pulled back by strong arms around my waist.

 ‘What are you doing?’ I almost yelled, anger still pumping through my veins.

 ‘As arousing it is watching you singlehandedly take on a werewolf, you need to clam down.’ Klaus murmured in my ear, his warm breath rising goose bumps on my skin. I felt myself relax into his hold, when he felt the fight leave me his arm wrapped casually around my waist but I knew it was there encase I acted out again. It didn’t stop me from leaning into the touch.

 Elijah had to restrain the alpha when he got to his feet, as he immediately tried to come after me. Scarface struggled against the elder Mikaelson’s hold but it was pointless; Elijah was much older and more experienced than him.

 ‘You’re dead.’ He snarled.

 ‘Very true. Wanna try telling me something I don’t know?’ I remarked, hardly registering Klaus’ snort of amusement.

 ‘When the moon rises next week, our pack is going to come for you. Mark my words.’

 At that, both Mikaelson men suddenly became eerily serious. Klaus moved me behind him, and noticing his demeanour I frowned, wondering why his conduct had changed so suddenly.

 ‘Do my ears deceive me, brother, or did this werewolf just threaten our guest?’ Klaus asked, stepping towards him, his arms behind his back.

 ‘You heard correctly, Niklaus.’ Elijah replied, releasing his hold on the alpha. He tried to go for me straight away, but Klaus pinned him to the wall by his throat.

 ‘You understand, mate, that while we were more than willing to play nice and negotiate peacefully, we aren’t opposed to doing this the hard way.’ His voice remained steady, but that somehow made it sound more threatening, ‘truth be told, the hard way is much more fun.’

 ‘I- I didn’t mean—,’ the wolf gasped out, but Klaus just gripped his throat tighter to stop his words.

 ‘You come into our house, insult our friend and dare threaten her in the span of ten minutes. Let me make myself perfectly clear.’ Klaus’ eyes darkened, ‘if you, or any of your werewolf friends come after her, it will be your head, and the heads of your entire pack. Do you understand?’

 The wolf’s face was turning purple but he managed a slight nod that had Klaus releasing him. He slid down the wall a little as he gathered some air into his lungs. He snapped his arm back in place, shot me a glare and then left without a backwards glance. I felt my face shift into a guilty grimace as both Mikaelson’s turned to face me at the same time.

 I bit my lip, wondering if I was about to get in trouble, ‘that went well.’

 ‘What were you thinking?’ Klaus asked, though there wasn’t any rage in his voice, just frustration.

 ‘I was thinking that he was rude and obnoxious.’ I rolled my eyes but the guilt in my stomach made itself known, ‘but I’m sorry that I messed everything up.’

 ‘I don’t care about that!’ Klaus snapped, running his hand through his hair, ‘he was never going to accept us being on his territory.’

 ‘Then what’s the problem?’ I frowned, confused.

 ‘The problem is that you have just made yourself an enemy, an enemy that could kill you with one bite on the night of a full moon.’ Klaus yelled, making me blink in surprise.

 Did he… care about me? No, he couldn’t, I shook that thought away and felt my defences rise at his tone.

 ‘Klaus I’ve faced plenty of werewolves on the night of a full moon. I can handle myself.’ I told him flippantly, ‘I think I proved that already.’

 ‘You’re not going to be of any help to me if you get yourself killed!’ he yelled, rage most definitely in his tone now, but I refused to back down or be afraid of him, especially seeing as my heart stung to have his lack of affection for me confirmed.

 ‘You can’t control everything Klaus!’ I matched his volume, standing toe to toe with him, ‘you most certainly cannot control me. So if I want to beat up a werewolf knowing he could turn around and bite me in the ass, that’s my decision to make—not yours!’

 ‘That is quite enough.’ Elijah’s calm tone interrupted our moment, ‘I suggest you both stop now before you say something you might regret.’

 ‘That’s a good idea, Elijah.’ I nodded, shooting Klaus one last glare before I stormed from the room and headed towards my chambers.

 I needed to be alone.

 But I had barely reached my door when I realised it wasn’t going to be enough distance. With that I flashed out of the front door encase either of them tried to stop me—it wasn’t like tonight was a full moon so if the alpha came back for me he wouldn’t be a threat. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going for a while, the fight Klaus and I had was running on repeat through my mind, fuelling my anger. This was how I usually worked through things; if I was angry I let it run its course and then I’d look at the situation without fury tampering with my judgement. By the time that had happened I’d reached a waterfall, and I felt any remaining anger sizzle out of me as I listened to the falling water.

 Klaus had a right to be angry with me, and he did have a point about making the alpha angry. But I had never let the fact someone was stronger than me stop me from standing up for what I believed in. I might have been in a century where women were viewed as less superior to men, but that didn’t mean I had to stand for it. I stood by what I did, and I wouldn’t change it. And I wasn’t mad at Klaus’ reaction, not really, I was mad that while my feelings toward him seemed to be changing he didn’t care about me even a little. He apologised to me earlier and he seemed to mean it, but what if he was just trying to manipulate me into trusting him? It wouldn’t have surprised me. All he cared about was making sure I stayed alive long enough to guarantee that this ritual was successful. But what did I expect? He said he trusted me, but that was a far cry away from caring about me. I was expecting way too much from him, and I was losing sight of why I was here.

 I’m here to make sure Katherine dies in the ritual so Klaus could break his curse and I so won’t have to worry about him coming to Mystic Falls to sacrifice Elena and kill those I care about on the way.

 I nodded with at my decision and stood, not remembering when I sat down.

 ‘Well, well what do we have here?’ I felt my whole body stiffen at the voice before I span around, facing him with a glare.

 ‘I could ask you the same thing.’ I retorted—if I still had a heartbeat it would have been racing in that moment.

 ‘You must be stupid to wonder into my territory after attacking me,’ He snarled and stepped forward.

 ‘You wanna do this again?’ I snorted in amusement, focusing my hearing to detect if anyone else was around.

 I could have screamed when I heard at least ten other heartbeats close by. One werewolf on my own, I could handle, a whole pack of them? I was fucked.

 ‘I have something I didn’t last time, honey.’ His lip curled into an ugly sneer, and in that moment several werewolves stepped out from behind the trees, inevitably surrounding me.

 My lips pressed into a hard line—I refused to look afraid, but there was a chance I was completely screwed. My only benefit was that without a full moon, they didn’t have any toxic venom in their fangs. Night was falling, and if that were the case I’d be dead by sunrise.

 ‘What is even more stupid is that you wondered in here on the night of a full moon.’ He smirked.

 ‘The full moon isn’t until next week,’ I argued, taking a step back. I knew for a fact it was exactly a week away.

 ‘There is a full moon next week.’ He nodded, stepping even closer to me and chuckling when I stepped back, ‘but there’s also one tonight.’

 Before he could reach me I flashed around and managed to knock out at least eight of the wolves before the alpha caught me. I had a moment to struggle and managed to break out of his grasp when everything went black.

I KNOW THAT FULL MOONS DON’T HAPPEN SO CLOSE TOGETHER, BUT FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY LETS PRETEND THEY DO ;)

[thestateofuforia]

Xena is better than every male antihero from the past 20 years of prestige dramas and I will prove it with my extensive TV knowledge and feelings

What makes a “great” television show? We all know that there is no single definition, as people have different preferences and experiences, etc. etc. But what are the shows that critics have universally agreed are masterworks of television? The kind that sweep awards shows and influence the direction of entire industry? The kind that your professors uphold as the zenith of television’s potential?

Dark, character-driven dramas. TV’s chock-full of ‘em now, but for the sake of illustration, let’s just use The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Mad Men as examples of this phenomenon.

Aside from genre trappings, and writing/directing/acting quality, what do they all have in common? Why do people give so many shits, so intensely, about these shows? What could possibly be at their center? 

Answer: A broody, complex antihero with a dark past/present who struggles with the moral quandaries of existence, while remaining simultaneously vulnerable and withholding to both the viewer and those around him. I use “him,” because this character is always male. 

Where are all the female antiheroes? Well, there’s at least one who is constantly forgotten, probably because she hails from a wildly different kind of show. One with Greek gods, sword fights, and whooshing sound effects. But don’t let the aesthetics of this show fool you – at its heart, it’s a drama about the redemption of one of TV’s finest antiheroes. 

Xena is better than Tony Soprano, Walter White, and Don Draper combined, and I’m about to show you why I can make this audacious (and extremely biased and opinionated) claim!

Let’s take a look at the competition. You’ve got:

Tony Soprano  

Mob boss with Feelings™. He’s in therapy for the panic attacks he’s been having lately, because this very sensitive man is simply not cut out for the mafia. He’s killed strangers, friends, even his best friend, and he feels real bad about it. At the same time, he’s struggling to maintain the closest relationships in his life, particularly with his family. His kids are growing up, his marriage is strained, and he’s constantly trying to reconcile his brutal, immoral actions with the belief that he could be a good person. Tony wants to be good, but he knows he is destructive force to everyone around him, and the cognitive dissonance is tearing him apart. In spite of therapy, he makes very little progress towards becoming more in touch with his emotions.

Walter White 

High school chemistry teacher-turned-meth-cook whose entire life falls apart. It starts as a means of paying for his cancer treatment and providing for his family after he’s gone, but when the cancer goes into remission, Walt keeps on cookin’ just because he likes it. I’m not putting words in his mouth; he actually says this. He leads a double life, and, like our boy Tony up there, wants to believe he can be a good person, a good father, a good husband, while simultaneously devolving into cruel, manipulative (sociopathic??) drug lord. Even at the end, when the jig is up and he’s off in hiding, he still wants to provide for his family as some kind of compensation for everything he’s put them through. It’s too little, too late, but we get the idea – he’s a tortured soul, yada yada. Also, Walt, like Tony, is not one for heart-to-hearts with the fam.

Don Draper

1960s ad-man with a dark past, who buries the truth about the tobacco/cancer connection in order to sell cigarettes, and schedules cheating on his wife in his day planner, all while trying to be a good father/person. The most irrepressibly charming guy on this list, Don lives a lie, after stealing the identity of his commanding officer, killed alongside him in combat (whom he may/may not have had a hand in killing). Not even his name is real (Although who wouldn’t pick “Don Draper” over “Dick Whitman?”). He starts the series living the “perfect” life with a wife he plucked from a lineup of models, who, thanks to his closed-off attitude, knows absolutely fuck-all about him. They are in the midst of raising two children before he finally tells her that his father beat him as a child. He’s a stranger to his own wife. That’s how little this guy talks about his feelings. 

So why do we watch these antiheroes? They’re shitty people, right? From Tony choking a man to death while on a college tour with his daughter, to Walt watching his best friend’s girlfriend die of a heroin overdose and doing nothing to save her in order to win back complete control of his “friend,” to Don rejecting his long-lost brother who then goes on to hang himself, these guys are Not. Good. 

But, they are compelling characters. We have to care about them in order to tune in every week/binge five years of television in one weekend. And as far as I can tell, we like them because they feel bad about what they do. That’s oversimplification, of course, but it touches on the premise that makes these disparate characters somewhat relatable: 

We all have done bad things that we regret, and we all need to believe that, at the end of the day, we’re good people. 

Enter: Xena

In terms of sheer kill count, Xena has all these tortured main men beaten by a long, bloody mile. I can’t list all of her deeds, but suffice it to say, when Xena begins her journey in the first episode of her series, she’s at Genghis Khan-levels of slaughter. The character of Xena began as a warlord on Hercules’ show, but the whole truth of her villainy is only revealed bit-by-bit throughout the next six years of her journey. She’s killed thousands, razed entire villages to the ground, betrayed those close to her, and essentially been a Really Bad Person for most of her life. It’s arguable, but many see the act of burying her armor in the pilot as a self-sacrificial suicide attempt. Undefended, in a land brimming with uncountable numbers of wronged individuals who would love to see her head on a spike, she’s a lamb waiting for the slaughter. 

Enter: Gabrielle

A tiny village is under attack, and in a sudden twist of morality, Xena begins using her combat skills for good. She saves, among others, a plucky village girl who immediately starts following the warrior around like a puppy. But Xena, ever the classic brooding antihero, feels undeserving of gratitude and rejects her. Multiple times. But Gabrielle refuses to be left behind. Xena acquiesces, and the two begin their journey together. Gabrielle’s unrelenting faith in Xena pushes the ex-warlord onto a path of redemption. 

Over the course of the series, Xena and Gabrielle spend most of their time walking through forests until someone Evil Xena has wronged stumbles into their path and she and Gabrielle have to face another demon from her past. But no matter how many souls she saves, how many wrongs she rights, Xena never fully accepts that she is a good person. She wants to be good, and she sees goodness in Gabrielle, but always regards it as a quality just out of reach for herself. Her past haunts her, and she doesn’t know if she can ever fully atone for what she’s done.

In addition to undergoing a transformation of purpose, Xena also changes as a person. She begins the first season as a cold, near-Vulcan warrior with an impenetrable exterior and a steely gaze that never totally softens. But with time, and through the force of her relationship with Gabrielle, she chips aways at the wall she’s built around herself until she’s (more of) an emotionally communicative person. She allows herself to be vulnerable, and shares even the darkest secrets of her past with Gabrielle. And although she always braces herself for Gabrielle to have seen too much of the darkness inside Xena and finally leave her, Gabrielle stays by her side every time, and Xena heals a little bit more.

You know what that’s called? Growth. 

And it’s hella satisfying to watch. 

And, in this definitely-biased lesbian’s opinion, this is what makes Xena a more compelling character than any of the aforementioned male antiheroes. Her story is unique. Tony Soprano struggles with morality, but never truly changes. Walter White gives in to the darkness and lets it consume him. Don Draper reaches for redemption but always falls short. And yes, there is something exciting and interesting about all those stories. As you could probably tell, I’m a huge fan of every show I just mentioned. Hell, I had the idea for this post in the midst of a Mad Men binge at 3am last night. And, for the record, no, I do not hate all men, or all stories about men. But I was wracking my brain for an example of a female antihero in a prestige drama, and suddenly I realized I was looking in the wrong place. And that this would be a completely insane post that could ruffle some feathers online, which meant I had to get it out there on the World Wide Web.

Finally:

You might argue that Xena’s story is so different, and the series itself is so unlike these prestige dramas, that to draw a comparison among these characters is misguided, at best, and totally freaking bananas, at worst. 

But, here’s a final breakdown of what these antiheroes have in common:

1. An inner darkness that both drives and troubles them. (Check)

2. A sense of unworthiness towards those who show them love. (Check)

3. A level of charisma/general appeal that invites the audience to give a shit about them, in spite of whatever they might have done/are doing. (Check)

4. A persistent moral greyness. (Check)

5. A preternatural ability to stare into the middle distance and brood. (BIG check)

Clearly, Xena is classic antihero material. But what sets her apart is that she takes action to redeem herself. Even when she doesn’t truly believe she is good, she calls upon all her strength to do good, regardless. Instead of stewing in the darkness, pushing away her loved ones, stagnating in the nebulous state of her morality, she devotes the rest of her life to reckoning with her past and remains steadfastly fixed on redemption. She still makes mistakes. She remains flawed, conflicted, human. But she grows, whether or not she thinks she deserves to. She moves forward. 

[fyeahwonderbat]

Keywords: Balance

Rating: T (Series); G (chapter) Word Count: 2,311 words Universe: DCEU, post-BvS (AU)

________________________________________________________________

The Flying Fox felt hollow as it cut through the air at sixty thousand feet. Soaring smoothly over the clouds, Bruce piloted his prized plane with the expertise that he’d honed for years, and the concentration of a man who reveled in being as antisocial as possible. He sped through the night so that he could meet the sunrise just as it rose over Gotham, with roughly four thousand nautical miles to traverse between New York and Moscow that warranted his undivided attention. There was still six hours of airtime and refused to vacate his pilot seat for a single second of the voyage. 

Especially when there was a fuming Diana somewhere on board.

Bruce could hear her infuriated shouts echoing in his head from the argument they’d had before the mission even began. She had been adamant that they didn’t need to visit the desolate village he had considered an international threat. He, being one of the only mortals whose stubbornness rivaled the Amazon’s, refused to see her point of view after learning that the radioactive hub on the outskirts of the town was the epicenter of his investigation into what he referred to as ‘hellions’. 

As a woman who claimed to have killed things from other worlds before, he had assumed she’d be thrilled to join him on this mission.

Instead, Wonder Woman scolded him about his lack of self-preservation and willingness to coordinate with the League properly.

The League that he had compelled her to help him form. 

“How much longer until we arrive?” Asked the very woman who was on his mind. Her voice drifted into his ear and cleared the fog that he was lost in, replacing his mindless thoughts with a swift reply.

He answered her over his shoulder without ever turning to face her, “Six hours, maybe less.”

“Hm.” Was her meager response, punctuating the sound of her dropping into the seat behind him, off to his right. Knowing that Diana was in the cockpit with him now and presumably intending to stay was more unnerving than he’d ever admit to.

Bruce gazed at the weather radar and allowed himself to become hypnotized. He needed to center himself if she was preparing to argue with him after the disappointing results of their trip. In his eyes, the information they gathered was monumental to his study of the hellions. But surely, because she wasn’t given the chance to punch something into the ground or act as a battering name in the name of justice, Wonder Woman would have more to say about her disapproval of the Batman’s methods.

She acted like the governess of not only the League, but of him as well, providing him with unwarranted checks and balances as the criteria for his style of operations. Coddling him at times when he was certain of the action he had to take. No one had ever serviced him while simultaneously challenging him the way that Diana did. Unwilling to be placed under her thumb any longer, Bruce stated a little too pridefully, “Alfred is looking over the information we gathered now and we’re working on locating their real base of operation.”

“That’s possible?” She questioned with a sleep-induced drawl. 

He immediately reined himself in, feeling like a bully for antagonizing her while she was trying to sleep. “We’ll send out a search for their signature. Since they move around while infected with so much radiation, it shouldn’t be difficult to--”

“Bruce,” she called to him.

“What?” The abrupt shift in conversation made his jaw snap closed very aggressively at the end of his retort. 

Unbothered by his ever present antagonism, Diana brushed passed his tone of voice in a way he nearly admired as she asked, “You’re going to need more than the accessories on your belt to defeat those hellions.” 

Now, it seemed as though she was antagonizing him. “They’re clearly monsters of some kind, with an origin in science or possibly mythology. The hellions I’ve seen have taken on an almost chimera-like appearance while looking as though they’re made from stone,” He stated the facts of their situation so that she couldn’t find a single word to dispute. Then, Bruce leaned into his irritation so that he’d motivate himself to turn on autopilot as he spun around and faced her to finish off his explanation. “I’m aware that they can’t be stopped by a tranquiliser or a taser.”

“Then what was your goal here?” inquired Diana. Her legs were tucked underneath her rather informally compared to the statuesque posture he had imagined her in while his eyes had been fixated on the sky. Prim and proper no matter the situation he was in, it was odd to witness Wonder Woman snuggling into her seat at the Flying Fox like she was at a slumber party. The pale white lights that lit up the cockpit managed to highlight the pale complexion on her face and though he couldn’t understand why she looked so worn, Bruce knew she still had some fight in her based on her question.

Confidently, he bit back, “I told you - we needed to determine if this was the place they were originating from.”

Diana sighed, “Did you expect them to originate from a hive mind? Did you think it’d really be so simple?”

“No.” Bruce growled.

“Then what?” her tone grew harsher as she sat up in her seat. “If your technology is so great, why did you and I risk our lives by coming here? We were in Russia for almost two days and all we did was spectate their behaviours at one of their nests and evacuate a village when they started turning on each other and ripping themselves to shreds.”

Bruce thought he was hilarious when he answered her with a great deal of attitude, “I’m sure those villagers said thank you in Russian.”

The fire in her eyes sparked instantaneously and her feet slammed onto the floor with a heavy thud. Furious, unimpressed, Diana scolded him just like he expected her to. “We should have told Barry where we were going, or asked Arthur to join us. We are sitting on this plane right now due to luck and nothing else. Not your skills, or mine! We are lucky they never paid any attention to us or who knows what would have happened.”

“We didn’t need reinforcements if we were only observing their behaviour and studying their base.” Bruce pointed out.

“Victor would have been better suited than either of us!” Diana argued, the volume of her voice rising.

Behaving in a reactionary fashion caused his voice to grow louder as well. “If you don’t like the calls I’m making, then you can decline my invitations for these missions. I’m not twisting your arm to make you come with me, Diana.”

“You’re absolutely maddening!” Now, while shouting at the top of her lungs, she had risen to her feet and glared at him with a ferocity that told him she was prepared to beat the argument out of him. “These creatures we saw rip each other apart without much provocation and you cannot see how unjustified you were to come here without anything but your pride to guide you? Your kevlar suit would only make it more of an exciting challenge for them to do the same to you, had they caught you snooping around their base!”

Though she wasn’t incorrect, his mortality wasn’t what their clash was centered around. Bruce stayed absolutely still when he sought her conclusion, “What’s your point?”

“My point,” she contended, “is that you may be scared of what these hellions are capable of, but throwing yourself at them is not the solution. If there is a plan of action that needs to be made, it must be considered by the entire team.”

“Not everything we do is a League-related matter.” He rebuked her perspective entirely.

Diana was not having it, however. So exhausted with him and his point of view, she looked him dead in the eye and dared him to explain, “Then why did you extend an invitation to me?”

That, he could not address so easily. While concocting his plan for the mission to Russia, it seemed only logical that he bring a metahuman with him in case things did in fact take a turn for the worse. For someone who had such a difficult time relying on the people in his own city, inviting Wonder Woman was the easiest pill to swallow when compared to the other options he had before him. Not only that, but the trust he had in Diana was incomparable to the lukewarm relationship he had with Arthur, or the distance he kept from the skittish Barry unless his presence was absolutely necessary.

Diana also didn’t know that Victor was on standby for Alfred’s call back in Gotham already.

He watched her turn her back on him and return to her seat when he didn’t maintain the speed at which their conversation was flying. He took the chance to observe the way her shoulders had fallen and the way her long black hair outlined her hunched over posture. Something about this entire scenario had stolen away a great deal of her energy for reasons he couldn’t understand. Nevertheless, he knew that arguing with him tended to wear out even the best of people.

Like her.

Bruce decided to throw off his cowl and run a gloved hand over his face in an act of frustration. He knew he needed to answer her, however, it took much longer than he expected to find the words he needed to justify his decision-making process. Finally, just as she tucked those long legs of hers underneath herself once again, he blurted out, “Because no one is as desperate to keep me alive the way you do.” 

It was a sarcastic remark. Despite how the entire temperature of the cockpit had cooled, Bruce had genuinely intended to rile her up even more so with his insensitive words. After all, they weren’t off the mark. Whether she tried to reprimand him before taking off to Russia or she was forced to carry him out of the village in one arm and a panicked Siberian Husky in the other, he could always rely on her should he need it.

Should he.

To his surprise, Diana laughed at his childish teasing. It was only a couple of giggles, but he managed to make her smile. When she finished taking in a rather deep breath, she whispered, “I suppose that’s true. So you’re admitting I was roped into your chaos due to my own sentimentality?”

Bruce was flabbergasted once again by her indirect accusation. He chose to check on the sky for any glimpse of the sunrise as a type of distraction that would have allowed him some time to think. This time, his attempt at humor was more friendly, in a surface level kind of way, “I’m sure you would have complained about me going alone, too, so it was more efficient to let you scold me on the trip there and back.” 

“Hm, I suppose that’s true. But remember one thing, Bruce,” He never heard her voice grow louder in his ear, however, he felt her hand when it landed on his shoulder the instant she said his name. The contact would have made him jump had he not been trained to rid himself of such primitive reactions to shocking moments such as this. Though his skin did indeed crawl beneath his kevlar suit when she finished her warning to him, “I can pilot this aircraft if need be, so you might want to be wary about how much you provoke me.”

“Again,” Bruce smirked up at her, his brows furrowed with a devious intention. “You’re only proving that I was right to bring you along.”

The wry smile she gave him in response lit up her face so completely, it truly felt like she was the yin to his yang when he thought about the meaning behind the type of grin he was showing her. Mockery versus honesty. Snide amusement compared to genuine delight. Whether they were at one another’s throats or in agreement, they always managed to play the roles of day and night - the perspective of optimism challenged by the darkness he seeped into every interaction. 

There was most definitely a delicate balance in their partnership.

If the familiar sounds of his dashboard blaring at him didn’t pull Bruce’s attention away from her in that moment, he had no idea how long they would have been gazing at one another. Tearing himself away from her, he spotted a handful of colors lighting up the right side of his weather radar, warning him of an upcoming storm. He flipped a switch inside of him and commanded her without hesitation, “Sit down, I have to deal with this.”

Diana didn’t answer him with words. He could only assume she obeyed him when she removed her hand from his shoulder and kept quiet. Presumably, she’d try to finally take that nap that their argument interrupted. Once he assumed she was out of his personal space, Bruce got to work and reclaimed control of the Flying Fox. He had flown through many storms in the past, to the point that his hands squeezed the sides of the yoke with mild excitement. 

Bruce wasn’t all too preoccupied with the thunderstorm that he was approaching, if the truth be told. He was more interested in the way that the sunlight that was grazing the darkness of the night that he was sailing through at sixty thousand feet. Considering the height he was at and distance they still had to travel, it wasn’t lost on him how ironic it was to see the daylight meet the night after the conversation they just had. 

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, ALEXEI! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENEDICK. Admin Rosey: Alexei, you have no idea how happy we have to have another beloved Montague, Benedick, join our ranks! It’s a difficult thing, capturing the nuances of a character within a single application -- laying out their past, present and future in a way that gives each of us a glimpse into your plans for them without revealing it all. But you managed to do it, and very successfuly too. We are so very excited that you have captured Benedick so well and we cannot wait for him to bless our dashes! I, personally, can’t wait to see what type of trouble him and tragedy you have planned for him. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alexei/Sasha

Age | 23

Pronouns | They/Them

Activity Level | I’m not really sure how to rate it on a scale of 1-10, but I’m confident that I can do 4+ replies a week and be reasonably active in a group chat. My active hours would probably be sporadically in a group chat from about 9am-2pm, and then I could be working on replies nights from 8-11pm EST. My job/general schedule has pretty steady hours.

Timezone | EST (GMT-5)

How did you find the rp?  | I told Victoria I was still indie roleplaying and she showed me this ring.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Sorry!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Battiasta Tahan - Benedick

What drew you to this character? | In Much Ado About Nothing, Benedick is written as a sarcastic actor-type, always performing to keep the crowd (and his closest friends) guessing, never showing his true face. According to Battista’s bio, he’s mostly like that in his early life, but I thought it would be interesting to explore how this kind of behavior bleeds into the more serious, quiet attitude that seems to come with more experience, more hardship, and more trauma. Is the “new” him the real one, or is it just another mask worn to ingratiate himself with those around him? I find myself drawn to him because I love to look underneath the underneath, to seek out the bare bones motivations behind people’s actions and let them spin their stories as they will.

Battista is a man that’s made many mistakes and has a lot of regrets — though maybe less than we’d think. His story is compelling, and I look forward to doing the deep dive, turning over the rocks to find the soft damp dirt beneath. I want him to have some satisfaction, and I want him to grow into someone capable of being a good friend, if not a good person.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?  |          Team Making or Team Breaking—

    Battista knows how important it is to trust your team. Just like in the military, knowing that they have your back can be the difference between holding back just a second too long and ending up with a bullet to the skull, and trusting them to watch over you enough to do what you need to do. But how is a trio composed of a control freak, a wild card, and a walking dead woman supposed to function?    It’s not an area suited for his silver tongue— these people need a solid leader, dependable and strong, not someone that charms them and runs when he gets what he wants. He doesn’t want to give up, but bad blood and hard feelings pin him on one side, and a completely unreadable mystery on the other. Is it possible that he can win them over, or will his white-knuckled grip on the reins just end up bloodying all of their mouths?

        Explosive Personality—  

    It’s nothing personal, except when it is. Whether Battista dislikes him on principle, or out of jealousy, something about Everett Craven drives him up a wall. It would take a push for him to resort to outright premeditated murder, and he wouldn’t do it to an emissary without permission, keeping in mind the delicate position it could put the already at war families in. But, well. He certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.    As for the murder weapon— what better way to win a war than with guerilla tactics? Battista isn’t an explosives expert by any means, but he knows his way around something so simple as a booby trap car bomb. With a car as well-loved as Everett’s, it’s a no-brainer to use something ignition-based as a method of assassination, as it’s almost guaranteed that he’ll be the only one caught in the blast. Almost.

         Be It Spark, Inferno, Or Nothing But Ash—

    No man is an island, no matter how much Battista would like to pretend that’s the case for him. With every bullet in the bodies he drops, every hit he takes, he can’t help but wonder just what it was that Genevieve Zhang saw in him the fateful night he prostrated himself before the Montague leadership that made her speak for him. He doesn’t feel it’s his place to outright ask, not yet anyway. He’s unsure if he even wants to know the truth of it.

    Her opinion shouldn’t matter to him. He tells himself it doesn’t, that he’s a grown man, confident in his abilities and his place in the world. Still, the possibilities keep him up at night.

        You Killed My Father, Prepare To Die—

    It seems a distant dream, with all that’s happened. Nearly fifteen years since the cold December night his mother called him, incomprehensible and weeping. Since he had to go down to the morgue with her and try to identify the bloated, dirty corpse the police had pulled from the river. Someone had murdered him, cut him up so badly they could only confirm it was him by the distinctive tattoo on his left shoulder, and the scar from his ACL surgery.

    They’d known it was the Capulets, sure. That’s what got him into this goddamn mess in the first place, though it helped that he knew they were hypocrites, ‘men of the people’ his shapely ass. But he knows it had to be one person to shred his face to ribbons, to strike the final blow. And he knows someone had to okay the kill order. He’s kept an ear to the ground, but it’s hard to hear anything about a nobody that was killed over a decade ago. Still, there’s the tiniest spark of hope. Some day, someone will slip. If they’re still alive, they’ll brag about killing Battista Tahan’s father, and when they do…

    They won’t make it to hell in one piece.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Well, Yeah. Empty Revenge isn’t a whole lot to live for.  

IN DEPTH

What is your favorite place in Verona?

    An odd sort of smile lingered at the corners of his lips in the aftermath of such a question, like he was unsure of whether it was allowed. He shrugged just the left shoulder, palm raised to the sky dismissively like you had asked him how his day was going, how his mother was— how was it ever, yeah? What did it matter, where his favorite place was? It couldn’t hurt to share, but still the answer seemed ripped from him. “The Arena.” One corner of his mouth turned further, expression shifting into something akin to bemusement, and his hand turned down to mime writing. “I like to sit in the shadow of it during the heat of the day, and try to draw.” A grimace, and then a laugh to follow. “Emphasis on ‘try’. But it’s loud, full of people going about their business. Good to people watch.” It was a far sight better than sitting on his thumbs in his empty, silent apartment, anyway. It was nice to pretend that someday he’d be able to draw more than a single line, or write more than a sparse sentence.

What does your typical day look like?

    “Still can’t help but wake up at six,” the comment came off-hand, a huffed laugh out of a wide mouth quirked into something like a chagrined smile. “Drink coffee, work out. Usually sleep for another hour or so after that, if I can.” He rubbed the back of his neck, tough fingers cold against his own skin — a grounding gesture. “Outside of that, I don’t have much of a routine.” Routines make you complacent, after all. A dangerous thing to be, especially when you’re predictable as well. “I try to show my face at the usual haunts, let people know I’m alive and well. Check in on the ducklings, see what they’re up to. Do odd jobs for my landlady— she thinks I’m some fucked-up vet, guess she’s not far off.” He laughed outright at that, something biting creeping into the single bark. Silence reigned.  “I try to keep my head down, unless asked otherwise. But I do like to party.” A last wry twist of his lips. “My only vice.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

    His throat clicked in protest against the single dry swallow he managed — his only reply for a while. The question didn’t make him flinch, which he considered a victory. Shoulders remained straight, the line of them loose and his fingers very deliberately uncurled. Look upon him and see how unbothered he was. “Leaving my mother when I did—” Battista’s eyebrows furrowed, and he cut himself off. Softly, he continued, “no. It’s not even that, she would have wasted away with or without me there to watch.” Funny thing, that. He was glad he didn’t have to watch. “I guess it was… when I was young, I was never around. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but at least I would have known them. I was so caught up in my own. Shit, in my own faux-glamorous life, that they didn’t know me and I didn’t know them, at the end.” He shook his head, a soft huff of humorless laughter escaping. “They were the only family I ever had, no aunts or uncles or grandparents. And I don’t know a damn thing about either of them— I don’t even know if they loved each other.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

    “I’m good at everything.” The response was immediate, dismissive— he didn’t even lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. In the silence that followed, his brows furrowed, as he pretended to think about it further. “Well, except baking. Not very patient, you see.” The mask is near perfect, but the truth of it is this— it seems like nothing is ever easy, anymore.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

    Battista blinked, surprised to be asked such a question. “How do I feel about any endless war? It’s pointless and painful, and it’s getting good people killed.” The answer seemed so simple, said aloud like that. It made him grimace. “Reductive, sure. Do I wish death on every hypocritical man-of-the-people Capulet? No. Maybe more than a few, but not all. I know the Montagues aren’t saints either, singularly or as a whole.” A sardonic laugh. “And I know if it had been me that was murdered, or if it had been Daly or Rosso, King, Ivarsson — we wouldn’t have gone to war over something so destructive as pride.” His gaze grew distant for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. The remainder of his little speech is little more than a murmur: “but I follow orders, and I keep my mouth shut, and these are the things that matter.”

In-Character Para Sample: TW; descriptive injury, death, gore

    The firefight started at 0243 in the streets of a decrepit, abandoned town with crumbling buildings and dusty roads. They were on patrol with some locals— him, Rossi, the snipers they called Rana and Rospo, and a few others scattered among the buildings. Rossi was pink-cheeked and bright, sighing out great clouds of crystalline breath in the cold moonlight from the cloudless sky, making bad jokes about being a dragon. Their lack of quality couldn’t keep the small grin from Tahan’s face, something half-cocked and tucked into his collar. Rospo had asked if he’d ever seen snow with something close to incredulity in his tone, about as much expression as they’d ever seen from the man, and Rossi’s wide-eyed reply was punched out of him before he’d even had a chance to get the first word out, a fine red mist splattering onto Tahan’s face.

    Then they heard the shot.

    It spurred their loose formation into action as they leaped to cover and following the trajectory of the bullet to its source. The night erupted into sound, the sharp rapport of an AK-47 in a window off to the left. Their squad returned fire, and Tahan fell into a crouch and darted the two feet separating him from Rossi, gripped the straps of his gear, and dragged him into a doorway behind a grim Rana and one of the trainees, Allaiwal. He crouched over the man and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat when he saw the damage — glassy brown eyes, no breath, an entry wound an inch under his jaw and an exit wound gaping where his brain stem should have been. He’d seen worse. He had to tell himself that to get his lungs to pull in some air, and when he licked his lips to try and wet his mouth, he could taste blood. He nearly gagged on it, but he still had a job to do.

    The firefight was over before it really began. A half dozen men firing on a lone window could only miss so many times in five seconds, and when the night quieted Tahan let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He carefully ran his hand over Rossi’s eyes to close them, a smear of blood left behind over a slack face. Grit his teeth, gripped his rifle. The night rang with shouted commands, suggestions, curses, and his voice cut through it all in short, barked out commands. Fan out, check for any more surprises— Rana, call for a CASEVAC, Allaiwal, you’re with me. The slighter man shadowed him with a silent nod, and everyone else jumped to their assignments.

    Tahan led them to the squat building with his rifle ready, grip steady. Focused. The initial screech of the hinges on the door made him cringe, but as they stepped over the threshold and into the dark, the house remained silent. Blood was smeared on the windowsill, on the ground. Bullet holes riddled the wall behind them, and the room smelled like gunsmoke, like unwashed bodies lying in wait, like death.

    But there was no body.

    They exchanged glances, Tahan’s flat, Allaiwal’s a little nervous. They didn’t speak, but as he stalked back into the night after the scattered blood trail, Allaiwal followed. Their footsteps made no sound in the streets, two hunters on the prowl under the pale moonlight, and the sounds of their team clearing the buildings behind them faded into the distance. They were breaking protocol. Nobody called them back.

    The specks of blood led them out of town. His body was steady, his eyes focused, even as his head felt fizzy and light, pulse pounding somewhere high in his throat and his heart stuttering away somewhere in his chest. The wind picked up away from the shelter of the cluster of solid buildings, cutting against the skin of his cheeks, his nose, his neck. The blood led them on, great globs of clotting and widespread speckling among the scattered stones and dry dirt. The gore on his face, the bits of Rossi that still clung to his skin were drying into flakes, gumming his eyelashes and glueing his mouth shut. He breathed through his nose, though for the first time in his life the smell of copper was making his stomach roll. The trail led on, into the dark. It dried up, and he circled to look for the trail, as Allaiwal kept eyes on the ridges, looking for movement, for an ambush. Something howled in the distance. He picked up the trail fifty meters from the last spot, just as he was starting to lose something he didn’t dare call hope. They pressed on.

    They found the man half by accident when Tahan nearly tumbled into the ravine that had put an end to him. Allaiwal gripped his sleeve and saved his life, roughly jerking him back and putting his feet on solid ground. The near-miss set his heart pounding once more, choking him. He stared down at the corpse as they clutched each other’s shoulders, unable to tear his eyes away from the twisted form, the broken bones, and the gaping wound in the nameless stranger’s shoulder that would have put an end to him sooner rather than later, if the fall hadn’t. He swallowed hard, and tried to feel something. Satisfaction, disgust. He couldn’t.    Allaiwal must have seen something on his face, because he stuttered something out. Tahan couldn’t understand him for a moment, blinked uselessly, realised— he was speaking english.

    “ — Sorry?”

    “I said —” he swallowed hard, as the whites of his eyes seemingly took up all of his face. “Do not worry, someone will come to bury him. We should go.”

    The percussive sound of a chopper echoed faintly through the valley, and he turned his gaze up to the ridge above them. There, on the edge: a lone rider on horseback, a black shape silhouetted by the moon. He raised his hand in greeting, and Allaiwal made a nervous sound behind him. The rider raised their hand back, and then turned and disappeared from view, and silence reigned, and so he thought about Rossi, being sent home to his mother in a heavy box. He thought about standing on her doorstep in Taranto with an apology on his lips and heaviness in his weary heart. It pressed on his chest, and he turned his gaze back to the corpse in the ravine, bile in his throat at the futility of a single man shooting at a six man cell, of dying alone. What was the fucking point of it all?

    Worry? I wouldn’t say worried.

    It was the first clear thought he had since dragging a corpse into a cold, empty house an hour ago, and so Tahan didn’t say anything. He shrugged one shoulder, turned his back on the cooling body, and followed a similarly silent Allaiwal back to the remains of their squad in that tiny, forgotten town.

EXTRAS

Sample blog |  https://cuorepietoso.tumblr.com/

Some headcanons | He has kept a journal since he was small, scribbled words about his thoughts, messy sketches of the things he’s seen—used to love spending hours drawing people, animals, plants, items that caught his eye, and writing. Since he’s come back to Verona, he can’t seem to put a pen to paper anymore. Perhaps he should try photography? \ He’s a Capricorn sun, Scorpio moon and ascending, so at the surface he seems fundamentally responsible, serious, efficient, and rational, but deep down he’s repressed, dramatic, and cunning as hell. \ His role in the Col Moschin was Incursor-specialized Combat Medic, meaning he was good at getting into places and good at keeping things inside people where they belong. \ He’s nearing six feet and a buck seventy.

Pinterest board | https://pin.it/3vvntdclvgej3i

Spotify playlist | https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vJ07jCsvhHWU5NtsxxSLE

Preliminary notes/research | https://docs.google.com/document/d/1l4m0F-m0FdHLUNBlWTnw-hugOSu4GbC1uZbPg9VFV6c/edit?usp=sharing

[the-digimon-tamer]

Chapter 38 - Data Processing is out now on FanFiction.Net and ArchiveOfOurOwn! Check them out with the links or find it after the break!

Title: The Tamer v2.0 - In HIs Name

Fandom: Digimon

Rating: T

Synopsis: In the next adventure of the Digimon Tamer, the lives of Juri, Rika, and Henry change forever when digimon begin crossing over into the human world. But it’s all just a story, right? Just a book series by an author no one has seen in a long time. Why are they here and can they save their world before something worse follows the digimon?

Juri sat inside the train car - or rather watched herself inside the train car. It was the strangest perception as she had no present control over her own body, but she was still able to see with her own eyes. Smell the rusted metal of the train car with her nose. Hear the sounds coming from outside. It was a horrifying sensation to not be in control, helplessly watching as whatever was controlling her used her body to do who knew what. How could this happen? Why was it happening to her? What did she do to deserve...no, she knew what she did to deserve this. It was destiny, after all. Like her partner Leomon. Like the real Takato. Like her mother. This was punishment, wasn’t it?

“Agents have been deployed throughout the area for observation. Juri. Your cooperation is demanded. Please, assist with the identification of the objects so that they can be further understood,” she heard herself say. The voice in her head. The one that was using her body as it saw fit. Before she could reply, her brain was racked with images. Hundreds of images all at once - all of different places, people, and things around Tokyo. It was too fast. She could barely make sense of it and she wanted to scream in agony as the images continued to fly by. It was like someone was hitting her in the head with a hammer repeatedly. Each image was another painful blow that made her feel like she was going to pass out.

“Juri. Your cooperation is demanded,” the voice said again, its voice carrying heavy disapproval. That was just what she needed - to hear herself be disappointed in her. But that thought barely lasted with the pain of each image flying through her head.

“It’s too much. It hurts! Please make it stop!” she thought to herself.

“Pain noted. Adjusting flow of information to accommodate human limitation,” the voice answered. The images still flashed through her mind. So fast and so quick that she could feel her head about to split open from the pain. She screamed. Or tried to anyway. 

“Life form identified as Juri. Material is being processed at a rate of one hundred images per millisecond. You will begin identification,” the voice commanded. Her head hurt from the unbearable pain she was enduring. The images started flashing again, too fast for her to even get a good look at any of them.  She just wanted it to stop. Why wouldn’t it stop the pain? 

“It’s too fast,” she whimpered again, “It hurts. It’s too much. Please stop! Please!”

The voice was unamused and growled, “The frailty of your mind is noted, along with its limited processing abilities. Image processing is currently running at one percent efficiency. Reducing to zero point zero zero zero one percent efficiency. Begin identification. Now.”

The images came again, this time slowly and deliberately. She wanted this pace to remain so she began naming things out of fear of earning its ire, “A motorcycle. A car. An oak tree. The Japanese flag. A police officer. Some office worker.”

Was this her life now? Was this what it was like for Tamerkato? No, Tamerkato was at least able to fight off the angry motorcycle. He was able to retain some modicum of control. And she wasn’t anything like him - not if even one of those stories were true. No, of course they were true. She had seen for herself how dangerous he could be first hand. She was nothing like that. So she resigned herself to her fate of identifying every image that came through her mind. At least it wasn’t painful.

“Juri, why do you continue to focus on this concept of fate and destiny?” the voice asked again. Juri was unsure how to answer the question. The voice pressed, “Since you relinquished control of your body, your mind has spent approximately eighty percent of its non-vital functions ruminating on the concept of fate and destiny. Is there a reason to this?”

She supposed she did. But then what did it matter to the voice? Why would it care what she was? After she was silent, the voice pressed, “Are you by chance a fatalist?”

“Fatalist?” Juri repeated stupidly. The voice was losing its patience as it asked, “Fatalists ascribe to the doctrine of determinism - the notion that all events and actions are linked together by the causal chain of destiny or fate. Is this the reason for your obsession?”

“I...no,” Juri would’ve shook her head if she were able to.

“And yet your mind continues to focus heavily on destiny and fate. Why is that?”

She fumbled out an answer as she spoke, “I…I’m just not sure if this was always going to happen. Ever since…I just don’t know how much control I really have over anything I do. Not since…”

She paused again, trying to gather her thoughts amid the headaches and confusion. The voice spoke again and this time began by addressing, “Your thoughts have shifted to another. An older female. Perhaps an older version of yourself? No. That’s incorrect, the probability is unlikely to be the root cause. A paternal figure? Yes, a paternal figure. Your mother…she passed away when you were young.”

Juri didn’t want to think about this. She didn’t want to dwell on this subject. She didn’t want to be reminded of her deceased mother or the possibility that her death was unavoidable. The world around her went dark - descending into a cold abyss until she found herself in a dim, white room that smelled of antiseptic. The room seemed so large…no, she was small. She looked down at her hands and found that they were moving under her control. She was in control again. How? How was this possible? And why was she so small?

“What is this?” she murmured, looking around the room. The curtains were drawn to block out the light, but she could still make out the vague outline of someone there. Her father? Yes, her father - standing somberly over a bed. A hospital bed. Juri’s blood froze, her heart stopping in her chest, and the fear came back, “What’s happening? How am I here?”

“This is a memory,” the voice replied, “We are examining your memories carefully to determine the source of your fatalist attitude.”

“No!” Juri shrieked out loud. She didn’t want to relive this. Not this. Not this day. She didn’t want to relive this horrible moment. Anything but this.

“Mommy’s not coming home, sweetheart,” her father said quietly, without looking away from the person lying on the bed. It was then that Juri noticed the arm hanging limply from under the sheets. She’d forgotten about it - how cold and lifeless it seemed to be. She’d been too busy dreading the other parts of this memory - and it only served to make it worse. She wanted to plead with him, to stop this memory from continuing, “Dad, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Juri,” her dad said, putting a hand on her head. In any other situation, it would’ve been comforting. But here. It just made her feel patronized - her father wasn’t thinking about her in his grief. His apology was hollow - he was just talking to keep himself from collapsing into tears and breaking down further. Her father added, “Maybe that’s just how things were meant to be. Maybe that was her destiny. She just wasn’t strong enough.”

“Destiny?” she repeated from memory. Her father answered, “Destiny is something no one can run from. It catches up to us in the end. And it’s the destiny of all things to die. It was just her time. Her destiny to die.”

“There is truth to your father’s words,” the voice spoke, “Death is a fact of life.”

Juri shivered, “I don’t want to remember this.”

“Your mother died. What part of that bothers you?” the voice demanded, “It would seem your fixation on destiny could be due to the realization of your own mortality - a subject matter that often afflicts life forms with feelings of intense distress. It would appear that the reason for this fixation is that you never properly learned to deal with this distress and therefore fixated on destiny or fate as a rationalization. However your rationalization only served to hinder you from achieving your true potential.”

Juri tried to tune this all out. She didn’t want to hear this anymore. She didn’t want to be a part of this. Her father turned to face her. She remembered the stoic look on his face trying to hold back tears and emotion. He didn’t have that this time. He didn’t have anything. It was just a horrifically blank face. Then the skin began to tear itself apart where its mouth would’ve been - and inside was an endless sea of horribly misshapen eyes that spoke to her in her own voice, “It is fact, Juri. All things will die. You were born to die. That is your ultimate fate. There is no reason to fear it. You may even find liberation in accepting that!”

She could think of several reasons right now why she should be very afraid of what was in front of her. The inhuman movements of the mouthlike hole wasn’t helping anything, “Rejoice in your mortality. There is no reason to cling to life. Instead, use your life in service to a greater good. Serve your purpose, Juri. Death is your destiny, regardless. But you are not there yet. There is still time to do some good with your life.”

This thing was not good at making compelling arguments. In fact, she couldn’t focus on anything it was saying because of how terrified she was. All she wanted was for all of this to stop.

“Let us resume,” its voice echoed.

...

Cyberdramon, Rapidmon, and Taomon attacked the bird creatures with everything they had but none of it mattered. The damn things moved too quickly to hit and the ones they could hit barely seemed affected by their attacks. Even with the relevant upgrades to their speed and strength, all they were really managing to do was just barely keep up with them. And worst of all was the fact that they were endless. 

The soldiers below still held their ground, firing skyward into the flocks although it was anyone’s guess if they were actually hitting anything. Military vehicles came in to reinforce their line: tanks fired their cannons into the sky while gunners emptied their machine guns. However, the attacks were accomplishing nothing against the endless flock of bird creatures soaring out of the mess. The few hits that made their mark weren’t doing any good.

“What are these dumb things even doing? They’re not attacking!” Rapidmon pointed out angrily, frustrated that their efforts were pointless and beginning to think their passivity was mocking in nature. Taomon gestured at a few of them that were sitting idly and explained, “They’re scouts. Spies gathering information for that...thing. Once it has what it needs, it’ll attack us with everything it has.”

“Oh great. Because these guys being tough to hurt wasn’t bad enough,” Rapidmon groaned, still firing his barrage endlessly. Cyberdramon latched onto one of the birds and dragged it across the side of the building - managing to at least scratch the surface layer of its body but otherwise barely hurting it, “Less lip! More hit!”

Once he ran out of building, he threw the bird with all his might straight into another bird, only to watch them bounce off each other and continue on like nothing happened. Cyberdramon growled, “Why isn’t this working? Why won’t they break? WHY WON’T THEY DIE!? KILL! KILL! KILL!”

...

“Hey Ryo! You’re not stewing in your anger again, are you?” Henry called out to him. Ryo’s fists tightened as he grumbled, “Sorry, it’s just...I know that Tamer is involved in this somehow! I just know he’s responsible. Either he knew and he let it happen, or he caused it.”

“We don’t know that for sure!” Henry reasoned with him, “And even if he is responsible, getting angry won’t do us any good unless you plan on letting Cyberdramon run around on a rampage throughout the city!” 

Rika punched him in the shoulder, “He’s right! So calm down, Ryo!”

“Right, right,” he nodded sheepishly, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down but knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to let go of the fact that this was all Tamer’s fault. He needed to calm down. Calm down. Just breathe. 

BOOM!

While he’d been trying to calm himself, a tank rolled up beside them and fired its cannon up at the flock of birds. It missed of course, the shell soaring through the air and hitting the red mass where it exploded loudly. It was hard to calm down when guns were firing away all around them. Soldiers ran past them with guns, firing away at the flock of birds and one of them shouted, “Hey! You kids get out of here! Itami! Get these kids out of here!”

A young man ran up to them and tried ushering them back, “You heard him kids. Scram! Come on!”

“Are you kidding? We just had this discussion!” Rika groaned in disbelief, “Why can’t you guys just let us do our thing? Hell, we’re doing a better job than you guys are! Those are our partners up there fighting that damn thing and you want us to leave?”

The soldier looked down at her with wide eyed surprise, shaking his head as he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, “I’m sure. Now let’s go!”

He grabbed a hold of Henry before he had time to protest and he tried to carry them away from the fighting. Thinking quickly, Ryo kicked the soldier in the shin so that he dropped both of them, “Run!”

The soldier cursed as he massaged his leg, barking for help from the other soldiers in his unit. Realizing the trouble they were in, Rika and Henry raced after Ryo down the street with some soldiers running after them. Henry had a small chance to look up at their partners and shout, “Guys! There’s too many soldiers here! We have to go!”

“I am a warrior! I do not retreat!” Cyberdramon howled back at the top of his lungs, “They run from me! I will make them fear me!”

“Hostile! Incoming! Ten o’clock high!” one of the soldiers shouted, raising his rifle to target the digimon. Ryo shouted out at him, “Cyberdramon! We need to go! Now!”

“I can do this!” Cyberdramon roared back. The first few shots were fired and hit the Ultimate in the back. He roared in anger and turned on the soldiers. Ryo pleases with him again, “Don't attack! Cyberdramon! We need to go! Don’t make it worse and attack humans!”

“Attack them!? They’re attacking me!” the ultimate level dragon protested in anger at being ignored. There was no time. He wasn’t going to listen. Taomon wasted no time and slammed her brush against the dragon’s head - not quite knocking him out but giving him some context for their situation. He growled in agreement, “Fine! We’ll go!”

The soldiers continued to fire upon the digimon until Taomon descended and used her brush to draw a magical field around - creating a bubble that lifted them up into the air and away from the fighting. They fled from the fighting, retreating across the city and away from soldiers charging into battle as citizens ran in terror. And ever direction they looked was filled with those bird things flying in every conceivable direction to block every route of escape. Eventually, Rika pointed out a clear alley, “There!”

“Going!” Taomon agreed, setting them in the alley. The moment they were free, Ryo groaned and kicked over a garbage can, “This is a mess. How can we stop this thing if every new soldier that shows up starts shooting at us?”

“Well what else are we supposed to do? We’ll just have to keep explaining that we’re there to help and hope we don’t keep getting dragged away,” Henry reasoned. Rapidmon sighed, “Yeah, easy for you to say when you’re not the one getting shot at.”

“Excuse me…are you kids…uh, what was it again?” 

They looked off to the side to see a young woman with short brown hair wearing a black suit. She was young, possibly in her mid twenties, and didn’t look at all like any of the government agents they’d become used to seeing in the last few days. However, she did have a gun holstered on her belt and they could see a red armband with a leaf symbol around her left shoulder. She reach into her coat pocket to retrieve a notepad and read aloud from it, “Found it. Are you guys Jiangliang…Lee…Ruki…Izumi? Wait, I mean Makino! No, it’s Nonaka!? Man, my handwriting really does suck. Forget that.  And…Ryo Akiyama. Well, at least one of you has a normal name. Anyway, are you them?”

They looked between each other and this strange woman dressed in a her formal black suit. She dressed like the government agents but she didn’t carry herself like one. Hell, she was probably barely older than their teacher. Henry raised an eyebrow, “That depends. Who are you?”

“Let’s see: cautious, orange vest, skeptical…that would make you Jiangliang,” the woman rattled off. Rapidmon leaned into his partner, “Wow, she’s got your number.”

“Yeah, and I bet the giant green robot rabbit didn’t have anything to do with it,” Henry fired back. The woman flicked closed her notebook, “Nah, it was completely the digimon. Which make you Ryo and you Ruki. Anyway, I need you all to come with me.”

“Go with you? You haven’t even told us who you are!” Ryo practically shouted at her. The woman snickered, “You’re right, I didn’t. My name’s not important. What is important is who I represent: Burnt Leaf. We’ve been keeping an eye on you kids for a while. Well, most of you. You’ve been missing for a while Mister Akiyama and we had a hell of a time tracking you down. Imagine our surprise when you showed up out of the blue one day. Or should I say flash of light?”

“Is it amazing how little that explains?” Taomon pointed out. The woman laughed, “You can address me as M if it means so much to you.”

“You’re from that organization,” Rika gasped, pointing at her arm band, “Burnt Leaf.”

“Yeah, I just said that,” M answered.

“You know who she is, Rika?” Ryo asked her. Rika nodded and went on, “They got mentioned once in that book. The unpopular one. Last time it was a guy named Hokage. So who are you?”

“He’s my boss. He’s kinda tied up with this mess so I’m here instead,” M explained, “We’ve been slowing down Hypnos’ attempts to track you kids and hindering them wherever we could. But we’re kind of in a tough spot at the moment. So I’m here to escort you back to the Hypnos Program.”

“Wait, if you’ve been hindering them - why are you taking us to them?” Taomon asked. M motioned for them to follow and said, “I’ll tell you on the way. And can you guys shrink down for crying out loud? You three stand out like sore thumbs.”

Cyberdramon looked ready to pounce but was held back by Taomon, though this didn’t stop Rapidmon from trying to throw a piece of garbage at the woman. Sadly, he missed by a mile and the woman kept on walking. 

Ryo looked at Rika for some kind of explanation, unsure if they could trust the new woman. It didn’t help that she looked just as weary of the new woman as he did. He scratched his head, “Well, Rika. You’re the expert on that book. Do we trust her?”

“Tamer did,” Rika folded her arms, “In the book, he trusted them…well…he was going to trust them. The book got trippy in that part - something about the future and the past and multiple meetings. It was weird.”

“Okay, but can we trust them?” Ryo repeated, trying to wrap his head around the explanation. Rika paused for a moment, putting her hand to her chin and becoming contemplative, “What choice do we have?” 

Ryo didn’t like that answer, “We have plenty of choices!”

Taomon patted Rika on the head, “I say we follow her. If The Digimon Tamer trusted them, then that’s enough for me.”

“You know we don’t share your optimism, right?” Rapidmon pointed out. Taomon stifled a laugh, “I suppose not. All the same, I’m going.”

“Wherever Taomon goes, I go,” Rika agreed. M called back, “If you’re coming, please shrink your partners down! They can’t fit in the SUV like this.”

…

Impmon ran all night, like he’d never fled before. He’d seen enough horrible things in the Digital World to know he didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing. Not after what he’d seen in the memory - a lifetime of knowing nothing he did would matter because he was simply a plaything for the universe at large. He knew it was the other guy’s memory, not his, but it blurred so seamlessly with his own memories that he wasn’t entirely sure of that fact. 

Was he even Impmon? Yes, of course he was. There was no doubt about that.

But again the memories came back to haunt him and he couldn’t drown them out. Not after he’d fought the last monster in a fit of rage and lost terribly. What frustrated him the most was knowing that all of his acquired strength and skill amounted to nothing. That big lummox wiped the floor with him and then the others had to step in to save him!

Why? Why wasn’t it enough? Was he just doomed to be a failure like this? He hated it. And he hated himself just as much. No he wasn’t a failure. He knew that much. 

It was Ai and Mako’s fault. Who else would it be? If they had just been better partners. If they would quit bickering for five minutes. None of this would’ve happened. Maybe things would have been different. They could have been different. Maybe dwelling on their memory was what brought him to their home - some kind of subconscious act . 

Unfortunately he didn’t realize where he was going until he was already there - at the tree just over their backyard where he could look down at them. They were busy playing without a care in the world. Did they even know what was going on in the city right now? Probably not. They were just kids after all - they couldn’t even understand the concept of sharing. 

They were playing with a stuffed teddy bear and going about their day like two loving siblings. That was odd. They weren’t fighting over the teddy bear. In fact, they were playing some kind of pretend space adventure game with the teddy bear playing the part of an evil space pirate. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Nope. It was real. They were sharing their toy. 

He should’ve been proud. He wanted to feel pride. But the only emotion welling up inside of him was anger. Jealousy. Rage that he hadn’t been treated with the same kindness. Now they were sharing? Now they were getting along!? What!? Was he not good enough? Did he not deserve that kindness!?

“Ai! Mako!” their mother called, “Come inside! It’s snack time!”

Yeah, they definitely didn’t know. Their mother was busy making them snacks. That definitely meant they had no idea what kind of danger they were in. They cheered and rushed back inside, giving him the opportunity to leap down over to where they’d left their teddy lying on the grass. Impmon examined it bitterly, annoyed that it had been treated with such respect and care. He wished he could’ve had that, and the anger welled up  inside until he found himself kicking the doll repeatedly in a fit of anger. Then he stopped, realizing how to stupid he was being. He almost had to laugh.

Was this what he was reduced to? Taking out his frustration on stuffed animals? It made him want to kick the doll again in anger. But that would just prove the point wouldn’t it? Still, he kicked the doll anyway. He wanted to have some control over his life. To feel like he wasn’t some play thing for the world to use as it pleased - jokes it seemed.

“Impmon?” Mako’s little voice called out. He looked up from the doll and saw the little boy standing at the sliding glass door with a half eaten banana in hand. His eyes widened with excitement, “Ai! Impmon’s back!”

Impmon wanted to run, but his legs refused to move - either from fear or from shock, he knew he was unable to leave. Then Ai, Mako’s slightly older sister poked her head out from behind the glass door - crumbs and chocolate smeared all over her face. Her face lit up with a smile and she cheered, “Impmon! It’s you! You're back! Just in time because we’re having snacks!”

She ran back inside and returned holding a bowl of assorted fruit slices, crackers, and chocolate cookies. Impmon looked at the bowl quietly, then back up at the two kids who seemed excited by the prospect that he had finally returned. He didn’t know what to say to them. He expected anger, anguish, sadness…something - hell, he’d even settle to listening to them argue for a few minutes over who would get to play with him first. But they didn’t. 

They must’ve noticed his unease because both of their faces turned grim. Ai sheepishly asked, “Are you still mad at us?”

He blinked, surprised that they’d even considered that. Mako nodded in agreement, “That’s why you ran away the first time, right? You were mad at us for always fighting and never getting along. That’s why you ran away.”

There was a lot to unpack there - the biggest thing was the fact that they’d realized it perfectly without him needing to spell it out for them. Ai set the bowl down on the ground in front of him, “We’re sorry Impmon. Please don’t be mad anymore.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this. Mostly because this show of humility was completely foreign to him. Still, watching them apologize and practically ready to cry made him realize how guilty he felt. He didn’t want to be responsible for hurting anyone else - not even their feelings - so he quietly took one of the sliced apples and started munching. After he swallowed the first bite, he apologized, “I’m...sorry I left.”

“No, we’re sorry. It’s our fault,” Ai answered, hanging her head quietly, “We didn’t mean to make you run away. We just wanted to play with you. And we scared you away. We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t fight anymore so please don’t leave again!” Mako added pleadingly. Impmon continued to quietly eat the apple. He didn’t want to promise that. What if he had to leave? What if they started fighting again? He couldn’t bring himself to be responsible for hurting anyone else. But he also didn’t want to leave - not when he knew what was out there. And if he left...what would happen to Mako and Ai? These two kids all the way on the edge of the city, far away from everything that was going on. The world was ending just a few miles away and they probably had no idea. Hell, their parents had probably avoided telling them just to keep them from panicking. 

The thought of their scared, crying faces compelled him to answer, “Okay.”

He didn’t want to agree to stay, but right now he didn’t care. All he wanted was to forget about the past, forget about all his problems…to start over. He picked up the bowl of snacks and offered it back to the two kids.

...

Takeru and the rest of the digimon made their way up the hill, listening to the loud noise on the other side. It was like a roar of thunder, accompanied by strong winds and dark clouds swirling overhead. They weren’t sure what the commotion was - all they knew was that whole sections of the Digital World were abandoned - as if everyone had left. And then the noise came in the distance, like a low distant rumble accompanied by flashes of light in the distance. 

As the reached the top of the hill, they found themselves looking over what could only be called a massive battlefield occupied by countless digimon. It was crazy enough when they saw the mega level MetalSeadramon and WarGreymon in the mix, but then they saw hundreds of them. Countless MetalSeadramon and WarGreymon among a sea of mega level digimon fighting some amorphous red blob that covered the Digital World.

And the red blob was winning. It didn’t matter how many digimon threw their strongest attacks at it - the red mass would either eat the attack or retaliate with a blast of red fire. It was like trying to fight a rising tide of a blazing fire - everything they could do either did nothing or made it stronger.

Takeru’s heart sank at the sight of it. No, that wasn’t right. It froze - stopped in terror. This…this was not something he’d ever thought to be prepared for. This was something years of experience could not prepare him for. All the other enemies they had faced in the past could at least be understood - Apocalymon, Myotismon, Devimon. This…this was like a force of nature.

He wanted to help. He needed to help. But this…this was beyond him. He’d never seen so much death, despair, and carnage in one place. He froze as he realized he didn’t know what to do. The other digimon seemed just as lost and scared by the sight before them. After all, there were countless mega level digimon fighting and they were doing nothing against it. What good would a few more do? How could they save the Digital World when the only thing they had to offer was just a drop of water in a bucket that was failing.

He would have to be like The Digimon Tamer. He would need to be unpredictable. But how could he outwit or outthink something that was so alien, he wasn’t even sure it was alive? As he tried to process what he was looking at, a flash of light beside him alerted him to the arrival of a more than welcome sight, “TK!”

“Tamer!” he called out, still trying to make sense of what was going on, “What the hell is going on?”

Tamer took one look around them and answered grimly, “You just answered your own question there, Takeru.”

“Tamer! What is all this?” Gatomon demanded angrily. Tamer sighed and gestured around them, “Death. And hell is following it. That’s not hyperbole either - that thing is death! Literally! It exists to destroy Digital Life!”

“So are you just going to talk all pretentious or are you going to do anything helpful?” Gomamon asked, “Seriously...your talk is more obnoxious that Izzy!”

“Take that back!” Tentomon smacked him across the back of the head. Gomamon groaned in pain until Palmon lifted them both up into the air, “Focus guys! Tamer’s here! That means trouble! Pay attention! I want to see Mimi!”

“First he’s got to drop the metaphors!” Gatomon complained.

“That wasn’t a metaphor,” Tamer pointed at the red mass the countless digimon were fighting, “That thing...the Ancients had a couple of names for it. Death was one of them. Found out it’s name is the D-Reaper…kinda anti-climactic really. Sorry, lost focus. Back to the subject! This thing. It’s in the Real World now.”

“How? You need a digivice to travel between worlds!” Takeru asked in disbelief, holding up his digivice to emphasize his point. Tamer waved a finger, “There’s more than one wat to cross the boundary. And I think this one might be my fault.”

“Because of course it is,” Gatomon threw up her hands in disgust. Tamer’s shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his head sheepishly, “Yeah. Anyway, the human World is in trouble. More trouble than the Digital World. The Digital World has all powerful digimon. The human world doesn’t...I...look, they need your help.”

“Deal!” Veemon spurted our quickly, until he was pulled back by both Gatomon and Palmon, “Are you crazy?”

“I’m in too!” Wormmon nodded. Now he was the one getting looks as Gomamon turned his head, “Really?”

“Yeah, I figured you guys would put up more of a fight that,” Tamer admitted sheepishly. Veemon wriggled free enough to add, “We all know what you’re going to shay. You need ush to go back to the human world and help shave it. I’m in. I want to shee Davish again!”

“I...Huh...anyone object?” Tamer stumbled, obviously taken aback by the sudden change of heart of the digimon. Takeru watched the remaining digimon confer quietly amongst themselves until Gomamon asked, “And this isn’t a trick?”

“No...why would it be?” Tamer shook his head, offended by the accusation. 

“You do have a habit of using us,” Gomamon said accusingly. He had a point there and Tamer didn’t seem to know how to answer that one, “You have a point. I’m not going to force any of you to do something you don’t want to-”

Takeru cut him off, “No, I think it’s time we headed back. If the others are in trouble then it’s time I was there with them. That we were there with them. Before it’s too late.”

“By the way, what’s going on with the other guys? Those kids you were with?” Armadillomon asked. Tamer raised up his digivice, “Yeah…we’re not exactly talking right now. Which is kinda the reason I’m getting you guys.”

“Oh, did they finally smarten up?” Gatomon hissed. Tamer’s shoulders slumped, “Truth is…everything I touch has a habit of going from bad to worse. But they need help. I don’t want to get involved because what if it ends up hurting them? But you guys? Not only could you help them, they’d probably love the chance to fight alongside you!”

“We’re more interested in seeing our partners,” Armadillomon pointed out, earning a cavalcade of nods from the other digimon. Wormmon added, “Besides, it sounds like you just want to use us.”

“That’s not it!” Tamer insisted, pausing again to take a breath, “Look, how about this? I’ll just bring you guys to your partners in the Real World. If you guys don’t want to fight, you’re free to choose not to. You can just be with your partners. Deal?”

The digimon looked between themselves and nodded in agreement, “Alright!”

“Okay,” Tamer held out his digivice, “Next stop! The Human World! Digiport Open!”

[rogsclogs]

Some Day One Day (Brian May x Reader); Part 3.

Taglist: @brighter-thanthe-sky @im-a-sheerheartattack @fruityfreddie @discodeacygotmorerhythm (if you want to be added please message me privately)

to read the previous parts, just look up “Some day one day” within my tags :)

Feedback is highly highly appreciated, so I would love it if you could let me know what you think of the story so far! Thank youuuuu

Brian didn't like talking about his personal life, not in general and especially not with his students, mainly because he wanted to keep their relationship as professional and school based as possible, but also because he wasn’t too good at expressing emotions and feelings, and he didn't like when people would try to read him and figure him out regardless.

He wasn't even good at that with his ex wife, who he’d been married to for over ten years before he found her in bed with one of his colleagues on a cold and rainy September evening as he got back home from school. He’d been utterly devastated and his faith in women and people in general had crumbled before him, but he had tried to bottle all of his sadness up and not let anyone else suffer from it. Especially not his daughter, the only good thing to come out of his terrible marriage (it hadn’t always been terrible, of course. The first few years were some of the best of his life and then when Emily had come along he thought it wouldn’t get any better than that, but he didn't like to remember the good times considering how little his ex wife seemed to have cared about them).

Thinking back on it, he probably made a mistake when he proposed to Chrissie, but he really thought they’d be good for each other in the long run and he wanted his parents to be proud of him for once. They had never been, not when he got his PhD in astrophysics, not when he invited them to go see him play with his band and not when he first introduced them to their niece, so he should have just given up from the beginning, but that wasn't like him. They would much rather find something to complain about in everything he did rather than support him and love him like parents should, and because of that he was ready to give his daughter all the love he’d been lacking from his relationship with his parents and his marriage. When Chrissie left them, he had to learn how to be a dad and a mom, he had to learn how to manage his life at home and the one he had at school, how to balance all his duties and how to take care of the most precious creature he’d ever laid his eyes on, but it wasn’t an easy task and it took a toll on him, especially when she was very little, when he didn’t know what to do as she started crying or when she wanted her mommy, and he didn’t know what to tell her, so he just put on a wig and pretended to be a woman to make her laugh and to stop his own heart from aching.  The little girl was like a carbon copy of him and even though his ex wife had turned out to be a cheater, there was no doubt in his mind that Emily was his own flesh and blood, she had the same dark and thick hair that Brian himself didn't know how to tame (and he got upset when she would ask him to braid it for her and he couldn't do it, although she always assured him that it was okay) and the same curiosity as her dad, which got her in trouble every once in a while, but he was so proud and encouraging of her personality so it didn't really matter what anyone else had to say. He really loved the little girl more than he’d ever loved anything in life, so he was trying to learn a healthy way to cope with his emotions, mostly for her sake but also for his own.

So when he found himself in front of a sobbing Y/N, his paternal side came out without him even realizing as he gently sat her down on his chair and offered her a tissue to dry her tears with.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, no need to cry, everything is okay, I promise” she nodded at him, but still couldn't stop herself from being emotional, she’d been bottling up her frustration for so long and now it was all downing on her.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you Y/N, can I get you anything? A glass of water?” He asked as he franticly ran his sweaty hands on his jeans out of nervousness, but she was too busy thinking about how he’d just called her by her first name to notice anything weird about his attitude. Her name sounded so sweet coming from his lips, and she was so used to being Miss Y/L/N that the change felt almost comforting to her in a way.

“No, I’m fine Mr. May, thank you, I’m sorry for being an emotional mess, I didn't mean to break down like this”

“Brian” he softly spoke after letting her wipe away her tears with a napkin he’d given her.

“Excuse me?” 

“You can just call me Brian. I mean, lecture’s over and it’s just me and you so you can call me by my first name. If you want to, of course. Or you can just stick to Mr. May, it’s fine either way” he was getting sorta flustered thinking that he might have suggested something that overstepped a boundary, and it was absolutely adorable for her to watch.

She was perplexed, but loved the idea of being on a first name basis with him, it made her feel special and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but the crush she’d been developing on him prevented her from thinking completely straight, all she could focus on was how incredibly gorgeous he looked just wearing a plain white shirt and jeans and how lucky she was to be in his presence. 

“Alright Brian, I’m so sorry for causing a scene, I’ll just go now, I have homework to finish, you know” she joked as she stood up from the chair and started collecting her jacket and schoolbag. 

“Wait Y/N, sit back down I’m not done with you” his tone was much light hearted than before but he still needed to talk to her about some serious issues, and he wanted her to understand that. 

“Yeah, right, sorry, go on”

“Stop apologizing Y/N, you’re gonna be just fine” he could tell that she was still on edge around him, so he tried his best to act friendly (not that he could ever be very intimidating, but still) and lower his voice for her.

“So, I have noticed that lately something seems to be up with you, and I’m saying this in the least offensive way possible. I mean you used to ace each test and answer all my questions in class and always have your homework done even before it was due. I literally had to stop you from answering the questions before your classmates had a chance!” They both laughed at the memories of all the times Y/N wanted to show off and get noticed by Brian, knowing the best way to do so was to be impressively smart and raise her hand multiple times during class.

“What is going on? Can you tell me about it? Talk to me, I’m your professor but I’m still a human being and I can try to understand you. We can work through this” His dark brown eyes had grown softer since the beginning of their discussion and she found herself wanting to stare into them for as long as she could, but at the same time it was hard to keep eye contact, she felt ashamed of her actions and didn't want him scrutinizing her.

“I honestly wish I had an answer Brian. I don’t know why I’ve been doing so bad lately, at some point I got lost and started to struggle and couldn't grasp the concepts we were covering in class, but I figured I could get back on track by myself y’know so I never asked for any help”

“Ah, yes, that’s where you went wrong love, you should have talked to me as soon as you noticed that some things I was talking about were not making much sense to you” 

How did he expect her to be fine with him calling her love? Her heart was pretty much beating the living shit out of her ribcage and in that moment she knew she would never crave anything else in life as much as his voice calling her that.

“Did you ever consider getting a tutor?”

She snickered at his words, even the cheapest tutors available were more than she could ever even begin to afford, and there was no way in hell that her parents would help her out.

“Yeah, I did, but while the service offered by the headmaster is cheap, I’m afraid that it’s still more than I can afford. After all, I only work in the weekends and I barely make enough to make ends meet as it is.”

“What about your parents, Y/N? Don't you have someone who could help you with that? It is for your own good after all, and it’s an investment in your future education” 

“I know that very well Brian, but you see, my parents and I don’t really see eye to eye”

Brian was somewhat shocked by her words, he knew that she was a hard working person and a good student, after all he’d gotten to see all her grades from that semester, so he wondered what exactly her parents didn't approve of about her, but he should have known better, he was always in the wrong according to his parents too. 

“They don’t love the idea of me studying astrophysics, I guess they have sorta accepted it at this point because my other option was even less plausible to them, but there's just no way I can ask for their help, they already think they're doing too much to support me and I’d never hear the end of it. Also, if they knew I was struggling I’d be in deep shit” Y/N realized that using that kind of language around Brian was probably not the wisest choice and she wanted to apologize immediately, but he looked deep in thought and unfazed by her words, so she let it go. 

He knew what the girl was talking about, he’d had to go through similar things growing up and he remembered how much those things affected him, especially as a young man who was still unsure of what his place in the world would be.

He recognized the look on her face, he’d seen it in the mirror many times before and he felt compelled to do something for her, something that could restore her faith in adults and remind her that although some days it might feel like the whole world is against you, there's still someone out there willing to believe in you and cheer you up.

“Alright Y/N, I’m about to offer something to you that I have never offered anyone before, at least not since I have started my career, and I’m not quite sure I should even be asking you this, but would you.. maybe like me to help you out?”

“Help me out?” She was confused to say the least, she didn't even know why he was being so secretive about whatever kind of help he was offering, but she was intrigued.

“Yeah, with your coursework and stuff. I could essentially tutor you, free of charge of course” he tried to hide his nerves by offering her a gleaming and charming smile, but he was secretly scared she would call him names and never talk to him again after that, he wouldn't even blame her.

On the other hand, Y/N was quite content with his proposal, her heart dancing around in her chest and doing cartwheels whenever she raised her head to look at him and found his slim figure leaning on the desk with one hand in the back pocket of his jeans and the other one gently scratching his unshaved face. She wished she could reach out and do that too.

“Have I made this uncomfortable? I’m so sorry Y/N just pretend I never said-”

“I’d love it if you could do that for me” she didn't even realize that she’d taken so long to answer although her mind was made up the second he spoke.

“You- really?” A youthful and genuine sparkle in his eye caught her attention and made her smile back at him.

“Yeah, it would be irresponsible for me to give up such an opportunity. It is very kind of you to offer that Brian, thank you”

“You’re very welcome, Y/N, anything to help you gain your interest back, I know you can go far and I fully believe in you, so if I can help you out in any way I’m more than happy to do so”

His words sounded a bit too friendly to be coming from a professor having a regular conversation with one of his students, but Y/N stopped herself before she could read too much into it, knowing that path only led to self destruction and heartbreak. He was just trying to help a student in need, he would have done it with anyone else in her situation.

“Would you like to start on Monday? Maybe take some time this weekend to go through the last few topic we’ve covered and make a list of the things you don’t understand so we can go over them together, okay? We can meet after class in my office, so from 5 to 6, would that work for you?”

“It would work perfectly, thank you again, I really don't know what to say right now”

“No need to say anything, I’m happy to make this work. Just... maybe don't tell too many people about this. I mean, we know there’s nothing sketchy going on, but some people might twist it and-”

“Our little secret is safe with me, my lips are sealed” she teased and grinned at a very flustered Brian, he didn't need to be thinking about her lips right now. She put on her jacket and grabbed her backpack then started walking to the door.

“See you on Monday Mr. May” she found that she missed calling him that after all. She pulled out a cigarette from a pack and looked for the lighter that she always lost in her huge bag filled with books and notes and bobby pins from God only knows how long ago.

“Yeah, I’ll see you on Monday. Oh, and Miss Y/L/N?” She turned around to him with a questioning look as he pulled out a yellow colored lighter from one of his pockets and handed it to her.

“Smoking kills, you should quit”

[womeninpodcasting-blog]

Podcasting Research

When we live in a world of side hustles, accountability seems to be further and further from reach than ever. Who should be held responsible for gender discrimination in the podast business? Should it be the platforms that the programs are on, the individuals who run the podcast, or is it even possible to seek justice? Podcasts featuring women are not being showcased as much as men’s, and we must encourage women to follow their podcasting dreams through female leadership.

In most industries, it is rare to have an almost even split audience between genders. According to the Nielson and Edison studies, the percentage of podcast listeners between female and male are 48 percent and 52 percent respectively (Whitner). Sadly, this does not reflect the percentage of podcasts that feature women. Robin Kinnie, a prominent female podcast producer, conducted a study earlier this year and found that women only host 22 percent of podcasts (Kinnie). Statistics are pretty easy to come across, but the reasons behind them required more digging. Since podcasting is still a brand new entity to the world, there has only been a handful of sources documenting the issue regarding women in podcasts. With that being said, I had to discover these issues myself, and the sexist acts towards women in podcasts are happening right in front of our faces.

On the front page of Spotify’s, “Spotify Podcasting”, it’s stated that “Spotify was designed to help artists get discovered [...]” (Spotify), this is the sentence that inspired me to start fact-checking. Do they help the minority get discovered, or do they just promote the programs that generate the most revenue for them? I feel like you know where this is going.  

Now that I had a deeper understanding of some numbers, I went “undercover” in order to figure out why they were so low. To minimize suggested podcasts catered to my own Spotify account, I made a completely random email and signed up for Spotify. I then looked towards three podcast categories that related to the industries that women seemed to face some of the biggest adversity: business, music and comedy. Entering the business section of podcast seemed hopeful from the beginning, as the banner picture showcased a woman working on a computer, sleek and eye catching. 

Sadly, out of the top twenty business podcasts on the front page, zero of them featured a sole female host. Only three of the top twenty podcasts had a recurring female host alongside their male co-host (Spotify). On top of this, none of the podcasts featuring women showed a female as their picture, while twelve of the male-run programs featured both their picture and their name. Did Spotify actively choose to set their banner to a female to try and “balance” their decision to promote mostly men? 

Both the music and comedy sections were just as disappointing, each having only three of the top 20 suggested podcasts even featuring a female co-host, let alone a solely female-driven podcast. These findings left me disappointed and dumbfounded, and lead me to wonder about the cause. Since podcasting is a relatively new, the buzz about gender inequality within it is very minimal. I decided to look towards listeners’ reviews of podcasts to see if there was a difference between how they rated and talked about female hosted podcasts versus male. 

I was able to find (after a lot of searching in the library), an article in a magazine that has given dedicated space to talk about culture, race, sexuality, and other pressing topics in today’s society. This article was written by Nicholas Quah, and titled “10 Essential Conversational Podcasts That Shaped The Genre”. Out of the ten podcasts, Quah focuses on programs run by both men and women equally. With nothing but praise, he describes some of the male featured podcasts (both featuring white males might I add) as “[...] probing and revealing, collaborative and investigative, comprehensive and singular”, and another as “[...] one of the more interesting and innovative podcast creators in the business” (Quah). 

When describing female-driven podcasts, he describes a program run by two African American females as a “[...] rich space for sharp, compelling, and revelatory feats of cultural criticism”, and an “[...] exploration of all the things in our lives that we usually feel uncomfortable discussing” (Quah). The reviews of both the male and female podcasts were uplifting, inviting, and offered fair thoughts without bringing gender into the conversation. 

So, when the podcasts are out, they seem to get an overall same sort of treatment when it comes to reviews. Although fair in the research I’ve found, there is no doubt that there are people in the world that are very quick to switch a podcast simply because it features females. I then began to think about the responsibility of the mediums where podcasts live, and the roles they must take on when having hundreds of millions of listeners. Should companies such as Spotify and Apple Music be held liable for emotional and monetary damage based off of gender inequality in podcasting?

In a section of an Equal Rights Advocates pamphlet, gender inequality could include “[...] anguish, stress, anxiety, pain and suffering, loss of sleep, damage to your reputation, and loss of enjoyment of life resulting from discrimination” (Equal Rights Advocates). I’m certain countless women experience some, if not all of these, even simply due to the lack of representation as mentioned above, or from negative reviews based off of their gender. I don’t think that Spotify or Apple Music should be held fully liable for these damages, but they absolutely should take more measures to fairly represent women in podcasting. But even after looking out for those who do make that journey into podcasting, I was still hung up on why there are a lack of women. I went to Amazon to look into some books that people would read when starting a podcast, and right off the bat, it gave off some issues. 

With the authors of almost all of the top podcasting books on Amazon being male, it seemed a little intimidating and could be worrisome for some women to continue or follow their podcasting ventures. Mike Migas, the producer of a very popular podcast called “Casefile: True Crime”, is the author of one of the top podcasting books on Amazon. He began talking about why certain men, become famous radio hosts/podcasters, because of their “powerful and charismatic” voices (Migas 22), not even a mention about female podcasters. He then goes off on long tangents about the minute details of the frequencies the human ear can pick up, and putting across this falsely given pompous attitude.

In a lot of sections throughout this book, he comes across as pretty stern and “This is how it works, there’s no other way because we’re successful”. He also goes into a lot of meaningless details, in my opinion, to fill a book with pages that could be written in a quick Buzzfeed article. Another book, “Podcasting For Dummies: 3rd Edition” was the top selling book on podcasting on Amazon. In the author’s Tomasi and Morris’ “Getting The Right Gadgets” chapter, they begin to explain the specifics of the electrical equipment needed to get a podcast rolling. With their use of technical terms such as “Omnidirectional”,  “shock mounted microphone”, and “condenser microphone” (Morris, Tomasi 33), seems like it could scare people away from podcasting. 

I believe that the lack of female voices (quite literally) in the podcasting world is due to the fact that a lot of women feel intimidated and don’t feel as if their voices are respected. This could also stem from women being treated throughout history as having low intelligence and being incapable of doing things on their own (a statement that is disgusting and I hate that has happened in our world). We put so much pressure on the women who do actually end up making podcasts, and since it seems to be very few of them, if they’re not wildly successful, people are quick to blame gender. As a society, we need to encourage women to bring their ideas to life, and not only in the podcast world.

But only so much can be done by individuals who support women in podcasts, the companies that act as a home for podcasts must step up and address the issue as well. We cannot wait for Women’s History Month to get the world to care about these issues. In the same token, we have to find a way as a society to stop labeling and dividing accomplishments and projects to “female fronted” or “male leader”. Doing so forces people into deciding on whether on not to support them based off of gender alone. 

As there are over 73 million women listening to at least one podcast every week in the United States alone (Whitner), there are obviously a large amount of women wanting to learn and to be inspired. Liam Neiyemer, nicknamed ‘The Podfather’, addresses the issue perfectly in his article about sexism in podcasting, “The future and growth of podcasting depends on more female producers, hosts and storytellers in the industry”. We must lean on strong females that are going against criticism and following through with what they want to accomplish, and hope that females all over the world are inspired by their actions. 

Citations

Edison Research. “Women Podcast Listeners: Closing the Listening Gender Gap.” Edison Research, Edison Research, 22 Jan. 2019, www.edisonresearch.com/women-podcast-listeners-closing-the-listening-gender-gap/.

“Gender Discrimination at Work.” Equal Rights Advocates.

Kinnie, Robin. “The Growth of Women in Podcasting.” Podcast Business Journal, 26 Feb. 2019, podcastbusinessjournal.com/the-growth-of-women-in-podcasting/.

Migas, Mike. How to Start a Podcast: Practical Tips from the Producer of Casefile: True Crime Podcast. Independent, 2018.

Morris, Tee, and Chuck Tomasi. Podcasting For Dummies, 3rd Edition. For Dummies; 3 Edition, 2017.

Niemeyer, Liam. “Podfather Reviews: Sexism in Podcasting and What Needs to Change.” The Post, 16 Apr. 2018, www.thepostathens.com/article/2018/04/sexism-podcasting-stereotyping.

Quah, Nicholas. “10 Essential Conversation Podcasts That Shaped the Genre.” Vulture, 4 Oct. 2019.

“Spotify for Podcasters.” Spotify for Podcasters, podcasters.spotify.com/#targetText=Spotify%20has%20over%20200%20million,since%20the%20start%20of%202019.

Whitner, Gavin. “Podcast Statistics (2019) – Newest Available Data + Infographic.” Music Oomph, 5 Sept. 2019, musicoomph.com/podcast-statistics/.

[solitaire-dreams]

Pokespe Gold, Silver and Bronze? An Arc Progression Analysis

Hey readers! I'm back and ready to attack a long post that had a long time coming. It is time for the part 2 of my prediction for the Gen 8 Pokespe dexholders/dexholder analysis. I would recommend reading my previous “What Type are you?” but there is a recap below for need-to-know info. Skip to the asterisks if you've already read (thanks).

Grass type dexholder = character who has self-intrinsic motivation despite life pushing them down and the path to their goal doesn't hurt many people.

Fire type dexholder = character who tramples over anything or anyone in the way of their goal.

Water type dexholder = character who hides important information from other characters and is secretive.

Gen 8 Male Character Counterpart = water type

Gen 8 Female Character Counterpart = fire type

Relationship (platonic) between the two = more emotionally charged and dramatic than other pairs.

***Today in our analysis, part 2 looks at exploring the progression of Pokespe against the evolution of...comic books of all things...and how the sets of holders mirror the ages of comic books.

DISCLAIMER: I am personally not a fan of comic books, despite my love for the superhero shonen of BNHA, and all this information is extrapolated from online research. Also this post was inspired by a post on the dexholders opinions of the pokedex which I can't refind for the life of me because I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE THIS FREAKING SEARCH BAR CORRECTLY. Credits to them for inspiration. Somewhere out there.

SPOILERS BEWARE.

So, let's start at the beginning with the main arcs for our first three dexholder trios (RGB, GSC, and RS; with Yellow and Emerald to a lesser extent). These arcs represent the Golden Age equivalent in Pokespe.

The Golden Age (from the late 1930's to the middle of the 1950's) is described as the introduction of archetypes for the genre, and heroes and villains were depicted as very white and black in order to provide moral for a society in wartime.

While the original arcs of the manga were marketed towards 10 year olds in the 1990s-2000s instead of 10 year olds in the time of WW2, there is many of the same patterns in how they present the stories.

The RGB arc is the most shonen-esque out of all of them, where Red simply plays the role of the standard protagonist you've seen countless times and an episodic formula for chapters. The rival of Blue also feels standard by this definition and the conflict with Team Rocket is pretty black and white. Giovanni is a mafia boss who kidnapped an entire town, genetically engineered multiple Pokemon through harsh experiments, was willing to murder kids; and all for “The Glory of Team Rocket.”

GSC gives you the exact kind of story you expect with a shonen target market and a hot-headed + headstrong main protagonist (a f*ckboy). The main villain of the Masked Man who kidnapped children also keeps him firmly on the evil side and our protagonists who oppose him firmly on the good one.

Then while RS may have been unexpected for most readers, considering a secretive male protagonist clashing with a headstrong female protagonist, a stronger character focus and development was to be expected. Plus, despite Ruby initially ignoring the fight against the region and Norman (who I still maintain is a sh*tty parent and should not have been forgiven for his treatment of Ruby that easily) both are still painted on the side of good. Ruby does the closest in giving a complex protagonist, but by the time he locks Sapphire in the aircar and teams up with Courtney, the reader can understand he's still on the side of good.

Mainly, the reason they never seem too morally grey in the first arc is that the in universe characters do not address their flaws as in depth as they should. Plus, the villains of Maxie and Archie are both shown be extremely corrupt and willing to endanger their own for the end means; providing a level of villainy to overshadow the grey tones of Norman and Ruby.

The arcs are all often grouped together when talking about Pokespe as well because the first three regions of dexholders are the only ones that have actually interacted with one another. And the post which I CAN'T find classified their stance on the Pokedex as they take their roles as protectors of the region seriously and accept the responsibility.

This translates well into the Golden Age characterization as this view of all the dexholders makes them appear more noble than most; magnifying the heroic traits of dexholders and heightening the contrast with the villainous teams.

Next up in the timeline was the Silver Age. The notable features of the Silver Age (mid 1950's to 1970) are hard to peg down, but they conclude important aspects are: targeting a wider audience including girls and adults, science fiction overcoming gods and magic in use in stories, and the pop art style started in this time period.

The Silver Age honestly doesn't have much to apply to Pokespe, but the Silver Age is a transitional era for comic books, as its boxed in by the much more influential ages of the Golden and Bronze ages. For Pokespe, its version of the Silver Age does seem to adjust its target audience to a wider audience of kid Pokemon fans (as there isn't too much “mature” content in Sinnoh or Unova arcs). However, its new hook lies in “the power of friendship”; also noted in that elusive post.

The DPP arcs centres around a trio that all become very close friends, with the Pokedexs canonically serving a role to demonstrate the bond all three of the characters have developed. Plus, Dia is a protagonist who completes believes in friendship for all as he listens to Cyrus is the Platinium arc, possibly giving him the chance to amend his wrongs.

BW may not have a trio of great dexholder friends, but the connection that develops between Black and White have a strong focus, and Black's friends of Cheren and Bianca also have a strong present in the story and exhibit the friendship that exist all between them. Meanwhile, the power of friendship cannot really apply to Team Plasma, but they definitely manifest the transition from “evil for the sake evil” to “complex motives that may not make them evil”. Despite N being the near definition of “morally grey” in Pokemon, the manga keeps him in a dark enough light that the reader can't fully think of him outside of evil—unlike the game.

Following up the Unova adventures in B2W2, this arc does a better job of emphasizing friendship. While Lack-two/Blake claims to lack any emotions, I'm not sure if it would hold up to a power of friendship punch in his emotionless face. Whi-two/Whitley also learns a lot about becoming friends as she gets closer and opens up to Blake—despite it being a ploy for information—still pushes the friendship theme. The evil is team is dealt with better as well, because Whitley has sympathy for N and the old values of Team Plasma, being a former member herself; and we see one of the older members aid Hugh in his search for Purloin. By having the new terrorist branch of Team Plasma cover the evil, it allows the members who follow the previous values to be painted in a redeemable light.

Finally, we arrive at the two most recent arcs of XY and SM/USUM. Or the Bronze Age equivalent of Pokespe.

The Bronze Age (1970-1985) of comics is the one people who are fans may know fairly well. Darker plots returned in full forces, tackling more serious topics such as poverty, pollution, and dangerous substances. Heroes were also more flawed and complex than they had ever been; and villains were dipped deeper into grey.

And if you've read the XY arc, these traits are probably ringing some alarm bells. The arc was extremely dark, expanding on the games in a way they never managed to achieve. The main theme of the arc is the apathy of society and how its flawed, self-serving natures screws over anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in its wake. This stance that Team Flare took against society had radical actions (tons of it), but the sucky behaviors demonstrated by Kalos citizens in the manga prove society is far from perfect. The story of Emma/Essentia is also compelling as you understand she is on the wrong side, but with some right reasons.

X is additionally one of the most flawed male player character protags by far; the best way to describe him being all the negative mental problems shoved into one 12-year old boy (which I mean in the most loving way possible). Y also has her repressed problems, and a standoff-ish/headstrong nature that puts her at odds with others; most notably with the huge fight with her mom.

Then, in the SM arc, despite the more lighthearted vibes that come from Alola; that does not undermine the Bronze age themes present throughout the arc. The manga does not shy away from manifesting the trauma Gladion and Lille have sustained from Lusamine going insane, Guzma smashes his head into a wall after losing a fight, and Lusamine's fusion with Nihelego horrifies our protagonists; as it probably should if you saw that for the first time. The manga seems to be going in the direction that Lusamine has lost all her marbles and can't be fully held responsible for her crazy actions. Plus, Sun's flaw of hyper-focusing on gaining all the yen he needs to buy back the island/hatred for the Aether Foundation; and Moon's flaw of a hero complex that causes her to help one problem, but abandon it for a new one when it comes up (on top of her cold attitude to people initially).

Their Pokedex stance was summed up in the post by: “WTF is this thing? I don't want it.” which fits pretty well with their overall stance on the region crisis. None of these four protagonists ever truly consented to saving the region. In Kalos, the reasons the protagonists fight back is that their town is destroyed and they are being assaulted by the evil team. And as for Alola, both Sun and Moon get sucked in slowly with smaller events until it's like: “Hey, you've bonded with the incarnations of the Sun and Moon. Guess you’re the last line of defence for Alola now!”

Thus, if the Ages have each of the three rotations sets in it, Gen 8 in the Galar region will also stick with the Bronze Age vibes. Though, that's to be elaborated on in a later post (so sorry).

Tl;dr The progression of arcs in Pokespe follow the same progression of comic books throughout the different ages. RGB-RS (also Emerald) are in the Golden Age, with standard archetypes and black and white divides between heroes and villains. The Silver Age doesn't tie in much to DDP-B2W2, but they are both transitional periods for villain characterization (evil, but with a chance for redemption) and have a new hook; this time in the form of friendship boosts. Last lies the Bronze Age for XY and SM arcs, known for darker plots, and complex and morally grey villains paired with complex and flawed protagonists.

[avelera]

I loved that piece you wrote on weird, slightly-shallow awkward Newton Geizler because you're right, fandom can sometimes ignore their favourite characters' flaws but it's SO MUCH more interesting to see them warts and all. Do you have any thoughts on how the K-Science boys deal with each others flaws and negative character traits? Because there's mutual respect but christ, neither of them are perfect and they both KNOW the worst of the other and yet they're still together. It's fascinating.

Oh gosh, I’m so pleased you liked my little bit of meta! (I just went back and re-read it to refresh myself on what I said, lol). And this is a really fascinating question!

I think to start you’d have to list their flaws. 

Newt: selfish (I’m a doctor!), self-centered (making Hermann’s lab life miserable with the entrails, the Drift experiment being partially out of desire for attention and to be right), messy (Kaiju entrails), maybe a bit shallow (with his fashion sense and body art), un-empathetic (talks about how cool Kaiju are around people who have lost family to the Kaiju), often deliberately obnoxious (literally everything with Hermann), hyperactive and screechy (Charlie Day), immature (in many senses, but also in his fanboy qualities), Down to Fight at all times (“Is it impossible?!”), can’t keep a secret ( “… I’m gonna tell you.”), reckless and impulsive (the Kaiju Drift), arrogant and wants to be the center of attention (I mean…  basically everything about him). Obviously he has many virtues which I’ve described elsewhere, but that’s not the point of this post.

Hermann: cantankerous (he’s 36 going on 80),  a busy body with his nose in other people’s business (“Please excuse him, he’s a Kaiju grrrrroupie.”), spiteful (it may not be on purpose but he kicks water at Newt in their very first scene, and just in general this is true of him), smug (about how Newt is wrong), arrogant (literally everything about how he puts down Newt and his theories), dismissive (“Politics, poetry, these are lies.”), impatient with others (though that could just be Newt, who could drive anyone to madness), cold (at least outwardly towards Newt, many of his insults cut close to the bone), authoritarian (Hermann appeals to military authority and clearly admires it) and just all around difficult to deal with. Interestingly, many of these traits are gone by Uprising, while “Newt” gets a whole new batch of very different flaws. And again it should be stressed, Hermann has many virtues including but not limited to his intellect, his determination, his drive, his raw courage, and his persistence in the face of dismissal, discomfort, and disability. 

And by the way, both of them think they’re the “normal” one who needs to look out for their obnoxious colleague and I just cannot with them they are both heinously difficult human beings in the best way lol. 

And now onto how the Newmann ship would deal with these flaws:

I think a lot of how Newt and Hermann would deal with one another’s flaws is that they have been dealing with them for years now already. These flaws are not new or shocking to them, nor have they driven the other away. Clearly, they tolerate one another when anyone else would have withdrawn to a safe distance or just abandoned them entirely. They clearly care for each other in spite of if not because of these flaws. Even pre-Drift they try to protect one another from their most dangerous fascinations (Newt his obsession with the Kaiju, Hermann his attraction to the military). 

Clearly they have flaws that do genuinely drive the other to distraction. Newt seems genuinely upset when Hermann dismisses his theory and his findings regarding the Kaiju Drift. But on Hermann’s side, the proposal of that Drift seems to have genuinely touched a nerve of fear on Newt’s behalf that he covers up with snideness and dismissal.

I’ve always gone with the theory that it’s more their method of communication with one another that was clashing. Hermann didn’t understand Newt’s obnoxiousness towards him was the equivalent of pulling pigtails, that Newt wanted Hermann’s attention and regard. Newt couldn’t understand that Hermann’s dismissal of Newt’s obsessions was his way of trying to protect Newt. It’s one reason I think the Drift fused them into a functional whole after so many years of clashing, it finally showed them through a direct mind connection what they had failed to communicate. All the times they had been sincere when the other thought they were joking, and vice versa. Their method of communication. Their respect for one another hidden beneath a prickly surface. The way they’d both tried to hide their vulnerabilities from one another and thus both come off as distant, cold, and uncaring to one another. I have no doubt that the “instant hatred” at that first meeting after the letters was because both of them had such high expectations but didn’t know how to communicate with one another outside of written format where everything could be cleanly expressed.

That said, I think that before and after the Drift they actually do love one another for their “flaws”. I think Newt and Hermann are both heinously arrogant when it comes to their intelligence and their field, and I think they love that about one another, albeit secretly at first, or perhaps rather what that arrogance is a result of and how it translates. They’re both tops of their field, poised on the eccentric edge of it, they’re both the very best at what they do, and I don’t think either of their personalities could stand to be around someone who wasn’t on their level intellectually, or someone who tried to be modest about those accomplishments.

I think Hermann’s busy-bodyness is one way that Newt knows he cares. Newt would be at a genuine loss if Hermann stopped poking his nose in, as a sign that he’d stopped caring. Likewise, if Newt stopped being deliberately obnoxious to Hermann it would mean the same thing: apathy would be far worse than needling. Hermann probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself. There’s a compelling case to be made that the sniping serves a dual purpose in these final days of war which is to keep both of them from having a screaming breakdown over the stress and the sheer unholy knowledge of how fucked the world is, so when they’re bitching about little arguments and annoyances they’re not thinking about the void that’s about to open up beneath their feet.

I think Newt’s hyperactivity and fanboy qualities and general devil-may-care attitude is refreshing for Hermann and his authoritarian upbringing. I think on his own Hermann would retreat into an isolation he’d verbally claim he prefers but which would eat away at him. He may gripe about it, but he thrives and seeks Newt pulling him out of himself. Likewise I think Newt is always seeking validation. By being such a difficult person who doesn’t flatter others easily, Hermann’s regard is worth that much more and it could serve as a grounding influence on Newt to know there’s someone out there who sticks by him and engages him intellectually, even if they don’t always agree (they don’t need to agree if it’s a matter of intellectual debate). Even when arguing, Hermann validates Newt by never dismissing him from his presence or truly giving up on him, another reason the dismissal of the Kaiju Drift clearly is hurtful and unexpected to Newt (who can’t read it as a protective action). 

They call one another on their bullshit. They’re not personalities who need to be coddled or told they’re right all the time or flattered. They might respond initially to flattery, and even get puffed up about it and smugly rub it in the other’s face, but it would wear thin. They’d realize the thrill and rush of flattery is dissatisfying. That they’d rather earn the other’s aggressive debate than the fawning of lesser minds. Even when Newt is showing off to Hannibal Chau it’s because he clearly identifies an equal in his field, albeit a black hat to his white hat, a criminal to his academic. They want to impress equals and they serve as equals to one another. 

I think anything beyond this would go well into fanon speculation. The last note I’d say on Uprising, because they become such different characters there, is that clearly Hermann is stunned when Newt won’t help him. Clearly in PR1 Newt is stunned when Hermann won’t back him up that the Drift worked when it clearly did. That tells me that even at their lowest, they supported one another, even if they might grumble about it. The grumbling is half the fun.

[missnmikaelson-main]

Consequences Part 21

Summary: What do you do when your old frenemy threatens to cut off your army at the source? Obviously you abscond with the doppelganger in the dead of night, but every action has consequences. Pairing: Klaus x Elena Word Count: 3246

She curled her toes tightly so they pressed against the balls of her feet; the tiny appendages were practically frozen. She had been pleasantly warm all day and had neglected to wear her socks but the cold had come on suddenly. She should have gotten up from where she was reading on the couch for socks, but her feet hurt and she had a much better idea.

She leaned back a bit against the armrest and tilted her head. A sly smile lifted the edges of her mouth as a mischievous twinkle entered her dark eyes.

He was sitting on the other end of the couch with a sketchbook in his lap and a stick of charcoal between his thumb and forefinger. His brows were knit together in concentration as he drew the dark stub across the page.

Casually she stretched out her leg and uncurled her toes.

Cold might not have bothered vampires but he still jumped when her freezing toes pressed against his exposed forearm.

“Bloody hell,” he swore and fixed her with a stern look, “your feet are like ice.”

“It’s cold in here,” she shrugged innocently. She closed her book and laid it in her lap when she stretched out her other leg.

“Have you ever considered socks, love?” He rolled his eyes and moved his sketchbook to the end table.

“I thought about it,” she toyed with the ties around her black and white plaid tunic, “but they’re all too tight. I feel like socks cut off my circulation.”

In the month since leaving Mystic Falls her legs, ankles, and feet had all swollen. It was just enough to make her ache after the shortest of walks. She was sincerely hoping that it was just a phase she was going through and that it wouldn’t persist for the final eight weeks of her pregnancy.

She rested her elbow on the back of the couch and pushed her insanely thick hair back from her face. She grunted softly when he took her left foot between his hands. His thumbs slowly applied a light pressure to the top of her foot as he made his way from her toes to her swollen ankle and back again a few times.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the relief that came from his thumb rotating around her ankle before moving to her arch. He rubbed small circles in opposite directions applying a firm pressure that was the epitome of pleasure; she had never felt anything so wonderful in her life.

She ascended to seventh heaven when he switched to the other foot and repeated the actions that were warming her frozen toes.

She didn’t realize she was moaning until Kol leaned over the back of the couch.

“Is that really all it takes to make you moan, darling?” He smirked and laughed when she smacked his shoulder with her book.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. A crimson stain covered her cheeks. “My feet have been sore all day, and I swear his hands are magic.”

“She said that this morning too,” Klaus chuckled, “during a far more intimate massage.”

“One day,” Elijah dropped into a chair across from the parents to be, “I just want to go one day without an innuendo said. Is that too much to hope for?”

“With your brothers?” Elena cocked an eyebrow and looked between the pair closest to her. “I’m going to say yes.”

++++

“This is getting ridiculous,” Damon scoffed and shook his head.

He couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. That she was actually playing house with the Originals. They had to be compelling her. They just had to be.

Watching her relationship with his brother had been hard enough, but seeing the way she spoke with the homicidal maniac that had fathered her child was sickening.

He had to believe the bastard had compelled her into his bed. Likely after learning it was possible for him to conceive a child that he could use to make an army.

There was no way Elena would choose him. In what universe would she choose Klaus fucking Mikaelson?

He was obviously compelling her. He was obviously using her and she was blind to it.

That was not real affection in his eyes.

++++

His hand absentmindedly rubbed the length of her blanket clad calve while he sketched a picture of her from memory.

In the image her eyes were shut as she slept peacefully with a sated smile on her lips. It was exactly how she had looked that first night in Greece: mussed hair, kiss swollen lips, and love bites along her throat. The sheet had been down around her waist, but the picture cut off at the swell of her breast before her rosy nipples.

He was so focused on the drawing that he didn’t immediately notice when his siblings trickled out of the room or when her breathing leveled out and she drifted off.

He smiled fondly when he finally looked up and found her curled into sofa snuggling into the warm blanket he had retrieved when her feet grew cold again.

The late afternoon sunlight shimmered through curtains and illuminated her glowing skin. She was radiant in her sleep. She was radiant all of the time, but he would only ever watch her when she was like this.

He was afraid if she were to catch him watching her like this, with blatant love and devotion in his eyes that she would ask why he was looking at her like that. He didn’t think he would be able to lie to her; the words had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks, but he couldn’t manage to voice them. This was a vampire’s greatest weakness, and he had never wanted to be weak or even perceived as weak; but he was coming to believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be his greatest strength as well.

That or she would break him into a million pieces. How could she ever care for him? One drunken night did not reveal her emotions and pregnant woman had been known to act differently than they would normally behave; everything could have easily been a result of her hormones. She might have his child and decide she wanted nothing to do with him.

He knew they could be friends though, and he didn’t want to ruin that relationship should she make the very sound decision to stop associating with him. He wanted a relationship with his child, and hopefully a healthy relationship with her mother; even if it wasn’t the one he wanted.

It would have been unwise for her to reciprocate his feelings in any way. He was a monster who definitely didn’t deserve her. Hadn’t every woman he’d ever cared for delivered that sentiment over the centuries.

He was a manipulative, power hungry bastard, wasn’t he?

He had used her for her blood over the course of a year and made enough hybrids to set her ex-lover and his brother on edge.

For nearly a year he had seen her as no more than a means to an end. Taking her to Greece had been his undoing. Taking her to Greece had allowed them time to actually get to know each other. Taking her to Greece had shown him she was nothing like her predecessors; she was kind, loyal to those she loved, and forgiving to a fault. She could also be manipulative and stubborn; and he absolutely adored the light in her eyes when she was determined. She hadn’t actually feared him in a long time; he didn’t think she had feared him the night of the ritual either.

There had been something in her eyes that night. A defiant spark that said he would never break her, and he hadn’t. The relief he had felt when finding her alive months later was palpable. He had told himself and anyone who would listen that it was because he needed her blood, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had said those words to anyone. Not even his siblings had heard the expression fall from his lips.

Part of him wanted to bury his feelings down deep and never think about them again, but dammit he wanted to tell her… just once.

Her face scrunched up adorably and her eyelids fluttered as she woke up.

The words stuck in his throat.

Elena licked her lips and rubbed them together while exhaling deeply and turning in his direction.

“Are you watching me sleep?” She blinked the last of the sand from her eyes.

“I…”

Elena covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes sparkled when the colour kissed his cheeks and he couldn’t quite meet her gaze. She had noticed his gaze a few times when she woke up but had never called him out on it; it was cute how flustered he got.

++++

“Creep,” Damon sneered. He was inches from the hybrid’s face. “You should be embarrassed staring at a girl like that.”

“Will you give it a rest?” Tyler paced in front of the picture window. He was getting sick and tired of Damon and his attitude. He was starting to miss Stefan who had disappeared before they left Mystic Falls.

“What’s the matter, wolf boy?” Damon glared at Klaus. He wanted to tear the bastard apart.

“Nothing,” Tyler growled. He was starting to believe what Elena had said, but it was clear Damon never would. “It’s just that… I’ve been all over this backwater town. There is a pack in the Bayou and only one of them has been turned.”

“So?” Damon shrugged. “I told you: he’s waiting until the kid pops out. Klaus needs his demon spawn for when he inevitably kills her.”

Tyler shook his head. As loathe as he was to admit it he was starting to believe it was true: Klaus wouldn’t hurt her, her child, or anyone else who didn’t pose a threat to Elena and the baby.

Tyler had always been an impulsive person. He never listened to reason, and only now in death was he realizing that this had been his fatal flaw. It was when he’d had that thought that it happened.

Damon gaped at the spot Tyler had occupied a moment before he had dissolved into thin air just as Stefan had done in Elena’s old bedroom; he hadn’t seen his baby brother since.

“Just as well,” he muttered, “I’m the only one who appreciates my own wit, anyway.”

++++

Rebekah was on her way out but paused in the corridor when she caught a glimpse of Davina alone in the kitchen.

The girl’s feet were hooked around the stool legs, her arms were crossed over the island, and her chin was propped on her arms. She was staring miserably at her dim reflection in the oven door.

Rebekah hadn’t seen the young witch that melancholy since she’d first come to the mansion.

“Are you alright, love?” She circled around the counter to block Davina’s view of the makeshift mirror.

Davina started when she saw the blonde. Her movements were sluggish as she slowly sat up a bit and ran her delicate fingers through her wavy brown hair. She was disgusted at the sorrow that closed her throat; surely she shouldn’t feel like this after everything that had happened.

“Davina?” Rebekah tilted her head and took the girl’s hand.

She debated telling the Original what was wrong for a moment before opening her mouth.

“It’s my birthday,” she stared at the blinking calendar on the oven over Rebekah’s shoulder: December 22. She’d always hated having her birthday so close to Christmas; everyone always gave her Christmas themed presents. It was one of the many drawbacks of a December birthday, but this year she would have welcomed one of her mom’s cheesy gifts.

“I miss my mom,” she whispered into the still room. “I shouldn’t miss her. I should hate her; she stood by while they tried to kill me, but I miss her. Am I crazy?”

Rebekah flashed around the side of the counter and wrapped her arms around Davina’s shaking shoulders. She held the girl’s head to the crook of her neck and let her cry for a minute.

“You’re not crazy, Davina,” she sighed. “My mother made me what I am. She took away so many options, so many things I wanted out of life were stolen by her and I still miss her.”

“I don’t think you’re mom tried to kill you,” Davina muttered angrily.

“You’re right,” Rebekah nodded solemnly. She took Davina’s shoulders and stared into her wet blue eyes. “She didn’t try to kill me; she actually did. The spell had never before been tried; it could have killed all of us, but she still did it.” She saw the surprise in the girl’s eyes. “It’s okay to miss her Davina; she was your mum.”

Davina nodded sadly. She ran her hands over her thighs and squeezed her knees.

“If she were here now what would you be doing?” Rebekah leaned an elbow on the counter top.

“Getting ready for Christmas,” Davina shrugged.

“How about helping me with some shopping?” Rebekah held out her hand.

“You left your Christmas shopping until now?” A line appeared between Davina’s brows.

“Of course not,” Rebekah pulled the teenager towards the door. “I have to pick up one present and then decide on another. I only forgot one present, and that’s only because I didn’t realize the importance of it. Come on, love, no birthday should pass without celebration.”

She sent a few text messages after closing Davina’s car door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

++++

Davina blinked in surprise when Rebekah steered them out onto the highway rather than back towards the mansion.

“Hey, Rebekah,” she stared out the window at the passing trees, “why did we take Klaus’ car? Yours would have had plenty of room for the shopping bags.” They had somehow managed to fill the trunk of the SUV with purchases; she was certain Klaus and Elena’s baby would never wear the same outfit twice before she outgrew her clothes.

“Because,” Rebekah smiled cryptically, “we’re picking something up for Nik: a Christmas surprise for Elena.” She took an off ramp and passed a few cars before pulling into a long driveway.

++++

Elena waved her hand in front of her face to dispel the smoke and coughed on her way to the window. Throwing open the pane she snapped a towel and directed the grey haze out into the cool December air.

It took a few minutes for the smoke to dissipate enough for her to clearly see Klaus and Kol who were staring at the warped tray on the cooling rack.

“Alright,” her hands settled on her hips, “it you two are going to insist on keeping me from the oven then you’re going to have to watch the timer carefully.”

She shook her head and crossed the kitchen to view the completely blackened cookies.

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Kol rubbed the back of his neck and leaned over the counter.

“Really?” Elena cocked an eyebrow. She grabbed a spatula to lift one from the tray and held it out to him with a sweet smile. “Take a bite and tell me how good they are then.”

Klaus heard his little brother swallow audibly. He placed a fresh tray in the oven and made sure to set the timer while his brother took a bite and gagged on the cookie.

Elijah and Finn paused in the door frame when they caught the lingering smell of burnt cinnamon.

“What happened in here?” Elijah surveyed the ruined cookies. “We were only gone an hour.”

“These two geniuses burnt the cookies,” Elena snickered. She tapped a sugar cookie that had been cooling on the table before lifting a bag of white frosting. She twisted the end of the bag and started adding strips to a candy cane. “Finn, you’ve got some pine in your hair.”

“Where are Rebekah and Davina?” Elena slapped Kol’s fingers when he reached for a half-frosted cookie. “Shouldn’t they have been back by now?”

Klaus pulled the finished tray of gingerbread from the oven and flashed around to lay the cookies out on the table to cool. He cocked his head to the left when he heard the front door opening.

“I asked Rebekah to go and pick up your Christmas present,” he deposited the tray on the counter and watched Elena frosting some cookies. “She’s delivering it now.”

“You know,” Elena finished outlining a snowman and used her right hand to support the bulk of the icing bag upwards, “typically presents are kept under the tree.”

“That’s true,” Klaus leaned his hip on the table and smirked, “but the UN frowns on wrapping people in brightly coloured boxes.”

Elena frowned and narrowed her eyes in confusion.

Klaus carefully took her shoulder and spun her around to where Rebekah and Davina were standing on either side of the door.

Elena’s eyes grew round. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. It took her a moment to get over her slack shock before she grinned and clenched her hand into tight fists. The icing bag squished in her hands sending a glob of white frosting through the air where it hit Kol, who had been reaching for a cookie behind her back.

She moved faster than she had in weeks and threw her arms around her little brother’s neck.

“Jeremy,” she laughed and swiped away a tear, “what are you doing here?”

“Seeing my sister,” he laughed, “and attempting to hug her, but it’s rather difficult because she’s gotten so big.”

Elena pulled back and playfully slapped his arm.

“How come whenever I say something like that I get the nearest heavy object thrown at me?” Kol wiped a line of frosting from his eyes.

“It’s rather amusing when they make contact,” Elena looked back at him over her shoulder.

“I bet,” Caroline stepped around Jeremy and hugged her friend. “That’s an interesting look for you Kol.”

Davina covered her mouth and giggled at the vampire cleaning the frosting from his face. She looked around the kitchen to the plethora of cookies that were slowly making the whole house smell just like Christmas. She had caught sight of the tree standing in the living room and had assumed that the Originals had always planned on putting it up; after all everyone had been caught wrapping gifts over the last two weeks, but the cookies made her smile.

She knew Rebekah had been behind the rich smells that were invading her senses. Unless Elena had gotten a crazy craving for Christmas cookies then Rebekah had orchestrated it to make her feel better.

The thought that the Originals had come together to try and cheer her up, without even knowing what was wrong, brought a smile to her face. It slowly banished her melancholy.

++++

He watched on in silence at the sickening display of holiday cheer. At some point they were going to slip up and he would be there to gloat when they did. Hopefully it happened while Baby Gilbert was still in the house so he could relay the ‘I-told-you-so’ message to his sister, and get the delusional girl out of there.

Until then he planned on staying out of the mediums way. It shouldn’t be too hard; the house was huge.

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