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macgyvertape · 2 years

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D2 Season of the Seraph thoughts

Gameplay:

Was not expecting a second hive focused season this expansion

Really glad for the autofire option being a setting now. Topical that I injured my mousehand this week, but also I notice my fingers & wrists start to hurt if I play for hours with high fire rate weapons

I enjoy the Battlegrounds challenge at +5 at first but I quickly started to hate blueberries who don’t bring champ mods or refuse to run for the laser core. The best runs were with people I like or making a LFG post for Legend where I could vet people were bringing mods.

I enjoy seeing Mars back again as a battleground and that the Braytech facilities on Europa are finally getting used as a map

I finally got everything together and made some 100 resilience loadouts, and it's a night and day difference with survivability.

Revision 0 quest: it was enjoyable to go in with no guide right up until the floor tile puzzle. I was thinking its a shame we only get 1 season with this mission so looking forward to the exotic mission rotator.

There are a lot of server problems this season, the Christmas server problems were an unintentional API bug, but sucks for my friends who did a master activity then got a server error and no credit. I have a new years resolution to play more games that aren’t D2, and so that was the perfect time.

The robo-dog is so cute, I appreciate a friend describing helping me get the orbs as “taking me to the pound to get a puppy”

Once again busy during the Dawning I didn’t finish the last challenge of sit in gambit or crucible matches. I’d never bother to gild it, get 2k kills with a dawning weapon, lmao what a waste of time

GM power level reduction is great, the grind to get to power level so you can do GMs when they come out is a huge burnout factor for me and others.

Very glad Bungie enabled all the mods and literally made me more interested in playing the next month. It was gatekeeping for no reason to make players buy mods a few at a time that were sold on random days, some mods I had been trying to get for more than a year. It’s basically playing a different game if you have a current meta build that relies heavily on one or two specific mods.

I got a good lorely splendor roll and it really is easy mode with Titan

Fucking finally got Touch of Malice after 55 Oryx clears

Grateful to everyone loss farming in IB so much bungie buffed the xp gained for the second week.

Glad they buffed drop rate from wellspring, wish it had been like this the whole time since I had 0 wellspring weapons crafted. The poor red border droprate, and the seasonal challenges meant I was always busy doing something else

I’m glad Bungie made a lot of announcements about when the final seasonal event would be, and it wasn’t during the last week. I also appreciate that they said they will go back to being more public about seasonal info.

I really enjoyed the difficulty of the last mission, it felt like the right amount of challenge.

However the legend system that scales based on fireteam size means it's awful to run the finale or Seraph Shield with 3 people; numerically a person is better off running it solo especially with the solo operator mod. I ran the missions a few times to help someone out, and the increased health and limited revives made a 2 person team feel punishing in a way that doesn't encourage helping casual or less skilled players.

Finishing the season needing to craft a lot of the guns, once again the red boarder and seasonal playlist loop is a grind way past the point of enjoyment. It's better with a partial knockout system but drops for finished patterns still happen way too often and the seasonal activity gives such low energy vs how much is needed to focus and time spent. I finished the season without crafting the ikelos shotgun or the linear fusion, and I’m so burnt out on the loop that I just don’t care.

The crucible rep changes are fucking awful if you place low in comp like me (Bronze tier). On bonus weeks its changed from 2x to 1.5x, and so the strategy seems to reward players for playing every week and more rewards for being good, so if you’re on the wrong end of the cycle where you only play crucible on bonus weeks because you don’t enjoy it or are bad then the slow rank ups just mean I want to play it even less. It was a shorter time doing a full reset of a gambit rank than half a crucible reset, especially because if you don’t get enough kills in a match the game gives you 0 credit.

The crucible rep changes are a shame because with the matchmaking changes I really enjoy the 3v3 comp. I feel like I’m playing others at my level and its the most enjoyable Destiny 2 pvp I’ve ever played

I tried doing some solo dungeons with current meta loadouts, and there's a noticeable difficulty change between Duality & Spire vs the older ones. What I realized is I don't enjoy soloing dungeons; jumping puzzles are a lot more punishing, some bosses take noticably more DPS phases, overall it's an exercise of patience I'm bad at.

Week 1:

For real I thought the braytech security frames were going to shoot me in the back in the intro mission. I wasn’t expecting Xivu Arath to the antagonist this season since we already had a Hive season

Osiris’ grandiose personal introduction to counter Clovis’ ego, him and Clovis butting heads all season is going to be fun to see

Mara’s back in her D1 pirate clothes? She and Crow are the only one who gets clothes change in this game

That the scorn were exhumed locally, nice to know every major battleground is a zombie surge waiting to happen

Lots of sad feelings that Eramis’ former house are being raised as scorn as punishment

I’ve been hoping to get Mara as a character with a storyline that isn’t about her and Uldren/Crow, looking forward to her being a supporting character and tying into the Bray storyline

The Archimedes mission was nice, playing it solo felt challenging

I just didn’t play all weekend when DiM and the companion app were down. Really shows how heavily the community relies on these third party services, and the dedication and work the people running them do is laudable

Other Weeks:

So glad to Elsie back and interacting with Ana. its just Bray family drama this season I love it. Osiris pseudo counts considering Felwinter was his mentor

Clovis thinking its a magnanimous offer in his private guard answerable only to him. Just like how Calus wanted to possess us as a shadow.

I hope that if he does pull the heavily implied doublecross that its not because of Darkness corruption or the Witness but just because he’s a shithead trillionaire

In-universe if my guardian passed Ana’s former spot on Mars and it still had piles of guns I would take some with me

Revision 0 quest: we “surrender” to Eramis, there's so much untapped potential there for Eramis fans. Also wow Eramis sounds so depressed and its understandable, all those of her house that we killed being brought back as scorn.

I love that they reused areas from DSC, it makes sense storywise Bray facilites used the same design and I’m sure helped with developing such an elaborate quest. Going up to space and seeing Earth and the Trsveler was really special

Think its cool Fenchurch (agent of the Hidden) gives us the weapon and not Clovis. We’ve seen more of the Hidden this year than before, I’d love to see a season of the Hidden and see Aunor ingame

Cutscene: based of Bungie to include MLK as part of things Ana taught Rasputin, especially since they usually shy away from recent historical people

Clovis has the anime villian glasses glare, he did fucked up science to his daughter(s) and assuredly unethical animal experimentation to the dog. Clovis is Shou Tucker.

Ana says “why didn’t you ever tell me you studied under Fellwinter” when it’s like a well known fact, IN UNIVERSE. Cool to get more of Osiris reflecting on himself as a novice and his relationship with the Iron Lords.

Aww there are some Cabal dogs there. Meme of Saladin running Old Friend’s Senior Dog Sanctuary complete with the infamous last post. Shame it won’t let me climb to the top

Fun Clovis cutscene, once again recontextualize that legend of “rasputin shot the traveler”

So Clovis is just now on Europa?? As the verison in the exomind was a copy-dublicate vs a copy-cut, then wasn’t he vulnerable to Xivu-Arath the whole time? Also in a way Ana did kill her grandfather, if you consider the copy to be a separate version since if might have different memories

The dialogue in battlegrounds is top notch where it has just a bit of friction between different parties. Then there’s the direct personal attack lines of “Clovis Bray. Your progeny have surpassed you. Your services are no longer required. We appreciate your understanding”. Rasputin responding with corpo speak

Mara is back in her Queen clothes, dev bias that shes the only one who gets 2 outfits in a season /s

The new choral sounding music in the HELM is great, apparently a warmind track remix

The Rasputin and Osiris radio message was fun, in absence of Saladin being pissed at Rasputin for killing Felwinter we get Osiris being pissed when Raputin speaks with Felwinter’s memories

Mixed feelings on week 7 story where they started foreshadowing Rasputin’s death heavily, in week 7 its a question of “are we doomed to repeat the past” but it somehow becomes “humanity destiny 2 main story has no need for a warmind, Rasputin is too dangerous to live we gotta put him down like Old Yeller”

the ending cutscene was a lot of nice looking CGI and yet again the Tower view of the Traveler changes before a new expansion. Great to see all the different characters and the tower feels weird now without the Traveler.

My more cynical take a week later and after thinking about how it was 2+ years between a Rasputin and Ana storyline, Rasputin’s death felt more like they were trying to trim the cast of characters than a killing a character to raise the stakes. Clovis Bray can copy himself and be fine after being deleted, and Rasputin has all these extra data cores he doesn’t feel fully dead, just “dead” enough for some angst but not so dead he can’t be brought back as the plot demands.

Do agree with the post that for a season where the grand finale is Rasputin sacrificing himself, this wasn’t really his season in that so many other characters got a lot of screentime, focus, and build up

Anyway finally Eramis has crossed the line into poor little meow meow

I like how Eramis has been talking to us personal a lot this season. Her lines on Seraph Station where she considered it a rematch of the Beyond Light fight, her lines in the battlegrounds where she says “polish your finest armor. I’ll see you again” and the other lines she has talks about trust and despair

Kind of a shame how at the end of the season Clovis kind of faded out of the story with no real resolution.

Dungeon:

45 second revive timers in a jumping puzzle fucking suck

Ah the rasputin classical music I love it

Eramis on the collectables? Once again we’re just too late to see her. “We have no need of gods” interesting how much effort Eramis spends trying to get us to hate the Traveler

Osiris: “maybe this will restore Ikora’s faith in me” plz Osiris just talk to Ikora she’s concerned that you have no ghost and there are 0 OSHA safety regs here

I like the trace the wire mechanic a LOT more than nightmare zone bell mechanic

The super low Cowboy hat dungeon drop percentage is bullshit if it was done intentionally. It's disrespectful to players' time to make the Hunter one more rare than the other classes. I finished the season with 0 hats.

The dungeon especially in the last boss feels like its meant to be played with 100 resilience.

#destiny 2 #season of the seraph #mac plays video games #liveblog

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1q39com · 7 months

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

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an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

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Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 6

Word Count: 3,259

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Here’s the next part of the Sid series. Let me know what you guys think about it.

NSDL Masterlist

Once you closed the door to your hotel room, you threw yourself on the bed. What the actual hell had just happened? You'd been trapped in an elevator with Sidney Crosby, your brain screamed. The fact that you literally almost kissed him in those last few moments had your mind spinning. What the hell had you been thinking? Obviously, you weren't. Maybe you could blame it on lack of oxygen or something. That was a thing when you were stuck in a confined space, right? If it wasn't, there was always temporary insanity.

Who were you kidding? You wanted to kiss Sidney, and damn if it didn't feel right at that moment. Well until the lights came on and the elevator started. It was like divine intervention because lord knew you shouldn't be kissing him or anyone on the team. How did you go from telling him there was nothing between you and Beau one minute, to wanting to make out with him in the next? It wasn't like you hadn't wanted to kiss Sid before, but you'd pushed those feelings aside long ago when he'd made it clear he wasn't interested in you, but today, all that changed.

He'd been so kind and caring, the way he'd calmed you down. God, you could still feel his hands on your hips when he held you tight to him and that was what, forty-five minutes ago. This fact alone had you rethinking dinner, though you had no choice but to go. Half the team was going; you could easily avoid Sidney, or at least you tried to convince yourself of this. Twenty minutes, that's what you were giving yourself to wallow in this self-mortification, and then you were getting your ass up, putting this whole incident behind you, while you got ready for dinner.

You closed your eyes, and let your mind drift off to what it would've been like had the elevator not turned on in that minute. You let yourself dream of what it would be like to feel his lips on yours, his slightly chapped from all his time spent on the ice, yet still soft and tender on yours. It was easy to imagine them slowly moving against yours, just exploring, as his hands curled around your neck drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss. It was almost as if you could feel the gentle pressure of his lips as they sought entrance to yours. Your eyes flew open, what the fuck were you doing? This needed to stop. Jumping off the bed, you pushed thoughts of Sid and his lips behind you and started to get ready.

Since you had a little extra time, you curled your long locks, fingering combing them out into the perfect waves that framed your face. Picking up your makeup brush, you applied a little more eyeshadow to your lids, giving them a smoky look for the evening. A bit more blush and a deep red lip completed the looked, the only thing missing was the dress. You'd checked out the restaurant the guys had chosen earlier on Yelp and found that it was an upscale Michelin star restaurant. Thank god, you had a dress packed that would be suitable. The black lace halter dress, was a bit shorter than knee length and had a lace bodice to it. You'd packed it with a blazer you could pair it with to make it less sexy for work. Though it was totally an appropriate cocktail dress for dinner. Slipping on the pair of slingback heels you'd brought, you were ready to go. Grabbing your coat, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, before sliding the long wool cloth over your shoulders and heading out the door.

When you came face to face with the elevator, you did a complete one-eighty and headed towards the stairs, not sure if you were avoiding your fears about being stuck in small spaces or your feelings for Sidney. At least the hotel wasn't one of those thirty-some floor ones and it was only about five flights until you were down on the ground floor headed for the lobby. A few of the guys were milling about, waiting till everyone arrived before heading out.

"There she is. Heard someone got stuck in the elevator for a bit." Flower chuckled as he looped an arm around your shoulders. "See you avoided it this time."

"Ha, ha, you're so funny. Let me shove you in there for an hour and see if you get back inside afterward."

"So, did you kill Sid in there or should we expect him for dinner?" Phil asked laughing the entire time.

You went to answer but were cut off by Tanger. "He lives." It was met with resounding cheers, from a couple of the other guys. "See you took the stairs as well." Sid looked over at you, a knowing smile on his lips.

"I suppose we won't be living this down any time soon." He pointedly said to you. He was wearing a plain black suit, with a white shirt sans tie, with a few buttons undone. Just that tiny bit of exposed flesh had you yearning to be shoved back in the elevator for a few more hours with him again.

"No I don't think we will." Jake and Dumo finally joined the party and you all set out to the restaurant, which was only a few blocks away. The air was crisp and you were thankful for the protection your coat gave from the wind whipping through the streets.

"Maybe we should've taken a car, eh?" It was Sid's voice beside you that startled you as a particularly strong gust came by.

You chuckled before answering. "It is a little cold for April." He offered you his arm, as the sidewalk got a little icy and you took it. "Thanks." For a second you let yourself believe it was just the two of you and not over a dozen other guys going out to dinner. You weren't going to lie, it would be nice to have his sole attention again. No sooner did you have that thought, then you rounded the corner and there was the restaurant. Phil held the door open, and you filed inside, Sid trailing behind you. Ever the gentlemen, he offered to take your coat, sliding it off your shoulders and revealing the dress you'd worn.

One of the guys gave a low whistle, and as you turned you saw Sid scowl at either Phil or Schultzy; you couldn't be sure who. "I think that dress is illegal in some states." Flower joked with you, and you just cocked your head and gave him that look. "Seriously, though you look gorgeous. Are you sure you want to hang out with us meatheads?"

"I feel like you're up for the intellectual challenge." You gave him a wink and then followed the hostess back to a private room, they had for your party. So far, your resolve to stay away from the temptation that was Sidney Crosby wasn't working, in fact it was the exact opposite. So, when he pulled the chair out of the middle of the table for you to sit, you did with a thank you to him of course, but he then proceeded to take the seat next to you. It only stood to reason that fate wouldn't be on your side, as the man was making it harder and harder for you to forget what had passed between you two only hours ago. "Do you guys come here whenever you're in DC?" You asked the room at large, though it was Sid that answered.

"Um, we've been here a few times before. The duck confit is really good but so is the lobster waterzooi." You looked at the menu in front of you reading the descriptions, which both sounded delicious. "But order whatever you want, order two; it's on us tonight."

The waiter came over then and interrupted the two of you. "May I get you a drink to start your evening off?" You hadn't really had a chance to look at the wine list, so you weren't really sure what to order.

"I'll just have a glass of your Cabernet."

"Of course miss, was there a particular one I could get you?" You quickly scanned the wine list looking for the cab section.

"Why don't you just bring us a bottle of the 2010 Chappellet," Sid told him, and the man nodded and moved down to get Rusty's order. You finally reached the cabernet section and saw that the bottle cost over three hundred dollars. "Hope you don't mind sharing."

"Um no, but you didn't have to get the most expensive bottle on here."

"We're celebrating, remember." His brow raised and you were beginning to wonder if he was flirting with you.

Conversation flowed throughout dinner, everyone asking about the incident in the elevator; which both you and Sid neatly avoided the almost ending. A few of the guys talked about the game coming up, and you chimed in with some of the missed opportunities you'd seen happen the past couple of games. Which really seemed to impress Sid, as well as the guys. The whole evening was simply amazing. There was laughing, joking and so many stories shared, and through it all you felt like part of the team.

There were also soft touches from Sid. A hand on your arm here, the brush of his knee there; it was all too much and yet not enough at the same time. Though there was one thing for sure, he was definitely flirting with you. As the waiter cleared your dinner plates, you were wondering if there was some small elevator you could possibly get stuck in with Sid at the restaurant. The waiter broke your thoughts however. "Did you enjoy your dinner miss?"

"Yes it was wonderful. Please send my compliments to the chef."

Dumo, who'd been sitting on the other side of Sid, chimed in. "If he has a minute, I'd love to tell him how delicious that wine reduction was on the filet, and maybe pick his brain on it." Dumo was a food aficionado and didn't want to miss an opportunity to learn something from a Michelin star chef.

"I'll see if he has a moment." He disappeared and conversation around you continued on.

You got pulled into a conversation with Phil about a fishing boat that he was looking at buying, and in the end you offered to do some research for him; before Sid pulled you back to him. "So I was wondering, if maybe we could continue…." You didn't get a chance to hear the rest, as the chef came out to greet the table, though he didn't get more than a hello out before saying.

"(Y/N), (Y/FullN) is that you?"

"Christian, oh my god!" He made a beeline for your seat, pulling your chair out so you could rise, only he lifted you off the ground.

"I can't believe it's you." You giggled for it'd been about four years since you'd last seen each other. Christian set you back down on the ground but didn't let go of you. He held both of your hands in his, stepping back to take in your appearance. "God, you look amazing." He did as well. While Christian's passion had always been food, he'd also been the star running back of the football team as well as running track and playing basketball. He clearly still stayed in shape, as even his chef jacket couldn't hide his muscular physique. You went to tell him how great he looked as well, but he stopped you. "Where was this dress back when I took you to winter formal?"

"Not in my wardrobe yet, but look at you. Is this your restaurant?"

"It is. Speaking of which," He turned to the team. "I hope everyone enjoyed dinner." There was a resounding amount of yeses and it was delicious, but it was Flower who spoke up and said.

"Not as much as the show right now."

It hit you then, that all eyes were on you and Christian. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Guys this is Christian Werner, we went to high school together. Christian, meet most of the Pittsburgh Penguins."

"Why am I not surprised you're surrounded by a dozen athletes?" You swatted his shoulder, the gesture a familiar one.

"I work for the team now." You said by way of explanation for being at dinner with the guys.

"She's become an invaluable part of us," Sidney spoke, a bit of possessiveness in his voice.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Christian turned his full attention on you then. "You know my dad is still holding out hope that you'll be his daughter-in-law someday."

"Oh, stop."

"Or don't." Flower chirped. "I feel like we're going to get the scoop on this one here."

"What scoop? You guys already know me." You insisted.

"Oh so they know about the time, that you snuck into the high school garage and decided to throw, what was undoubtedly one of the biggest beer parties in our school's history."

You winced at the memory. "What?" you heard a chorus of guys ask.

A sigh left your lips before you said. "It wasn't that big of a party and it wasn't all my idea."

"Maybe not, but you were the one who had us take out all the outside lights out so we wouldn't be caught." Christian wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you into his side. "And if memory serves me right, it was also your idea to sneak out of the hotel to go to a club on our senior class trip."

"That was only supposed to be a handful of us. If I remember, it was your mouth that told Alexis, because you had a crush on her and she blabbed it to everyone else."

"Well if I would've known you only wanted it to be just the two of us back then; I never would've given Alexis a second thought." You could feel the eyes of all the guys burrowing into yours. Christian had always been a notorious flirt, that you always thought was harmless, but tonight there was something different about it. As if he was staking a claim on you in front of the team, though he had none to make.

"Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I asked you was so you'd tell Stephen Cartwright, but you failed miserably at that." The team laughed, dissolving some of the tension in the air.

"Ouch, you wound me, but here I am being a horrible host. I don't believe you've had dessert yet, and I do know how (Y/N) here can't resist something sweet." There was something about the way he said the last part of that statement that had both you, and from the looks of it some of the guys, thinking he wasn't exactly offering dessert but something else entirely. Maybe it was the way his hand slid down your arm to the small of your back only to brush along the top of your ass, as he spoke the words, but it made you uncomfortable all the same.

"You really don't have to do that Christian." Part of you wanted to step out of his embrace completely, but then you didn't want to make a scene.

"It's really no trouble. Why don't I show you the kitchen, while the staff gets things ready? You guys don't mind do you?" He asked everyone, yet didn't give them time to object. "Sam, get everyone another round of drinks on the house." He then led you to the back of the restaurant, where his staff was busy fixing dinner, as well as the aforementioned dessert.

"Wow, Christian this is all amazing. Your parents must be really proud."

The two of you were weaving in and out of stoves and cooler as you went deeper into the kitchen. "It's not so bad. I'm actually thinking about opening another restaurant in Pittsburgh. You know something a little closer to home. Maybe then you could come work for me."

You lightly laughed at his comment, as he showed you into his office. "And what would you have me do? You know I'd make a lousy waitress."

He dragged his knuckles down your bare arm, the effect causing you to shiver and you found yourself taking a step back from him. "The same thing you do for them out there." You cocked your head to the side at his comment.

"I doubt you need someone to report injuries of your staff to family members." You went to say more but he stopped you.

"Come on (Y/N), we both know that's not what you do."

"I'm sorry it most certainly is, as well as other things that are needed." You went to turn but he grabbed your wrist stopping you.

"It's those other things, that I'm talking about. You can't tell me that you dress like this," He looked you over in a way that made your skin crawl. "And go to dinner with over a dozen men and none of them expect anything in return. You were always a bit wild in school, I just never thought you'd end up doing something like this. Tell me do they take turns every night or do you prefer them in groups."

Your hand shot up before you even knew what you were doing. How dare he insinuate that you were some whore. Christian's reflexes were quick and he caught your arm before you were able to strike the blow. "All I'm asking for is a little taste of what they have." A sly grin came across his face, that made your stomach turn. "Then maybe we can talk about something more permanent. I'm sure some of the senior staff would enjoy your little perks." His lips smashed into your then, as he jerked your body towards him. When his hands released his grip on you; you brought your knee up and connected it to his groin. "You bitch." As he doubled over in pain, you took the palm of your hand and thrust it into his nose, effectively breaking it in the process, then shoved him to the ground.

"For the record Christian, I'm not some two-bit whore you can just buy, and those men out there respect me and my job on the team. So, you can go fuck yourself. I only wish your parents could see you right now." With that you turned on your heel, walking straight through the kitchen not making eye contact with anyone. Your emotions were so high, you felt as though you could burst into tears at any second. When you walked back into the private dining room, you could see the concern on each of the men's faces. Your breathing was labored and you were afraid if you said too much, you'd just breakdown and you couldn't do that. So you took a deep breath to calm yourself, then moved to grab your purse. "Thank you guys for the lovely evening, but I…" You faltered then, both in step and in word. "I need to go."

"(Y/N) are you ok?" Sid looked up at you with worried eyes and though it was his words you heard, you could also vaguely hear his teammates' concern. You nodded then headed straight for the front door.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #sidney crosby #Sidney Crosby Imagines #sidney crosby imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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Another DM oriented question.

So I’m continuing the path of, once I answer DMs, posting the results of the question for the room. I will continue to maintain askers as anonymous unless they choose to “DAT ME” again, like the last one, but sometimes these questions help other people have things “click.”

Here was the central question:

So about that, I saw you saying more than once that your DMs are open for people with questions, and I actually have one about a thing you wrote a few days ago. You were answering an anon who was comparing the "TFW splitting" ending to that of Fast & Furious 7, and a couple times you mentioned the philosopher's stones in relation to some of the characters getting them. I have absolutely no recollection of the philosopher's stones ever appearing in SPN, and I don't think I've ever read one of your previous posts where you talked about them in connection to the series. I tried googling it but came up short, probably because I'm very new to these things and didn't really know what to search for (mostly just found a bunch of Hogwarts!AU fics lol). So, am I missing something here? Could you please point me to some sources of information, maybe one/some of your older posts I might have missed? Thank you so much in advance! ^^

Okay so, if you track through my #pagan life tag, I've been breaking down the esoteric symbolism through the season; some of it is very overt--like using the Occultum verse from the Art arcana in the Thoth deck -- "loosely translated" as Castiel put it, in a way that removes a number of asterisks; others are somewhat more obscure, such as the putrefaction of the leviathan in purgatory (reduction, The Blackening, parallel to the shadow) that leaves room for growth into new (The Whitening, represented variably by the blossom or the moon). Some of these pathworks are told in quite literal forms, such as in my 15.11 post I had been talking about the next step being the moon leading us to the inner sanctuary of the soul and the sun -- and the son as Jack -- and a direct ray of light from the so/un being what saves the heart of the family, for example -- all of which became very visible in 15.13.

We even have Rubedo, the final stage and process before gold, in Rowena who threw herself into the red to take what she wants, and was reborn in red, telling them to fix it and claim what they desire.

(here’s that damn chart again, but I need you to look at this and recognize these are literally the process to making ones’ own gold, even if Chuck keeps beating on them that nothing gold can stay:)

FUCKIN FAMILIAR? RINGING SOME BELLS? I mean hell if the Shadow and Blossom or whatever else don’t do it, I point to Rubedo and remind you that Rowena was literally unbirthing hell while throwing herself into it to take what she wanted.

This may be a roundabout way to begin answering, but absolutely crucial, as understanding these formative steps--Amara in Citrinitas, the Yellowing, the often lost and forgotten step leaving in identical frame to castiel walking out and taking the warm family light from the bunker with him -- on the processes the characters have been waxing and waning through. These processes are what make the philosopher's stone. Does other media cover it, yes. But honestly I feel SPN is doing it the most justice.

While some alchemists sought literal gold (as above, so below, if you can do it in involution you can do it externally too if you learn how to exert the right parts--see: the large hadron collider turning lead into gold before), the general essence of it is the growth from the Shadow (*hits the bell gong noise*) into the purest and independent self, but how even as the independent self, that self interacts with others to form their truest and greatest selves (such as the path of the Empress I speak of with Cas, she who carries the blossom, who feeds young from her own heart, who looks to the moon as a reflection of the sun that her emperor also represents even if in truth they birth the new aeon of Horus together).

The nativeness of gnosticism to SPN modernly is similar to christianity in S4-5, they are fundamental truths driving the show, but this involution of the characters is actually the true driving plot rather than an external revelations plot that the characters navigate through for their growth. Be that things as blunt as the occultum verse or the good ol "What Jack did wasn't evil, it was the absence of good" with the soul as the One True Good and One True Thing in this entire mindset, with life itself only a commentary on how to expand it, and its true place as god--with the demiurge and logos, or Chuck in our instance, being the often bungling antagonist who fancies himself lord because he made the playbox. Like. All of this.

So these fundamental steps and processes coming in and out across the many posts are actually stages towards the philosopher's stone or gold. These come in several forms: such as the cancelled union of 15.09 that Sam failed to carry out, or later the Occultum itself in 15.13. Both of these passed from our Emperor, to Empress, and then to the Aeonchild -- first Sam, then Jack, essentially united in this position together. The "Promethean Era", as Chuck even called it, prefaces the age of Horus, but it fundamentally aligns them one after the other. In this, Jack is our Young Horus, our sun, and the son.

There is a reason my meta is soul-centric. That is to say, since I keep drawing the connection of the soul and the sun (as gnostic stuff does unto itself), think of it as reminding people: The world revolves around the sun, the sun does not revolve around the earth. This also was once a hard mindset for people to grok, but if you take the fundamental reminder that he who has the most souls is god, collect the many things from my soul and heaven metas, and come to realize: Chuck's world actually orbits around the soul, not the other way around. In its fundamental structure, his world is nothing without souls. And I point to the many times I’ve pointed out the occultum meaning, with the earth being symbolic of both the physical world and the body--the body is just a vessel orbiting around the soul, but so too is the world.

But specifically in regards to the philosopher's stone question, the two instances visible are in 15.09 and 15.13, though I suspect we will have one further one. Also along the way I've banged on about the foreshadowing of our fusion of the elixer, which the Art Arcana itself that 15.13 quoted for the occultum itself represents--soul and grace if you will, or some representative mixture (heart of a man, blood of an angel, etc) -- these are our two halves for the union, called the union by which life exists, which also can be seen by the framing IN 15.13 of how Dean and Castiel stand in the shadow of Joseph and Mary as they pass the stone, where Jack is essentially immaculately reconceived.

The true verse of the Occultum is "Visit the interior parts of the earth, so as to find the hidden stone." But this needs a bunch of asterisks on it, because "earth" is symbolic of the body (again, as above so below) and the hidden stone is, essentially, the perfected soul. However, "hidden" in the latin verse is where the very name Occultum comes from, so Castiel's "Loosely translated, in order to be the occultum, the occultum must be in you," was a very succinct synopsis of this without having to take two minutes in asides explaining advanced gnostic thought on screen. But it was quite literally a passing of the philosopher's stone, the second in the season, and final attainment waits for us closer to the end with a truly perfected formula.

Hope that helps.

#supernatural #spn #philosopher's stone #pagan life #15.09 #15.13 #meta #my meta #amaah #hues of involution #gold #occultum #souls #art #lovers

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oneweekoneband · 4 years

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I’m slightly nauseous already with knowing I’m going to say this, but what does “self-awareness” even mean? In modern parlance, as a descriptive phrase, as a comment on art? I’m asking in earnest, like, I’ve been Googling lately, which for me is basically on par with doctoral study in terms of academic rigor. The self is king, anyway, tyrant, so where is the line of distinction between material that intentionally is nodding at some truth about the artist’s life and what’s just, like, all the rest of the regular navel-gazing bullshit. I mean, I’m all self, I am guilty here. I can’t get it out of my poems or even make it more quiet. This is the tenth time I’ve invoked “I” in the space of six sentences. Processing art has always necessitated a certain amount of grappling with the creator, but the busywork of it lately grows more and more tedious. Joy drains out of my body parsing marks left behind not just in stylistic tendencies and themes, but in literal, intentional tags like graffiti on a water tower. This feels an age old and moth-holed complaint, dull, and I am no historian, or really a serious thinker of any kind. I’ve now complained at some length about self-referential art, but didn’t I love how Martin Scorsese nodded to the famous Goodfellas Copacabana tracking shot with the opening frames of last year’s The Irishman? Didn’t I find that terribly fun and sort of sweet? So there’s distinctions. I’m only saying I don’t know with certainty what they even are. I’m unreliable, and someone smarter than me has likely already solved my quandary about why self-knowledge often transforms into overly precious self-reflexivity in such a way that the knowledge is diminished and obscured, leaving only cutesy Easter eggs behind. Postmodernism has birthed a moralizing culture where art exists to be termed either “self-aware Good” or “self-aware Bad”. Self-referentiality in media is so commonplace, so much the standard, that what was once credited as metatextual inventiveness often feels lazy now. In 1996, Scream was revitalizing a genre. Today, two thirds of all horror movies spend half their running time making sure that you know that they know they’re a horror movie, which is fine, I guess, except sometimes you just wanna watch someone get butchered with an axe in peace.

This is all to say that in 2020 Taylor Swift looked long and hard upon her image in the reflecting pool of her heart and has written yet another song about Gone Girl.

“mirrorball” is a very good piece of Gone Girl —feels insane to tell anyone reading a post on a blog what Gone Girl is but, you know, the extremely popular 2012 novel about a woman who pretends to have been murdered and frames her husband for it, and subsequently the 2014 film adaption where you kinda see Ben Affleck’s dick for a second—fanfiction. It would be a fine song, a good song, really, even if it weren’t that, if it were just something normal and not unhinged written by a chill person who behaves in a regular way, but we need to acknowledge the facts for what they are. When Taylor Swift watched Rosamund Pike toss her freshly self-bobbed hair out of her face and hiss, “You think you’d be happy with some nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it!” her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and she’s never been the same. If you Google “taylor swift gone girl” there waiting for you will be a medium sized lake’s worth of articles speculating about how Gone Girl influenced and is referenced in past Swift singles “Blank Space” and “Look What You Made Me Do”. This is not new behavior, and if anything it’s getting a bit troubling to think that it’s been this long since Taylor’s read another book. Still, while the prior offerings were a fair attempt at this particular feat of depravity, “mirrorball” has brought Taylor’s Amy Elliott Dunne deification to stunning new heights. And most importantly, Taylor has done a service to every person alive with more than six brain cells and a Internet connection by putting an end to the “Cool Girl” discourse once and for all. By the power invested in “mirrorball”, it is hereby decreed that the Cool Girl speech from Gone Girl is neither feminist or antifeminist, not ironic nor aspirational. No. It’s something much better than all that. It’s a threat. I ! Can ! Change ! Everything ! About ! Me ! To ! Fit ! In !

Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn

“mirrorball” (2020) by Taylor Swift

When the twinkly musical stylings of Jack Antonoff, a man I distinctly distrust, but for no one specific reason, whirl to life at the beginning of this song I feel instantly entranced, blurry-brained and pleasure-pickled like an infant beneath a light-up crib mobile or, I guess, myself in the old times, the outside times, three tequila sodas deep under the disco lights at The Short Stop. Under a mirrorball in my head. I know very little about music, as a craft, and I really don’t care to know more. I’m happy in a world of pure, dumb sensation. I’m not even sure what kind of instruments are making these jangly little sounds. I just like it. I am vibing. We may not ever be able to behave badly in a club again, but I can sway to my stupid Taylor Swift-and-the-brother-of-the-lady-who-makes-like-those-sweatshirts-with-little-sayings-or-like-vulvas-which-famous-white-women-wear-on-instagram-you-know-what-I-mean song, pressing up onto my tiptoes on the linoleum tile of our kitchen floor and can feel for a second or two something approaching bliss. “mirrorball” is a lush sound bath that I like a lot and then also it’s about being all things to all people, chameleoning at a second’s notice, doing Oscar worthy work on every Zoom call, performing the you who is good, performing the you who is funny, performing the you who draws a liter of your own blood and throws it around the kitchen then cleans it up badly all to get your husband sent to jail for sleeping with a college student... Too much talk about making and unmaking of the self is way too, like, 2012 Tumblr for me now, and I start hearing the word “praxis” ring threateningly in my head, but I’m not yet so evolved that I don’t feel a pull. Musings on the disorganized self—on how we are new all the time, and not just because of all the fresh skin coming up under the dead, personhood in the end so frighteningly flexible—are always going to compel me, I’m afraid, but that goes double for musings on the disorganized self which posit that Taylor Swift still thinks Amy Dunne made some points.

Because on “mirrorball” Taylor is for once not hamfistedly addressing some “hater”, in the quiet and the lack of embarrassing martyrdom it actually offers an interesting answer to the complaint that Taylor is insufficiently self-aware. This criticism emerges often in tandem with claiming to have discovered some crack in the chassis of Swift’s public self, revealing the sweetness to be insincere. My instinct is to dismiss this more or less out of hand as just a mutation of the school of thought that presumes all work by women must be autobiography. And, regardless, it is made altogether laughable by the fact that anyone actually paying attention has known since at least Speak Now, a delightful record populated by the most appalling, horrible characters imaginable, and all of them written by a twenty year old Taylor Swift, that this woman is a pure weirdo. To accuse Taylor Swift of lacking in self-awareness is a reductive misunderstanding, I think, of artifice. Being a fake bitch takes work. Which is to say, if we agree that her public self is a calculated performance—eliding the fact that all public selves are a performance to avoid getting too in the weeds yadda yadda— why, then, should it be presumed that performance is rooted in ignorance? Would it not make more sense that, in fact, someone able to contort themselves so ably into various shapes for public consumption would have a certain understanding of the basic materials they’re working with and concealing? Taylor Swift, in a decade and a half of fame, has presented herself from inside a number of distinct packages. The gangly teenager draped in long curls like climbing wisteria who wrote lyrics down her arms in glitter paint gave way to red lipstick, a Diet Coke campaign, and bad dancing at awards shows. There was the period where she was surrounded constantly by a gaggle of models, then suddenly wasn’t anymore, and that rough interlude with the bleached hair. The whole Polaroid thing. Last year she boldly revealed she’s a democrat. Now it’s the end of the world and she’s got frizzy bangs and flannels and muted little piano songs. Perhaps this endless shape-shifting contradicts or undermines, for some, the pose of tender authenticity which has remained static through each phase, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been doing it all on purpose the entire time. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

In the Disney+ documentary—which, in order to watch, I had to grudgingly give the vile mouse seven dollars, because the login information that I’d begged off of my little sister didn’t work and I was too embarrassed to bring it up a second time—Taylor referred to “mirrorball” as the first time on the album where she explicitly addressed the pandemic, referring to the lyrics that start, “And they called off the circus, Burned the disco down,” and end with “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me,” which actually did made me laugh, feeling sort of warmly foolish and a little fond, because it never would have occurred to me that she was trying to be literal there. I suppose we really do all contain multitudes. Hate that.

#taylor swift #folklore

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plaidbooks · 4 years

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Helping Others - an EDL Bonus

A/N: This is the second bonus chapter for Everyone Deserves Love. This takes place in the middle of chapter 12, but can be read before it. Just a date night that doesn’t end as planned...in the words of Rafael Barba, “no means no.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: implications of smut, mentions of panic attacks, the briefest implication of child abuse (blink and you miss it)

Words: 2k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @averyhotchner @permanentlydizzy @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

Devon walked down the hallway towards Barba’s front door. Their original plan was to spend last night together, into the morning, then Devon would leave to get ready for a fancy dinner that Barba had set up. They had been dating for four months now, but this would be their first real, public date, his work gala not included. They disclosed their relationship a couple weeks ago—well, Barba told McCoy; Jenkins didn’t really care, as long as it didn’t interfere with Devon’s work—and this was their first day that they were both off work. Most of their “dates” had consisted of either takeout, or Barba cooking an amazing meal, and them chilling at one of their homes, cuddling on the couch, watching whatever was on tv. Or the rare occasion when they went for a stroll in the Park. Both of them were slightly annoyed at not spending much time together. But they were not annoyed at each other. Never at each other.

Devon smiled as she made it to his door, using her key to unlock it and slip inside. Barba had mentioned coming to pick her up at her place, but she didn’t want to wait. We hardly see each other as it is; why deprave ourselves of even more time? she reasoned to herself. She closed the door silently, listening for where her boyfriend may be. She heard the faint sound of water. Shower still? We’re going to be late…she thought, shaking her head; Barba really could take forever getting ready. But wait a moment, she froze, hearing something else, barely audible over the water.

No way, she thought, sneaking down the hallway as best as she could in heels. Thank god for carpeted floors. She slowly opened his bedroom door, creeping in, trying to force her ears to listen harder. Sure enough, being this close to the bathroom, she could hear him clearly now; Rafael Barba was singing. In the shower.

She grinned, not in a teasing way, as if she caught him doing something embarrassing. Quite the opposite; he sounded…good. Better than good. She was actually shocked at how amazing his voice sounded. She felt her heart soften, her very soul melting as she fell more and more in love with him with every raise of his voice. Almost in a trance, she moved to his bed, perching herself on the edge, and listened.

Devon heard the water turn off, but his voice didn’t lessen. She couldn’t place the song; probably something from one of his theater plays he loved so much. Barba’s voice was muffled briefly—Devon assumed he was wiping his face with a towel—before he continued. The doorknob between the bathroom and bedroom finally twisted, door swinging open. Barba came strolling into the room, towel hanging off his hips, chest still slightly damp, voice still booming. That is, until he saw Devon sitting on the bed, smiling dreamily at him.

He jumped, swearing rapidly in Spanish, before saying, “god dammit Dev! What are you doing here?” He was panting and clutching his chest; it was such an animated response, Devon had trouble not laughing at him.

“I missed you,” she replied innocently, sticking out her bottom lip.

Barba regained his composure, moving to his closet to find clothes to change into, his face turning beat red. “We literally saw each other two hours ago.”

“That was two whole hours ago!” she whined. “Besides, forget that; why have you never told me you could sing like that?”

He dropped his hands to his side, refusing to look at her. “You must promise me that you’ll tell no one about that, okay?”

Devon was stunned at how serious, how sad he sounded. She got up from the bed, moving to lean against his side, uncaring that he was still damp, wrapping her arms around his bare waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “But Rafi, you’re so good. Why hide that?”

He sighed heavily, turning to look Devon in the eyes. This close, their breath mingled, and Devon thought for the millionth time about how pretty his green eyes were up close. “Because, Hermosa,” he breathed. “That’s all behind me. A path closed off when I was a child. I…I don’t really want to talk about it right now, so can we just drop it? Please?”

“Of course,” Devon murmured back, kissing his shoulder. Questions still buzzed around in her mind, but she squashed them down; he’ll tell her when he wanted to. If he wanted to. And she’d be ready when that day was. “Now hurry up and get ready—you take forever.” She ran her nails over his back teasingly as she pulled away to wait by the bed again, and she saw him straighten, eyes darkening slightly.

“Do that again, and we’re going to be late,” he practically growled. He looked at her, eyes raking over every inch of her body; Devon was in a simple black dress, hem resting just above her knee, neckline plunging low, and hair swept up, exposing the soft skin of her neck.

She winked at him. “Take any longer, and we’re going to be late as it is. Besides, I like the idea of seeing you riled up all night. I feel like it may be worth my while to wait until after dinner.”

Barba chuckled, picking out one of his “fancy” suits, one that he swears is different than his court suits and his weekend suits, even if Devon thinks they look the same. “Fine, have it your way,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “But know that two can play this game.”

She could already feel warmth travelling south. Oh, she knew he was a master at this game, knew that he would most likely win it, too. But that didn’t mean she was going to go easy on him. She laughed lightly, heading to the door. She smirked when she heard Barba groan; he had just found out that her dress was backless, scars on proud display as well as exposing the back of her bra. From the wisps of black lace and hint of red roses that he could see, he knew that she was wearing his favorite pair of lingerie.

*************************

Amazingly, they made they dinner reservations on time. Barba wasted no time in making his first move; as they exited the cab, he placed his hand on the small of Devon’s back, his warm touch shooting electricity through her. The rough pad of his thumb rubbed circles into her soft skin. This is going to be a long dinner, Devon thought, trying not to think about what else that hand was capable of doing. They entered the restaurant, the hostess leading them to a secluded table. It was lovely; a short vase with two roses were in the middle of the table, a candle lit next to them. The table was next to a window, giving them a view of a small park, couples walking through, huddled together. Barba pulled out Devon’s chair, then scooted her in when she sat, before seating himself. He chose an expensive wine from the wine list, then poured her a glass after the waiter dropped it off.

Devon knew that Barba loved doing this; he loved treating her, giving her things that he thought she deserved. Even if Devon was content with curling up on the couch with popcorn and watching a shitty movie. But he indulged in her ideas of “dates,” so she would indulge in his. Her only real problem was navigating the menu; everything on it seemed 1) too pricey and 2) too rich a palette for her…delicate tongue—the fanciest cuisine she had eaten before was when she put her Chinese takeout on a real, ceramic plate. She went with the safest option she saw on there; some sort of pasta in a reduction of something or other.

“It’s nice going out on a real date for once,” Barba commented after the waiter had taken their order and left them alone once more. He reached under the table, hand brushing against her knee, pushing her dress up slightly.

“I’d agree with you, but with how handsy you are tonight, it seems like you would’ve liked to stay in more,” Devon grinned back, covering his hand with hers and squeezing. He turned his hand over, clasping hers.

“We always stay in. Maybe I want to show you off.”

Devon raised her eyebrows in mock offense. “Oh? And who are you showing me off to, if I may ask?”

Barba smirked back. “Why, all of New York, of course.”

Food came and went, Devon and Barba talking about work things—no one was close enough to hear any of it—before switching to other, more mundane topics. At some point, Barba’s hand had resumed its spot on her knee, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles in the skin.

“God, you are beautiful,” Barba murmured over the low-burning candle. He moved his hand higher, fingertips brushing over the skin of her inner thigh.

Devon gasped, eyes fluttering for a moment. “Rafi,” she breathed out. He chuckled low when he felt her spread her legs a little more under the table. Right then, the waiter came up; thank god for long tablecloths.

“Would either of you be interested in dessert?” the man asked. Barba looked to Devon expectantly, but from the lust evident in his eyes, she knew his answer. You’re dessert, he practically screamed with his eyes.

“I’m good, thank you,” Devon said, smiling politely to the waiter. Before the waiter could respond, Devon’s phone went off. She glanced at it before answering “Motely.”

The waiter passed the bill to Barba, thanking them for coming in tonight, and left. Barba looked at Devon, who was looking concerned while listening to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“I thought we agreed no work things tonight?” Barba whispered to her in a huff.

“Hold on a moment,” Devon said before covering the receiver. “I know, baby; I’m sorry. I need to take this. I’ll be right outside, okay?” Barba nodded solemnly. She returned the phone to her ear. “I’m still here.” Devon stood and made her way out of the restaurant.

Barba paid the tab, then decided to give Devon some time, just in case she was still on the phone, so he went to the restroom before making his way outside. He searched the front until he saw Devon, standing a little way away from the entrance, leaning against the wall and talking in a hushed voice on the phone.

“—no, really, it’s totally fine that you called me; I’m actually glad you did! You can always call me. No, yeah, that’s why I gave you my number. Never be afraid to call me, okay? And if I don’t answer, just leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I promise…. No, you’re not bothering me, it’s fine, really. Are you sure you’re feeling better? Okay…okay good. Yeah, yeah I want you to call her tomorrow, okay? I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Okay, bye,” Devon hung up and leaned her head back against the wall behind her.

“Everything okay?” Barba asked, concerned.

She sighed, shaking her head slowly. “I hope so.” She stood up straight. “I’m sorry, I know we said no work things, but that was…an old victim, from an old case. She was in a child sex trafficking ring that I helped break. She was 11 when I found her; she must be 17 now. But, she has really bad anxiety and depression. She has a therapist, but she called her twice and couldn’t get a hold of her and she was having a panic attack and she still has my number so she called me and so I had to talk her down and—”

Barba wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. “It’s okay. I understand,” he whispered against her head, placing small kisses there. All the annoyance he had felt left him as he held her, focusing instead on how pure his girlfriend’s heart was, at how much she genuinely cared. He stroked the back of her neck with his long fingers, releasing some of the stress built up there. They stood like that for a few moments, Barba gently rocking them back and forth until Devon’s sobs stopped.

“This was supposed to be a night for us, and then I ruined it,” Devon mumbled into his chest.

“No, Cariño. You didn’t ruin anything. You help people; that’s what you do,” he murmured back. She pulled herself impossibly closer to him. God, did she love this man…and hate her work. Sometimes. Only sometimes. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

He led her to the street, waving down a cab. Once in the backseat, Devon voiced the other concern that was in the back of her mind. “I’m…uh, I’m sorry, Rafa, but I don’t think I’m going to want to, uh, do anything tonight. I…it was a really bad case…the things they did to that girl….”

“It’s fine, Hermosa. You never need an excuse with me. In our line of work, especially, you should know that ‘no’ is perfectly fine with me,” he put a hand on her knee, squeezing it lightly. Devon leaned into him, resting her head against his chest while he stroked her hair, whispering how much he loved her.

#rafael barba x oc #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #everyone derserves love #edl bonus #fanfic #my writing

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thetranquilteal · 5 years

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Tethered - A One Shot [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

Being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

Modern Day Firefighter AU. One-shot. Inspired by personal feelings of anxiety and helplessness this Australian bushfire season.

A/N: I had just settled myself down in front of my computer with the intention of editing Part II of The Gift when the news caught my notice. For many Australian’s like myself, bushfires are not anything new. Every year hazard reduction burns are conducted (weather permitting), friends and family who volunteer with local fire brigades are likely to get called out at unexpected times, we pay attention when the State Department issues a Total Fire Ban. But the news that day was worrisome. It was alarming. It was downright anxiety-inducing. A literal state of emergency. I looked down at the story on my screen and asked myself… What would Claire and Jamie do in this situation? The answer, I found, was easy: they would be right there in amongst it. Fighting. Healing. Doing anything and everything they could to help the cause. Then I began to wonder… what if Claire was in my situation? What if she, too, was a primary carer who had little ones relying upon her, who had little to no extended family to provide support, who couldn’t simply walk out the door - no matter how much she wanted to? After much thought, I came to understand that - just as there is strength in staying to defend and strength in leaving everything behind - there is strength in going in headfirst and strength in staying behind.

That being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

She was tethered.

And all she could do was worry.

Claire's hand hovered over her phone sitting on the kitchen bench and she caught herself, purposefully pulling herself away and over to the sink where a pile of dishes were waiting.

Reading the news would bring no relief, she knew, only reports of more people evacuating homes, an ever-increasing number of people missing and warnings of extreme weather forecast for the days ahead, all guaranteed to intensify the sense of helplessness that had been hovering over her ever since Jamie had left.

It was a feeling as hot and sticky as the heat itself - and one she had come to hate.

In all her thirty years, she had seen and done many things. She had served with an army, graduated medical school and worked in the most adverse and trying conditions with Doctors Without Borders. She had been arrested during protests, been beaten, wounded, patronised and, at the worst of times, betrayed by those she relied on most. Most recently she had relocated to a new country, become a foster mother and survived childbirth twice.

Yet nothing compared to staying behind while Jamie went with the Rural Fire Service to the front line.

It had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Even now, two weeks after Jamie had received the call, she was itching to move. To take action. Drop Fergus, Faith and Brianna off with trusted friends and head for the hills. Literally.

She looked down at her gloved hands, covered in soap suds and clenched them tightly before opening them again to look at them plainly. There was so much more they could be doing - should be doing - other than washing multicoloured milk stained cups and jam smeared plates.

Respiratory problems, minor burns, heat exhaustion and dehydration, for example, were things she was well trained and equipped to deal with. But staying at home to look after the house and the children while her husband, friends and colleagues risked their lives during a state of emergency? Not so much.

Welcoming Fergus into their home had been both simple and easy. As an 8-year-old he had been happy to go wherever she and Jamie went, be it home or away, on a schedule or travelling across land and sea at only a moments notice. So much so, in fact, she had caught him attempting to stow away in one of the RFS trucks, adamant that he was not only old enough to go with the men but it would be beneficial for the team to have someone as small and fast as he around to help them.

Having Faith and then Brianna, however, had been something else entirely with periods of enforced bed rest, a near-death experience during birth and now being on maternity leave during a crisis challenging her in ways she had never expected.

She let out a sigh and pulled the plug out of the sink, deciding to leave the now clean pile of dishes to the elements in favour of giving in and scanning her phone for updates. Again.

‘Too Late To Leave’ the latest headline read and, just like every other time she came across those words, a shiver ran through her leaving goosebumps along her skin in its wake. Her throat tightened at the thought of something happening to Jamie or any of his team members and tears welled up in her eyes, from frustration or despair she didn't know.

Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

Not a moment too soon, Faith bounded through the kitchen door, hands full of colourful flowers pulled from the garden.

"For Mrs Cook!" Faith announced, holding out the bouquet proudly, her both smile wide and innocent, as Fergus joined them notably red-faced and out of breath.

"For Mrs Crook?" Claire corrected with a smile of her own as she reached for one of the clean cups behind her.

More than once she and Jamie had expressed to their foster son that caring for the little ones was not - and never would be - his responsibility yet the 11-year-old could always be found nearby actively looking after them, be it redirecting Faith’s attention when her antics turned dangerous or rocking Brianna’s crib when something startled her from slumber.

The least she could do, she figured, was refuel him at any given opportunity.

"Aye! Mrs Cook!" Faith repeated unfazed, her red curls bouncing eagerly.

"We haven't gone down to see Mrs Crook nor Mr Martin since the day before yesterday,” Fergus paused to gulp down half the cup and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We were thinking to take them some iced tea -”

“And flowers!”

“- and some flowers," Fergus added clearly, his eyes sparkling.

"That's a wonderful idea,” Claire agreed proudly. The days had been warm and at times the air so thick with smoke the normally busy roads were abandoned in favour of air-conditioned residences and she had made a point of regularly contacting their most at-risk neighbours just 'in case'. Such thoughtfulness from the children warmed a part of her, somewhere deep within her chest, that she hadn’t realised had grown cold. “I’ll get Brianna ready while you collect the fresh jug from the refrigerator."

On her way out of the kitchen she picked her phone up off the counter and slipped it into her back pocket before scooping Brianna up out of her bouncer and following the elder two children out the door.

"Come home to me, soldier," was the last thing she said to Jamie.

She would have to trust that he would.

"Keep the bairns safe," was the last thing he said to Claire.

He would have to trust that she would.

There was no point in worrying about things he had no control over, he knew. Not when the ash beneath his feet was like snow, covering every surface the eye could see, and flames in the distance reached heights he never imagined possible, producing smoke so thick it threatened the sky's existence.

To consume the very air they breathed.

Jamie pulled up his visor and wiped the ever-present sweat off his forehead with a dirty sleeve.

With moderate temperatures and low winds, they had expected to spend the day reinforcing containment lines in preparation for the days ahead, a much-welcomed respite from the gruelling 16-hour shifts they had been partaking in so far.

Just halfway to their assigned location in the National Park, however, they had received an urgent request for assistance in the Valley where a spot fire had taken the local crew by surprise. Together they had managed to protect all nearby buildings - including one he later found out was heritage-listed and an important part of local history - and were taking a moment to rest before getting back on the highway.

"Hey, Fraser! Catch!"

Jamie turned and caught the bottle of water in his gloved hands smoothly. He tucked it under his arm to take off his gloves before opening the bottle and lifting it to his dry, chapped lips.

"Taing," he called back, his voice still scratchy but strong, and lifted the now mostly empty bottle in a show of gratitude.

Left to his own devices for a moment more, he took the opportunity to look around as his heart rate slowed to a more reasonable beat. Except for their fleet of three trucks and two utility vehicles, each strategically parked to form a line of defence, the road was barren and the lack of wildlife combined with the eerie orange glow filtering through haze left him with an unusual sense of unease.

The very first time he had signed up to volunteer with the local brigade, he had been a young lad living in the Scottish Highlands, determined to follow in his late father’s footsteps, and in the years that followed learned from some of the toughest and most experienced senior members not only how to deal with the myriad of things they would undoubtedly encounter but what it truly meant to be a firefighter and part of a crew.

For some years now, he had considered himself both highly skilled and well informed, worthy of the seniority bestowed upon him and prepared for anything that would fall across his path. Yet, in all his years fighting fires, he had never experienced a summer like this.

It wasn't just the challenging terrain, unprecedented severe weather conditions or the growing number of losses that settled upon his shoulders, as heavy as the equipment they carried on their backs, that was testing him - threatening to push him beyond his limits.

It was also the first time the job had taken him so far away from his family. And for so long.

The first day or two had been easy with specialist reports, numerous briefings, allocation of equipment and the challenge of building a team under extreme conditions taking most if not all of his time and energy. But as they became familiar with the situation and settled into a somewhat regular routine, he found himself thinking of his family more and more. It was not uncommon for him to lay on a makeshift bed on the station floor in the wee hours of the morning, his body exhausted to the point of collapse but mind not yet following suit, and find himself wondering how they were or what they had been doing in his absence.

Even on their busiest days, when they stood on the front line, feet planted firmly on the ground, sweat running down their backs and hearts racing in their chests, they were there, not so much in conscious thought but a subtle sensation. As though something was pulling on him, reminding him that their mere existence provided him with purpose.

A purpose to fight, yes, but also a much newer purpose to come home.

At the signal of their Crew Leader, he drained the last of his water and climbed up into the cab of the truck.

Right now, they were headed into the unknown, their uniforms blackened and scorched in places before they had even truly begun. He didn’t know what they would come to face in the next few hours, how long this beast would rage or much damage it would ultimately cause.

All he knew for certain was that none of them were invincible, that what they were facing here - yesterday, today and tomorrow - was bigger and stronger than he and the crew would ever hope to be.

And he also knew he needn't worry.

He was tethered.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #fan fic #jamie x claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #fergus fraser #faith fraser #brianna fraser #firefighter au #modern day au #one shot

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marvelhero-fics · 5 years

Text

Stitches

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter shows up at your bedroom window all cut up and bloody from a fight and you have to look after him

A/N: Just a quick spider-man blurb!! :)

Word Count: 1,794

Today had been one of the longer days at school. You’d had two assignments due, one of your teachers yelled at you, and you’d spilt food on your favourite shirt at lunch. Once you’d made it home you pretty much sat at your desk all day finishing your AP chemistry homework. You never knew how you made it into that class. It was times like these, at 10 o’clock at night, when you were going through oxidation and reduction equations, when you genuinely thought you were far too dumb for Midtown.

After staring at the bunch of numbers and letters on your homework, along with some poorly scribbled notes, for far too long, you decided to get ready for bed. You sluggishly pulled yourself to your bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face before heading back to your bedroom. You striped yourself out of your clothes and threw on some clean underwear and your over-sized pyjama shirt.

Slipping into your clean bedding had truly been the best thing to happen to you all day. Your legs and back finally lying comfortably and relaxed. Just as you’d finally felt your consciousness drift off into a calm state of limbo, there was a knocking sound. Your eyelids fluttered open, a frustrated sigh skimming past your lips. You noticed the hallway lights were still lit, illuminating just slightly through the crack under your door. You weren’t surprised your parents and siblings were still awake, but why would they be knocking at your door.

The knock came again, only this time it was slightly louder, and it was actually coming from your window. You flicked your lamp on and quietly made your way over to your window. The first image to met your eye was Peter in his Spider-Man suit. He pulled the mask from his head and flashed you a weak smile. You quietly unlatched your window and slid the window up. You’d offered to leave the window unlatched so Peter could come in whenever he pleased, but he stated ‘with everything I’ve seen, I’d feel a lot safer if you kept it locked.’

He stumbled into your room, knocking over a few things. “Peter! You have to be quiet, my parents are still up.” You whispered, picking up the few things scrambled across the floor.

“Sorry.” He whined, falling into the armchair in the corner of your bedroom. You looked over at him in confusion, something was definitely wrong. The front of his suit has three large rips running from his left peck to his abs. You physically felt your heart sink through your stomach. Crimson blood ran down the fabric of his suit, turning it a dimmer shade of red.

“Peter- holy shit!?” You panicked, doing everything you could to keep your voice down. You rushed over to where he sat to fully inspect what had happened. Peter did what he could to cover the slashes up with his hand, but you grabbed his wrist and moved it to the side. Peters breathing was deep and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Pete, baby, you look so pale. What the hell happened?” You grabbed his jaw and pulled his face up to look at you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He breathed, “it- I got into a disagreement.” His gaze finally met yours, “with a mad scientist, who has cybernetic body parts.” He cocked a small smile, doing whatever he could to hide his pain.

“Karen, release the suit.” You said softly, watching the suit turn baggy and fall off his shoulders. You crouched down and peeled it off his torso where the blood stuck it down, along with pulling it from his arms. He bit down on his lip and winced. It was even worse when the suit was off. You could see the depth of the scratches, and how much blood oozed out of them. “Peter...” You mumbled, standing back up on your feet.

He grabbed both of your hips, he clearly tried to grip you tightly, but he didn’t have the stength. He held your body between his legs, you hands calmingly running through his curly brunette hair.

“(Y/N),” Peter looked up at you, “I love you,” he added, earning a smile from you, “and I need you to stitch these up, babe.” He finished. Your face fell.

“No, no- no- no-.” You went to move back but he held you in place, his hands still gripping your hips. “I can’t do that.”

“Baby, I can’t do it, I can’t move my arms enough. And I just need you to stitch it closed as much as you can. I heal fast but it’s so much faster if it’s stitched closed.” He muttered on, clearly just having trouble moving his mouth.

“I’ll take you to the hospital, Peter-“

“No, no I can’t. How would I even explain this? And they would tell Aunt May, and she can’t know.” His puppy dog eyes glaring up at you. “Your dads a doctor, you can figure it out, I know you can.”

“That’s so not how it works, you don’t become a doctor by genetics, it’s years of work-“

“I know, I love you, I’m sorry.” His head fell back on the arm chair. Your hands quickly grabbed his face to pull his gaze back to you.

“If you die, I’ll kill you.” You smirked. He gave a weak smile back before you grabbed your robe and went to the bathroom to collect everything you needed. It was a good thing your dad was a doctor because he always had random first aid kits and healthcare related items scattered throughout the house.

You quickly returned to you bedroom, flicking the room light on and softly shutting the door behind you. You approached Peter, lifting his head up and pulling him out of his rest.

“Drink up please.” You whispered, handing him a large glass of water. He began sipping away at the water as much as possible while you dabbed a cloth into disinfectant.

“Pete, this is going to hurt really bad,” you sighed, really not wanting to go through with this.

“It’s okay, I’ve probably dealt with worse.”

Before starting, you grabbed a t-shirt from your dresser and folded it, tucking it into Peters mouth. “Because you need to stay quiet.” You assured him.

“Kinky.” He mumbled through the fabric. You punched his leg slightly as you squatted down. Of course that would be Peters thought in this very moment.

You began cleaning his wounds. His abs and muscles tensing through the pain. He would grab your arm every few minutes and push it away, giving himself a break from the burning sensation of the disinfectant. It got to a point where it was truly hurting you. In the beginning it was actually kind of cool dating Spider-Man, even if no one knew. But it became extremely stressful pretty quickly. He was always getting beat up and hurt, and always coming to you to fix it. It never got easier seeing him bruised and cut up.

“Okay, okay. It’s clean.” You whispered, you threw the cloth away and wiped off your hands. Peter pulled the t-shirt out of his mouth and sunk into the chair. His muscles went limp and his breaths became deeper.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. You tangled your fingers within his, and ran your thumb across his hand.

“Peter, this is really the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.” You huffed out in a dry laugh. After a few moments of Peter relaxing, you grabbed a stitching needle and thread.

“Peter this is literally insane, I should not be doing this.” Mild panic completely took over as you continued threading together the materials.

“As long as the wound is closed it’ll pretty much be healed overnight. It doesn’t have to be proper surgeon grade stitching.” He tried to comfort you, looking down at his chest.

“This is still absolutely ridiculous.” You panicked, for some reason you weren’t talking yourself out of it, you continued to ready yourself and began to suture. Peter took it quite well considering you were sticking a needle in him over and over. You truly didn’t understand anything to do with his ‘powers’.

After about 20 minutes you’d done an okay job of stitching Peter back together, unfortunately he still looked as sweaty and pale as he did at the beginning. You packed up everything, throwing away the rubbish and closing all the first aid kits. You left out a roll of bandage and some tape.

“Peter, you need to stand up so I can bandage you up so you don’t bleed anywhere.” You explained. He nodded and you helped him get to his feet. His legs were shaky and his breathing still not quite right. You bandaged around his stomach as quickly as you could, taping the end after you made sure it wasn’t too tight. You grabbed Peters body and directed him over to your bed. God, his skin was cold, this part of dating Peter was so frighteningly awful. You helped his weak body lie down. His head hit the pillow and it was lights out. You gently put your duvet up over his body to keep him warm, placing a kiss on his cheek before moving back over to the armchair. Unsurprisingly, there was blood on the chair, and blood on the floor from his ripped up suit. You grabbed your towel that you’d left on the ground from your earlier shower and you tried to clean up as well as you could. After most of the blood had vanished, you threw it in your washing basket and folded up his destroyed suit.

You looked at the little black spider on the suit, then over to Peter. Why did all this have to happen to him? You thought. The two of you were just teenagers. Peter was just a teenager. He shouldn't be out fighting cybernetic mad scientists! He should be at home doing homework. In all honesty you tried not to think about it too much, otherwise you knew it would make you cry. He promised he would never let anything happen to him, but it was times like these when you really didn't know if that was true or not.

Quietly, you climbed into the other side of your bed, turning your lamp off and pulling the duvet up over you. Your body wriggled onto its side to face Peter.

“Thank you, (Y/N). And stop worrying about me. I’m always gonna be here with you.” Peter stated, his eyes staying closed and body staying still.

“Do you promise?” You responded, your hand tangling into his under the bedding.

“I promise.”

#Peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #Peter Parker blurb #Peter Parker Imagine #Peter Parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland peter parker #spider-man #spider-man imagine #spiderman fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #Peter Parker x you #marvel #the avengers

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touchmycoat · 5 years

Text

kinktober: day 28

day 28: writing on the body

this wasn’t meant to be sickfic, much less incomplete sickfic, but here we are. I’ll finish, clean, and post to AO3 later.

The rendezvous was on a summer island once more, the air so superheated this time that even Ace wanted to run around fully nude. He couldn’t feel excessively hot or anything, what with literally being fire and all—it was just the atmosphere the whole island brought about. It made him want to sweat and run for a dunk in a freshwater lake or wrestle someone for an icy shower.

Others didn’t have it so easy. Thatch’s hair had gone fully limp since day zeroth, whatever he used to keep up the ‘do melting and dripping off his forehead in nasty milky trails. Marco was okay, though little licks of blue fire keep getting spotted on his exposed skin, healing the sunburns he swore he didn’t get.

Sabo, when he got to the island, promptly took off all his clothes.

“Don’t,” he ordered, dunking his hands into the tub of water that had gone tepid in a matter of minutes after Ace prepared it, “touch me, ‘cause I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.”

“Aw, babe, I’ve missed you too,” Ace replied, tone as dry as Sabo’s hair was wet, now that he’s gone and sank his entire head into the water. “Aren’t Revolutionaries supposed to be hardier? You’re gonna let a little heat wave get you down?”

“I may also be running a little fever,” was Sabo’s admission. Ace scanned him in alarm, and now noticed an unnatural pink flush under his skin. “Everything is unpleasant and I’m dying.”

“I’m assuming that’s hyperbole.”

“Well I don’t keep sucking a doctor’s dick for no reason—where the fuck is Marco?”

Exploring, was the answer to that, and Sabo looked as impressed with it as Ace expected him to—which is to say, not at all.

“The one time I need him,” Sabo cursed in blatant mistruth. “That’ll teach me to ever trust again. There’s no way around it then—Ace, we have to go old school.”

“Unless you’ve brought your own eel’s blood, I can’t help you there,” Ace answered warily.

“I meant—”

“Nor do I have ginger root and all the necessary needles.”

With a sigh of frustration, Ace approached and hovered his hand about Sabo’s forehead, taking heed of Sabo’s warning against physical contact and hoping, sometime in the past five minutes, his fruit has given him some miraculous sensitivity to temperature in air convection. It hasn’t, but Sabo heaved a sigh of his own, and sullenly leaned his head into Ace’s hand.

“...Yikes.” It took a moment for Ace to translate the sensation on his hand to a normal human context. “You’re really burning.”

“If you truly love me,” Sabo muttered, peeling his head away with a grunt, “you’d go hunt an eel.”

“If I truly love you,” Ace corrected, pulling a den den mushi out of his bag, “I’d call Marco.”

One of Marco’s division members picked up.

“Hey Commander!” was Aoi’s cheery greeting. “Gimme a sec, our Commander’s left us a bit behind.”

“Just put me on the loudest volume,” Ace advised. As soon as she did, Ace yelled into the sparse canopy of trees in the broadcast, “hey Marco! Sabo’s dying!”

A beat. A burst of blue flames. A familiar face emerging with a frown.

“I’m assuming that’s hyperbole, yoi.”

“How would you know?” Sabo complained, not even looking at the den den mushi, so bleary-eyed he was and swaying on the spot. “You’re not here to anally probe me with a thermometer or anything.”

Giggling, and a cough. “Thanks, Aoi, I’ll take it from here.” Marco took his den den mushi and walked off down a more secluded path, waving his exploration team ahead. He wove between thick purple tree trunks until finally settling against one, staring into his side of the projection with overt concern. “Are you feverish? What symptoms are there yoi, and when did they start?”

This time, when Sabo opened his mouth to speak, a pallor suddenly washed across his face. He ended up tossing his head back in determined swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as the tendons in his throat stood out in stark relief.

“Well,” Ace took over in dismay, “I think it’s safe to say he’s experiencing nausea. No coughing or sniffling so far. He just came in with a fever and didn’t want me to touch him.”

“Oh?” Marco took in the sight of Sabo standing completely nude, presumably assessing the cause. “Sabo, is it just general sensitivity, or does contact with your skin actually hurt?”

“Hurt is relative,” Sabo said, because even halfway to incoherent he needed to be difficult, “but I’m guessing you’re not telling me to compare it to being burned alive by actual fire.”

“Good guess yoi, I’m not telling you to do that,” was Marco’s flat reply. “Just compare being touched right now to, oh, your regular old knife wound.”

“Then sure, it hurts.”

“Okay any wounds, potential infections? Insect bites?”

“Not that I can see,” Ace reported, after an inspecting circle around Sabo. “Do you think he was poisoned then?”

“I mean, maybe?” Neither Sabo nor Ace had a response to Marco’s bewilderment. “But if he’s not saying anything about being poisoned yoi, we should just assume it’s a regular cold.”

Ace frowned. “How do you mean?”

“How do you mean, how do I mean?” Marco asked slowly.

“Well someone must’ve done this to him,” Ace argued logically. “How else could he contract an illness?”

“He could be immunocompromised for any number of reasons, and just—germs, viruses yoi. I don’t—” At Ace’s unyielding moue of incomprehension, Marco scratched frustratedly at the back of his head. “Honestly, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then that actually makes the possibility of Sabo being poisoned higher. How about it, Sabo? Any possibilities?”

“Yes.” Sabo blinked, and almost actually collapsed, knees buckling for just a tiny moment. Ace darted out to catch him, but refrained at the last moment from actual contact when Sabo managed to stay upright. “Okay I confess, I wasn’t listening to anything you guys were saying.”

“Lie down, for goodness sake,” Marco hissed, more out of worried sympathy than anger.

“It’ll hurt.”

“It’ll hurt a lot worse when you fall on your face, and I gotta carry you over to the bed,” Ace pointed out. He waved his arms about to herd Sabo in the direction of the mattress. “Just—lie flat on your back, and don’t move.”

“Breathing hurts too,” was Sabo’s whimpering complaint. But he did shy away from Ace’s hands and start moving toward the bed. His movements were stiff and obviously pained, and when one knee sunk into the mattress, Sabo made a sound of such utter distress that Marco flinched, all the way on the other end of the line.

“Okay yoi, I’m on my way back. But in the meantime Ace, grab the first aid kit I brought.” The tree trunks started to blur behind Marco as he jogged, then sprinted down the mountainside. “There should be a jar in the top right corner full of thick dark red paste.”

The first aid kit was a sizable buckle-up box that Marco brought onto every island landing. Every doctor and nurse practitioner in his division carried one.

“Looks like chili? Yup, got it.” The jar was larger than Ace’s fist and densely packed. He popped the top and sniffed it, expecting a punch of spice. What he got instead was an herbal sweetness, not overwhelming at all.

“Water down the paste a little bit, but leave it thick enough to paint with. There should be a pretty big brush in the kit as well yoi.”

When Ace found the brush and wielded it up in the air, Sabo’s eyes widened.

“You better not be planning on touching me with that thing.”

“At this point,” Ace commented with a side-eye look at Sabo’s awkward positioning, three limbs braced on the bed with the fourth still pending pain, “would it be worse?”

“Hopefully it’ll relieve the discomfort.” Marco made an unhappy noise, aimed at himself. “I gotta hang up—I’ll get there faster if I fly. But yes Ace, paint the liquid on any surface of the skin that’s in pain. It should be absorbed pretty quickly, and it’s fine if you paint over the same spots yoi. If it hurts worse, stop, and we’ll figure it out when I get back.”

“Got it.” Ace offered Marco a little smile meant to reassure. “We’ll see you soon then.”

Marco hung up with a rush of blue flames, and Sabo let out the most agonized groan yet, settling fully back onto the mattress. He’d tossed the pillow on the floor, and now held himself so rigidly against the soft sheets. Ace busied himself with the preparation of the water and paste in the basin he had given first to Sabo, but could barely take his eyes off of Sabo’s expression, eyes screwed shut and lips pressed into two pale, bloodless lines.

“Sabo,” Ace said lowly, in comfort, “the medicine’s ready. We’ll start with a small spot, okay? Where does it hurt worse?”

Sabo’s hands couldn’t even clench into fists—they were flexed tightly, like even touching himself was out of the question.

“Chest,” he bit out through teeth gritted so hard, Ace was genuinely keeping an eye out for blood spots along the gums. “Over my heart.”

The paste that Ace has mixed up looked like Thatch’s signature berry reduction, dripped with the consistency of that same dessert topping. With just one corner of the flat brush (the kind used for painting planks of wood and walls), Ace soothed a spot of it on Sabo’s left pectoral, watching in fascination as the color immediately soaked into the skin, drying until it sat like a tattoo.

“Can’t feel a thing,” came Sabo’s grudging admission. “You might need more.”

“Alright,” Ace agreed, soaking the entire width of the brush bristles. They were soft-ended and flexible, as if Marco prepared it for this very purpose in mind—minimizing pain in hypersensitive skin. “Here we go.”

Sabo’s breath came ragged and harsh when Ace stroked the brush more fully down his chest. The moment the paste started soaking into the skin however, a keening cry of relief left Sabo’s throat.

“That,” he demanded. “That. Just—everywhere.”

#kinktober 2019 #marcoacesabo #i know i said i'd finish the sounding fic but i also #was captured by this idea #alskjdflsd i can already see this continuing into sex pollen #'the only way to get this out of your system is orgasms yoi'#'you don't sound like a very trustworthy doctor marco ngl'

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sothe · 6 years

Photo

I finished Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE and I liked it a lot more than I thought I would..so I tried to make the main cast into FEH units...explanations under the cut.

Itsuki Aoi - Everyman

Type - Sword Infantry

BST - 163

Stats - HP (43) Attack (34) Speed (36) Defense (25) Resistance (25)

Weapon - Idol Falchion (Effective against dragon units, Inflicts -7 Attack to unit on enemy team with the highest Attack until their next action, Grants Def/Res +3 to adjacent allied units)

Assist - Rally Up Atk/Spd+ (Grants Attack/Speed +4 to target ally and all allies within two spaces of target, excluding unit, for one turn)

Special - Aether

A Skill - Fury 3

B Skill - Chill Speed

C Skill - N/A

Explanation: Itsuki is an all-arounder type of unit. His stats look impressive, but that’s due to Fury’s +3 to all stats. Chill Attack in his weapon and Chill Speed as his skill give him a supportive niche...that I just realized Soren has with his tome. But whatever, Soren is a green mage and Lon’qu and Raven have the same refine so just let me have this. Rally Up Atk/Spd is something that i see coming since Ophelia brought the first Rally Up skill and it took a little bit for dual rallies to come out. Most of the Falchion users have some support based bonus granted by their sword so I made Itsuki’s help out allies instead of himself since in TMS he is usually helping instead being on the forefront. (Story-wise, gameplay wise he is force deployed whether you want him or not lmaoo) He doesn’t have his own show or song, but he’s always helping his friends with their show business jobs.

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Tsubasa Oribe - Dreamer

Type - Flying Lance Singer

BST - 150

Stats - HP (32) Attack (31) Speed (37) Defense (24) Resistance (26)

Weapon - Ethereal Feather (If Sing is used on an allied unit grants unit another action and heals unit 10 HP)

Assist - Sing

Special - N/A

A Skill - HP/Atk 2

B Skill - Aerobatics 3

C Skill - Distant Guard 3

Explanation: So she could have just been a regular Peg Knight but since in TMS her main focus is becoming an idol I made her a singer/refresher. Her Weapon is supportive and not offensive because tbh...she doesn’t have the best offensive capabilities compared to Touma, the other lance user in TMS. He beats her in raw physical dmg, but she destroys him in the magic department, BUT Kiria takes the cake for best magic user so Tsubasa is best used as a support healer with some offensive moves thrown in. Distant Guard helps give her teammates some extra def/res and Aerobatics help her get to her teammates, but Wings of Mercy is easily another skill that could be there. IS hasn’t actually given a dancer/singer WoM so I figured it was just taboo for them and I was ‘trying’ to go for realism.

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Touma Akagi - Just an Extra

Type - Lance Cavalier

BST - 157

Stats - HP (42) Attack (35) Speed (28) Defense (31) Resistance (21)

Weapon - Brionac (Grants Atk+3, If units attack is greater than enemies attack then special cooldown -1 for each attack)

Assist - Shove

Special - Growing Flame

A Skill - Atk/Def Solo 3

B Skill - Quick Riposte 3

C Skill - N/A

Explanation: Touma is best boy. Ok, but he is my favorite of the cast and his whole journey as a character is him trying to become a hero people look up to. So I wanted his kit to represent that. His weapon has Heavy Blade built into it since he is pretty slow and he needs the extra cooldown reductions. He has Atk/Def solo to represent his want of being a hero on his own and he has Shove to get a nearby ally away from him so he can take advantage of his skill. Quick Riposte would have been his go-to B skill so I just gave it to him and it makes sense for the kit. TBH no one in this game is slow...besides Mamori so I put him in the high attack/def, low speed category since I didn’t want all the builds to look the same?

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Kiria Kurono - Poker Face

Type - Green Infantry Mage

BST - 140

Stats - HP (32) Attack (34) Speed (30) Defense (15) Resistance (29)

Weapon - Sharur (Grants Res +3, if unit is adjacent to an ally at the start of the turn then ally and unit granted Atk/Spd +3)

Assist - Sing

Special - N/A

A Skill - N/A

B Skill - Chill Res 3

C Skill - Spd Ploy 3

Explanation: Kiria is another one of my favorite characters, her cool demeanor and hidden love for cute things is fun. (Plus her aesthetic is on point) She is the resident magic nuke of the bunch, and even though I gave her lower BST than regular mages I tried to represent that as well. Kind of anyways, she is already an established idol by the begining of the game so I made her a refresher. I wanted her to be supportive since a refresher’s job is to help teammates and give extra turns, but I also tried to make her a threat. Her weapon Sharur grants an adjacent ally, and Kiria herself, +3 Atk/Spd. The buff coupled with Spd Ploy gives her a decent offensive presence if needed. Chill Res is to help her and any other mages on her team, and Spd Ploy is just helpful all around.

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Eleonora Yumizuru - Rising Star

Type - Blue Infantry Archer

BST - 150

Stats - HP (35) Attack (32) Speed (38) Defense (23) Resistance (22)

Weapon - Pinaka (Grants Def +3, After combat, if unit attacked, inflicts status on target and foes within 2 spaces of target preventing counterattacks through their next actions)

Assist - N/A

Special - Blazing Thunder

A Skill - Mirror Strike 2

B Skill - Windsweep 3

C Skill - N/A

Explanation: So Eleonora grew on me since at first she seemed supper arrogant, but through her side missions and with her appearances in other side stories she shows a lot of character that would be missed otherwise. She’s like the groups big sister, and ironically she’s younger than most of the cast, but like Yashiro and Kiria she’s been in the entertainment industry longer than Itsuki, Tsubasa, Touma, and Mamori so she has the knowledge. So in TMS she has quite a few moves that inflict status effects like Charm, Poison, etc. I tried representing that in her weapon which acts like the healer stave Candlelight+. Blazing Thunder is because her affinity is electric imo since she learns more electric attacks than any other magic element. That’s also my reasoning for making her a blue archer since thunder mages are usually represented in FEH as blue. Windsweep is to apply the Candlelight debuff safely on physical units with DC, and Mirror Strike is to even out her defenses if she were to initiate on a Dragon unit or mage.

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Mamori Minamoto - Microwave Idol

Type - Green Axe Armor

BST - 175

Stats - HP (46) Attack (35) Speed (27) Defense (36) Resistance (31)

Weapon - Holy Axe (Grants Res +3, Allies within two spaces of unit are granted Def/Res +3 during combat)

Assist - N/A

Special - Pavise

A Skill - N/A

B Skill - Vengeful Fighter 3

C Skill - Close Guard 3

Explanation: So Mamori is the newest mirage master and she’s the most supportive of all of them. She literally protects her friends from attacks and takes them herself. So I tried to make her supportive in a defensive way. Her weapon Holy Axe gives her more Res and is basically Drive Def/Res for any allies within two spaces. Pavise hearkens to her Radiant Skill that reduces dmg taken when she protects an ally. Vengeful Fighter is just disgustingly good and she’s an armor who isn’t fast enough for Special Fighter and since she has the stats for defense instead of offense I chose VF. Close Guard is also supposed to be a callback to her protecting skills.

Something to note is that the cast is sort of split into singers and actors. All the characters cross into the other form of entertainment at some point in the game, and Mamori is more focused on becoming a singer over becoming an actor or something. BUT an armored singer would be weird so I just didn’t make her one...

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Yashiro Tsurugi - Cold Hearted

Type - Red Sword Infantry

BST - 149

Stats - HP (37) Attack (34) Speed (37) Defense (22) Resistance (22)

Weapon - Futsuno Mitama (At the start of the turn enemies within two spaces of unit receive -5 Atk/Spd)

Assist - Sing

Special - N/A

A Skill - Spd/Def Bond 3

B Skill - N/A

C Skill - Spur Atk/Def 2

Explanation: Yashiro is a good representation for the ‘enemy becomes an ally’ trope. I feel like that’s a spoiler but it’s not like he does anything super important as an ‘enemy’ he’s just the typical angsty “I’m just measuring your abilities” guy for a while until he decides Itsuki and co are cool enough to hang with. MOST of the time I dislike those characters since if I was Itsuki I would have called bullshit and told him to screw off, but Yashiro has the best character growth throughout the game imo. He’s a myrmidon so high atk/spd and low defenses, but since I made him a Singer due to his established Idol status his defenses are...bad. His skills are offensive and defensive since I wanted him to be potent as a killer and decent as a support. His weapon is both supportive and offensive as well since it debuffs for either him or an ally to take out the enemy.

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Tiki - Mirage Uta-loid

Type - Green Infantry Dragon

BST - 150

Stats - HP (33) Attack (32) Speed (36) Defense (22) Resistance (27)

Weapon - Divine Songstone (Grants ally atk/spd/def/res +3 when refreshed, also if foe is ranged targets lower of the foes defense or resistance)

Assist - Sing

Special - N/A

A Skill - N/A

B Skill - Wings of Mercy 3

C Skill - Guidance 3

Explanation: So Tiki isn’t playable, but she does play a big part of the story and she’s well known in the FEH community so I made her into a unit as well. I keep saying the word supportive in these explanations but Tiki literally can’t help with anything offensive besides forging weapons for the main cast to use. So her Songstone grants the Uror/Skuld buffs, Wings of Mercy is taboo for a refresher to have by default but I don’t care, and then Guidance is to help ferry her team. In TMS Tiki exists as an Vocaloid like Hatsune Miku, but they call them Uta-loids(?) so she is also a refresher. This build was mostly for fun and had the least amount of thought put into it. :)

#tokyo mirages sessions #fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #tiki fire emblem #itsuki aoi #tsubasa oribe #touma akagi #kiria kurono #eleanora yumizuru #mamori minamoto #yashiro tsurugi #lol #pls dont roast me yall

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oumiyuki · 6 years

Note

I know it's not properly your cup of tea, but, n.11 YouHane?

She likes me, She likes me not

Summary: In which Yoshiko’s confession of love to You fails miserably three times and she hopes the fourth works. Cross her heart and hope to fly.

Prompt: when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

Pairing: You x Yoshiko

Genre: Romance

Words: 2642

Author Notes

Hey, I love YouHane too, okay! I drink this cup of tea too! >3

May you enjoy~

“She likes me… she likes me not… she likes me… she likes me not…”

“When will you stop doing that, zura? It’s been a month already…”

“The flowers…” Ruby mutters sadly.

“It can’t be helped okay! It’s not my fault!” Yoshiko snaps as she plucks the last petal of the flower she picked from the school garden again.

“How is it not.” Hanamaru stares at Yoshiko with deadpan eyes. “Every time it stops with “she likes me” you react with “There’s no way she likes me right??” and pluck another the following day. And if it lands on “she likes me not” you freak out like it’s the end of the world, zura.”

“Noooooooo don’t expose meeeeee” Yoshiko covers her ears and shakes her head back and forth – the exact action of a person in denial.

“Some Fallen Angel you are.” Hanamaru pushes the dark-haired girl’s buttons.

“Urk.” Yoshiko stops mid-shake and after a second, “Kukuku…As if flower divination will determine whether a mere mortal has deep affections for me or not! I, the Great Yohane will-”

“Confess to her.”

“Confess to her- WHAT?” Yoshiko shrieks and jumps off the chair she once posed proudly on.

“Confess to her.” Ruby agrees with her best friend.

“I can’t-”

Hanamaru’s challenging stare and Ruby’s expectant gaze made Yoshiko flinch and sighs.

“I’ll confess to her…” Yoshiko mumbles.

“Good! I expect good results tomorrow, zura.” Hanamaru nods happily; perhaps this would spell the end of the reduction of flowers in the world due to a lovesick, cowardly, self-proclaimed teenage fallen angel who happened to have a crush on the school’s popular and loved high-dive team ace who was not only rumoured to be hot, they personally knew how the ash-brunette was a knight right out of the fairy tales with that charming and paralyzing smile. “It’ll go okay right..?”

“Ruby thinks it’ll go okay.” Ruby smiles a small smile of assurance, not revealing her conversation with their senior a few days back.

You skilfully sews the thread in and out, in and out before pausing for a moment to look to Ruby. “Hey, Ruby-chan…”

“Yes?” Ruby stops mid-work to give the ash-brunette her fullest attention.

You wore a distant look as she thought. “Do you think Yoshiko-chan is okay? She’s been kind of distant recently…like when I greet her she screams and runs away. Or when I sit next to her on the bus she scoots all the way to the corner to avoid me… Do you think she hates me?”

Ruby blinks, twice. Then nibbles her bottom lip to stop herself from telling You about Yoshiko’s feelings. “Um… I think you’re overthinking things…”

“Really?” You hums thoughtfully. “Does she do that to you too?”

“No, it’s only cos it’s You-chan.” Ruby giggles softly behind the fabric.

You furrows her eyebrows at that; what was that supposed to mean? “Should I continue trying to break the ice?”

Ruby considers that for a moment before nodding. “I think so. Yoshiko-chan will appreciate that.”

You chuckles. “I hope so. I’d like to win her over, you know! I’m not scary at all.”

Ruby presses her lips tightly together this time to avoid squealing that she wants You to actively go and win Yoshiko’s heart indeed; all it takes is one move. And also to not say that Yoshiko isn’t scared of You, just tripping badly for You. “Do your rubesty.”

You nods and smiles a winning smile. “I’ll do my rubesty!”

Yoshiko’s first idea of a confession was to fall on You.

It really wasn’t planned but Yoshiko wouldn’t admit to that; not even if admitting it can stop a horde of undead attacking the school or stop Hanamaru from giving her looks of pity.

Yoshiko was camping outside of the school gates, waiting to ambush You when her senior arrives at school earlier for swimming practice. A time when no one was to overhear her confess her massive crush for the ash-brunette and not catch them in any act of lovey-doveyness after You accepts her feelings such as a k-k-ki-ki-kis- a contact of lips.

The blue-haired girl’s face flushed red at the imagination of You and her smooching, so she paces back and forth, back and forth, at the gates until she decides she needed more walking, so she headed into the school to pace the floors too. All that pacing to clear her head caused her to almost miss You however as the ash-brunette walked through the gates just when Yoshiko was on the second floor.

“You!” Yoshiko’s eyes bulged at the sight and slammed her hands on the window sill overdramatically.

You looks up at the sound of her name and she breaks into a wide smile and huge wave at the first-year. “Oh! Ohayoshiko!”

Yoshiko’s heart raced at the bright smile You flashed her, so her composure was already further broken down, to make things worse she just had to retort with “It’s Yohane-” and kick against her ankle to splendidly send herself falling out the open window.

You dropped her bag immediately and miraculously caught her junior in her arms, it helps that Yoshiko has a way of falling down in a sitting manner too. You lets out a huge sigh of relief when Yoshiko was safe with her instead of somewhere in the air or splat on the ground. “Are you alright, Yoshiko-chan?”

“…” Yoshiko’s silence made You search the first-year’s face for any signs of pain. But she couldn’t find any except Yoshiko’s face seems to be gradually turning tobasco sauce red and it was kind of worrying.

“Hey-”

“Yohane-It’s-Yohane-and-I-may-or-may-not-have-a-crush-on-you and-you’re-super-cute-and-handsome and-I-hope-you-don’t-understand-me and-understand-me and-you-should-just-drop-me-right-now but-I-would-stay-here-forever-then-my-heart-is-gonna-die-whyyyyyy. See you!” Yoshiko flailed in You’s arms for a good minute after stunning You into confusion with a really high-pitched and epic chant and finally managed to scramble out of You’s swooning-device also known as arms and made her way for the school building again to hide.

“…”

“Huh…” You lowered her hands after five minutes and frowns. “Yoshiko-chan really doesn’t like me…”

Five hours of sighing passed and Yoshiko goes for her second attempt at confessing her feelings for You.

Spotting the ash-brunette leave her classroom to move to another venue for the next class, Yoshiko takes three deep breaths before stepping out of the wall she was hiding behind, putting on a brave smile to act like it was all a big coincidence to see each other right now. “Hey… You…”

You’s lips morph into a smile at the sight of Yoshiko who even said hi to her first instead. “Hey. Watcha’ doing here?”

“It’s…” Yoshiko croaks and she laments the fact that You’s smile makes her knees weak and her brain reduced to that of a slime’s. “It’s my school.”

You chuckles. “True.”

Yoshiko fidgets on the spot, stepping from side to side and hands wringing one another as she started feeling extra nervous and sweating on any exposed skin. Why was it so hard to just tell the girl she likes her?

You cocks her head to the side questioningly, wondering what’s gotten into the first-year. Sure Yoshiko was usually weird and up to antics, but the dark-haired girl seemed to be turning a similar shade of red like this morning after the impromptu skydive so You couldn’t help but worry a little. “Yoshiko-cha-”

“I…I you…I… like…Out…Please…Me…With…” Yoshiko’s lines of confessions came out as a stutter of singular words and You’s confused look made Yoshiko imagine humiliation and despair so the first-year simply snatched You’s textbooks from her hands out of panic before slamming it back in You’s arms and running off yet again.

“Wait, Yoshiko-chan! I… Could walk you to class if that was what you wanted..?” You frowns again; what does Yoshiko not like about her? Did her textbook do something wrong? You wasn’t the best at riddles when she wasn’t told beforehand that a riddle was coming up too so she wasn’t quite sure what “I, I, you, I, like, out, please, me, with” meant.

Aqours dance practice was in session and Yoshiko decided she was going to break down her confession into various parts since she couldn’t say the words “I love you” consecutively, properly, and clearly at one go to You’s face. Stepping on You really was not intentional.

Yoshiko finishes her stretches after everyone has done theirs and the moment it was time to get into formation and dance, the first-year kept her eyes locked on You and just quick-stepped over, which was a mistake since she miscounted the distance and stepped down on You’s feet that was dancing to the ash-brunette’s rightful position.

“Ah-”

“Sorry, I-” Yoshiko stops there and rushes back to her supposed spot and You could only reply with an expression of it’s okay before continuing dancing.

The second time, Yoshiko backstepped into You’s toe when she should be in front. “Sorry, just-” Yoshiko leaves her sentence hanging and dances to the front as she should’ve been.

You had shoes on and Yoshiko wasn’t too heavy, so You kept up with the dance routine. But the third time, Yoshiko literally jumped onto her feet and she wonders if this was a roundabout manner of the first-year’s upset with her for a reason she can’t find. “Sorry, want-”

Want? If Yoshiko wanted something she should just tell You straight-up, not attempt to make her unable to walk. You shakes her head with a gentle smile so Yoshiko doesn’t blame herself or anything. “It’s okay.”

Fourth time. “Sorry, to-”

Fifth step. “Sorry, say-”

Sixth. “Sorry, I-”

The seventh time, Yoshiko truly did stumble over Riko’s feet to crash into You’s space and smoosh the ash-brunette’s feet once again, but this was kind of part of the plan, right? So Yoshiko continued the next part of her confession, “Sorry, love-”

“Love?” You sported a hint of a blush overlapping with the heat of dancing.

Realization hit Yoshiko fast and hard like a truck that drove out of a bent you least expected and she vomited out the next string of incoherency. “Gaa- shi- nooo, that’s not what I said!!” Yoshiko fled.

You was left standing there with a overly stepped on feet, feeling utterly confused and weirdly heartbroken as she waved away the rest of the girls’ concern as she heads home.

Yoshiko calls You out to the rooftop of her apartment building via text. It was late, like 9pm late, where it was dark out and cold and she wasn’t sure if You would still speak to her after today’s events but You actually responded with an ‘Okay’. So here was Yoshiko, in a cardigan that felt too thin against the strong winds of an Autumn night’s rooftop waiting for You to come by.

Ten minutes and You walked through the doors of the rooftop looking charming even in a plain tee and short shorts (which did a lot to Yoshiko’s libido) with just a hoodie jacket for warmth. Yoshiko wishes she warned the ash-brunette about the cold night beforehand when she saw You shiver a little before waving to Yoshiko. “Hey…My feet are fine…If you’re wondering.”

Yoshiko clears her throat and hangs her head low. “Yeah…Sorry about that…”

You’s lips twitched a little and waits again. “So, er…” Yoshiko shows that she has her phone in her hand and she was typing and looks up to You when You’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “Okay..?” You reaches for her phone and jolts at the words.

“I love you”

“I-” You looked up to Yoshiko who frantically tapped at her phone before You’s phone vibrated in her hands.

“More than friends”

You swallowed as she read the next sentence. She did think that Yoshiko meant it in a friendly way so that cleared up a misunderstanding, only to make You want to say something again but her phone vibrates once more.

“More than club mates”

You’s cheekbones couldn’t help but push upwards a little at that; friends were already closer than club mates, no? Another vibration.

“More than bus-riding buddy”

That too. You’s quite sure that friends top club mates or bus-riding buddies. But You smiles at that. She didn’t know she owned a title of Bus-riding Buddy with Yoshiko. She was on the train of thought that she was The Senior Yoshiko Dislikes for Unknown Reasons. You felt warmer now.

“More than the Ancient Sealed and Lost Dark Ritual Book”

Okay, now You felt really special but couldn’t quite tell how special she was supposed to be to Yoshiko when compared to a book that was supposedly lost already, according to its name. You takes a step forward and Yoshiko takes a step back, fingers still a furious warrior to her phone’s keyboard.

“If you…”

You glances to her phone and steps to Yoshiko again.

“If you like me too…”

You reads the words and continues closing the distance between Yoshiko while the first-year has her back to the wall now.

Yoshiko looks behind her to give the wall a look before taking in a huge breath and stared You in the eyes. Wrong move; for that didn’t last longer than a second when Yoshiko’s heart couldn’t withstand how beautiful You’s ocean blue hues glimmer with whatever You was thinking and feeling at the moment and Yoshiko needed another deep breath to calm her racing out of control heartbeat. “Will you…go out with me?” Yoshiko manages to say at least that line out loud, albeit squeaky nervous.

You’s lips naturally morphed into a lopsided smile as she pocketed her phone and put one of her hand on the wall behind Yoshiko. “Say all of that out loud to me, Yoshiko-chan.”

Yoshiko glared weakly at You’s full, red, slightly dry lips. “I-I can’t.”

You feigned a pout. “You don’t love me enough to do it?”

“You!” Yoshiko croaks with disbelief that You would even think that she doesn’t love You like a lot but asking her to do the impossible was simply well…impossible.

You holds back a chuckle. “Sorry…love.”

Yoshiko groans and buries her face in her hands and although part of her just wanted to cry and run away, she mumbled. “Shut up and kiss me…”

You already found her answer to Yoshiko’s behaviour, and knew her answer to Yoshiko’s confession, but being asked for a kiss by her beautiful junior, when said junior was being illuminated by the dim, orange glow of the rooftop’s old lamps which not only brought out the curve of Yoshiko’s pale cheeks and shimmering violet eyes, it gave You the impulse to obey and press her lips to Yoshiko’s before she could think twice.

Yoshiko’s eyes were wide but before she could fully savour the feeling of her first kiss, You pulls away to whisper, “I’m sorry, are you sure you-”

Yoshiko slams her lips back onto You’s for a good amount of time. “When I say shut up and kiss me, You…” Yoshiko presses her lips hard on You’s again as You returns the pressure and fervour. “I mean it.”

You smiles as she’s being kissed and sloppily kisses back. She could tell Yoshiko was getting annoyed at her from the way her girlfriend (no other way You wanted it) was gripping her shirt tightly and kissing her hard, but she couldn’t help that silly grin of hers. “I’m kissing you.”

Yoshiko groans and suckles You’s bottom lip she found way too alluring as revenge though that simply made You wrap her arms around Yoshiko causing the dark blue haired girl’s ears to burn hotter than it ever did as she could feel how strong You was and her hands against the toned front of You’s shirt made Yoshiko’s mind wander.

“I love you…” Yoshiko’s thumb caresses You’s slightly swollen lips.

You grins cheekily. “Wasn’t too hard right…love?”

“Ugh, drop it already.” Yoshiko pinches You’s smiling cheeks; a mix of tough and squishy; addictive; hers.

Author Notes

-leans against the wooden bookshelf with an attempt at a sultry and confident smirk- Hey… How was the story?

(Okay, okay, I know. I’m not Cool-type.) (´∀`)

Who would’ve thunk that this prompt would turn into this right?

Ahh, anyways~ I hope y’all thoroughly enjoyed this story! And would be willing to let me know which are your favourite part(s)! XD

Last but not least, I just want to say I love-

(is my favourite part (^_-))

YouYoshi suki dayo!!

#youyoshi #youhane #tsushima yoshiko #watanabe you #kunikida hanamaru #kurosawa ruby #sakurauchi riko #love live!#love live! sunshine!!#fanfiction #fanfic #yuri #romance #prompts #prompt ask #writing #survival-and-revenge #hope you love this

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echodrops · 6 years

Text

Issues with Voltron Season 6 (Part 3)

A continuation of my extremely long vent about the most recent Voltron season.

<-- Part 1 is back here.

<- Part 2 is back here.

This time it’s (mostly) about Keith and Shiro!

All right, so while I think the treatment of Lotor’s character was the true worst offender of this season, the entire clone Shiro plot line has just driven me nuts from start to finish, and the culmination of it in this season just heaped more salt in the fire.

Let me preface this by saying I love Shiro--I genuinely love this character and have felt like the EPs had no idea what they were doing with his character since the end of season one. Everything I say in this post is an extension of the fact that I feel like this poor man has been mistreated and misused by the writers since practically day one.

At least as far as I understand it, the EPs’ original intention was for Shiro to disappear at the end of season two and not return until this point in the show, which would have been an absence of a season and a half (19 episodes). I absolutely understand the higher level executive meddling from Dreamworks that forced them to scrap this idea and bring Shiro back into the story earlier. Simply removing a character from the plot for over a year’s time and then expecting to bring him back in and have some major emotional payoff would have been utterly stupid. No one would have cared at that point, and everyone would have been left wondering why they bothered to return Shiro to the plot at all.

But that doesn’t mean that the route the writers took to “fix” the issue is any better. Why in the world does this entire clone plot line exist? It’s honestly like they sat down at the table and said “What is the most roundabout, complicated, and unnecessary way to fix our Shiro problem?” and then went “Okay, let’s do exactly that.” There are so many ways they could have chosen to solve this problem instead:

1) Leave the real Shiro on the astral plane, and have periodic cuts throughout other episodes to Shiro struggling to “survive” on the astral plane, possibly dealing with apparitions of Zarkon etc. Experiencing difficulties due to the extreme isolation, trying to reach out to the team in critical moments--hell, he could have been there with the manifestation of the Black Lion, and and the writers could have shown him learning awesome things about the lions, the universe, the Alteans, etc. etc. Meanwhile, outside, Keith could have stayed with the team and grew into his Black Paladin leadership role organically instead of the artificial “Well, we aged him two years so now you know he’s mature and leader-worthy!” The drive to find Shiro could have continued to lead Keith and could have served as a more logical reason for Allura and company to be swayed by Lotor--he could have tried to convince them that Shiro might be trapped in the rift or something, and that could have been their reasoning behind being willing to explore the rift despite the imminent danger. Hell, it could still end with Haggar controlling Shiro into a Shiro vs. Keith showdown--maybe gaining the secrets of Oriande would allow her to reach out and control Shiro on the astral plane--they could have used literally any other excuse! And then we’d get our Shiro and Keith showdown on the astral plane as a perfect parallel to the Zarkon vs. Shiro showdown from the earlier season! It would have been great!!

2) Scrap the astral plane idea entirely and just put Shiro somewhere on the other side of the universe with like... minimal working tech. The show cuts between Shiro’s antics across the universe and his attempts to make it back to the team--allowing for greater world building--and the team, where again, Keith is allowed to organically grow into a leadership role. Same reasoning as above, the team could engage with Lotor after Lotor makes a promise to help them find their missing Black Paladin or something. Meanwhile, Shiro is being mind-controlled remotely from Haggar, whose magic got into him from the glowing wound way back in season one or something. We still get our Keith vs. Shiro showdown, tada.

In essence, what I’m trying to say is that literally any other possible plot would have felt more natural and been a better addition to the story than going with “Shiro’s an evil clone and the real one died inexplicably 19 episodes ago.”

I mean, can someone actually articulate any positive gain from the clone plot line? In what way did this particular plot--these particular events--actually make the story better? Is there something here that I am just flat out missing? Was there something in this plot that could ONLY be done via this particular clone story? I am honestly struggling here to see any profit in this. I can only see this as an example of writers choosing the worst possible solution to a simple problem, possibly even out of spite.

As an aside, I think my true biggest problem with the clone Shiro plot line is the the underlying issue of why the EPs thought it was a good idea to get rid of Shiro in the first place. Several of their interviews have led me to conclude that they never expected people to actually like or care about Shiro, and that they themselves never saw him as more than a stepping stone for Keith to overcome in order to achieve his ultimate role of leadership.

But that entire thing doesn’t make any sense, because it hinges on one major premise that the writers never actually sold to us: Keith needs to be the leader.

Why? We’re literally never given a single compelling reason for this in the show itself. There is nothing in this show to support the idea that Keith should be the destined leader of Voltron. There’s simply no logical explanation for this in the show at all.

The only remotely reasonable excuse is that Keith was the leader in the original Voltron, so he should be the leader here too. Except “Keith” in the original show had an entirely different personality and was a perfect cookie cutter of the hero archetype. Sven wasn’t leader type in the original series; he bears minimal resemblance to the Shiro of this show.

So why does Keith need to lead Voltron? What does he bring to the table as Black Paladin that he could not have brought as the Red Paladin? Why are there so many parallels between Keith and Alfor, the Red Paladin, if Keith was just going to end up as the Black Paladin all along?

Am I genuinely supposed to believe “Because Keith was the leader originally” is the only valid reason the writers had for giving us this massive tumor of a plot--a plot that resulted in Keith’s leaving the team, Shiro becoming a clone, Lance being shoved even further aside, Allura getting a lion despite the EPs saying they wanted to make her a cool enough character she didn’t need one, and undermining essentially all the efforts of season one to show a meaningful lion/paladin bond?

I have never seen--from the very first episode of this show to the most recent--a shred of convincing evidence that Keith being the leader is, in any way, shape, or form, necessary or what’s best for the plot.

The entire lion swap plot line is, to my eyes, utterly unneeded, convoluted, and reductive. So much time was wasted on this that could have been dedicated to better examining the characters’ motivations and reactions to the numerous serious issues the show chose to instead gloss over...

Which is not helped by the writers’ lack of commitment to the color swap in the first place. If perhaps, from season three on, the show had consistently insisted that the color swap was permanent and we were never going to see Keith back in Red or Lance back in Blue, I might have accepted it. But the show writers are wishy-washy about even this!

This is literally how we ended season six:

Haggar deliberately says “the Red Paladin” in reference to Keith in this season--in a freaking episode titled “The Black Paladins.” The lack of consistency in messaging is actively painful to my sensibilities as a writer.

To sum up what I’m trying to say here: The clone Shiro plot line was the worst possible solution to a problem the EPs created for literally no reason, and the trajectory of the “Keith becomes leader plot” so badly shifted the tone of the show that tens of opportunities to better examine the world and characters were lost in order to progress a story line that the writers never convincingly sold to us as an audience in the first place. I can’t think of any word for this but “bad.”

(PHEW. THERE. I SAID IT.)

And this of course doesn’t even touch on the other issues raised by this season in regards to Shiro, namely:

1) How much of the clone body is actually organic material? Because in the flashback from season 3 (or was it 4?), the clone Shiro that was shown lying on the table made a camera sound as his pupils dilated, indicating that at least part of the body was mechanical, not to mention that the prosthetic arm literally grew to extend past the organic part of Shiro’s arm in the Shiro vs. Keith fight--did they put real!Shiro’s self back into a mostly robotic body? Are we ever coming back to this? Is it ever going to be discussed? Why do I get the feeling it won’t?

2) The fact that the clone’s existence was entire overwritten by real!Shiro is super creepy and maybe just because I’m coming from a long history in the Kingdom Hearts fandom, the idea of someone’s existence being absorbed despite them functionally being capable of being different people is super saddening. I was never emotionally invested in clone!Shiro because he was obviously a clone from day one, but the fact that he was a fundamentally good person who was trying his best, then had to face the horror of losing control of himself, fighting someone he thought was his best friend to the death, and then literally being swallowed by a person who wasn’t around to personally experience any of these things is discomforting. Not to mention that “Shiro just inherited all the clone’s memories!” makes absolutely no sense scientifically (and isn’t even explained magically in the show) and is, once more, a cheap way to handwave character growth--of course Shiro hasn’t missed out on more than a season’s worth of development! It’s all still there, even if he wasn’t the one to experience it! Now it’s just like he did, promise!) Miss me with this nonsense, please.

3) What kind of government does Earth have in place that a minor can leave foster care to go to military boarding school at the tender age of what looks like 12 on the apparent recommendation of a man who likely wasn’t even 21 years old? (It’s like, if the main plot itself was going to be completely illogical, couldn’t they at least make the backstories somewhat viable?) And not to mention, but... didn’t the Keith and Shiro backstory deserve more screen time? There was so much build up to this, and we got less flashback for Keith and Shiro than we did for Krolia and Tex! Matt and Pidge got more! I feel incredibly short-changed, especially because I feel like that was probably it and we’re probably not going to get many more flashbacks for Shiro and Keith specifically. I think their placement in the Keith versus Shiro episode was good, but there just wasn’t enough material there to really satisfy the longing I had to see Keith and Shiro grow up together.

“What I got wasn’t what I needed and I wanted so much more than what I got” is the summary of Shiro and Keith in season 6, essentially.

ALSO I CAN’T UNSEE THIS.

I burst out laughing at this scene when I actually watched the season--it wasn’t supposed to be funny but I could not stop laughing. Sorry Keith, or something.

Anyway, all of this also relates to one of the other major issues I have had with Voltron since season one:

4) The writers have no idea how to handle an ensemble cast, but they keep adding characters anyway!

Matt was introduced and effectively erased, Slav might as well no longer exist, Olia? Not sure why we even bothered to give her a name. Kolivan? Probably died off screen! Lotor’s generals? I have no idea why they even bothered to animate them into this season given how little impact they had! All the other existing Alteans on the colony? Erm... I’m sure we’ll get back to those guys eventually.

There’s a difference between “We don’t have time to dedicate entire episodes to side characters” and “These characters just functionally stop existing when we no longer have an immediate role for them in the plot.” The attention in this series is all over the place--Matt gets a ton of screen time in season 4, enough to make it seem like he’s going to be a recurring character--and then his existence is entirely ignored two seasons later. Slav could have proven useful at any number of moments in this plot--and yet he’s nowhere to be found. The allegiances of Lotor’s generals are so cheap that they could basically be swapped out for any random helmeted Galra cannon fodder with zero impact on the plot. I’ve genuinely never seen a show deliberately add so many characters to its cast and then so badly under-utilize them.

This is actively jarring because any new character that appears, you have to first ask yourself “Is it worth getting invested in this person’s story? How likely are they to never appear again after this season?” And there’s seemingly no rhyme or reason to who disappears--even people who could and should still be active in the plot get shoved entirely to the side without any explanation or justification for their absence.

And all this mistreatment of the side characters might be okay if the main characters were at least getting to grow and develop consistently instead. But that’s not the case either! We have Lance’s character back-pedalling, Hunk fans excited over mere scraps of their favorite getting screentime that isn’t a food joke, and Pidge... I was honestly concerned that some of her hacking footage from this season was stock reused from previous seasons.

Screen time in this series bounces around like a ball--whoever catches it gets to do something cool for ten seconds then has to immediately pass it to someone else. Keith is a ball hog but somehow STILL doesn’t get his issues dealt with respectfully.

This show sold itself on the tried and true premise of “power of friendship.” The entire first season was really about becoming a team. And yet the show writers seem entirely adverse to letting these characters grow together. All the best moments of the show are moments in which the relationships between characters are expressed in believable and meaningful ways. Lance’s pep talk to Allura on Naxela. Pidge’s moving mourning for Matt. Keith’s refusal to let go of Shiro. The show writers KNOW how to believably develop more than one character simultaneously--they know how to let characters share the spotlight--and yet they continually fall back on scenes which give the foreground to a single character, leaving the audience with the constant feeling that other characters are being short changed. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge fans have every right to be upset.

There’s no reason that Keith and Pidge’s character developments have to take place in entirely different episodes. There’s no reason that Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s fears about her family need separate screen time. All of these characters’ issues--everything they need to overcome in order to become stronger, happier people--could be dealt with together, saving time and animation budget in the process.

I have never come across a show about being a team that so violently rejects the idea of its characters being you know... an actual team.

And I guess, while I’m here, one last little gripe:

5) Chekov’s Gun is a serious issue for the writers of this series.

Lance unlocked a sword in season 4. Where is it? Why has it not been used? Keith got a dog that can teleport. Why not just teleport the dog into the Sincline ship and let it eat Lotor’s face while he was in a cramped and defenseless position??? When elements like these are introduced to the story, viewers are trained to expect something to come from them. We can only assume that Lance’s sword and Keith’s dog will be plot relevant at some point. But when? The timing is terrible in this show--why make us wait more than a season for Lance’s sword to pay off when there were plenty of opportunities to work it in before now? Did the EPs really give Keith a wolf just because they thought it would be cool for him to have a “lone wolf” to relate to, despite the fact that part of the entire trajectory of his character has been teaching him the importance of relying on others and making meaningful bonds to other people? (How does it make sense to even deem it a “lone wolf” if Keith adopted it when it was just a tiny puppy?)

I mean, I LIKE the dog and I still think its inclusion was nonsensical and pointless... They could have introduced this dog in any number of ways, but “randomly dropped on the back of a whale in a space-time continuum with no logical origin point or reasonable explanation for being there” is what the writers went with.

This is nitpicking, I know, and don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Keith having a cool space wolf--but did the show really need another example of badly shoehorning in the EPs’ whims? Did the none of the editors really stop to go “Maybe we should do this stuff later or in a different way”?

At the end of the day, there are just a lot of problems with the story. Enough that, at this point, I feel ready to divorce myself from it. I’m going to continue watching the show--there’s no point in stopping now, at the end--but at this point, Voltron is always going to go down on paper for me as a show I loved for what could have been, not for what really was.

I don’t say any of this stuff with a light heart. I definitely give my all to shows and games when I get invested in them, and Voltron has dominated my fandom time for two years now. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words about and for this show. No one can accuse me of not caring about it.

But it’s because I care about the show--and the heights I know it could have reached--that I do feel this upset and let down. I know this show could have been better. I wanted better for it. I’m not spewing senseless criticism because my favorite ship didn’t come true or something... I really believe that the show has tons of untapped potential, and I’m saddened by the fact that I feel like it’s all going to waste.

I’m not asking anyone to agree with me, nor am I telling anyone that they have to suddenly start disliking the show just because I dislike where it has gone. People all have their own opinions, and like things for their own reasons. My reasons for liking Voltron are essentially gone, but for the other people that are still enjoying it, rock on.

I really do wish I was still there with you.

#Voltron #Voltron meta #Voltron discourse #Takashi Shirogane #Voltron season six #Keith Kogane #black paladins #lion swap #you know things are bad #when a Kingdom Hearts fan is telling you that your plot line is unnecessarily convoluted #the clone thing was literally the most unnecessary plot I've seen in recent media #I still hate black paladin Keith #with a fiery passion #I can just press the GO BACK button #and rewind this show to season two #salt mountain

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