#//i left the exact point in their relationship this is set in vague on purpose--i imagined it as being post-hospital while tony's recoverin

[gas-stxtion-a]

closed starter for @triggerbigger

"Sooo..." Jack trails off, searching every corner of his brain for a conversation topic. It's weird enough to be seeing the Onceler again after their incredibly brief and awkward first meeting several months ago, but knowing that he's Tony's fuckbuddy makes it feel weirder somehow. Not that it matters--Jack truly doesn't care who Tony's having sex with, nor does he care that the Onceler is stopping by the gas station (presumably in search of Tony).

But, like, come on. What is Jack supposed to do in this situation aside from stumble his way through small-talk while Tony's on the phone with the owners?

Finally, Jack realizes he's been quiet for way too long, and he's making the situation worse, and he needs to say something. So he says the first stupid thing that comes to mind.

"Aren't you hot?" he says. "Like, in that suit, I mean. Like, it looks nice n' all, but it's so fucking hot out. It's, like, over ninety fucking degrees out and you seem fine." That's almost definitely an exaggeration, but in his defense he hasn't checked the exact temperature in a few hours. It feels hot, and that's what matters.

It occurs somewhat belatedly to Jack that that was a very rude thing to say, but he doesn't know what else to say.

[a-tired-narwhal]

Tell me more about your feelings about the details of Caleb's backstory!

Okay listen anon. LISTEN. This is going to be LONG. Did I immediately rewatch/go back through the entire wrap up to take notes? YES I DID. Anon I'm sorry this is so late, I didn't see your ask until after the stream. I hope this finds you (*＾3＾)/～♡

----

Caleb fucking Widogast. Liam O'Brien always creates/portrays characters that CAPTURE ME. And it is purely the undertow of SUFFERING that I crave.

As a survivor of an abusive childhood, specifically with manipulation, neglect, and physical trauma, and having a controlling abuser in a position of power over you - I was surprised and delighted by Liam's playing of Caleb, and I'm sure that I'm probably not the only one, but Caleb's backstory just had me nodding along. Was not surprised at all by what was revealed about the blumentrio's relationship being trauma-bonding and probably why I'll never be an avid shipper of them. Nothing about Caleb's backstory left me gasping - because it's a relatively common abuse survivor story, except it's in the world of dungeons and dragons with high fantasy and magic and more common place murdering than today in places where most Critters presumably live.

Let's break it down.

Caleb was born as Bren to a less than well off family, who wanted their child to have a better life than them. Bren is a gifted child, and this will immediately put a bullseye's target on a child's back, make no mistake, for abusive persons. Now, I don't know if it's a pretty obvious that parents would trust in a teaching figure to take their child for that child's betterment, because I don't have parents who wish for my betterment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but I like to think that Bren's parents handed him off hoping for his brightest future.

Trent is basically the textbook example of a Cult Leader. Beyond the experimentation he did on his students; everything he put the Blumentrio through is how you beat down and brainwash people, especially children/adolescents. Textbook. TEXTBOOK. It was the dnd equivalent of the Hilter Youth. Now my personal experience featured the tool of isolation, so I didn't have two childhood friends to pour myself into and have threesome's with, but that's actually smart of Ickythong, because when you're left alone with your whirling brain for too long, and there's no one to hold over your head - we start thinking those rebellious thoughts, and at some point we decide we have nothing to lose, and we will do ANYTHING to shake that control. No, he left them in that abandoned tower together so they would be forced to bond with each other, as well as allowing them not to die of exposure alone.

Trauma-bonding CAN be a manipulation and used against you. Now. We have three adolescents trying not to freeze to death by being as close as physically possible. For those that don't know; sharing body heat works best skin to skin - ya get naked and THEN you wrap up together to stay insulated. Awkward groping is going to happen, and it's more than likely accidental. But when you add raging hormones to the mix, yo it's not going to stay accidental for very long (that in no way indicates non consent, it can be either way), and the feelings can catch hard when you're young and physical and EVERY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP YOU HAD HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM YOU, IF YOU EVEN EVER HAD ONE. (I do not know Eadwulf or Astrid's home lives so your guess is as good as mine. We should probably ask Liam)

So you've got horny teenagers, with above average intelligence, being systematically abused... Bam. Trauma-bonded Blumentrio.

BUT HERE'S THE THING. Trauma-bonding can only get you so far. And they are children, actively being raised to NOT HAVE THEIR OWN THOUGHTS AND IDENTITIES. The relationship they built, the romantic and sexual, are based off of a shared hostile environment and survival needs. And when those circumstances are no longer there, the relationship tends to fall apart.

I love that Matt talked about Astrid for a bit, sad we didn't get more on Eadwulf - but Matt didn't really spend a lot of time roleplaying Wulf compared to Astrid, so he'd have more insight into her. I also find it interesting that the Blumentrio took 3 very different, but again SO COMMON, paths in dealing with their abuse. But that's a different rant.

Focus with me now on what Matt said about Astrid. She was actively seeking power throughout the campaign, looking always to climb that ladder to the top, for her own purposes which were not stated, and was willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get that power. Was it a burden to her? Yeah I think so. Did it weigh on her? Again I personally think it did. But she was goal-oriented and she wasn't going to let anything stop her, not even herself, and she hated Trent. Matt implies that all three of the Blumentrio did/do. Astrid, Wulf, and Caleb were wildly different people - I don't think they would have stayed together even if Bren had stayed Bren instead of becoming Caleb.

I know A LOT of people were miffed over how Liam and Matt showed Caleb's and Essek's love for each other; and I am SO glad that Liam touched on this; Essek reminded Caleb too much of Astrid and Eadwulf. Now I know we love to joke that that Redhead Dirt Wizard has a Type (smart, ambitious, vaguely amoral), and believe me I LOVE THE JOKE, but Caleb pumping to brakes on Hot Boi makes THE MOST LOGICAL SENSE AND I WAS SO DELIGHTED WHEN LIAM PLAYED IT THAT WAY. Caleb was still trying to heal himself; WHY THE HELL WOULD HE JUMP INTO A MESS CALLED ESSEK? That's some mf UNHEALTHY, TOXIC romance trope ya got there. People fix themselves, not each other. THAT'S WHY CANON SHADOWGAST IS SO GOOD. THEY ARE WORKING TO IMPROVE THEMSELVES FIRST. THAT'S SO HOT.

Ahem.

So the Blumentrio hangout in Astrid's room to sex and study, in threes and twos (I have weird polyam questions, Liam). Now, I'm foggy on the exact timeframe that was together at Academy > kill your parents > Bren is chucked into the Sanitarium; but it's clear that after the murdering of parents, Bren is tagged as the "weakest link" - maybe he broke because he actually loved his family/had a loving family, maybe the manipulation spell from Ickythong didn't sit on him as well as Astrid and Wulf, maybe boi wasn't made for killing (a lie, the boi is a total killer, you have to be in most dnd campaigns), who knows. But he broke, and Astrid and Wulf handed him over - it would be dangerous for them if they tried too hard to protect him.

Because in that environment, in those circumstances, in that set up; you do what you have to, to survive. You hurt people you love, you hurt people you don't know, you even hurt yourself if it means improving your own odds. It's instinct. It's not your fault. You are doing the best you can with what you have available.

I don't hate Astrid and Eadwulf; I just have more emotional attachment and investment in Caleb, and prefer the color purple on him.

Which is actually a great segue into THE WOMAN AT THE SANITARIUM WHO FREED HIS MIND; Matt Mercer you beautiful man, thank you for giving us a Moonweaver connection, my lil widomauk heart was sent aflutter! So, here's the thing. Places like that, sanitariums, psych wards, etc - if you are not certifiably insane before you go in, you will be eventually. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is not a fucking joke. But the thought of some forgotten Moonweaver Cleric recognizing Bren's torment and just, poof, dissolving that spell? *Chef's kiss* glorious, wonderful, everything I needed.

Anon, I don't know if this is what you wanted or expected - but here it is, my sincerest apologies 🐳

[babygirl06301]

When Did Dean Fall In Love With Cas?

tl;dr: S11

I’ve wanted to talk about this since the show ended and the Spanish dub that broke Tumblr came out. So, when did Dean Winchester fall in love with Castiel?

This is entirely my opinion of course, and I know there are some people that will say it was right away or that it never happened at all, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there so other people could tell me their thoughts, too. I’ll probably get off on some tangents here and there, so feel free to send me any Destiel thoughts you’ve got.

Also, it’s worth noting that, to me, there’s a difference between falling in love and actually being in love. I mean, if you’ve fallen in love with someone, every point in your relationship has been a stepping stone to that point, so I guess it’s all abstract, but still. Hence, S11 being my answer to this question.

Keep in mind I’m doing this without the benefit of a recent rewatch, so I may miss some behaviors from Dean that would change a few things.

Warning: sappy stuff ahead; read at your own risk (also crappy images).

S4-5

I don’t think it’s that big of a secret that Dean attached himself to Cas, like, right away. I mean, the dude never talks about his emotions, and yet, it took eight episodes of Cas being around for Dean to break down in front of him and talk about his fears. It’s almost like you could say that’s because they were always meant to fall for each other.

However, I don’t really the think the process of falling in love with Cas had started yet. I do think that Dean cared about Cas, but I don’t think it was anything extremely special. Reason being: it was the literal end times and Dean didn’t have that type of time. That, and I think there’s something to be said for being raised a certain way and believing certain things about yourself that affects how long it takes for you to notice that something has changed. So, yeah. I don’t think Cas had been around long enough at this point for Dean to start feeling anything more than kinship with him.

That’s not to say, though, that Dean didn’t subconsciously find Cas hot or get the warm fuzzies sometimes because:

I mean, come on.

S6-7

So, this era is weird because I do think something had begun to change in how Dean saw Cas, but I don’t think he got to fully begin the process of falling in love with him because: a.) Cas betrayed them and b.) Sam’s head was broken.

I’m gonna say something rude now: I think a lot of the Destiel moments in the beginning of S6 were born of Dean needing Castiel’s abilities as an angel and not of needing Cas. For example, Dean calling on Cas to help with the Staff of Moses or with Soulless!Sam. He was usually pretty demanding and sometimes curt with Cas and got irritable when Cas couldn’t help.

However, I think that Cas always being there despite his battle in Heaven began to shift Dean’s feelings toward him. I do think this change was almost imperceptible, but you can see Dean showing more and more concern for Cas as S6 progresses. Like this:

This is the primary reason I think Dean got so defensive of Cas when Bobby and Sam started suggesting that Cas was working with Crowley. It’s also why he got so hurt when he found out that Bobby and Sam were right.

Here’s my super abstract and vague take on it: he’d started feeling romantic emotions for Cas, but as soon as Cas’s betrayal was revealed, it got replaced with pain. Basically, Dean almost started to fall for Cas in S6, and then the Purgatory storyline interrupted it.

And then Cas died. Which didn’t help.

Here we enter S7, which has fuck all for Destiel content beyond the first two episodes—until Cas comes back. I know some people are going to say not to gloss over the trench coat thing, and fair enough. I think the keeping of the trench coat was akin to Dean trying to hold onto what he did feel for Cas, obviously not consciously. Almost as though Dean could tell he’d lost something special when Cas died, and not just in losing Cas, but in losing part of himself, a part that he didn’t know existed yet. I don’t consider the trench coat to be a sign that Dean was falling in love with Cas but a sign that he was about to or that he could’ve. Is that weak? Whatever.

Now, I do think that some shit got shaken loose when Dean saw Cas again because, for all intents and purposes, he should’ve been pissed. But instead he was... whatever this is:

I still, more or less, think that he was too preoccupied with Sam to really begin falling in love with Cas. I think that’s clear to see in how he treated Cas after he came back into the story for the final battle with the Leviathan. He did give the whole “I’d rather have you” speech, but all the stuff before that was more along the lines of “Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas! Clean up your mess!” So, yeah.

S8

Okay, so this is where the Purgatory stuff comes in. In the words of the great John Mulaney, “we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” but this is where I believe Dean started falling in love with Cas.

Dean told Sam that Purgatory felt pure because he could only focus on the fight at all times... but he still had the emotional availability to worry about and search for Cas, so...

If I had to pick an exact moment, I’d say somewhere around here:

And thus, rather than just keeping a trench coat when he lost Cas, Dean literally rewired his own memories because he would rather think that he left Cas behind than think that Castiel chose to leave him.

From here, we can start seeing Dean paying attention to Cas more, noticing when he’s not being himself, and more than that, worrying about him in a more personal way. For instance, when Dean insists that Cas talk to him about what’s bothering him in “Hunteri Heroici.” Not to mention, Dean becomes a lot more emotionally vulnerable regarding his feelings for Cas. One example would be when he insists that he didn’t abandon Cas in Purgatory. Another would be, of course:

I would also mark this season as the season Dean’s prayers to Cas become more emotional and, at times, cathartic, as though he’s confiding in Cas. In “Remember the Titans,” for example, Dean prays to Cas to ask him to look out for Sam; the scene reads like Dean is asking for help but is, in equal measure, asking for Cas. This is also the first season an adversary pokes at Dean and Cas’s relationship in a way that specifically targets Dean and his feelings about Cas rather than Cas’s feelings about Dean as it had been before; this would be when Naomi says “You’re hoping Castiel will return to you.”

S9-S10

Well, these seasons are complicated to say the least because of Gadreel and the Mark of Cain. I don’t think, at this point, Dean ever stops feeling what he’s feeling for Cas. However, I do think that a lot of the hiccups throughout S9 and S10 made Dean step away from those feelings.

Of course, Dean is still stressing about Cas 24/7 in the beginning of S9 what with Cas being human, Cas being hunted, Cas dying, Cas working at a Gas-n-Sip—you know, drama. I think when Gadreel said that Cas needed to stay away if Dean wanted Sam to be healed, Dean had to let what he was feeling for Cas go—not that that means he stopped feeling it, mind you. No, I don’t think Dean consciously went, “Well, guess I’m done falling for this dude,” but I think he knew somewhere in his heart that it wasn’t the time.

Now, the Mark of Cain. The storyline that put the characters down on the page once and left them stagnant and unchanging until it was resolved. Now, as you might imagine, slowly turning into a demon that wants nothing but death would put a damper on any relationship. Finding Destiel in the B season for S9 and throughout S10 is hard. Especially on Dean’s end. 

There are moments when you can tell that Dean’s feelings for Cas are still there, and I would say, developing slowly, like the cheeseburger date. Probably the biggest Destiel moment in the entire Mark of Cain stretch is when Dean nearly kills Cas but resists, despite the Mark’s hold on him.

That’s really it, though. No backwards movement, but barely anything trending the opposite way, either.

S11

This is the Big Season™, the one I believe Dean fell in love with Cas in. Now, obviously, it isn’t like Dean lost the Mark, and boom, fell in love with Cas. Plus, there’s the whole pull-to-Amara thing. However, I don’t think falling in love necessarily has to be a big moment; I think it can just happen, and I think that’s what happened with Dean. At some point between the start of this season and Cas being released from Lucifer’s possession, Dean fell in love with Cas.

That being said—if I was really reaching for a moment—I wouldn’t say it happened during a happy scene. I’d say Dean fell in love with Cas when he lost him.

I know that sounds weird, that Dean didn’t fall in love with Cas completely until he realized Cas had been possessed by Lucifer, but in my head, it fits. I think it’s because Dean is so emotionally closed off and tries not to let his emotions show if he can help it that it took knowing that Cas was gone for that last switch to flip in his heart.

So, now Dean is in love with Cas, but Cas is Lucifer. I’d say this has something to do with the fact that, even though Dean is supposed to be attached to Amara, he still calls out for Cas even though Amara is right in front of him.

Considering the fact that Cas comes back in the literal last episode—at least, that’s when Dean realizes he’s back—there isn’t a whole hell of a lot of time to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. We do get the “you’re our brother, Cas” scene, but seeing as how that’s pretty inconsistent with everything that comes afterward, let’s just chalk that one up to bad writing and/or Dean being dense.

S12

Alright, so my post should be done, yeah? I’ve answered the question I’ve set out to answer. However, there’s still more to talk about here. When did Dean first sense that what he felt for Cas was different? When did he have an inclination that it was romantic? When did he know for sure?

That’s why we’re here in S12. Now, S12 is the most Destiel-heavy season in the entire series. In my opinion, while it does have many of the best Destiel scenes, it doesn’t have the best Destiel scene. However, as far as number of moments, S12 takes it.

This is where we really get to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. Realistically, I think this has a lot to do with S12 being the beginning of the Dabb era because this era marked a change in tone for both Castiel’s character and his relationship with Dean. Dean began to worry about Cas a lot more frequently and, as a result, got mad at him a lot more, too. I see S12 as the season that Dean moved away from simply being worried about losing Cas to being terrified of losing Cas. And that translated into anger any time Castiel put himself in danger. For example, killing Billie. Any other time, the threat of losing Cas translated itself into fear, like when Cas nearly died from being stabbed with the Lance of Michael.

Of course, the mixtape is also in this season, which is another example of how being in love with Cas has affected Dean. I could probably make an entirely seperate and very long post regarding Destiel in S12, but the general idea is that Dean’s newly found love for Cas made a big difference in how he treated Cas.

S13

Alright, S13 stands outs to me because I believe this is when Dean first realized that Cas meant something more to him than a friend and that he felt differently about him than he did about his family. Again, I don’t think that Dean actually thought those exact words, but I think his heart knew them to be true even if he mind didn’t. Reason being: Cas had just died. Which is the first time Castiel has died since Dean fell in love with him. Dean knew he needed Cas, in a way he hadn’t really realized it before. Which is why he demands that Chuck bring him back.

Then Cas comes back, and it’s like Dean forgets what hopelessness and misery are because Cas is his “big win.” After this, honestly, there isn’t much else by way of emotional development for Dean regarding Cas, but I see that as a good thing. It’s a sign that, though Dean hasn’t realized it yet, being in love with Cas is comfortable for him. There are still expressions of concern for Cas’s wellbeing throughout the season, but mostly, we just get to see Dean be content with Cas.

S14

Alright, S14 a.) mostly saw Dean’s feelings much in the same place as they were in S13 and b.) just kidding because Dean tells Cas that he’s dead to him in this season.

To be fair, if we’re talking Destiel, there’s more of it on Castiel’s end this season than there is on Dean’s because Dean is dealing with Michael. There are a couple moments that stand out to me as moments where Dean’s love for Cas comes through: when Cas asks Dean if his plan to trap himself in the Ma’lak Box means that they’re supposed to say goodbye and when Dean confides in Cas about how he’s handling keeping Michael trapped. In the former scene especially, I think it’s clear to see how much the idea of saying goodbye to Cas affects Dean.

And then we get to “Absence,” which is the episode where Dean tells Cas that he’ll be dead to him if Jack killed Mary. Now, going off on a tangent here to explain how this ties into Dean being in love with Cas, let’s talk about when Dean gets mad at Cas.

When Dean gets mad at Castiel, it’s always out of pain. I think that’s a very unique effect that Cas has on Dean that no one else does, and I believe it’s because Dean gets so overwhelmed with the emotion of betrayal that all he can do is push Cas away. Why a feeling of betrayal? Well, in this case, it’s because Cas knew something was wrong with Jack and didn’t say anything. I think that, as Dean fell more and more in love with Cas, his expectations and feelings for him grew, and because of that, when he feels like he’s been let down by Cas, it turns into rage. 

When Dean walks away from Sam, it’s usually because he’s either worried or angry. With Jack, he walked away because of anger, maybe even disgust. But with Cas, it’s always pain; it’s always because Dean feels like he’s been personally betrayed in a way that has nothing to do with worrying about Cas and everything to do with wanting to hurt Cas back. It’s almost a selfish sort of anger, which is actually a positive for Dean’s character since he rarely puts himself first.

To me, the way Dean gets mad at Cas—especially in S14—is so personal and unique that it serves as proof as to why Dean is in love with Cas. So, even though the “then you’re dead to me” line is so damaging, it’s still a result of Dean loving Cas.

S15

Last season. The hardest season by far, for a lot of reasons. I’m not going to get into the lack of closure the ending of this show gave us in terms of Dean and Castiel, and I’m not going to talk about this final season in conjunction with the Spanish dub—just what I, as an English speaker experienced in canon since that’s what was intended in the final cut—but I will talk about everything else. There’s three episodes/points I’m going to hit with this season, and I’m sure we all know them: “The Rupture,” “The Trap,” and “Despair.”

I’ve already discussed why Dean’s anger points to his being in love with Cas, but I think the important thing to note with “The Rupture” is that Dean still didn’t want to lose Cas, even in the moments when he was hurting Cas and pushing him away.

There’s still a couple questions I’ve asked that I haven’t answered yet, and one of them will be answered with “The Trap.” I think this episode—and really, the moment Cas told him he heard his prayer—marks the first time that Dean considered that his feelings might be romantic. I don’t know how clear those thoughts were or if Dean told himself he was wrong afterward, but I do think that that scene was the beginning of possibility for Dean and Cas. Had they had enough time, they would’ve decided to be together, and that scene is where they both really felt it for the first time—even if they didn’t believe the other felt the same way.

I’ll be honest: I really don’t want to talk about “Despair” because it’ll just make me sad. Alas, there is one question that still needs to be answered: When did Dean know that he was in love with Cas?

When it was already too late. Much like in S11, I think it took Dean losing Cas to realize how he felt about him. The difference here is: I think Dean would’ve realized it regardless; hearing how Cas felt about him and then losing Cas just forced it. Had Cas not died, I don’t believe it would’ve been too long before Dean realized it naturally, and that’s the most frustrating thing about this scene is that Dean didn’t have to learn how he felt through the trauma of losing Cas.

I’m not trying to diminish this scene because, had there been closure—and proper editing—I’d say this scene was the perfect avenue for Castiel’s character to go down because it would mean that, when he came back, he could be with Dean.

Again, I’m not getting into the semantics of the final couple episodes or how they handled Destiel because it’ll just make me mad, but I think Dean realizing he was in love with Cas was just as big of a factor in him seeing himself differently as Cas’s speech was. I think Dean wanted to honor Cas by being the person Castiel saw him as; I think Dean wanted to live as a man worthy of being loved by the man he fell in love with.

Anyway, that’s my take on when Dean Winchester fell in love with Castiel based on what canon gave us. As someone who had been very realistic about the possibility of Destiel over the years and had never truly hoped for it in canon because I knew better, I have never been more convinced that Dean is in love with Castiel as I am now, after the show has ended.

I don’t think I can say I believe he was in love with him all along, but I believe that his story, their story, of falling in love is real and true, however long it may have taken. I’ll never say goodbye to these two, but I’m happy that I can at least walk away from this show knowing that they found each other in the end, even if their ending didn’t do justice to their legacy.

Let me know when you think Dean fell in love Cas or vise versa. I’m curious to know what you see in their relationship. I don’t think I’ll be making a post like this for Castiel because, in my opinion, Cas fell in love with Dean rather quickly—his journey was just realizing what that meant. Anyway, thank you for reading this, and thank you for being a part of this twelve year long love story that is Destiel.

[littleoddwriter]

transzsasz AND transroman

You're Just Like Me (Part 2) | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz

Since I got requested to do T4T ZsaszMask twice with this, I thought I could just make this story a continuation of the other one (although you don't have to have read that, nor is it an immediate follow-up to it). It ran away from me, like always, though. So it's a bit less about them being trans the further down we go, lol. Thanks so much for the request! I hope you enjoy it. <3

summary; Years after Roman's had Top Surgery, he's having a strangely emotional morning, in which he has a realisation that comes with a confession.

notes; Trans!Roman Sionis; Trans!Victor Zsasz; Talks of Top and Bottom Surgery; Medical Transition; Implied Gender Dysphoria and Euphoria; Kissing; Touching; Domestic; Fluff; kind of Hurt/Comfort-y; Roman is angry and emotional; Victor to the rescue and all.

It has been years since Roman has finally gotten Top Surgery, after Zsasz had assured him to take care of him and make sure nothing bad would happen to him under his watch. Surprisingly, it had all worked out just fine (although Roman did almost stab his surgeon shortly before he was put under).

Now, many years later, his scars weren’t even visible to the naked eye anymore – and his dark chest hair certainly helped. His pectorals looked just like any other man’s. He was happy with the result and felt pretty comfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life.

As he looked at his bare torso in the mirror, ready to get dressed for the day, he admired the sight. It was always so strange to him to think back to the time before his transition. That Roman Sionis felt like a completely different person, one who had never existed in the first place – and it wasn’t completely wrong either, was it? Technically, he’s always been the man he was today. It had just taken him many more steps than others to carry his true self out for the world to see.

“Roman?” Zsasz asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway and ripping Sionis out of his thoughts.

“What?” Roman hissed, looking at his partner through the mirror.

Victor walked over to him and came to a stop right behind him, only mere millimetres separating their bodies. He could feel the heat Zsasz gave off, smelled the cigarettes and cheap cologne that always covered his natural scent.

“Just wanted to check if you’re okay. Sat there all alone at the breakfast table, waiting for you to come,” he explained, looking back at Roman through the vanity mirror, as he laid his hands on his bare shoulders.

“I’m alright. I just got lost in my thoughts there.”

“About?”

“How great my chest looks,” Roman grinned, brushing his hand over his sternum.

Zsasz smirked right back, squeezed Roman’s shoulders and then he ran his fingers over his boss’s chest appreciatively. “Agreed. It looks fantastic,” he murmured and kissed Sionis’ neck, peppering little kisses all over it and down to his shoulders.

Roman shuddered, the kisses tickling him and the rough stubble of Victor’s beard scratching his skin. It wasn’t unpleasant though, far from it actually. He lifted his right hand and put it on the back of Victor’s head, pulling him closer. Then he turned his head and captured his partner’s lips in a passionate kiss that they both smiled into.

“I wouldn’t have ever done it without you,” Roman murmured against Victor’s lips, quietly admitting what he’s been thinking for so many years.

He could vaguely remember having said it after he got out of surgery, but it was so hazy to him, thanks to the anaesthetics; and he hasn’t admitted it since. Now felt like the right time to remind Victor just how important he’s been to Roman’s continued medical transition.

“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure, boss. Especially when you’re the one who made it possible for me to transition at all,” Zsasz replied, kissing Roman again and again, quick little pecks.

“And I’d do it again,” Sionis confessed – he wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but he would do anything for Victor; especially if it made him happy.

Admittedly, Roman was in a strangely sentimental mood that morning and he desperately wanted it to stop, before he suddenly said something he’d regret. “Enough of this. I’m hungry. Let me finish dressing and then we can finally eat breakfast, ‘kay?” he exclaimed to finalise this conversation and save face.

Sure, rationally, he knew that he never had to hide himself from Victor – it was impossible anyway –, but he still desired to feel some sense of control over their shared intimacy. Even after all these years, it was almost scary to him just how much of his guard he has let down around Zsasz and continued to do it. Sometimes, it would keep him up at night and tip his mood over into one of the many extremes he displayed – usually rage in this case. He hated how close he’s let Victor get to him. Was he ever going to change it, though? Of course not! Even though he often wished he could.

Zsasz just nodded, kissed Roman again and left the room.

All by himself again, Sionis sighed deeply and pulled a white cotton shirt over his head. It fit him perfectly, snugly hugging his arms and chest especially. Ten years ago, a shirt like this wouldn’t have been possible for him to wear, no matter what; yet here he was, finally at this point in his life where he could wear whatever he desired. It made him genuinely smile.

Quickly, he put on a midnight blue blazer, checked his hair again for a moment and left his dressing room, too.

During breakfast, Roman couldn’t stop thinking about all these questions he’s always had for Victor, but rarely asked them at all – not because he was scared, but because he knew how much he hated to be asked these things himself. Of course, with how perceptive Zsasz was, he noticed Roman’s lack of talking and his frown as what it was.

“You know you can ask me whatever, Roman,” Victor piped up eventually.

“I know,” Roman shot back, but hesitated anyway. “I’m just wondering if you’re feeling comfortable in your body by now. Or if you’d want to change more – Bottom Surgery is possible nowadays after all.”

“Nah, I’m fine with the way things are. Thanks to you, I’ve already gotten so much farther than I had expected when I first realised I was trans, y’know? And over time, I started to care even less about not having a dick. ‘Cause everything else is the way it should be and it really doesn’t matter. We make it work after all. I feel good,” Zsasz answered with a slight smile on his lips, which morphed into a fully fledged grin by the end of it.

Roman nodded in understanding and took a sip from his espresso.

“Do you want to get Bottom Surgery?” Victor then asked, before Sionis had a chance to say anything.

“No, absolutely not. One surgery was enough for me. I’m certainly not going through this fucking shit again, unless I absolutely have to.”

Chuckling, Victor nodded, “Yeah, I thought so. I’m still proud of you, by the way.”

Roman pulled a face, “Shut up. Nothing to be fucking proud of there,” he said as he thought back to how pathetic he’s been for weeks after his surgery – it was awful! –, but he obviously didn’t regret it. “Thank you anyway, baby,” he added quietly.

Zsasz beamed at him in response. Roman hated how it made his heart flutter and how he suddenly felt so warm inside. It never ceased to happen whenever Victor did something particularly endearing or alluring. Sometimes, Sionis wondered if this really was what people titled as “being in love”, because if it was he really didn’t know if he didn’t rather despise people, including Victor.

Sighing heavily, Roman set down his espresso cup harshly, a loud clank sounding when it hit the saucer. “I fucking hate this,” he muttered without really wanting to.

“Hate what?” Victor asked, frowning.

“This,” Roman replied, wildly waving his hands around between the two of them, “Us. Our relationship. This mutual experience we’ve made with being transgender men. The way I feel every time you do something – anything. Just everything!” he exclaimed, his voice getting louder and more broken with every word.

Zsasz was up in the blink of an eye, his hands on Roman’s shoulders, just like before, but firmer, as his fingers dug into his muscles and massaged them. It frustrated him. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut for once? He had never wanted Victor to know these things!

“I think we make a great pair, Roman. Not only do we share this experience, but we’ve supported each other throughout. It’s a good thing. And the way you feel about me? I’m glad you do. ‘Cause I feel the same and it’s nothing bad. It doesn’t make us weak or whatever. We’re just as menacing as we’ve ever been. It’s not wrong to like someone, baby. Especially not when we’re so good together,” Zsasz told Roman sternly, yet gently, reassuring him like he always did.

“I guess you’re right. It just doesn’t really feel like it’s a good thing to me. How does it not eat you alive?”

“What? That some fucks might think they’re entitled to have an opinion on us?” Sionis shrugged. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what others think about you and me, or just me. They’re not worth shit. And honestly, if I can just remind you of something here… Your parents fucking sucked. They never loved each other or you, so you have a wrong image of what that looks like and what it can be. My parents were the exact opposite. And when I met you and felt this instant connection to you, I knew I’d be in it for life with you. No matter what. You’re almost as important to me as my life’s purpose. Although, to be honest, you are part of my purpose, so you might as well be on the same level as that.”

Roman was stunned. He’s never truly been speechless in his life, but of course Victor fucking Zsasz was able to make him that as well.

“I don’t know what to say,” Roman choked out.

Had anyone told him that this was how his morning would have gone, he would have yelled at them and stabbed them in the neck.

“You don’t have to say anything at all, Roman,” Victor replied, kissing the top of Sionis’ head.

“’Kay,” he whispered.

Then Roman tilted his head back and Victor leaned over and kissed him on the lips. It was all so fucking domestic, sickeningly so; and this warm feeling inside was back again, only that it bothered him a little less, now. Putting his hands on Victor’s he pulled them down, so that Zsasz was basically hugging him from behind as they kissed some more.

Begrudgingly, Roman had to admit that Victor was right. They made a really good team, always have, and it all just felt so right, so much so that it left his mind reeling. In all honesty, Sionis was probably the luckiest man on earth to have found Zsasz and to be in such a fulfilling relationship with someone who fully understood him.

“I adore you, Victor,” he confessed eventually, squeezing and rubbing Zsasz’s forearms almost nervously.

He could hear the sharp intake of breath above him, “I love you, too,” he responded, an audible smile in his voice.

Alright, maybe he could actually get used to this eventually. Zsasz always made anything possible for him after all. He was definitely lucky; there was no doubt about that.

[darkestfable]

The End

((Thank you to @kidcatgemini​ for helping me with such a...painful RP. CW: blood, death, mind control))

“I’m sorry, babe, I gotta go. They gave me these orders and-” Raetos heaved a sigh, tightening the rifle over his shoulder. He didn’t want to leave Fable alone, but he knew his lover couldn’t go with him.

“I know, I know. It ain’t gonna be forever. Jus’ go do what you gotta do ‘n when you get home we’ll make up for lost time, yeah?” the blood hunter smiled up at his lover, pulling him down by his chest piece for a kiss. It lasted for a little longer than he meant to, got a little more heated than he’d anticipated.

“I love you.” “I’ll miss you too, Raetos.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Restlessness set in much faster than the blood hunter had anticipated. One night alone and he was chomping at the bit to do...anything. All the maps were updated as best as he could, spelling errors in the survival guide master copy had been edited. Fable couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. There had to be an outlet for the nervous energy.

There was a small dig in Feralas that he’d spotted in Brent’s itinerary, back when they were talking about locations. Fable knew the forest fairly well, enough that there wouldn’t be much he’d have to guard himself against. That would work just fine as a distraction, and he’d be back in a matter of a few days at most. His foxes, Connor and Kenway, could help keep predators away from the homestead while he was gone, but someone would have to feed them…

Vandrir.

The druid he’d interviewed for his old group would be a perfect caretaker for the animals! During the interview, Vandrir had mentioned that he wasn’t an expert at things, but more of a jack of all trades. And well, if Raetos could manage Obligation and Responsibility, Fable was certain a druid could.

Thankfully, he’d agreed without hesitation.

Now that all of the plans were made, Fable was able to head out to Feralas and simply enjoy being in the field, hands in the dirt, mud on his knees…

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was high in the sky, filtering through the thick canopy of the trees older than he was. It was warm and humid, and Fable had ditched his shirt a long time ago to continue moving earth. Survey equipment taken from his old job was still serving him well, and had pointed him to this exact location. The hole was waist deep on him, but the corner of a box that he’d uncovered had given way to the rest of it; a perfect cube that had almost been lost to the land again. Fable could feel the magic radiating off of it, enough to make his fingers tingle. This would be fun to transport back…

“Mmm…if only all archeologists were as handsome as you,” a melodious voice spoke up from behind him.

A Ren’dorei woman sat on a rock a few paces away, legs crossed and leaning back on her hands. To say she was attractive was an understatement, and she dressed to show off every aspect of her features; tight shorts with thigh high boots and a low cut crop top. Her deep blue eyes and pink lips were absolutely captivating against her lavender skin. Purple hair  with glowing blue tips cascaded down to mid back. Not a blemish or scar could be seen on her smooth skin. It was impossible to tell how long she’d been sitting there, or even how she’d arrived.

Her head tilted in interest at Fable, a playful smile on her lips.

“But then, I suppose we wouldn’t get much work done, would we, Sweetie?”

Fable looked up from the artifact, squinting at the figure perched on the rock. His glowing blue eyes travelled every inch of her form, clearly appreciating it. She was absolutely stunning, and were it before his relationship with Raetos, he’d have completely abandoned the dig to go flirt. Instead, the blood hunter got to his feet, wiping some sweat from his cheek(and leaving a smear of dirt in its wake).

“Not with women like you runnin’ ‘round, that’s for damned sure. Did you need somethin’, or you jus’ here t’ watch me work?” Fable smirked. He had questions about her arrival, for sure, but the tight shirt distracted his mind quite well.

“Would it make me a bad girl if I were here for the later?” she asked, almost innocently, “Actually, I was surveying a site, just north of here, for a client. Then I came across a hot shirtless guy playing in the dirt.”

Uncrossing her legs, she got up from where she was sitting and strolled over to the edge of where Fable was digging, hips swaying as she went. There, she got down on her hands and knees, both to be eye level with Fable, but also to give him a better view of her cleavage.

“Decided I wanted a closer look, so here I am,” her eyes left his to shamelessly take in every inch of his physique, “So, what’s your name, handsome?”

“Must’ve been kinna like Winter’s Veil mornin’ for you then,” the blood hunter chuckled, watching her every move. Not like she was a threat, but like she was a meal. He couldn’t help it, even if he knew in the back of his mind that she was doing it on purpose.

“Th’ name ‘s Fable, gorgeous. Do I get to know yours, since you’re enjoyin’ the show?”

Fable hung his thumbs in his waistband, effectively tugging the dirty black pants down just a little more in the front. There was no danger in flirting, right? Showing off as much as she was? Of course his lover was in the back of his mind, and he’d never seriously go through with anything. Of course.

“You dig too? Uh oh, sounds like you’re competition…”

“Oh?” the woman perked an eyebrow, her ears flickering playfully, “Well, good news for you, hmm? You’re competition’s been distracted. She decided to come get dirty elsewhere.”

She bit down on her bottom lip lightly as her eyes absolutely ate up the little bit of extra skin he allowed her to see of his waistline. She leaned in as her piercing blue eyes moved up to meet his again, to the point where her lips were but an inch away from his.

“My name’s Cebina, Sweetie. Feel like taking a break to play with a pretty lady?”

His own lips parted as he let out a slow breath, clearly struggling. He had a job to do, he had a boyfriend for which he cared very deeply. Fable shook his head a bit, smiling and ready to take a step back. If he didn’t remove himself from her aura of seduction, he knew he’d make a very big mistake. The blood hunter’s hands tightened at the waist of his pants, trying to maintain control.

“You ain’t got th’ faintest idea of how much I wanna play with you, but uh…” his voice trailed off, and he vaguely motioned to the artifact with his head. “And I kinda got a boyfriend I ain’t lookin’ t’ cheat on.”

Cebina moved in before he had the chance to step back. Arms wrapping around his neck as she brought her body down into the small space with him. A hand gripped the back of his head, keeping his gaze on her as she pressed her body against him. That playful, seductive grin never faded. There was a flicker in her glowing eyes, something that seemed to nudge at his mind.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. Doesn’t have to go all the way. A bit of fooling around never hurt anyone, hmm?”

With that, she attempted to capture his mouth with hers.

Any protests were swallowed in the kiss, Fable’s willpower breaking. His hands went to her hips then before sliding around her waist to pull her close. Her skin felt electric everywhere he touched, and Fable didn't hesitate to back her against the side of the hole, dirt crumbling around their feet.

His subconscious was screaming alerts that his conscious mind was deaf to.

One of the blood hunter's hands slid over Cebina's hip, down to her thigh. Strong fingers hooked under her leg and lifted as he shifted his hips to get between them. Fable was running on instinct, caught like a moth with a flame.

Cebina moaned into the kiss, more than pleased by Fable’s response. Her leg wrapped around his waist as she rolled her hips against him as the heat between them grew. Her other hand grasped the hair at the back of his head, wrenching it to the side to suck and bite at his neck. 

While she had him well distracted, her other hand unsheathed an old and ornate looking dagger from her boot; easily reached with her leg up. She could feel his excitement and pent up energy swell. Part of her wished she could play a little longer, but her mind control only lasted for so long. 

“—Oh, Sweety!” She cried as he buried his face between her neck and shoulder to repay the favor.

It was time.

It happened very quickly, shadows closed in on the two as the dagger pierced Fable’s upper back in one swift motion. Immediately, shadow magic poured into the wound, spreading through his system fast. The effect was painful, much more than physical… the spirit weapon grasping his very soul. 

As the runic weapon continued its siphon, Cebina grabbed either side of her victim’s head to make eye contact one last time. By now, the shadows had enveloped her form completely. Her smile was wicked.

“Thanks for digging up the artifact for me.”

Fable’s mind was awash with pleasure. Everything felt hazy and floaty, akin to being drunk without the alcohol. He gasped pleasantly at the teeth in his neck, fingers tightening around Cebina’s leg. Nothing existed outside of her, outside of this. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, common sense screamed Raetos’ name, tried to remind Fable of his lover’s existence.

He might as well be deaf.

“You taste goo-” the blood hunter started to purr against her neck, but the words were frozen on his lips when the shadows washed over them both.

The first thing he felt was searing pain, the blade biting through flesh and muscle and into his lung, fitting neatly between ribs. Fable didn’t even get to stumble backwards, he was trapped and gasping for breath as the hurt spread through his body. Tears beaded and rolled from his eyes, pale blue gaze fixed on Cebina’s shadowed form. He barely managed to cough out a breath, blood running from the corner of his mouth.

His last act of defiance before his legs gave out was to spit blood at Cebina’s face. The blood hunter crumpled to the ground at her feet, wheezing. Fable’s very essence was being pulled from his body, and he couldn’t even scream. No one would find him out here so deep in Feralas, and he was breaking a promise he’d made to Raetos. He remembered their date, how he’d promised his lover that he’d not leave him.

“Raetos… I’m sorry…” Fable gasped out before his world went dark.

[dragonheart-swtor]

Of Blood and Ghosts

Summary: Zashiil asks her estranged sister to help Garen'ishta deal with Valkorion's presence in her mind, and after an argument Duserra agrees. An awkward conversation and a somewhat challenging Sith ritual ensue. Set fairly early on during KOTFE, though the exact point in time is left purposely vague because I can't be bothered to think about plot points. :P

Tags: No Archive warnings apply, self-harm but not really? purposeful self-injury but not for the purpose of self-harm use your own discretion on that one, Force rituals, Force-ghosts, the author goes a little ham describing the Force from different characters’ perspectives

Find me on AO3 at Dragonheart37!

-----

In meditation, stretching her senses out through the Force, Duserra felt her approaching from down the hall – a tangle of thorns, driving back any attempt to examine her thoughts with sharp rebuke. More so than usual, even. Worried about something, then.

Coming this way, and the echoes of Duserra's own desert-heat Force signature tinging the edges of those thorns said she wasn't going to be passing by.

Great.

Duserra withdrew her attention from the Force, back into her own body. She sat staring blankly at the candles set out in front of her until the door chimed.

No point putting it off, I suppose. She reached out without moving and tripped the opening mechanism. “What?”

“Hello to you, too,” Zashiil grumbled. Duserra brushed herself off and stood to face the Jedi, who was standing just inside her door with arms crossed already.

“Hello. I was meditating. What do you want?”

Zashiil's jaw clenched, irritated heat spiking off her in the Force, but she kept her voice even when she spoke. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

Duserra – Nox – arched her eyebrows. “Do you, now?”

“Can you let me get out more than a sentence without snarking at me?” Zashiil snapped. Nox almost actually fell for that before thinking better of it and closing her mouth again. “Thank you.” Zashiil sighed. “Look. Garen is struggling to deal with Valkorion. She doesn't want to admit it, because she doesn't think anyone can help her, but it's obvious that dealing with him is taking a toll on her.”

Nox shifted her weight onto one foot, considering Zashiil. Her arms were crossed, body language closed and irritated. Funny, for someone coming to ask for help. “What exactly do you think I can do about it?”

The look Zashiil shot her could have wilted a cactus flower on impact. “Don't give me that. I may not have all the details about how you became a darth, but I know you've worked with ghosts.”

“'Worked with' is generous,” Kalatosh muttered in the back of her head.

“You know more about them than practically anyone else,” Zashiil continued, oblivious to his commentary. “You can help her.”

Nox arched an eyebrow. “She won't want my help, Barsen'thor. Not if she's as good a Jedi as she acts like.”

“Have you met the woman?” Zashiil asked. “She'll take any help she can get. Duserra, you're -”

“That's not my name,” Nox snapped, interrupting her.

Zashiil recoiled, then scoffed. “What, I'm not even allowed to call you by your real name anymore?”

“My name is Nox,” she growled. “I earned that name, Barsen'thor.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Zashiil ground out. “You know my name. I know yours. Why pretend otherwise?”

Because every time you call me my other name, it hurts, and I can't let people see that kind of weakness. Aloud, she only said, “We're not friends, Jedi.”

Zashiil openly snarled this time, baring sharp teeth in frustration. “You're impossible.”

Nox turned away from her dismissively, waving a hand as carelessly as she could manage. “If you're done talking, then you can leave. I didn't ask to be disrespected in my own quarters.”

There was a moment of smoldering silence, then. “Dus -” Zashiil started, then cut herself off and sighed. “...Nox.”

And the name was laid between them like a peace offering. (Ironic, considering how it was earned.)

Nox turned her head slightly – not enough to face Zashiil, not yet, just enough to make it clear she was listening. The Force had cooled somewhat between them in that moment, as if Zashiil were forcing herself to be calm – or admitting defeat. Curious.

“I know – you have no love for me,” Zashiil said, and two – seven – years ago, when she first became a Sith, Duserra might not have been able to stop the instinctive flinch like Nox did. “So let me rephrase this. If Garen loses this fight with Valkorion – and there will be a fight – it becomes very likely that we're all going to die. Including you. So if you won't do it for my sake, or for Garen's, or for the kriffin' galaxy's – maybe you'll do it for your own.” Her voice dropped to growl half to herself as she turned back toward the door, “Seems to be the only thing you care about these days anyway.”

Nox turned to watch the door slide shut behind the Barsen'thor as she left. Silence filled the room, though Duserra felt the cold presence of a ghost long before Lord Kallig spoke.

“Flesh of my flesh.”

She sighed bitterly and turned away, waving him off. “I don't want to talk about it, Gramps.”

“You should heed your sister.”

Duserra bared her teeth at him. “She's not my sister anymore.”

“She is also flesh of my flesh,” he reminded her, unmoved by her posturing. “Blood of your blood. Blood is not meaningless. Your sister has not forgotten that.”

“How do you figure?” Duserra snapped. “She didn't seem to care that much about blood when she refused to leave the Jedi for me. And it's not exactly like she's been reaching out even since we've been here.”

“Perhaps not,” Kallig murmured, staring her down from behind his inscrutable mask. “But when she needs help, she comes to you.”

Duserra scoffed. “She came to me because she needs something from me. Something only I can give. No one else knows about ghosts. She couldn't have asked anyone else.”

“But she could have asked someone else to talk to you for her,” he pointed out. Duserra hesitated. “Do you know why she came to you herself?”

“Why do I get the feeling you're going to tell me?”

“She came to you herself because she didn't want anyone else to know she needed help,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “She trusted you, and only you, with that knowledge. Your sister struggles to be vulnerable almost as much as you do. But she let you see her asking for help. You should not take that lightly, granddaughter.”

Duserra crossed her arms, hating that she couldn't come up with an adequate rebuff to that. Instead she took a beat to refocus herself, pausing to find the strings that bound her and the ghosts together and pull until they came more into focus. “What does the peanut gallery think?”

Figures shimmered into view before her, around Kallig's more solid form, watery and transparent but still present. Kalatosh folded his arms in much the same way she had, immediately making her regret the choice of gesture. “The Jedi had a point. If Valkorion rises again, you and much of the rest of the galaxy will die. That serves no one, not even us.”

“We would be freed,” Mar-Da pointed out. “No longer bound to this young Sith.”

“Freed to be bound to a tomb in solitude and silence for eternity,” Hordak-Mul mused. “No. Kalatosh is right.”

Andru narrowed his eyes. “The rituals our little snake has learned are dark-sided in nature. The Jedi may not even be able to use them properly, much less willing.”

“So we turn her to the dark side,” Kalatosh said, looking Duserra dead in the eyes again. “She's done it before. She can do it again.”

“Still sore about that, aren't you?” Duserra muttered. “I kept Ashara alive, didn't I?”

“And where is she now?”

“Irrelevant,” Ergast interrupted. “If you wish to teach Garen'ishta how to control Valkorion, you will have help from at least some of us.”

“Good to know.” Duserra sighed, glancing sidelong at Kallig. “Aside from criticizing how I handle my relationship with the Barsen'thor, what do you think of all this?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “It won't do any harm. I don't know how successful it will be, but you've come this far without knowing that.”

“I suppose that's true.” She sighed again, waving a hand in the air. “Fine, fine. I'll send Garen a message and see if she'll meet with us. Gramps, can I expect you to be around?”

“I'll be watching. But I would prefer to remain uninvolved for the time being. Valkorion may yet be unaware of my presence; he knows you have ghosts bound to you, but their presence may mask mine. I would prefer to keep him ignorant for now.”

“I can get behind that; keeping the spooky ex-Emperor ignorant sounds good to me.”

Garen was sprawled across her bed reading when a message notification interrupted her. She sighed and tabbed over to the message, then sat up to reread it.

Master Garen'ishta

Meet me on the hilltop above the base at 1500. I want to discuss something with you.

Nox

Nox? Garen frowned, rereading the two short sentences as if there might be something more to glean from them. “What does she want?” she murmured aloud to herself, tapping nervous fingers against her thigh. Darth Nox had been... coolly indifferent to Garen for the most part. She seemed to prefer not interacting with people whenever possible, and vacillated between stony silence and blunt comments during meetings. Not to mention the way she loomed over almost everyone else. (Garen still wasn't sure how the Commander, who was even shorter than she and Force-blind to boot, managed to stand up to Darth Nox without even flinching.)

And now she wanted to talk about... something. Not an anxiety-inducing message at all.

Garen glanced at the chrono. Only about half an hour until 1500, so not much time to think about it, which was probably for the better.

Garen crested the hill and found Nox sitting cross-legged with her back turned to the path, looking out over the landscape below – or, not, probably, since she looked like she was meditating. Garen paused a short distance behind her, trying to ignore the way the shadowy Force swirling around the former Dark Councilor gave her chills. “You, uh – you wanted to talk with me?” she asked hesitantly.

The Force stilled around Nox again, settling into a more natural rhythm, and she gestured for Garen to come around in front of her. Garen stepped carefully around the ring of candles on plates Nox had set up and settled cross-legged across from the Zabrak, mirroring her posture. Nox regarded her with those eerie golden eyes for a long moment before speaking. “The Barsen'thor asked me to speak with you about your situation with Valkorion.”

Garen's lekku twisted together behind her uncomfortably. “Oh.”

“Do you know anything about Force-ghosts?”

She bit the inside of her cheek lightly. “A little. My master, Orgus Din, came back as a Force-ghost to speak with me after he died.”

Nox tilted her head slightly. “A Jedi Force-ghost? Interesting. I didn't know Jedi could become ghosts.” She paused for a moment, flexing her thumbs where her hands were folded in her lap. “I don't know how much you know about me, but I have experience with ghosts where very few others do. The Barsen'thor thinks I can help you with Valkorion.”

Garen felt him stir at that, coming further to the forefront of her mind. “The Barsen'thor overestimates her understanding of our... 'situation,'” he murmured.

Garen ignored him and instead said carefully, “You... say that like you don't agree.”

Nox hmmed under her breath. “Frankly, Master Jedi, I don't know. Valkorion bound himself to you. I was the one who bound my ghosts. I can try to teach you some of the things I've learned. Not all of them will work, no doubt.” She examined Garen, and Garen instinctively tightened her mental shields, getting the sense that Nox was looking at the Force as well as her face. “But that really depends on whether you're willing to learn.”

Garen hesitated. “Why wouldn't I be?” she asked slowly. “I don't exactly like having him stuck in my head. If you can help -”

“I didn't say I could get rid of him, first of all,” Nox interrupted. “If I knew how to do that, believe me, I wouldn't be giving you the option of saying no.” Worrying. “But I might be able to help you control him at least a little. Show you how better to manage sharing a headspace with a ghost. If.” She raised a finger. “If you're willing to learn from a Sith.”

Garen couldn't help but glance over at where Valkorion was projecting himself, standing off to her right. Nox's eyes followed the look, but returned to Garen's face when she evidently realized what Garen was looking at. “What a fascinating choice,” Valkorion mused. “Allow your most hated enemy to continue existing in your mind, or allow yourself to be 'tainted' by the dark side's teachings.”

Garen forced her lekku to stay down instead of arching back and betraying her irritation. She looked back at Nox, uncertainty settling into determination. “Whatever you can teach me, I'm willing to at least give it a try.”

Nox blinked at that, looking genuinely surprised. She recovered quickly, reaching into her robes – she'd abandoned her armor for the time being, it seemed – and retrieving a small, curved knife. “Very well. Then we might as well start now.”

Garen's pulse undeniably jumped at the sight of the blade, though she tried to suppress that. “Wh- what's the knife for?” she stammered.

Nox arched an eyebrow, golden eyes shining. She sighed and set the blade down on her knee. “I was going to explain, you know.”

“Um – sorry.”

“Ghosts are fickle things,” Nox explained, folding her hands in her lap again. “In their natural state, they can appear to anyone, at least in theory. It's easier for Force-sensitives to see them, and easiest of all for blood relations. But their range is limited unless they're appearing in dreams. Most ghosts are bound to the place they died or the place they were buried. Valkorion, and my ghosts, are bound to people instead. That means they can't normally appear to anyone but the person they're bound to – their life force is tied to our own.” She picked up the knife again to show it to Garen – a small, highly polished metal blade with a wicked curve to it. “The first thing is to be able to make them visible to other living people. It will make teaching you easier, for one thing; for another, sometimes it's nice to have them be involved in a conversation without having to relay everything they say yourself.” She paused. “On the other hand, sometimes it's a pain in the ass. So use it wisely, I guess.”

Garen nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. And the knife?”

“They're tied to our life force,” Nox repeated. “The easiest way to let the ghosts touch the physical world again temporarily is to let a little of your life force do the same.” She smiled dryly. “In other words, cut yourself and let a little blood fall.”

Garen resisted the urge to pull a lek over her shoulder to fidget with, though she couldn't stop them from twisting together nervously behind her. “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I... I've never done a ritual quite like this.”

Nox narrowed her eyes. “I did ask if you would be willing to learn from a Sith. We don't do anything in half measures, that's probably the first thing you should know.”

“No! I'm willing. Sorry. It's just – new to me, that's all.”

Nox examined her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “All right. In that case.” She closed her eyes and drew the blade across the belly of her forearm, bringing it away red. “Make the cut. Don't cut too deep or too long, you only need a little blood.” She flicked the blade down toward the ground, spattering dark red droplets onto the grass, then clenched and unclenched her fist until blood trickled from the cut on her forearm and dripped onto the ground as well. If the pain affected her, she didn't show it – or maybe she'd just done this often enough not to care anymore. “Reach for the bonds that tie you to the ghost as you let the blood fall. Pull them forward with it; let the bond follow your veins down your arm and out into the world.”

Garen felt the pull now – a tidal tug deep in her gut, the Force whispering in her earcones, agitated and restless as Nox bent it to her will.

Nox opened her eyes again, blazing gold. Blue light seeped from the cut on her forearm, a sharp contrast to red blood and red skin, falling slowly toward the ground before curling back around behind the Sith.

And all at once, they were not alone.

In a flash of blue light, an entire row of figures took form behind Nox – three, four, five humanoid shapes in transparent blue, somehow colder and harsher than the blue Master Orgus's spirit had taken on. They stood in a row behind Nox, eyes fixed on Garen just as Nox's were, utterly still for a moment.

Then, as if breaking a spell over all of them, Nox slumped forward slightly and reached into her robes again, withdrawing a roll of bandages this time. She offered Garen the knife handle-first, shaking it at her insistently when she didn't immediately take it. “Take it so I can bandage my arm up already, I'm bleeding out here.”

Garen took it, fumbling and numb, unable to stop staring at the ghosts now visible standing behind Nox. “I – I didn't realize – when you said ghosts, I didn't realize there were so many.”

Nox snorted, still wrapping bandage material around her arm. “Yeah. Master Jedi, meet the peanut gallery.” She gestured at each ghost in turn. “Kalatosh Zavros, Horak-mul, Ergast, Darth Andru, and Mar-Da. They know who you are already.”

“Jedi Master Garen'ishta,” the Togruta on the far left – Zavros – mused, crossing his arms over his lekku. “The Hero of Tython.”

“Host to the Sith Emperor,” the hooded man – Andru? She was already forgetting which was which, blast it – added. “I'm surprised you agreed to this, little Twi'lek. Sith blood rituals already? How far the Jedi have fallen, that our little snake can turn you so easily.”

Garen undeniably bristled at being called little Twi'lek, and at his accusation. “I'm not turning to the dark side,” she said firmly.

Nox snorted again at her indignance. “Don't get all worked up. He makes a habit of insulting everyone we meet, it's not personal.”

“No, I think he has a point,” the Sith pureblood – Horvak? Horak? Damn – mused, stroking one of the tendrils hanging on either side of his mouth thoughtfully. “In my day a Jedi would have taken a lot more convincing than that.”

“Your day was almost two thousand years ago,” Nox drawled. “Hush up, anyway, we've got more work to do.” She gestured at the knife Garen was still holding. “Your turn. May want to have a quick chat with Valky first, make sure he's going to cooperate.” She shrugged. “You can force it, or at least I can, but it's easier if they come out to play willingly.”

Garen gnawed her lip. “I – right. Yeah. That makes sense.” She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to focus.

His presence was always there to some degree, echoing cold and heavy in the back of her skull. Usually she tried to ignore it; intentionally focusing on him made him... uncomfortably present, tugging at her like a windstorm on all sides. For once she tried to push a thought at him, instead of letting it happen naturally or trying to hide it. Valkorion?

Silence, but – attentive silence. He was listening, he just wasn't talking. (Of course. The one time she wanted him to talk, he stayed silent.) Valkorion, I know you're listening, she thought again, pushing the words at him harder. Can you – come out? Let Nox see you?

“This is a pointless exercise,” he said at last. “Nox overestimates her power and understanding both. What I have done, what I am, is beyond her ken.”

So the ritual won't work?

A pause. “I did not say that.”

So?

“You are persistent, Jedi, for someone who complains about me inserting myself into her conversations.”

You're deflecting, she challenged. What are you afraid of?

From the ripple of anger that passed through her consciousness, Garen half expected Valkorion to growl. “I am not afraid of anything, Jedi.”

Then what do you have to lose?

Another pause, then a soft chuckle, echoing through her mind and making her skin crawl despite herself. “Very well, Jedi. You win this time. Perform your silly Sith ritual.”

Nox was watching her, one eyebrow raised slightly. Garen swallowed and nodded. “Okay. He's – yeah. He'll talk.”

“Good. Nice to have someone cooperative along for a change,” Nox grumbled. The Sith pureblood ghost muttered something in a language Garen didn't know – Sith, probably – but Nox ignored him. “Make the cut. Reach for the bonds. Pull them down your arm and out into the world with the blood.”

“Right,” Garen murmured. “Not weird at all.” She hesitated as she raised the knife, still stained with Nox's blood. “Um – do you have a clean rag, or something?”

Nox looked at her like she was an idiot. With a curl of her fingers, the remaining blood separated itself from the steel in an arc of crimson and fell to the grass after hovering for a moment, leaving the blade shining clean again. Garen blinked. “Oh. Okay.” Probably not the time to bring up Inappropriate Use Of The Force. She swallowed hard, then laid the edge of the blade against her skin, squeezed her eyes shut, and made the cut.

Undeniably her concentration was immediately damaged by the pain, but she forced herself to ignore it. Reach for the bond.

Again, not something she usually did intentionally. Valkorion was cold and carried so much power with him that at first she wasn't sure how to get a grasp on him. Her thoughts slid off of his like fingers scrabbling at a stone slick with ice, far too large to wrap around and lift just like that. She grimaced and dove deeper, letting her awareness of the physical fade somewhat in favor of focusing on the flow of the Force through her own thoughts and his.

So she couldn't just  latch onto him and pull. But she was letting him determine the shape of himself in the Force – those things were subjective, perhaps if she changed the shape of things?

Not a boulder, then. Something else.

Unfortunately, the next most natural shape for his presence to take in her mind was that of a beast – a coiling mass of leathery black, flanks towering upward and claws rasping against her thoughts as his deep chuckle echoed through the space they shared -

Nope, that's not better. She withdrew again, shivering away the feeling and considering him from something more of a distance – at least, as much of a distance as she could manage, given the circumstances. He didn't make any effort to close with her again, merely watching her battle against the problem, amusement curling around him in glittering wisps.

Dimly, she was aware of warmth trickling slowly down her forearm, but the pain was dulled by her focus on the Force, at least. So I can't grab onto him directly. So... what now. She turned over what Nox had said in her mind. Reach for the bond. The bond.

If she couldn't grab him directly...

She reached out again – not for Valkorion, this time, but for the space between them, the weight she couldn't break however hard she tried, tying them together.

That weight swirled, formless for a moment, then settled into a shape in her mind's eye. Chains of shadow, cold and heavy with Valkorion's power, extending from him to her –

Shackled around her wrists, binding her just as well as they bound him.

Garen took a deep breath to settle herself. Very well, then. She'd known she was just as trapped as Valkorion already. She intended to make it as difficult as possible for him to use that against her.

So she twisted her wrists, wrapping the chains twice around her hands and gripping them as firmly as she could manage, and pulled.

He was still heavy – impossibly heavy, the weight of a starship somehow held within her skull – but she'd lifted heavy things before. Now that she had a place to start, heavy was something she could manage.

Distantly, she heard Nox's voice, murmuring approval. “That's it.”

Valkorion's voice overpowered the younger Sith's, a surprised laugh. “Interesting. Very interesting, young Jedi.”

Garen ignored them both and did something she was good at – put her head down, dug her heels in, and worked. She dragged Valkorion closer inch by inch, looping the chains around her arms now and then to take up the slack. She hesitated then, unsure of how to move forward.

“Down your arm,” Nox murmured. “The blood.”

Right. She had to let go of the metaphor for that, the visualization, and she almost lost her grip on Valkorion's bonds with it – clung to them through sheer determination. Now the chains, the beast, the boulder, the mindscape were all gone, leaving just a point of cold weight in the base of her skull, one she could push down her neck and shoulder and arm with agonizing slowness. Pain throbbed in her forearm as her awareness of her body returned, another thing she had to ignore and push through. At least that she had experience with.

Garen opened her eyes in time to see blue light seep from the cut, casting her green skin with an eerie pallor as it drifted slowly toward the ground.

And then there was a flash of light, and she felt Valkorion anchor himself in the physical behind her. Only Nox's eyes flickering above and behind Garen to where he no doubt stood told her it wasn't the same kind of projection he always did. Garen slumped forward slightly, unable to help herself, breathing harder than she should have been considering. Nox offered her the roll of bandages, though her eyes didn't leave Valkorion. “Dark Lord,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nice to see you've joined the party.”

“That is a title I left behind long ago, Darth Nox,” Valkorion said, smooth and unaffected as usual. Garen swallowed, mouth dry suddenly, and set herself to wrapping her arm. “But it doesn't surprise me you still cling to it.”

Nox's lower lip curled, baring pronounced lower canines, and she turned back to Garen without another word. “Not bad for a first try, Master Jedi. How do you feel?”

“Like I got clipped by a speeder,” she replied, before she could think better of it.

Nox snorted. “Yeah, I kind of felt the same way the first time I tried it.”

“She almost passed out from the strain,” the Togruta ghost said helpfully.

“And failed to draw us out anyway,” the hooded Human – Darth Andru; his name had stuck with her for some reason – added.

Nox's face flushed. “What did I say about you being able to talk to other people being a pain in the ass?” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I had three ghosts to draw out. She has one.”

“One far more powerful than any of us,” the Voss ghost observed.

Garen felt Valkorion's amusement at Nox's defensive embarrassment – strangely muffled, now, like a voice heard from underwater – and bit the inside of her cheek as she handed back the roll of bandages. “Thank you for showing me,” she said, putting as much sincerity as she could into her voice. Nox's brows drew together, just for a split second, before she took back the roll. “I don't think I ever would have figured it out on my own.”

Nox cleared her throat. “Right. Well. Don't look too far into it. I just want a little security he's not going to kick you out of your own body, that's all.”

Several of the ghosts behind her looked amused at that, but none of them spoke. Garen forced a laugh, trying to make it not sound forced. “Yeah, I – I could live with that too.” She pulled a lek over her shoulder to fidget with it. “Well... what now?”

“The ritual won't last long,” Nox said, shaking off the momentary uncertainty. “Ten minutes, fifteen tops, without further ritual stacked on top to maintain it. Which we're not going to do today.”

Valkorion arched an eyebrow. “Not keen on keeping this conversation up for long?”

Nox bared her teeth again. “The last time I saw you, you had me in shock cuffs. You'll forgive me for not being particularly fond of you.”

He tsked softly at her. “Now, is that any way to speak to your Emperor?”

Nox's claws dug into her thigh. The Togruta ghost murmured something too quiet for Garen to catch, and Nox gritted her teeth. “I do not bend the knee to you,” she growled, “and you should count yourself lucky that it's her you're bound to and not me.” Her golden eyes fell to Garen again. “In any case. In theory, it's possible to build further off this ritual. Making it last longer is just a matter of feeding a continual stream of energy into it. Even with this way of making a bound ghost visible to others, the same rules apply as with an unbound ghost – it's easier for Force-sensitives to see ghosts than Force-blind people, and easiest for blood relatives. He's a little shaky for me, but it's your first time doing this. With a little practice, you'll be able to make him visible to just about anyone. I imagine the Commander would appreciate not having to rely on a go-between once in a while, for one.”

Garen nodded. “And within the... mindscape, or whatever it's called?”

“Mindscape, headspace, inner world.” Nox shrugged. “If this worked, that's a pretty good sign I can show you how to manipulate that a little more intentionally. From there you can hopefully get some control over him – at least be able to hide your thoughts from him better and quit hearing him for a while when you don't want to.”

Garen looked down, still playing with the end of her lek to keep her hands busy. “That... sounds nice, honestly.”

Valkorion hummed thoughtfully. “Do you not worry I might be able to use the same techniques against you, Jedi?”

Hadn't thought of that. Garen looked up at Nox for confirmation. Nox tilted her head, then shook it. “Somehow I don't think so. I think if you could do that, Valky -” he frowned at the nickname - “you wouldn't need me to teach you.”

“And you wouldn't have brought it up if you actually thought you could,” Garen realized, folding her arms. “You just want to scare me off.”

He arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “You talk of binding and silencing me, and try to take the moral high ground,” he mused. “Interesting.”

“Don't fuckin' give me that,” Nox snapped. “You ate an entire damn world. You've solidly surrendered the moral high ground.”

The Voss ghost tapped his fingers together in front of him, thinking. “He seeks to unbalance you, outsider,” he said, eyes fixed on Garen. “You would be wise not to let him.”

“For once, Mar-Da has a point,” the Sith pureblood muttered. “Our Emperor is old and canny. Keep your wits about you, Jedi, whatever path you take.”

Valkorion huffed a half-laugh, folding his hands behind his back. “Very well. Since you seem determined to take this path no matter what I say.”

Garen shivered as a wave of cold swept over her – and Nox startled, eyes scanning the area for a moment. “...Good to know he can do that,” she muttered.

Garen glanced behind her – Valkorion's apparition was gone. “Can your...” She gestured to the figures still standing around Nox. “Can you all not?”

Nox shook her head. “No. They can't end the ritual early. But it may just be a power thing.” She shrugged and stood. “Who knows?”

Garen stood as well, and found her legs a little shaky. She reached out to touch Nox's elbow as the Sith turned away, withdrew at how quickly Nox wheeled to face her again. “Um – sorry. I just – thank you. Again. For offering to teach me. I appreciate it.”

Nox frowned at her for a moment, then nodded, somewhat jerkily. “...Yes. You're. Welcome. It's nothing.” She paused. “Are you free this time tomorrow?”

Garen nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.”

And she turned away again and was gone just like that, without a goodbye, ghosts trailing after her to chatter as soon as they were out of earshot. Garen ran a hand over one lek, not sure what to make of all this. Valkorion at least seemed satisfied to let her mull over the strange Sith's reticence and her bizarre inability to react to a simple thanks in peace. She shook off the thoughts after a moment and sighed, settling down to meditate for a bit herself. It would be good for her to clear her head, after all that.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! Normally I just jump right into my gameplay posts and then put in additional notes at the end, but for this particular set of gameplay posts I plan to do, I think I’ll need to do the notes first.

This upcoming series will be based on the Quidditch sidequest “Quest for the Quidditch Cup.” (And will be tagged thusly!) Normally the game HPHM sets this in our first year playing Quidditch, circa year 2...but not only am I well past year 2, but I’ve written some lore about Carewyn and her relationship with the Slytherin Quidditch team that goes against this particular side quest’s plot line. Here are bullet points!

Carewyn was introduced to Quidditch Friendlies in third year through Penny, and also received training from Skye. She even played as a substitute Chaser in Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff in her third year.

After Skye made up rumors about Erika Rath, however, Carewyn and Skye had a pretty substantive falling-out, given Carewyn’s over-sensitivity to bullying. Not wanting to cause further drama for Orion’s team but not wanting to stand by Skye’s behavior, Carewyn quietly withdrew from the Slytherin Quidditch team, allowing the original Chaser to take back their spot for the last two matches of the season.

Carewyn has continued to play in Quidditch friendlies as a Chaser (often against or alongside Ravenclaw Keeper Andre and Gryffindor Seeker Charlie), but has not tried to take back a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team again.

Orion -- who Carewyn is incredibly fond of, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother Jacob -- has every-so-often tried to bring Carewyn back into the fold, but Carewyn has been reluctant to commit, partly because of her hyper-focus on the Vaults and partly because of her strained relationship with Skye.

Age-wise, I have written Murphy, Skye, and Orion as all being a year older than Carewyn (hence why we don’t see them in any of her classes). These gameplays will take place toward the end of year 6 well after that certain Redacted event, even though I haven’t reached that point in the game yet, because Carewyn is currently in year 6, but the last game of the Quidditch season would have to take place in the spring. This is also why Orion isn’t two years ahead of Carewyn -- if he were, he’d be graduated already! I do see him being born toward the end of the year, though, so he would still be the eldest of the three Quidditch characters. XD; Because of the timing, Carewyn will have just completed her character arc where she’s learned to open up a bit more to her friends at this point too and is no longer shutting her friends out of what’s going on with R or the Cursed Vaults. I also fortunately don’t have much interest in writing any further Quidditch plotlines with Carewyn, so I won’t have to worry about writing any contradictory season 2 gameplays. (If nothing else, Carewyn would be a GOD-AWFUL Beater.)

With all this out of the way...let the games begin!

~x~x~x~x~

[Carewyn had had to deal with a lot of unexpected things that year, but one thing she certainly had not been expecting was receiving an owl from Orion Amari. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain would reach out to her sometimes when she was playing in Quidditch friendlies or otherwise visiting the Quidditch Pitch, but they almost never collided in the hallways of Hogwarts themselves, partly because Orion was a year older than her, but also because Orion just seemed to operate on his own schedule. Carewyn sometimes wondered if he Broom-Surfed through life, rather than walking like ordinary people did.

Regardless, when Carewyn arrived in the Great Hall to meet Orion, she found him already there, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with Quidditch commentator Murphy McNully.]

Murphy: “Been a long time! I haven’t seen you since the final Quidditch friendly last year -- reckon your team would’ve had only a 0.5% chance of victory, if you hadn’t been able to hit the Quaffle past the Keeper with your broom just before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch...1% at the most...”

“(politely) It’s good to see you too, McNully.”

[Carewyn turned to Orion, looking a bit more serious.]

“I heard about Skye’s injury. What happened? I heard some people say Rath hit Skye with a Bludger...but I just can’t see Rath doing something like that on purpose: she could get banned from Quidditch for actively trying to target an opposing team’s player like that.”

[Orion nodded solemnly, his gaze very pensive.]

Orion: “Your thought process has some merit, Carewyn...but I’m afraid we really can’t know for sure. We have only two witnesses to the event -- Rath and Skye -- with two versions of the truth. One says it was an accident, the other purposeful.”

“(frowns) But those two things contradict each other. They can’t both be the truth.”

Orion: “They are both their truths. In any case, the result is the same, and our Chaser was injured.”

[Carewyn couldn’t entirely agree with this -- she would feel a lot better knowing it was an accident rather than Rath getting away scot-free with hurting one of Slytherin’s players...but really, such a sentiment was pretty typical for Orion, and there was a lot more to discuss.

Her gaze drifted down to the table in front of her absently as she leaned her arms against the wood.]

“...Is Skye all right?”

Orion: “Physically, yes -- Madame Pomfrey says she’ll make a full recovery. Emotionally, however, I would not say so, given that Madame Pomfrey also has said she will not be well enough to play in the match.”

[Carewyn’s heart clenched.]

“So she’ll miss the Quidditch final. Your last Quidditch final, ever.”

Murphy: “(grimly) The math would seem to suggest it. At present I’d say there’s only a 23% chance Skye would be able to play, and about 19.9% of that factors in Skye actively ignoring Madame Pomfey’s instructions. And if she did that, I’d say Slytherin would only have a 3% chance of victory.”

[Carewyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She may have had her differences with Skye, and she didn’t regret distancing herself from her...but at the same time, she knew how much Quidditch and especially the Quidditch Cup meant to her. Slytherin had been knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Final several times the last few years, largely by Gryffindor, since their team had Quidditch prodigy Charlie as their Seeker. But this year, Charlie had not had his head in the game (for rather obvious reasons), and so Slytherin had finally gotten the opening they needed. But facing Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Final would be no easy task...and, Carewyn thought, Skye had to be absolutely miserable, being stuck on the sidelines at the exact moment when Slytherin finally had a chance to earn the Cup they’d fought so hard for.

Murphy glanced at Orion out the side of his eye critically.]

[Orion gave a single, slow nod.]

[He turned to Carewyn with a wry smile.]

Orion: “...And she is sitting with us at this moment.”

[Carewyn blinked in surprise. Murphy brightened up instantly, looking at Carewyn with a large smile.]

Murphy: “Yes! That’d be brilliant! With your high record of goal scoring and your overall speed, Carewyn, you’d easily improve Slytherin’s odds by a good 31.6%!”

[Despite Murphy’s enthusiasm, Carewyn couldn’t make herself smile back.]

“I don’t know...”

Orion: “(seriously) Carewyn...you have dismissed me several times in the past, but I urge you to hear me out fully before you make your decision. You first left our team because of a personal dispute with Skye, and although I lament it, I also respect that you wanted our team to succeed, and you thought that withdrawing with grace would be the best way to do that. Now, however, we are in dire straits. We need someone who can fill Skye’s role on our team. You trained with Skye. You have consistently played well in every Quidditch friendly you have participated in. And you also more than embody the integrity needed both to lead and to follow -- to place the good of your team over glory for yourself. It’s the reason I asked you to choose our strategy in the match against Hufflepuff three years ago...and it’s the reason both Skye and I believe you should be our third Chaser, in this match against Ravenclaw.”

[This took Carewyn completely aback.]

“Skye said I should?”

[Orion smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an oddly soft glint.]

Orion: “She urged me to try to convince you. Believe it or not...Skye has lamented the loss of you on our team even more than I have.”

[Carewyn’s narrowed blue eyes drifted off vaguely in the direction of the far wall as she took this in.]

If she felt that way, she should’ve made things right with Rath, then.

[Despite the stubborn irritation lashing at her insides, though, she couldn’t help but feel slightly touched, all the same. To think that Skye would’ve insisted Carewyn fill her spot -- Carewyn knew full well how much Quidditch meant to Skye...so her trusting Carewyn with her spot on the team, right before such an important match...]

I know how hard it is to trust others. It hasn’t been easy for me...even now...it’s not easy, for me. If Skye trusts me that much...if Orion and McNully trust me that much...

[Meeting the Circle of Khanna in the Three Broomsticks and feeling their expectant eyes all on her rippled over Carewyn’s mind. It brought the feeling of responsibility back down onto her shoulders -- that heavy weight that nonetheless made her want to stand even taller, so as to meet that burden.]

I can’t turn my back on them, when they need me.

[There was a new strength in her posture and shoulders as her gaze rose to meet Orion’s.]

“...All right. I’m in.”

[Orion’s dark eyes lit up like stars. His face broke into a large, bright smile and he reached across the table to take hold of Carewyn’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.]

Orion: “It will be a privilege to fly alongside you in my final match at Hogwarts, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn smiled in return, her blue eyes softening visibly. Murphy looked delighted as well.]

Murphy: “Not to mention how exciting it’ll be for my final match as a commentator! Carewyn Cromwell, swooping in just in time to nab Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years!”

[His expression then turned a lot more business-like.]

Murphy: “We won’t get that great story, though, unless Slytherin wins.”

[Carewyn frowned deeply and nodded. She was well aware -- Gryffindor had opposed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Cup Final just about every year she was at Hogwarts, and it was largely thanks to Rath smacking Bludgers at Charlie so hard that he was sent to the Hospital Wing that Ravenclaw had won.]

“Rath is not someone to be underestimated. But we have two days before the match -- I’m sure we can come up with a plan by then. In the meantime, I’ll set aside some extra time to practice with the rest of the team.”

[She glanced at Orion for approval. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain inclined his head in a single nod.]

Orion: “This is a time for celebration and hard work. Let us concentrate on coming together as a team and on supporting Skye.”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted off, landing on the doorway out of the entrance hall.]

“...Maybe I should go see Skye, then...just for a talk.”

Ha! That’s a loaded question...

[She frankly didn’t want to even think about how uncomfortable the reunion between her and Skye would be like, given how they’d ended things and how little they’d subsequently spoken over the years...

Despite those feelings, Carewyn -- true to form -- put on her prettiest, most confident smile.]

[jessisvibing]

for the obscure asks: ALL OF THEM!

Oh gosh okay

1. Fave way to dress

Glam. Like Steve summers, Sami yaffa, and mark slaughter all had a child

2. If I could change anything about myself

Probably either my stomach or my face but perhaps i would just like a new self esteem

3. What movie/game/etc helps me calm down

Rock n roll high school

4. What does your room smell like?

Depends if I wanna use the hot chocolate candle, the marshmallow whatever it is candle or the one that reminds me of Disney.

5. Do you like to organize?

Oh heck I have to be organized or it bothers me.

6. What kind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one?

If we mean genre then perhaps 2000s Finnish rock. Or maybe 80s glam. But if we’re going for bands Poison and Pretty Boy Floyd never get old.

7. What song is your aesthetic?

MOONCHILD!!!

The song, the video, ALL OF IT!

8. What color do you think goes best with your personality?

Although my favorite color is green I’m usually associated with black or red.

I’ve been told if I was a color I was without a doubt the color black

9. Do you believe in auras?

Perhaps so.

10. What do you wish you hated but actually like?

Apulanta 😂

Well not really but it’s hard to explain them to people. I could probably name a few things but nothing comes to mind off the top of my head.

11. Vague about your crushes.

Well, he’s got the most beautiful eyes and voice and the warmest smile. I think he lives in France with his girlfriend so he’ll never like me but something about him just gives me a warm feeling. He has a message with his music and I just wish I could be like him. Is that too much to be vague?

This ones definitely been through a lot but I feel like I need to try and make a difference in his life. Frankie knows who he is cause I’ve told her this before but ever since I first discovered him I fell in love with him and most people don’t support that I like him but that’s okay. He’s funny to me and his music is comforting to me.

12. Is there someone you have mixed feelings towards?

It’s hard to pinpoint my emotions. Especially when I first meet people. Sometimes I just don’t know how I feel about one of my friends that I dated once. Do I love him or not? I’d like to know.

13. An Au or story I came up with.

I have a lot of crack stories about poison and Jekyll and Hyde I’ve yet to write. All I gotta say is cc’s insults give me life.

14. Do you like makeup?

I liked it better on me when my hair was long now I just don’t vibe with it but concealer has saved my life a few times. It’s just better on guys.

15. Do you prefer space or ocean?

Y’know it may come as a surprise but I’ve always kinda wanted to visit space. I absolutely love the stars and I’m kinda a space geek.

16. If I could pick any planet besides earth, where would I live?

I wanna say Uranus as a joke but on a serious note I think Venus or Mars would be neat.

17. What form of government do you like most?

Monarchy. It’s just easier than this american shit.

18. What animal would I keep as a pet?

Omg omg I always wanted a snow ermine🥰

19. What do you think the purpose of our universe is?

Well I’m a Christian so I could go deep into it but I’ll just leave it at that.

20. Do you believe in god(s)?

Yes if my last answer wasn’t obvious enough.

21. Is there a song you can’t handle listening to even tho I like it.

It was hard enough to get into this song but when I discovered why mark wrote it it’s hard not to cry when I hear it.

22. What ex do you miss most?

Well I wouldn’t quite say I miss any of them. I’m still best friends with my most recent. I feel like I haven’t found a great relationship yet. Sorry val babe.

23. Do you like soft fluffy rough or smooth blankets.

I have a fluffy one hanging on my bed frame haha.

24. What is your fave thing to learn about?

Hmm I love a lot of stuff, as much as finnish fascinates me I absolutely adore mythology.

25. What country’s history do you find most interesting?

I’ve been in too many American history classes to enjoy it anymore. The Finnish history is very neat to me.

26. What do you think about genderbent characters?

Heck I used to love them but now I’m neutral

Perhaps depends on the character.

27. What breakup was the hardest.

Oh none hit me very hard but my last boyfriend took it the worst I’d bet.

28. Do you have someone where you can’t decide if you like them romantically or just as a friend?

Still with Val. I just don’t know how to feel.

29. What do you think about tumblr discourse?

Ugh I came here to get away from it but as long as it’s sporadical and not constant I can put up with it.

30. What instrument do you wish you could master?

I’d just like to pursue bass decently rn, we’ll talk about that later.

One day I’ll drum hot for teacher. I just needa buy a better drum set. I guess just being able to play both instruments decently would be a blessing.

31. How easy is it for you to be honest?

As easy as it is to lie.

I’m very honest and trustworthy but I could also be the exact opposite.

32. Do you have any strange interests?

Oh god okay so while y’all are over here obsessing over guys hands I can’t help but look at their stomach like omg I just wanna lay on it while my man tells me how much he loves me.

It’s not weird but I love Finnish accents. Just less common to hear someone say that rather than English.

Well I could go on and list a lot of stuff but then again

33. Do you have any strange fears?

Peter steele 🤣

Obviously a joke but anyways

34. What food do you binge when you’re lazy?

Fries usually but I could eat pasta or fish sticks or rice galore.

35. When you get angry how do you show it?

Usually through cursing a lot but when I’ve got the hots for someone I curse a lot too. I speak more violently when I’m mad though I probably won’t act as violent as I sound. Don’t be afraid.

However as much as I say it I will gladly break your nose and you’d better believe it so it better not come to that point.

36. Do you have any impulsive movements?

Eh idunno but when I get bored I’ll put my index finger on my nose (up to about my eye. So if my hand is on my nose you better spice up the topic.) oh I also play with my hair when I get bored.

And if I get anxious it’ll be obvious. I’ve also been told when I get scared I have a death grip so if you try and work up my nerves just expect your hand to be broken 😝

37. What do you listen to music on?

That depends. If I want 80s music I’ll go to amazon, if it’s not on Amazon or I want something specific from Spotify then I go to YouTube. If I don’t know what I want or I want Finnish music I’ll go to Spotify.

38. Are you left brained or right brained?

I don’t think I have a brain. As much as my mom wants to tell me I’m left I seem to be more right brained.

39. Earbuds or headphones?

Ugh earbuds. I don’t like headphones unless I’m using my Walkman. Headphones are so 2010s/elementary school 😂

40. Do you like light blankets or heavy?

Meh light. I just don’t get the thing about heavy blankets. Plus they’re frustrating to get settled in.

Yay that was super fun! Thank you!!

[argonas]

Misguided Justice - Pt. I

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ / @sinafay-the-defiant​ ]]

Evening had descended by the time Argonas set hoof on the small Arathi farmstead. Quaint and simple, the Vindicator could barely believe this is where his wayward student Sinafay had settled down. No measure of justice was served from such a simple life. But then, he knew she’d abandoned such duties in favor of her abhorrent and deviant lifestyle. His fists clenched as he paced up the hill from the fields proper, towards the small cottage overlooking the land. Smoke billowing from the chimney served as a sure sign someone was home. Sinafay… Grakkar… that abomination they called a child… he expected to find all three inside. Disgusting and unnatural as it was, that wasn’t even why Argonas was here. No, Sinafay’s transgressions far exceeded that, now.

Despite Raetos’ unwillingness to do what was necessary, and his efforts to convince the Vindicator of such, Argonas knew otherwise. Anyone who abided such evils as Avehi raising the dead were just as culpable as she was! By harboring and abetting the Death Knight, Sinafay had made her choice. And the Light demanded its justice. It almost hurt to consider; he really had taken pride in training young Sinafay in the ways of the Light, helping to nurture and cultivate her talents into a beacon of strength for their people. Such a waste…

His heavy hand banged against the wooden door - so fragile, he worried it might break if he hit it too hard. Still, the firm knocks echoed through the farmstead, as the Vindicator made his presence known.

“Sinafay!” he called out. “Sinafay the Defiant!”

It didn’t take very long for the door to open, revealing a very angry looking Draenei, brows knit into a scowl. She’d done a great job at losing the baby weight, already a good way back to her Vindicator fitness level. She wore a lovely, yet simple robe, ideal for a busy mother, yet accentuated her natural curves and showed off her Light bound tattoos. 

“Argonas,” she scolded, “Do you mind maybe NOT waking the baby I just put to sleep?!”

She pushed forward to try and shove the Vindicator back, but Argonas was unmovable as always, and in his full armor of course! With a frustrated huff, she moved around him, shutting the door behind her as she began to walk down the hill, tail twitching. Best to do the yelling away from Neelah. She couldn’t imagine what her former mentor was doing here at this time of night.

“What the FUCK are you doing here?!” She growled.

Perhaps it was motherhood, the hormones raging through her. Or perhaps coupling with a filthy Orc for too long had boosted her aggression. Maybe, partly, she was upset to see him again after how he left things with her. There were many likely factors, but no matter what or why, Sinafay was being terribly bitchy. It wasn't the attractive sour attitude he cherished in his departed mate, either; she was just being erratic and grumpy. Terribly unappealing!

He followed her a ways down the hill, stern expression his only real response to her demeanor. He looked her over, a mixture of sorrow and regret overcoming him. Oh how far she'd fallen… even glistening with the Light from her Lightforging did little to make her seem redeemable after such a terrible track her life had followed. It pained him to see his former pupil like this. Such shame he felt, clearly having failed to teach her not to parlay with savage orcs, or aide depraved Death Knights. She was his greatest failure.

"... I am told you sheltered and aided Avehi. Is this true?" Argonas asked, bluntly.

Sinafay raised a brow, turning to look at him as the question was asked. She relaxed a bit, having shaken off the anger now that they were a fair distance away from the house.

“She was here a few months ago; came across the farm by happenstance. Hadn’t seen each other for a while, so we caught up. Went on her way after that.”

Sinafay crosses her arms over her chest. Why was Argonas looking for Avehi? She thought back on her conversation with the Death Knight, frowning. She finally took a moment to look the Vindicator over; those dark circles under his eyes… and something looked off in that luminous gaze of his. Something she’d missed in her earlier frustration.

“If that’s what you mean by ‘sheltered and aided’, then yeah, I guess I did. Why?”

“She has dragged you into her terrible misdeeds.” Argonas elaborated, albeit vaguely. “Avehi has been raising the dead for nefarious purposes. If you are a friend to her, she will likely come here to seek shelter again. To hide from the Light’s justice.”

His eyes narrowed, as he reached back to draw his crystalline blade.

“This, I cannot allow.”

Sinafay didn’t wait a moment longer to see where the conversation was leading. She’d seen this exact situation play out too many times, on Draenor, to those suspected of aiding the Mag’har under Yrel’s reign.

She wasn’t about to allow him to use that blade. While she’d taken on a more domestic role over the past months, she’d kept her senses sharp. Having an Orc mate who enjoyed a good spar helped quite a bit.

Her eyes flared, hands slamming into the large Vindicator’s chest with a powerful blast of Holy Light to push him back before taking on a defensive position.

“I suppose I was right to not have trusted you after all.”

It hurt to have her suspicions realized. To know that her mentor was as blinded as the people she’d left behind on her world. She felt justified, in a way, the guilt of hiding her relationship with Grakkar from him washing away.

“Leave us be, Argonas,” she warned, baring her teeth, “This is your only warning.”

The Vindicator’s hooves scraped along the ground, slowing him from skidding too far back. He grunted, frowning deeper at Sinafay. He expected resistance, of course. He’d trained her well enough not to take a death threat lying down!

“Do you think I want to do this? I thought I had taught you better! But you have fallen so far from the path I laid out for you!” he growled, plated fist tightening around the hilt of his blade. “You failed! You abandoned your post! You betrayed our kin on Draenor, breaking your vow to protect them! And for an Orc!?”

“Hmph. Consider it my highest honor.” Sinafay shot back, defiantly.

Argonas grunted. He rushed in, hoofsteps hastened by the Light itself in a furious charge. He swung his sword in a wide arc towards Sinafay. Sinafay shot forward as he charged. She didn’t have a weapon or armor, but knew agility wasn’t Argonas’ strong suit, and planned to use that to her advantage. She rolled as he swung, just passed his right leg to end up behind him, her tail wrapped around his ankle, tugging it back with her momentum as she got to her hooves. 

She didn’t turn back to look if he’d fallen forward or not as she kept running; hoping she’d bought herself a bit of time as she headed towards Grakkar’s workshop. She knew there would be a weapon or something there she could use to defend herself with. The Lightbound could hear nothing but her rapid heartbeat as adrenaline rushed through her system, making it impossible to know if he was right behind her or not.

Suddenly, a bolt of Light struck her shoulder, knocking her off balance just as she reached the workshop. She stumbled and fell into the door, crashing through it! The heavy hoofbeats of Argonas closed in, making up what distance the tripping attack bought had cost him.

“And now, you abide by such abhorrence as Avehi raising the dead! Our own people, enthralled by her necrotic powers!” he continued to charge Sinafay, shouting aggressively. “I know not what set you on such a depraved path after we parted, Sina. But it has led to this final judgment! The Light will not tolerate your abusing its blessing to supplement death and pain to its chosen people!”

He brought his blade up for an overhead swing, cutting straight down vertically!

Sinafay barely had time to cocoon herself within a barrier of Light. Argonas’ sword crashed into it, causing sparks to fly and crackle in a near blinding light show as the holy forces fought against each other. The Lightbound woman grit her teeth as the barrier cracked under the pressure of the Vindicator’s strength. She was out of practice, and her former mentor’s conviction was too strong. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but she would fight to the bitter end.

And that end grew closer as the barrier shattered. She tried to roll to the side but the blade found purchase in her side, forcing a cry out of her as blue blood oozed out of the wound. She reached out, hands grabbing the Vindicator’s wrists as her hooves kicked out at his face in a final act of defiance.

Argonas stumbled back, but not far. Swift and firm as the kick was, there was an insurmountable difference in stature between the two Vindicators. His face immediately began to swell up at the impact point of Sinafay’s hoof, but that only seemed to infuriate him more. The grinding of his plate gauntlet along the hilt of his crystalline blade rang out sharply as he shifted his grip. He took the sword in his hands, and lined up the piercing point with his former pupil’s chest.

“Through me, the Light’s justice will be served! The mistakes I made in judging the true measures of your character will at long last be corrected!”

He raised his blade, eyes narrowing as he started to bring it down to finish his grim task-- when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tensely around his waist! From behind him, Grakkar took hold of the Vindicator and heaved him upward and over himself with a mighty roar! The Draenei was caught off-guard, and thrown over onto his back as Grakkar arched and kicked back and away from Sinafay. Argonas came crashing down on his shoulders and the back of his head, driving his chin into his chest plate as the rest of his heavy plated body rolled over the top of him! He was stunned! The wind knocked from him entirely as Grakkar threw him back!

“Get away from my mate, you honorless piece of clefthoof shit!” the Warsong shouted, snarling at Argonas.

He gave little time for the abettor to recover, rushing in to keep up the pressure. As Argonas rolled over and brought himself up to his hands and knees, Grakkar ran up and took hold of his head. Lining it up, he carried his momentum and slammed his knee into the Draenei’s crest! 

*CRACK* 

Argonas rolled over from both the pain, and the force of the impact to his face! But the assault didn’t end there. Grakkar trudged up alongside the writhing and bewildered Draenei. He knelt down scooping up a small handful of dirt to toss into the Vindicator’s face! Then, he just started punching! Once, again, three times! He bloodied his fist against the Draenei’s plated crest, pounding his face over and over with unyielding fury! 

Argonas did what he could to protect himself, but he couldn’t see his assaulter, much less block the barrage of punches! He’d dropped his sword, and couldn’t afford to reach out and feel for it nearby. That would only give the Orc more openings! Instead, he curled in, doing his best to cover his face with one arm as he swatted at Grakkar blindly with the other in hopes of deflecting or softening the next blow coming his way. One wild swipe caught hold of something - the Orc’s forearm. Success! With all his might, he ripped the Orc’s arm towards him, counter attacking with a punch of his own. He felt his plated fist connect, knocking the Orc back and away from him. Only for a moment… but the moment was all he needed.

Bringing his hooves back beneath him, Argonas stood up and quickly brushed the dirt and blood from his face. His luminous eyes set onto Grakkar, who also recuperated from their exchange of blows. For a moment, the two stared one another down.

“The Light… judges you too, Orc filth!” Argonas grunted.

“Fuck your Light!” Grakkar shot back, snarling.

With a furious shout, the Orc rushed at Argonas yet again. The Draenei took up a defensive stance, readying himself as Grakkar drew near. He knew he couldn’t match the Orc’s agility; their fight in Kun-Lai had taught him that, well enough. Instead he dug in his hooves, tail swaying limber behind him to keep his balance. As the Orc took his swing, Argonas brought his forearms up to block the incoming blow. Then the next. Teeth grit as he held firm his position, Argonas bided the Orc’s assault like a statue! He was ready for him, this time. Ready and waiting for his opening. His hands and arms felt raw, jarred and pulsing from the plate gauntlets reverberating each repeated strike. But he held his ground.

Grakkar raged on, throwing punch after punch in the hopes of landing one or two good blows, enough to throw his opponent off of the defensive. But the Vindicator was stoic! Unyielding! The old Orc already felt fatigue setting in. How long had it been since he had a good fight like this? Since settling down with Sinafay, and their young daughter Neelah, he hadn’t been in too many scrapes. His rustiness was taxing him now, exacting the toll of his inactivity. His blows began to slow, punches falling slower and softer against the same blood-smeared plate gloves the Draenei used to defend himself. His knuckles were pulp, each screaming a searing pain from crashing into the inexorable metal again and again. He rotated in a kick to mix it up, hoping to knock the Draenei over, but he might as well have kicked a boulder. One more punch. Another. Until finally the futility of it drained Grakkar entirely. He staggered back, growling.

And that was Argonas’ opening.

The blast of Light illuminated the farmstead, bright as high noon for only a split second. Argonas’ retributive burst was more than enough to knock the weary Orc over. The Vindicator charged, hoofbeats hastened by the Light’s gift to surge the mass of muscle and steel towards Grakkar. He’d barely managed to keep his balance, only for Argonas to slam into him like a rampaging elekk. The Orc felt his body tossed back, and yet he didn’t go far. Argonas gripped him tightly to keep him from sailing too far away from the impact, instead simply slamming him into the ground before him. The Orc’s pained howl was a symphony to the Vindicator. Retribution for so much pain that not only this Orc caused him personally, but all Orcs caused his people! Quickly, he followed up by stomping his hoof into the vile creature’s chest! Still surging with the Light, his plated hoof shoe seared into Grakkar’s flesh, causing him to writhe and moan in pain!

“You have caused enough trouble!” Argonas declared, pressing his hoof down harder. “And now, you will cause no more!”

Grakkar struggled, gripping the Draenei’s leg as he gave all his might to try and push back, but not only did the Draenei significantly outmatch his strength, his plated form weighed a ton! It took all the Orc’s might just to keep the hoof at bay! Even then, he felt his ribs bending and cracking, the hoof melting his skin. It became hard to breath, his cries of agony turning to harsh and hoarse gasps as Argonas pressed harder. He’d been in enough fights to know when he’d lost. And this… this was it. This was the end. 

His eyes widened at the realization, his expression of anger and rage replaced by one of fear. Despair. He had failed. He couldn’t protect his mate. His daughter. After everything he’d done, all the effort and sacrifice he’d made to protect Sinafay, to free her from bondage on Draenor… only for her to die here at the hands of another Light-crazed zealot. He strained a little harder, but nothing he could do would be enough to overpower Argonas. But he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t! He turned his head, looking over towards the workshop where Sinafay was. He couldn’t see her… and that hurt all the more, unable to lay eyes on his mate one final time. His strength began to wane.

“I’m… sorry…” Grakkar grunted, as his grip finally slipped.

*CRUNCH*

~*~

TO BE CONTINUED...

[shxwmaster]

anonymous said: I keep rereading the comment from Flynn in the new page preview, and it got my shipper heart thinking: in your expert Shaw opinion, what do you think it would mean for Fairshaw if Edwin were actually still alive? I know it's not a plausible thought, but how would your Shaw and his relationships - romantic or not - be affected if he learned (in some wild turn of events) that Vancleef was alive?

—

I... have no idea.

     There are SO SO many variables to this that it’s hard to really nail down an exact response, but I’m gonna walk through it carefully and see what I can get.

     FOR STARTERS, in my canon, Van/Shaw was 100% a thing. They were a romantic couple, and had intended to spend all their time together as spies. Shaw trained VanCleef personally so that he could join the SI:7 and they’d be together, and all was great!! Side-tangent, in the new page, Shaw writes how he didn’t know Vanessa existed, and that’s the tiny detail I was talking about how I’m ignoring that since that just... doesn’t jive with me. Mathias knew of Vanessa, met her when she was born. It’s important to the story I have that he know her.

     Anyways! Variables.

Scenario 1: VanCleef lived because he did not riot / unionize, and the Defias never exist.

     In this scenario, if the Defias never rose up, if the Stonemasons did not riot for whatever reason, either they were actually paid or they just had to take their losses and move on (like how Baros Alexston simply accepted the role of becoming the city architect), then it’s likely VanCleef would have stayed with Shaw as originally planned and become an SI:7 agent alongside with him. They would have been an official couple.

     Remember how I mentioned Vanessa? See, in this post I go into it briefly, but to rehash that point in its last paragraph, Pathonia expected an heir to the SI:7 and Assassin’s Guild (given that Pathonia passed it down to bloodline rather than to another agent, and given that it’s a powerful empire of sorts she’s built, she’d see herself as a queen in her own right, and thus pass things down that way) so when Vanessa was born, Pathonia full well anticipated that Edwin and Mathias would raise her up to be worthy of taking on that mantle the way Mathias has.

     That would be the plan. Edwin and Mathias live their dangerous happily ever after and Vanessa follows in their footsteps.

     Which means there’d be no room for Mathias to fall in love with Flynn, unless if for whatever reason Mathias was widowed prior to BFA, then Flynn would serve a parallel purpose as he does in current, which is becoming the symbol of learning to love again. But Mathias would be a dad in this case, and that love story would come from a different but very interesting walk of life. I kind of dig it? But again RIP Edwin if that were to happen LMAO

Scenario 2: Everything happens as normal EXCEPT adventurers don’t kill him (but it’s common knowledge that VanCleef is still Out There)

     This is a sad scenario because I think it’s a lifelong hunt for Mathias to try to find him and constantly have to hunt him down. There’d be a lot more guilt in him falling in love with Flynn in this case because VanCleef is just. still out there — and here’s Mathias living his normal life while Edwin’s on the run and then he dares eye someone else while hunting down the other man he was ready to commit to? He’d hold Flynn at a much further distance.

     Well, at least, that’s under the assumption SI:7′s still hunting Edwin. They probably still have to since he’d caused a lot of problems like killing Tiffin for example but what if Mathias helps him disappear by pulling some strings and then just vaguely going “idk he’s out there. defias was defeated anyways it’s not like it’s a problem we don’t know where he is” so he spared his life? Him and Edwin would probably never really make up since they’re on opposite sides, so it’s just a very complicated ex. FairShaw still possible in this setting.

Scenario 3: Everything happens as normal EXCEPT adventurers don’t kill him (but no one finds out until years later / modern day)

     Okay this is probably what you meant to BEGIN WITH but I like to ramble LOL so

     This gets... very complicated.

     Assuming everything happens as normal and Mathias enters his relationship, then WHAM hey buddy your ex is alive and well and also he’s pissed

UHH

     Mathias would desperately need that closure. I think he would genuinely take the time to explain to Flynn everything, leave no stone unturned because it just wouldn’t be fair to Flynn if he didn’t do that. Flynn would have to become aware of Mathias’ history, and why it’s important that he go find Edwin and get some answers and well needed closure, but it could potentially put a strain on the fairshaw side of things because man, Mathias loved Edwin so dearly, and did not and will never forgive himself for aiding in Edwin’s “death”. I can’t imagine it’d feel nice for your bf to explain to you that their ex is alive and they need to go find them and like ugh that’s just. such a sticky situation.

     But it’s not like the vanshaw will get back together — that damage is irreparable, and there’s no WAY Edwin wouldn’t view Mathias as anything but a traitor (especially if he’s like “so you just?? left vanessa too???”) it’s ugly, it’s painful, it’s angry, and Mathias will be LUCKY if he survives at all LOL. Mathias is likely to just try to get answers and do what he can to undo some of the damage he’d done as an apology and just tell Edwin a few things he never got to tell him.

     Slightly different if he finds out Edwin’s alive before he gets together with Flynn because then that new wave of guilt comes in, scars become fresh wounds and he’s feeling everything all at once and he’d feel WAY too guilty to try to pursue Flynn again when he still has this loose end he needs to amend. But I think he’d probably just disappear for a while while he tries to deal with Edwin (again, he’d try to undo some of the damage he’d done or make up for it) and once he at least gets that closure and gets this off his consciousness, he’d be, if anything, a little more ready to enter a relationship since that’s some baggage removed. Easier to date again when you know your last ex definitely didn’t die violently LOL

—

But yeah it seems like, basically, no matter what, if Edwin was alive it’d put some manner of strain on making FairShaw work but definitely not like, impossible you know? Just with a little more baggage and complications and of course the chance that Edwin probably tries to just murder Mathias outright LOL

The timing of when Shaw would learn Edwin is still alive affects a whole lot, and Edwin being alive changes a whole lot because there’s the after effects of the Defias and where they end up when the kingpin is downed, there’s the question of “What about Vanessa” re: cataclysm resurgence of Defias, there’s whether or not we should make the House of Nobles different, whether to change aspects of the Stonemasons or not like there’s a LOT to think about that all I can say is: shit’s complicated

But you know what’d be funny? If, in the situation where Edwin’s alive and Mathias finds out after getting with Flynn and he resolves the bad blood as best he can, the mental image of Edwin and Flynn quietly and awkwardly talking about Mathias or each other and this weird incredibly tense yet not necessarily hostile relationship they’d end up with and god that’s just so goddamn funny could you imagine

edwin, looking over flynn: “smh i knew mat had a type but this is just embarrassing”

BUT YEAH THANKS FOR THE ASK this was really interesting to think about!

[writersplanetarium]

Facade: Peeling The Layers Away

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin needed revenge, she decided after getting her car back from the shop. She'd hit his car on accident, he'd done it on purpose. 

And she knew just how to get him.

They had a live interview today with Ren Allsbrook for his web show and Aelin had just purchased her perfect bottle of revenge. She'd had to admit it was tricky getting his skin color right since he had such tan skin, but lucky for Aelin, Elide had offered to help. She said she'd warned Rowan not to get revenge, but he hadn't listened, so she was looking for a little revenge of her own. Elide worked in makeup for the show, specifically on Rowan, so she had his exact shade for Aelin to match the foundation to. 

So Aelin arrived early to their hair and makeup room. So early the artists weren't even there yet. But the makeup was. Aelin quickly switched her concoction with the actual foundation that was going to be used on Rowan and took a seat.

A few minutes later, the artists arrived, greeting Aelin happily.

"We are such big fans of the show," the older woman, Julia, gushed as she came to get started on Aelin, "Yours and Rowan's relationship is by far the most titillating ‘will-they won't-they’ I've ever seen. I mean the progression of your relationship has just felt so real and natural." Most people outside of the show didn't know Aelin and Rowan hated each other and they'd made a deal to keep it that way. Most of the time their bickering was seen as teasing between friends since they were careful not to snap at each other in public, no matter how badly they usually wanted to.

"Well our characters are written well," Aelin said with a grin. Aelin adored Charlotte and Daemion, truly. It was odd at first, to watch herself and Rowan interact so differently, but Aelin could see what they saw. Charlotte and Daemion were indeed perfect together. Aelin and Rowan? Not so much.

"What's it like to kiss him?" The younger woman, Fiona asked, sitting down in the chair for Rowan with a big grin, her chin in her hand.

"Between us?" Aelin asked, looking between them.

"Of course," both women said in unison, leaning in to listen to the secret.

"It used to be okay, but now… I don't know. I think he's getting sick or something. He's been off his game a lot lately."

"Really? Do you think it's bad?"

"I don't know," Aelin said, "But… today is the first day he's going to have been out of his house in a week." Aelin had been sure to keep him up extra late that night to ensure the dark circles under his eyes to continue her plot.

"My God. I hope he's alright," Julia said, setting a hand over her chest.

"The show can't go on without both of you. I hope he'll be okay."

"So do I," Aelin said. Just then the door opened and Rowan walked inside looking just as she'd hoped. Exhausted.

Fiona was up and out of the seat in a flash, offering it to him.

"Mr. Whitethorn, it's so nice to meet you. Just take a seat right here." Rowan sat down, setting his coffee on the table, enough bite in his brief look at Aelin to let her know he was having a bad day. And she smiled to herself knowing she was about to make it just a little worse.

She was careful not to watch him. Too many glances could set him off to her plan. So she waited patiently, letting the woman work through her hair and makeup. When they were done, Rowan and Aelin headed out to the stage.

"You knew we had an interview today," Rowan ground out quietly as they walked side by side, "What could you have possibly been doing up so late?"

"Stuff," Aelin said vaguely.

"Some of us actually need sleep," Rowan said, taking a long drink from his coffee.

"And some of us have lives."

"Well my life right now involves actually getting sleep for once, you should try it. God knows we won't be getting much when the new season airs." Aelin was about to remark when a voice cut in

"Aelin! Rowan! Good to see you two again. How’ve you two been?" Ren Allsbrook asked, standing with a grin and his hands on his hips. They’d been on once before when he’d just been getting his start. He reviewed shows and movies and occasionally had on guest stars to interview or just have a good time with. They had been some of the first people on as guests.

"Rowan's pouting because he's a baby who can't sleep if there's any noise." Rowan rolled his eyes, his fingers paling as they gripped his drink tighter.

"I can sleep if there's noise, I can't sleep through dubstep you're playing so loud it shakes your house."

"I was working on stuff. I work best with some music." That was a lie, she had just been messing with him.

"I hope you go deaf. It's the least you deserve," Rowan said with an annoyed huff as he set his coffee off to the side and took up his spot.

"Why me? If you went deaf it'd solve both of our problems. You wouldn’t have to hear it and I’d stop getting interrupted whenever I try to do anything.” 

“You’d stop getting interrupted if you actually thought about anyone but yourself.” Aelin glared at him.

“I paid for a surround sound system and I’m going to use that surround sound system.”

“Alright one minute to stream,” Murtaugh Allsbrook said from behind the camera, “And it’s nice to see you again Aelin.”

“You too,” she said with a grin, crossing her legs as she took her seat. Anticipation rolled through her as she waited for her revenge to be enacted. She didn’t know how long it would take for it to work, but she had her fingers crossed that it would.

“Three, two, one… Action!” Aelin put on a big smile.

“Hello Terresen,” Ren said with a warm smile to the camera, “Today we have two much-awaited guests. They were here once and you begged to have them back again. Your pleadings have been heard. Back again is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn!”

“It’s so nice to be back,” Aelin said, "It's been too long. But we've been so busy with the show that we haven't had much time. But now that we've finished filming this upcoming season, we were able to finally make it on."

"Now that you've finished, can you tell us something about this season?"

"It's going to be one you'll never forget," Aelin said with a sly smile.

"So last time you were here we talked about the characters, but this time people want to know more about the two of you. So what better way than to see how well you know each other. On the show, you two are best friends who know each other like the back of your hand, but how well do you two know each other?" Aelin and Rowan both looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, knowing this was about to get rough. "We have a test and whiteboards for you two to write your answers on." They were brought over and Aelin and Rowan accepted them with thanks.

"This is a best friend test with answers chosen by your fans. You write your answer on the left and the other's answer on the right. So let's start. Question number one. It's an easy one. Favorite color?" Aelin blanched for a moment. She had no idea what colors Rowan liked. She didn't even think he had a favorite color. So she wrote as much and put down red for hers. She’d always thought she’d liked blue, but she finally admitted she loved red.

"Got your answers?" Ren asked.

"I'm ready," Aelin said.

"I'm ready," Rowan said as well.

"Alright let's flip them and see." Aelin smiled and flipped her whiteboard. She glanced over at Rowan's to see if she'd been right and frowned as she saw she wasn't right. But he wasn't either.

"Red?" He asked, "Seriously?"

"Yes red. It’s pretty!"

"Why'd you think I didn't have a favorite color?"

"Because I thought you'd be just brooding enough to not have one. But green? Seriously? How vain." Rowan was clearly resisting an eye roll, which made Aelin happy.

"That's too bad. Question one goes to neither of you. Let's hope you'll have better luck on this next one. Birthday?"

"Yikes," Aelin laughed.

"I've actually told you this one," Rowan said, writing down his answers.

"What? When?" Aelin asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He was just lying to make her look bad. She knew it.

"That's for you to figure out because I plan on winning."

"You don’t know my birthday," Aelin said.

“You throw a party every year. I can’t miss your birthday.” Aelin gritted her teeth, her eyes flicking between Rowan and her board.

“You never told me your birthday. You don’t tell anyone your birthday.”

“Well, then that just makes this easier for me if you don’t remember.”

Aelin wracked her brain, rifling through every conversation she’d ever had with Rowan.

“Alright, are you ready?” Ren asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Aelin sighed, writing down a random date she thought might suit him.

“Alright! Let’s flip them and see.” Aelin flipped her board, her eyes trained on Rowan’s. 

Her jaw dropped.

“How did you get it?!” He smirked, leaning back. May 3rd. She couldn’t believe he got it right.

“Doesn’t matter. But that's one point for me."

"One point for me," Aelin said beneath her breath in a mocking tone before realizing she was trying to win at being a better friend to Rowan that he was to her. She wanted to beat him, but at what cost to her pride knowing if she won it'd prove she paid more attention to him than she cared to admit. “You do not seem like a December baby.”

“Since when does your birthday dictate how you act?” Rowan retorted.

“You just have a November vibe!”

"Sorry Aelin,” Ren laughed, “One point to Rowan." She seriously hoped her revenge kicked in soon.

They went through other various questions, right answers bouncing between them. Aelin was surprised by some of the answers and answered others easily. Like she didn’t know his favorite activity was working out, though from the looks of him she should have guessed. She did know they were tied, waiting to see who got the winning point when Rowan finally did what she’d been waiting for. He rubbed his jaw.

Aelin pretended not to the notice the peeling, fake focusing on her answer that she was going to get wrong on purpose. Aelin knew his favorite food was just meat on a stick since he didn't have a very refined palate, but she was going to say garlic bread, just to spite him.

"Alright, final answer. Who will win? Turn your boards in three… two… one!" They turned them, Rowan guessing hers right as chocolate hazelnut cake. He had a soft promise of a slow death in his eyes as he saw her answer.

"No!" Aelin said, playing upset that she'd lost.

"That's a tough loss, but it makes Rowan the winner! How does it feel to be the better friend?" That realization that hit Aelin rounds ago hit Rowan and she saw him have to visibly restrain himself.

"Bet it feel great, huh, Rowan? To be the better friend?" Aelin remark, letting her eyes say everything her mouth couldn’t.

"Yeah, great," he said, rubbing his jaw. Now a considerable piece peeled back.

"Rowan, are you okay?" Aelin asked with feigned concern.

"Wha- What do you mean?" He asked, confusion at her concern playing over his face.

"Your skin." There was a gasp as a few people off to the side noticed as well. He touched his cheek, feeling where the foundation was peeling. He furrowed his brow pulling at it making a few people scream and freak out.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Ren asked with a furrowed brow.

"No," Rowan said, peeling more back.

"Well luckily that's a wrap for today," Ren said, "This is Ren Allsbrook signing off. Good day, Terrasen." 

"Cut!" Everyone rushed around Rowan as Aelin slipped off, barely suppressing a grin.

"You were right! He must be sick," Fiona said, standing at Aelin’s side, "But how bad… He may be dying…"

"Dying? No, I think he’s just… out of his depth." She was going to win this war against him, even if it was the last thing she did. Aelin grinned as she slipped off, letting Rowan deal with the fallout of his “sickness”.

Tagged:

@captain-timetraveldreamer @tangledraysofsunshine

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[ariainstars]

The Rise of Skywalker or Well, It Seems Santa Won’t Come to Us This Year

Warning... this is a long entry.

A satisfying ending to such a universally beloved story after 42 years and 9 episodes, in the hands of one of the most renowned and expert film studios in the world ought to look different. As the final chapter and with the way laid out by Rian Johnson, it could and should have been epic. But for some obscure reason, the Disney studios decided to let JJ Abrams f*** it up royally. As if they did it on purpose.

Honestly, what did we expect? Abrams is a copycat, we saw that with Star Trek, too. He can tell old stories again in a rather fresh way, but he can’t think up anything really good of his own.

I admit that at first, I didn’t like the sequels much. They seemed adamant to tear down the past, no wonder so many fans got upset. Besides, I was devastated by Han Solo’s death at the hand of his own son.

But then I warmed up to the other characters, and I said to myself that it’s not wrong to start afresh and give a new generation a chance. The old doesn’t become bad because new things come up. And our heroes Han, Leia and Luke had their happy ending; it wasn’t cancelled. It was interesting to think, “What happens after a happy ending?” (For the record, it seems war heroes do not exactly make good parents / uncles. I guess you need other qualities for that.)

Honestly, I did have a vaguely bad feeling a few weeks before TRoS came out; I couldn’t say why. Anyway, looking back there were a few giveaways that the story would end the way it did.

1. The title: “Rise of Skywalker”. Though the last of the Skywalker blood, Ben technically was a Solo (Organa-Solo to be exact). He did redeem himself, but he did not rise above it all.

2. Kylo’s light sabre is the only one which looks like a cross. Anakin was a child without a father. Both suffered terrible pains and then died - due to other people’s sins.

3. The saga’s themes are many and a lot was set up in Episodes VII and VIII. It was to be expected that one film wouldn’t be enough to wrap everything up. TLJ had a new and fresh approach; but apart from the fact that so many fans hated it, it packed the film so full of new themes and subjects that it took us as fans months to inspect it all. We should have guessed that there wouldn’t be enough time in TRoS to finish the old story, start the next one and wrap that up, too.

4. Circumstances be as they may, Kylo / Ben is still a patricide. He did evil things before, but killing Han definitively damned him. And very many people unfortunately take these films at face value and do not go into depth. If TLJ stirred up a wasp’s nest, I don’t want to know what would have happened if in TRoS he would have been redeemed and had survived, and maybe also found his happy ending. Much as I love him, from a moral standpoint it sounds somewhat ambiguous.

The Rise of Skywalker assuredly is Star Wars-y. But is that really more important than making good and uplifting films?

Rogue One was so Star Wars-y that fans almost went nuts about it; I still remember my shock when I actually watched it and found it a deeply sad, melancholy story, thematically the exact opposite of A New Hope’s joy and optimism.

Rose was detested by many fans because she was a quirky personality and so unlike Leia: no wonder she almost disappeared. And her relationship with Finn, which was set up as perfectly fitting, vanished as well: no, no, no, we always have a trio in the middle of the story. More than three heroes, that’s not Star Wars-y. Rey’s spunky, sassy personality reminds of Leia, so she is seen as Star Wars-y. And fans couldn’t accept that she comes from nowhere because in Star Wars it has to turn out that you’re related to someone: so she had to be Palpatine’s granddaughter (ugh) and Saint Rey at the same time.

Fans were hurt by Han Solo’s death in TFA, but at least got to see him being cool and swashbuckling. Luke died in TLJ, but as far as I know fans didn’t send a petition to Disney asking to take TFA from canon: they only did so after TLJ. Reason? Because as it seems, they could forgive anything that was done to Han, but not Luke’s green milk.

Ben Solo, the last of the Skywalker blood, was judged an unworthy heir to Darth Vader due to his emotionality, that’s why everybody left him to rot in a pit. Who hated him for being a “whiny sissy” at least will be content now.

As for us, who have looked more in depth at the saga as a whole and its themes, we can go home with hollow hearts and feeling numb.

My compliments, JJ. You managed to destroy both the probably most famous and beloved film franchises in less than ten years. And you have spoilt our Christmas.

Worse, you have ruined the franchise for the many, many children who grew up loving Kylo Ren and Rey and rooting for their happy ending together. I have heard that a lot of parents had to bring their kids home weeping. Do you believe they will love the saga now still? They will probably only remember it as a terribly sad story and not want to have anything to do with it ever again. And this from the Disney studios, experts for children’s stories, fairy tales and happy endings. A few days before Christmas. I never would have guessed that making older fanbros happy would be so much more important. At least their heroes had their happy ending, their successes, their friendship. Ben Solo had nothing. And this was the very last episode, so we can’t even hope for the future.

I myself right now don’t know whether I can ever watch anything about Star Wars again. I was so elated, so sure of a happy ending after 9 episodes and 42 years. Now every time I will think about watching something related to SW, I will be reminded of how sadly it all ended. And with no warning, mind you. At least watching the prequels we all knew how it would end.

Rian Johnson had set everything up beautifully. I can’t believe that Disney studios and JJ can have been so blind as to not see it, they’re supposed to be experts and to be paid for storytelling. To me it was abundantly clear that

- Ben Solo’s redemption were the children (an inversion to the Jedi Temple carnage, and a parallel to Leia’s meeting with the Ewoks where she immediately became motherly)

- Rey would fall to the Dark Side something ugly and then understand that she had no right to judge Ben

- Ben and Rey would be together and have their happy ever after

- They would take care of the children together, learning from their own upbringing to be protective and understanding parents

- Ben would be the Good Father opposite to Darth Vader the Evil Father and this would “finish what he started” (excuse me, why choose an actor for the role who has Vader’s stature but whose features are the exact opposite? Who has repeatedly proven that he deals well with children in films? Why not use his potential??)

- They would start a new Jedi training or academy, where children would no longer be taught to suppress their emotions

- Rey would in this way finally find the family she craved

- Balance would mean a rainbow or a prism, not Black against White, or Grey

  What I still can’t believe

I guess most of you have read some of my meta’s. They were written after thorough researc of the saga’s themes. And I still can’t believe that I got it that wrong.

Yes, as I already wrote above there still is the fact that Kylo / Ben is a patricide and that having him survive after he damned himself like that might have been a bad message. But I still believed that he was in for redemption and survival, and that he was meant to be a father figure.

What about all the messages in TLJ, which all seemed to point to the future?

- The hand-touching scene with the set-up which was exactly opposite to Anakin’s and Padmés wedding? Why did both couples have to end tragically?

- Why were enslaved children introduced in a sympathetic way, the film even ending showing one of them being a Force User and dreaming of being a Jedi? What about Anakin’s promise that he would come back and free the slaves on his planet? That promise was never kept.

- What will become of new Force Users? The last person who was taught both the Jedi and the Sith knowledge is dead.

- Why did Maz Kanata announce to Rey that “the belonging she sought was ahead of her”? She is on the planet that both Anakin and Luke ardently wished to leave. How is that belonging? She knows who she is now, but she is just as lonely and overburdened as when she started. She has not found the family she sought, and she hasn’t founded one of her own. And where’s the ocean she used to dream of?

- Rey had told Ben that “she saw his future”. What future was that? “You will be a hero for ten minutes, have almost all your bones crushed, get a kiss and then die”…?

- Why did Leia ask Han to bring their son home? He saved his soul, but as for finding home, not a chance.

- Luke had promised his nephew that they would see each other again. Nope. And both he and Leia took Rey’s side, abandoning their nephew and son in favor of the offspring of their worst enemy. This is destroying their legacy, not the green milk. Luke panicking and contemplating to kill Ben in his sleep lasted a few seconds. It is not understandable why Luke and Leia should believe in Rey while they were afraid of their own flesh and blood. Because she’s cooler, I guess.

- TRoS destroyed the Jedi’s legacy as well, respectively proved once more what terrible people they were, ready to sacrifice everything for their victory. All of them spoke to Rey, not one to Ben. As if he didn’t even exist. He wasn’t useful to them, that was all.

- After the victory of the Light Side and the Dark Side, logically Balance should have come. Where and how did we ever see this balance? Oh, the bad guy is dead again, that’s good. If at least his granddaughter was dead, then maybe the galaxy would finally have some peace! But that besotted idiot had to resurrect her. Out of love.

- In the end, who won? The Skywalker Curse. The last of their blood is dead. Their name lives on, together with the flesh and blood of Palpatine. As if all had been for nothing.

- Rey is not the winner in this story. She did not inherit the Skywalker name, tokens, emotional support, memories, lessons: she is a usurper just like her grandfather. Except that she didn’t do it on purpose.

- What is the future of the galaxy now? Rey lives, thank to Palpatine’s and the Jedi’s power and Ben Solo’s love. But what is the political future? What became of the First Order? What will become of the future Jedi, or will there be any at all? This whole mess doesn’t seem at all a reason to rejoice.

- What did Anthony Daniels mean when he twittered that the ending of the saga would contain a message for all of us? Almost everybody dies, that’s great, Merry Christmas? ☹

The Last Jedi was packed full of wonderful messages: you can be a nobody and still carve your way in life, failure is the greatest teacher, war makes unscrupulous people rich, good and bad are made-up words (you blow them up today, they blow you up tomorrow), you have to save what you love not destroy what you hate… and so on. Luke’s lesson explaining that the Force is not some kind of superpower was tremendous and necessary for all fans to hear. His confession of the Jedi’s sins and his decision that they had to end was the right conclusion after all that we learned about Anakin. But alas, the older fanbros hated each and every one of these messages and lessons. Star Wars may be for twelve-year-old, as Lucas once said. But twelve-year-olds are supposed to grow up, some day or other.

The Force Awakens had not promised anything. If you believed that the old trio would be back to kick ass, watch it again. It’s clear from the start that this time it’s up to the next generation. Our heroes had not only grown older, they were visibly tired and disillusioned. And there obviously was a whole baggage of secrets and problems to be unpacked. Did anyone honestly believe Luke would jump right back into the fray, like he was not an exile by own choice but some kind of Robinson Crusoe who simply hadn’t found home again?

The Last Jedi, by comparison, had opened a whole treasure chest of promises for love, hope, future and homecoming. And The Rise of Skywalker spat them almost all into our faces. It almost seems like the petty work of an envious man - like children who mob and publicly humiliate one particular child because it’s more intelligent and has achieved more than them.

So, what’s the moral for Ben Solo at the end - see to it that you’re not in the wrong place at the wrong time? Don’t trust anyone, not even your own family members, not even the greatest hero of your time?

Anakin won the pod race, he destroyed the star base over Naboo, he became a valiant Jedi, he married the love of his life. He once said, “This is the happiest day of my life.” But apart from a childhood that was probably more or less positive, as far as we know Ben Solo had nothing but pain and sorrow from life. He wasn’t torn from limb to limb and burned alive and then had to live on for decades, but he lost his home, his integrity and his life, merely due to… fate. Twenty years of struggle, frustration, loneliness, anger, death, sorrow and destruction. The only glimpse of hope he saw was in Rey’s eyes as they connected in TLJ, and his only moment of happiness when he sacrificed his life to save her (I will never forget that smile). Reylo was canon for a few seconds… and the SW couple with the strongest chemistry did not even get a love theme. ☹

I admit I was doubtful whether it would have been a good idea to let Ben survive and be happy after all the bad things he had done. But the message we got now is infinitely worse; and being an abuse victim myself it is a personal hurt to me. So, if you become the victim of abuse because nobody was there to help you, you are doomed and can only escape through death. And we saw nobody grieving for him, no Force Ghost among the others, no grave, no body to burn as in Vader’s case. As if he never existed. Another unsung, unhappy hero without an epitaph like the ones from Rogue One - it seems that viewers liked that, so let’s give them some more of it. Even if we’re called Disney.

The prequels look positive in this light. At least we always knew they would end as a tragedy, and there was hope in the end. Rey is left with nothing but sad memories. The prequels had a story arc; they told the story they wanted (the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker) in their own way; they were a massive, ambitious project in the style of colossal movies like The Last Day of Pompeji or The Fall of the Roman Empire. In this light they’re pretty good, the OT fans simply didn’t like them because they weren’t Star-Wars-y enough. The sequels tried to patch that up and ironically, the best sequel is the middle one, which was hated by the OT fans for trying to open the way to something new. And maybe the sequels never were meant to make a real wrap-up, to give us a satisfying happy ending; because the more fans protest, the more it will give the studios the chance to explore the possibilities for new stories. It’s in their right, I guess. But nevertheless, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

And sorry, this whole story proves to me once more that the Jedi were nothing but petty little f***s who cared only for letting Their Side Win no matter the cost and didn’t care in the least about the human lives and happiness involved. Anakin, Luke and Ben all wanted to be pilots, not Jedi! Anakin’s tragedy was that he had to become a Jedi instead of being himself. His grandson’s tragedy was the same. He was targeted from birth not only by Snoke but also by his uncle and his own mother who saw nothing but his potential for the Force - not a young man like any other who wanted to be happy, to love and belong like everybody else. Only exception, Han. To him, his son was always simply his son, whether he was powerful in the Force or not. No wonder Ben loved Rey to death: after his father she was the only one who ever saw and loved him simply for being himself. The Jedi all spoke to Rey encouraging her to stand up against Palpatine; the last son and heir of the Skywalker was ignored by his own flesh and blood, because to them he was officially “Dark Side” and thus not interesting for the final fight. They did not even care whether Rey died after the victory; the supposed “bad guy” had to come and rescue her. Out of love, not because of her power. And the Jedi are supposed to be some kind of heroes and glowing examples. What a terrible sarcasm.

Ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?

No?

Try the tragedy of Ben Solo the Fucked-Up Loser Who Just Wanted to Be Himself.

  What I hope for…

I want to spend my time in other ways from now on. I will read meta’s and fanfics about Star Wars still, but not so assiduously.

Maybe this entire f***up was a well-planned strategy in order to make us wish and ask for another sequel, so that the Star Wars story can go on like an endless soap opera. And the studios make money while we wait for every single scrap of news.

And yet, I can’t accept that this was supposed to be all. The saga is at its end, but is Ben Solo really finished?

Rian Johnson confirmed that he is working on a new trilogy. I can only hope that he will pick up the themes which he started in TLJ and finally give us the happy ending we craved. The next film starts in 2022 if rumors are right.

In a way, it is understandable that Ben Solo’s arc had to finish here and without a happy ending: after all he is not a Skywalker but a Solo. In the end, it was not his story. Who knows what the Force has in store for us. 😊

I would love for Johnson to come back and give our hearts what we wanted after Abrams satisfied (it seems) the fanbros of the original trilogy who hated TLJ so much. Everybody would get what he wanted; fans of OT could simply not watch / ignore the continuation and we could root for Kylo / Ben to our heart’s content. I figure that would be a fair compromise. And if it is indeed a trilogy, there would be plenty of time to explore the family / father / mother themes, and create a new life and identity for Ben. (Who, I am saying it again, assuredly deserved better.)

However, that is all in the future. I haven’t a clue what Johnson is planning, I only think that it would make sense if he explored TLJ’s themes more in depth and with more time.

I really want to pester Rian Johnson right now to give us Ben Solo’s story and to make it happy at last. (Pretty please with cherries on top. 😉)

If you are interested, there is already a petition: https://www.change.org/p/lucasfilm-continue-ben-solo-s-story

  What has actually improved for me

1. In my youth I had to spend a large portion of my life under very disagreeable circumstances and I learned to zone out mentally to this or other “dream worlds” as a meaning to cope. (“Dreams Are My Reality” was my song, growing up. 😊) My life is much better now, but the tendency to zone out is still there. Now I remind myself every day that dreaming is good but that no one ought to spend so much time dreaming that his actual life passes him by. I don’t need to escape into dreams any more, I can just enjoy them. So, I feel more grateful.

2. I have learned a lot about myself these two years. I question my intelligence less and I overestimate other people less. I am less timid. I notice that I am calmer and speak slower and do more small talk. The reason: I have realized that many, many people value “coolness” most of all in fictional as well as real people and that one of my main problems is that I am oversensitive and doubtful, similarly to Kylo / Ben. No wonder he’s hated: not so much because “he did so many evil things” but because he is seen as a whiny sissy. (Vader did much worse things, but his “untouchable” attitude made up for it.) I found out that many people mistake a haughty or nonchalant attitude with strength. I don’t need to feel ashamed because I am willing to learn and develop my mind. Anyone who takes me for a fool because of this, it’s his loss. Vader was over-the-top cool, but lonely and miserable. For happiness, we need other humans. Not superhumans.

3. I have spent two very agreeable years exchanging points of view with other fans in this community and I have learned a lot about narratives. I have gone in depth in the Star Wars saga and now I appreciate it much more than before. (I actually consider watching the prequels again to get over TRoS. I never would have believed it if anyone had told me, a few years ago. 😊)

4. I feel closer to my husband. We’ve spent so many evenings apart the last two years because I was elbows-deep in Star Wars! Now we talk more, go out more and watch more films or TV shows together. (BTW, I read many fanfics were Ben and Rey had a playful, teasing relationship. Now I tease my husband more and our marriage is improved. 😊)

5. I used to laugh at who detested TLJ and / or the prequels and to think that who didn’t get the messages was just too lazy to think about them. I do not think that the original characters were ruined in these films at all, but fans who expected them to kick ass until retirement and beyond of course were disappointed. I figured that to make a credible sequel you had to lend more depth to characters and themes and couldn’t just start off again like nothing happened. Most reboots are like this and that’s why they fail: a film is not the same as a TV show. I found Star Wars’ approach more intelligent. But I disrespected other people’s hurt and irritation… and now I find myself in the same situation. I count myself lucky because I waited only 2 years and not 30 years like other hardcore fans.

We are depressed now and feel that Christmas is ruined. Hardcore OT fans must have felt the same two years ago - I remember quite a lot of meta’s and videos where people vented their rage and frustration, some going so far that they declared they wanted to abandon the franchise for good. They felt betrayed. As do we now: we feel that TLJ set up the stage for a brilliant redemption arc and love / family story, and now here we are, looking like fools.

Maybe next time we ought to be more specific with our wishes. Reylo is canon - what did that mean to you? I never hoped for Ben to be redeemed through Rey’s love, that would have been mushy. But I did of course hope for them to have a Happy Ever After. What did Bendemption mean to you? I of course hoped he would redeem himself and survive. The meanest thing about this film is that it gave us what we hoped for only to take it away again... And differently from the OT fans, we can’t say to ourselves, “Well, there’s still one film to be done, let’s hope it will make up.” Nostalgia has won. Not compassion, or the willingness to look beyond one’s nose.

  Lessons learned

1. Try not to get so worked up about a film. After all, it’s just a story. It’s not our fault if studios, directors and story writers are little sh**s who like to have us build our hopes up and then deflate us.

2. Appreciate the world around you. It’s more complicated and frightening because contrarily to your dreams you can’t keep it in control. But it’s real. It makes you a more real person, and also the ones you interact with.

3. Make your own happy ending. a) That a hero you identified with didn’t get his happy ending doesn’t mean you won’t get yours. If you are already in a satisfying life situation, be grateful for what you have. If you’re not, roll up your sleeves more and do your best to escape reality less. b) Write stories that go the way you would have wanted them to.

4. Start something new to clear your head. A new project you didn’t have “time” for or perhaps not enough courage. Pour your energies into that.

5. Question yourself. Why did this story, these characters intrigue you so? You do not live in the galaxy far, far away after all. If you identify with Kylo / Ben, why? If you would like a partner like him, why? What can you do to implement your wishes into your life?

If you feel with lonely, misunderstood people, reach out in real life. The prequels were a cautionary tale about a good boy becoming a monster because he was overburdened from early age and left alone with his fears and doubts. Society had created its own monster. Don’t let us contribute to that kind of society.

I was adamant that Ben Solo was supposed to become a caring father figure in TRoS. Ironically, I have no children of myself and I don’t deal well with other people’s: I don’t dislike children, I just don’t have practice with them. If Ben didn’t get the chance to be a loving and caring figure for abandoned children, I think I ought to do something for children myself.

  In the meantime, merry Christmas. We will always have each other. 😊

[nightqueendany]

Original Final Season 7 - Episode 4: Dragonglass

It’s Tuesday again...

ON DRAGONSTONE:

Jon/Dany visit the caves - now having been cleared out of the dragonglass, Jon wants to show Dany the COTF markings, their attraction for each other becomes more clear in this scene and Dany is more sure of Jon telling the truth about the Night King and Army of the Dead

Dany asks Missandei if any of the 19 languages she speaks use a symbol-system for their written language, Missandei replies yes, a few, so Dany then tasks her with copying down some of the symbols from the dragonglass cave, perhaps she can decipher some of the ruin symbols

Sometime while alone in the cave, Missandei and Grey Worm have sex, AKA Greyssandei cavesex

Team Stark/Targaryen discuss the dragonglass, that while the amount of it is much needed, they have no weapon smith skilled enough to work it

Dany agrees to have Yara and Theon ferry all they’ve mined to White Harbor/the North (This is Theon’s idea but Jon supports it - secretly, Theon is anxious to see Sansa again so this is his excuse)

- In exchange for sending the Greyjoys North with the dragonglass, Jon agrees to send the Northern forces (Northmen, Knights of the Vale, Riverlands) south to assist with the blockade of King’s Landing - no formal alliance has been made yet, but they want to show a united front against Cersei, the sooner they take out Cersei, the sooner everyone can face the threat of the White Walkers

Davos says he knows of a weapon smith who might be able to work the dragonglass, but he’ll need to go to King’s Landing, knows how to smuggle himself in

Tyrion opts to go with Davos to King’s Landing as representative of the Queen

As Yara and Theon are about to leave, Yara basically encourages Dany to “tap that” (Jon) while Davos and Tyrion are away in King’s Landing, Dany needs to secure the North formally, and seducing Jon into marriage is the most efficient way to do it but Dany isn’t so sure (as she’s secretly falling for him anyway)

Ellaria and Olenna depart Dragonstone as well, to prepare for the siege of King’s Landing

Melisandre begins to finally push her agenda on Dany, to convert many in Westeros to the religion of R’hllor, Dany is open to the idea of erecting a center where the Sept once stood that is open to those of all religions and inviting more red priests to Westeros to practice their faith

Varys is none too pleased with this and his irritation with Dany/Mel puts him into a gossipy mood

When Baelish inquires after the fact that Dany has no children from her previous relationships, Varys confirms she’s barren, and this is music to Baelish’s ears - even married, Jon and Dany would have to name a successor because Dany can’t birth one and the most prominent name on the list of potentials would be Sansa, who is already Jon’s heir for the Northern crown

Varys quickly guesses Baelish’s scheme but for once, isn’t opposed to his former friend’s plot to get Sansa on the throne (he’s more intrigued than anything), he fears Melisandre and her magic, that her influence over Dany and Jon will lead to much trouble later on

To push Varys finally over to his side permanently, Baelish points out Dany’s house words will always be “Fire and Blood” and that if it were between her and Baelish, she would be the real “Queen of the Ashes” - a tip off to Varys that Baelish knew of his/Olenna’s S3 conversation when Varys first said Baelish would “see the country burn to be King of the Ashes”

At Varys’ slightly troubled/embarrassed look, Baelish reminds Varys he had eyes and ears all over King’s Landing, and still does...

At Jon and Dany’s urging (they both hate him and don’t entirely trust him) Baelish reluctantly leaves Dragonstone also, he’s to meet the KOTV and other northern forces when they reach the capital, Varys accompanies him

IN WINTERFELL:

Bran and Arya have formed a deep bond in their short time together, Bran sharing with Arya all he knows of his powers and he mentions his powers aren’t exclusive to his being the 3ER - that some of them are because he is a Stark, and that Arya is a Stark as well - Arya scoffs at what Bran is implying but Bran just utters something mysterious and vague that Arya can’t argue with

At Jon’s news and Bran’s urging, Arya is to go to the Riverlands to deliver the message personally to Edmure about sending troops to King’s Landing

Arya is hesitant to leave Winterfell, but Bran tells her something that makes her want to go - the things she asked Bran to look into, she’ll find in King’s Landing/her journey to, and Bran knows just where she needs to look...

Sansa doesn’t want Arya to leave, all her family is leaving Winterfell again (like Season 1), she worries none of them will come back, they’re “the last of the Starks”, but Arya insists they will all be back, there’s just a few things she’s left behind, Brienne will train Sansa in Arya’s stead and Arya quips that Sansa will be better than her by the time she gets back

Northern forces leave Winterfell

Arya leaves Winterfell

IN KING’S LANDING:

Davos and Tyrion come across Gendry and Davos gives him a sample of the dragonglass, Gendry says the material is tricky, but he should be able to work with it

The trio prepare to leave King’s Landing but Davos senses a storm coming in, they’ll have to wait in the city a few days and lay low in Gendry’s shop - Davos/Tyrion send a raven to Dragonstone saying where they are and that they’ve succeeded in finding the weapon smith

Title is simply for the substance driving the plot this entire episode - the Dragonglass. It’s what takes Theon North (toward Sansa), what urges Davos to find Gendry, and what brings Jon and Dany closer together/what makes Dany more sure of Jon’s telling the truth about the AOTD.

Episode 4 Inside the Episode: Dragonglass

1) Baelish and Varys:

Inarguably, the second-worst subplot of the entirety of Season 7 was the Winterfell plot (the first being the Wight Hunt).  It was unnecessary and ridiculous. This is when the mischaracterization of the Starks began. Arya and Sansa would not be at odds with each other upon reuniting and we all know it, even with Baelish in the picture. Sansa tells Jon in 6x10, “only a fool would trust Littlefinger” and yet she does so throughout most of S7, being the fool she had already warned Jon against. Remember what I said in the preface post about things being easily “undone” or forgotten entirely? Seems Sansa forgot to be wary of Baelish in show canon.

Also, I most definitely think we were owed one more encounter between Varys and Baelish. By killing Baelish off when the show did, it significantly simplified both their potential plots for Season 7 (and 8) because neither had anyone to spar with, as they had in previous seasons. Baelish’s “sparring partners” became Sansa and Arya and Varys’ became Tyrion, both unsuccessfully.

Further proof that Baelish and Varys were supposed to “get the band back together” so to speak, is two of Varys’s lines/conversations with/about Baelish are echoed in each of the final two seasons. First, in 7x02 when Tyrion tells Dany she’s “not here to be Queen of the ashes”. As mentioned above, Varys told Olenna Tyrell that “[Littlefinger] would see this country burn if he could be King of the Ashes,” (3x04) - it’s the exact same phrase and Varys is present when Tyrion says this to Dany in 7x02.

Next, in 8x04, Varys and Tyrion talk about “the realm”. Varys reminds Tyrion he “serves the realm” and Tyrion asks “what is the realm.” Varys has a very similar conversation with Baelish in 3x06 (Baelish’s infamous “Chaos is a ladder” speech).

These two lines/conversations, I think, are absolutely not a coincidence and further point to a previous plot/script whose lines and scenes are hidden just beneath the ones we watched. Baelish’s presence is felt in these scenes with Varys, but he’s not actually there. Having Baelish around this time gives the audience fulfillment that canon did not.

And as we’ve never seen them on the same side before, it would make for interesting conflict to see them team up against Dany.  

Varys is uncomfortable with Melisandre and her magic and this needs to be paid off. As I stated last episode, it was set up and then never done anything with. It makes way more sense for Varys to part ways with Dany over this and have a payoff for it, than him turning on Dany for Jon when he doesn’t even know Jon.

Baelish pushing Varys into this is also the natural progression of things as Baelish will manipulate anyone in order to get what he wants: he and Sansa on the Iron Throne, ruling Westeros. Varys knew Sansa from when she was a little girl in King’s Landing and admits he admired her father. Varys supporting Sansa over say Jon, would make more sense.

2) Missandei attempting to translate the COTF cave markings:

I know it seems weird guys. But hear me out. It gives Missandei a PURPOSE this season, gives her a job, an important one, and it uses her skillsets in regards to the endgame of the series: defeating the Army of the Dead. These ruins were heavily emphasized in 7x04 and the symbols even made it all the way into 8x01 with the Night King’s lovely art installation piece of Ned Umber on the wall with a bunch of body parts. These symbols NEED to be figured out. And I’m all for my girl Missandei getting to flex a little.

Plus, Missandei went to the cave with Jon, Dany, and Davos in show canon. Why not, uhh, idk, have her take a look and give her opinion on what they could possibly mean?? You know, just stating the obvious here, don’t mind me!

3) Gendry

Doy, another no-brainer. Aside from fucking and getting rejected by Arya, Gendry’s S8 story was about fashioning dragonglass weapons, but he was pulled into the 7x06 “Suicide Squad” for idiotic reasons.

Having Davos seek him out to work the dragonglass solves two problems: a) It explains how and why Gendry becomes the head weapon maker with the dragonglass at Winterfell in show canon, and b) gives Davos a REAL reason to seek him out, rather than, oh yeah, I liked this kid, gonna go see if he’s alive and around anywhere. Cuz that was just dumb and nonsensical.

4) Lastly Arya leaving Winterfell after arriving so soon...?

I know this may seem strange as well. But in this context, Arya isn’t leaving Winterfell permanently. Which was just dumb after she fought so hard to get back home and fought so hard for her home. It also gives her her own journey, not just sitting around Winterfell waiting for Jon to get back with Daenerys and waiting for the dead to come. As to what Arya’s going to find in King’s Landing/on her journey there, you’ve probably already guessed. And as for Bran’s hints that Arya’s got similar powers to him...you’ve also probably already guessed what these might be. 

Aaaaand that’s it for Episode 4. As always, you guys can comment on these and tell me what you think, ask questions etc. It’s allowed. Don’t be shy. Especially since this is the episode that probably is the greatest divergence from canon yet, I’d love to hear your guys opinions.

Original Final Season 7: Preface Post

Season 7 Episode 1: Family, Duty, Honor

Season 7 Episode 2: Greywater Watch

Season 7 Episode 3: The Last of the Dragons 

Season 7 Episode 4: Dragonglass (Current Episode)

Season 7 Episode 5: The Storm

Season 7 Episode 6: Summerhall 

Season 7 Episode 7: A City Fit For A King

Season 7 Episode 8: Protectors of the Realm

Season 7 Episode 9: The Battle For The Dawn

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

[notbang]

burning up again

R/N. Set in some vague overlapping future universe of this, this and this, but requiring prior knowledge of none to understand.

(read on ao3)

“You know, this place sounded a lot more whimsical and fun when I was reading about it in letters.”

“I don’t think I was ever speaking specifically about the accommodations,” he says, wry, “so much as the symbolic act of coming here itself.”

“I know,” she shoots back, almost sulkily, and wriggles up the mattress to better rest her head in the crook of his arm. He stretches, and the fingers of her left hand cakewalk idly up his chest in her contemplation until he catches them and traps them in his own. “If anyone’s guilty of romanticising mediocrity, it’s me. I’m aware.”

“Well,” is all Nathaniel says, the smug twist of his mouth intended to tease, more than anything else.

Rebecca’s restless, perpetually in motion with an energy he doesn’t share. He’s been jungle-dwelling long enough that the humidity doesn’t bother him so much anymore, but there’s a difference between being able to sleep beneath a sheet in a sticky room and having to accommodate someone else’s body heat as well as your own. Still, the tightly-wound demeanour that had always felt like second nature to him has never really had a place here, and despite the queasy anticipation that has been slowly fraying his nerves all week in the lead-up to her arrival, having her sprawled out alongside him now, Nathaniel feels nothing but a sleepy sense of calm.

Even if her insisted-upon sleeping arrangements leave a little to be desired.

“This bed isn’t exactly built for two people,” he tells her when she starts to squirm, his eyebrows creeping upwards with a familiar cocktail of fondness and exasperation.

“You’re telling me. It’s not even built for one people, if the people is you.” Rebecca grunts, shifting again, trying to get comfortable and elbowing him sharply in the gut in the process. “You should really speak to someone about the quality of the facilities.”

“The facilities you were provided with are perfectly fine. You’re the one that was determined to play stowaway in mine.”

“Mm, yeah, but your room is so cosy and romantic, with the canopy, and the candles.”

He raises his eyebrows, dubious. “The mosquito net and the citronella coils?”

She waves him off, nearly clocking him in the face. “Okay, so the smell isn’t particularly enticing, but it’s fun, right? Being a little sneaky. Having a sleepover. Hmm?”

“It’d be a lot more fun in less than ninety percent humidity.” She pouts up at him, and he appeases her with a warm press of his palm to the small of her undeniably damp back. His lips graze across her forehead on his way to nosing into the cloud of her humidity-frizzed hair. “But yes—practically every defining detail aside, this is… nice.”

Rebecca sighs her agreement as she inches up his side, a greasy koala on a eucalyptus oil-slick tree. It should definitely be more off-putting, the mix of perspiration, pungent insect repellant and the remnants of lotion that only barely saved her shoulders. Instead he drinks in the sun kissed bridge of her nose, the pinking of her cheekbones and the abundance of freckles dusted across her face like constellations that can only be seen in clarity out of the city limits. It’s a hundred times better than any piece of paper, and every possible protest dies as a result on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t believe you live like this,” she says eventually. At his frown she hastens to add, “I’m not passing judgement. Emphasis on the ‘you’, not the… ‘this’. You’ve always been so…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely at the length of him, and he huffs out a laugh.

“I know. It astounds me most days, too.”

“Was it hard? Getting used to everything?”

He considers that for a moment, knowing for a fact he’d spent a good number of days unavoidably rankled by his new circumstances, but unable to put his finger on the true moment of transition.

“I guess. But… hard in a good way. Hard in a way I was looking for, to wake me up. As embarrassingly cheesy as it sounds, even when I hated it, it felt… good, and important, to be following my heart for once, instead of something my father drilled into my head.”

She takes the hand not tangled in his and presses her open palm to his chest, fingers splayed out across his sternum, radiating warmth. “I mean, on some twisted level it makes sense. If you were a Planeteer, you’d definitely be the heart power,” she says, then to his confused look elaborates, “Apparently it means you can talk to monkeys.”

“I see. And you would be…?”

“Fire. For obvious reasons.” She tilts her head, considering. “Or maybe wind. For other, also probably obvious, equally unflattering reasons.”

He winces, and shakes his head as if to will the insinuation away. For all their overwhelming similarities, there’s still a lot of things they don’t have in common, and Rebecca’s penchant for toilet humour is one of them.

Her tone turns suddenly coy. “Speaking of saving the planet, here’s a thought on our current predicament with global warming. What if we shower—together, obviously, gotta think of the earth—and then just… don’t bother towelling dry?”

“Mm, that’d probably feel good for about thirty seconds, tops. Then: sticky. Also—and while I’m not sure that’s what you’re implying, it’s usually a pretty safe bet with you—you are not going to want to do anything sexy once you step foot in that shower. Believe me.”

“Believe you because you’ve tried?” she asks, eyes narrowed, frowning her suspicion.

“Believe me because I know what my shower stall looks like.”

She hums, apparently too skeptical to be truly appeased. “So the shower’s out. But we have prior experience. We’re intelligent. We’re innovative. We can find a position with minimal contact points and maximum air flow.”

There’s no question of what she’s implying now, even if her tone is still currently set to teasing, and his stomach tightens in acknowledgement. He’d been too cautious to take it as a given that her trip was intended as a romantic one, even if it was difficult to read between the lines of her intentions and find them to be anything else. Just because his most recent trip back to West Covina had led to them falling back into bed together didn’t mean anything concrete—their letters since have been as carefully choreographed as always, deftly walking the tightrope between tentative flirtation and outright propositioning without either of them being bold enough to quantify the true nature of their long distance relationship.

If the hug she accosted him with upon her arrival and all the excuses she’s found to touch him throughout the day haven’t adequately telegraphed her intent, though, surely her presence now in his tiny standard issue sanctuary housing cot has well and truly dashed any illusions that the purposes of her visit are purely platonic.

The woman in question pulls him from his musings with a drawn-out, nasally whine. “God, I just have to…”

The rest of her sentence is lost in the fabric of her t-shirt as she squirms to get it up and over her head, and sure, he has to actively tamp down on the impulse to jerk away when her moist skin hits his, but then certain parts of his anatomy waste no time in sounding the alarm that for the first time in longer than he can currently properly recall, Rebecca Bunch’s scantily clad body is in unmistakable, maddening proximity, and his breath leaves him in a shaky huff. Despite the fact they’ve been engaged in banter around the topic for the last ten minutes at least and in fact, most of the day, it’s a very particular jolt calling attention to the impending physical reality of it now, running through him like electromagnetic muscle memory.

“Oh,” she says quietly, as if sharing the exact same revelation, eyes dropping down and to his mouth.

They shift minutely against one another until he takes her by the waist and twists, orienting her so she can feel the the fan on her face. His fingers smooth through the resulting restless waves of her hair.

Just like that it’s back at full force again—the stubborn twist of heat that exists between them, both impeded and exacerbated by the suffocating jungle humidity, like an itch you couldn’t stop yourself from scratching, if only you had the energy to move.

It’s unnerving as it’s always been, the ways in which she tames him and makes him wild.

“Hello,” he says, going for suave but falling somewhere a lot closer to shaky.

Rebecca lets out a soft giggle and bends at the knee, toes leading the way to twist her leg between his.

“Hi,” she breathes into his mouth, the cartilage of her nose crushing against his own.

Apparently, that far-from-sophisticated call and response is all the encouragement they need before they’re crashing back into each other’s orbits, an alignment of single-minded satellites colliding for the thousandth time.

It’s not as needy as their last kiss, instead whittled down into languidity by the slow burn of whatever it is they’ve been allowing to rekindle between them over months of correspondence and an overnight temperature that lends itself to a leisurely pace. I’ve missed you, she tells him in no uncertain terms, and he feels unhurried in his efforts to lay out his supporting arguments of every way he intends to miss her back.

Her nails drag across his scalp and he groans, fingertips hinting at the band of her bra.

“Nope, I can’t,” she blurts suddenly after another enthusiastic minute of making out, pushing back at him and scrunching up her face. The disappointment doesn’t even have time to sour in his stomach before she’s rushing to make the grounds of her rejection clear. “I’m sorry. It’s just so sticky. Like, disgustingly sticky. An I-can’t-expend-the-energy-that-would-only-make-us-stickier sticky.”

He obediently withdraws, rolling off of her and back towards his side of the bed, as much as their cramped shared space currently allows and what ultimately ends up being much the same arrangement as before, albeit with his body being the one caged by hers against the mattress as she holds herself away in something reminiscent of a reluctant push-up. “Absurdly,” he agrees, unable to deny himself the skin-to-skin contact of combing her matted hair back behind her ear.

“Like, I can’t tell where my body ends and yours begins, and not in a… well, it is in a hot way, technically, but not in a sexy-hot way? More in the way that I’m just melting into you until we form some kind of amorphous, perspiring blob.”

“Charming,” he says lightly.

He takes some satisfaction that he’s not alone in the dull throb of his frustration, judging by the way she shifts to squeeze her thighs together.

“Can we maybe just, I don’t know, sleep on the floor? With a companionable inch of breathing space between us as we gaze wantonly into each others’ eyes? That concrete looks cool and I mean, heat rises, right?”

“Sure, if you want to hang with the scorpions.”

Her upper body, which had been in the process of relaxing back towards his, slingshots back up off of him at that, eyes going disproportionately wide to the rest of her face. “Dude. You get scorpions in your room?”

“Sometimes. Also: lizards.”

“That’s it—I’m taking the next flight home.”

His palm skirts her shoulder blades, coaxing her back down. “Uh-huh.”

Amused as he is by her theatrics, there’s another more obvious option, one that he would have offered hours ago if only she’d given him the chance, stubborn as she’d insisted on being in response to his attempts to organise her transport back into town. He absently wonders what their chances of getting a taxi are at this time of night.

“Nathaniel?” she ventures tentatively, her voice small amongst the encroaching outside chorus of cicadas.

“Mmm?”

“Do you want to sneak into my hotel room with me? I’m pretty sure it has air conditioning.”

His smile stretches wider as he pats her encouragingly on the back. “There you go.”

She carefully peels herself off of him, and he lets her drag him, good-natured, from the bed.

[lunaraen]

random idea: Quinn and Durango finding out they both like puns, which inevitably leads to a pun war (and at least one person being very confused/annoyed by said pun war)

The grass is short and dry, nearly crisp enough to crunch undertheir feet. An occasional stray cloud and a few distant hawks are dottedthroughout the bleached out blue of the sky.

The birds don't circle, diving out of sight after severalminutes of effortless gliding.

The grass is as deadly still as the air, springing into motiononly when a mouse or rabbit decides to dart across the endless stretch ofground, from one patch of yellow greenery to another, waiting for cloud coverand cooler weather that won't come for several more hours.

It's not a desert or one of the outright dry grasslands, butit's on its way there.

(It is, unfortunately, the exact opposite of any mushroom biome,which are used to the apparent calm but also have the promise of life, of watersomewhere or everywhere, which don’t have rolling fields to worry about andinstead have murky bogs and swamps.

It goes without saying that Mo's feeling more than a littlehomesick.)

For the most part, though, even that much motion is rare, andthey've just got the dying promises of a breeze that'll never properly startand the relentless sunlight to entertain them.

It's a good thing Mo's cap protects them from so much shade,protects their eyes from directly having to deal with the onslaught of lightand heat, or they'd probably be feeling as energy-sapped as the others look.

(That might have something to do with how early they all got up,though.)

They don't have a map– they did,at one point, but Kate had lost it during an encounter with a river nymph.

(It's best left at that.

Kate's still not great at dealing with guilt, or any otheremotion, and she gets horribly flustered every time it comes up.)

It works out alright anyway, because they've all done their bitof hero work for the week, came out of the entire mess more or less as theyentered, and they're not travelling with a specific purpose at the moment. Astired as they might all feel and look, they have all the supplies they need.There's no doubt in anyone's mind that they're setting up camp early today, theweather nice enough and their goals the right amount of vague and aimless tojustify a break to soak it all in and relax.

All they're waiting for is the right area, somewhere slightlymore protected than the rolling stretches of barren plains.

They've been able to see the distant forest for hours, linkedbranches and towering trunks promising shade as well as a few monsters to maybeknock around, creeping more and more into view the longer they travel, andthey're lucky that they reach it before the sun hits its peak.

Still, it's more luck than most of them are used to, and Quinn'sthe one who goes in first, sword raised and Theseus and Durango following closebehind.

Then they're almost immediately telling the others to followthem, because they have to see this.

And they do.

It's wonderfully shaded, for one thing, and Mo's eyes adjust thefastest. They're glad they do.

Their planned camping ground isn't the usual forest, and it's arare moment when encountering the strange and unusual benefits them. The treesmore or less create a comfortable but large ring around a clearing filled withpatches of different flowers and bees buzzing overhead. There's a slow river,too shallow for fish but a good explanation for how lush the grass is, greenestright at its banks and competing with the most colorful flowers.

"You've seen one flower forest, you've seen them all."Kate's comment is nonchalant, almost bored as she shrugs, but it doesn't hidehow wide her eyes are, sunglasses having slipped slightly down her nose.

And of all of them, she and Zed are the only one who've everseen one. Most of them had been to and seen other biomes, if only briefly,before being plucked from their homes, but not one as rare as this. Theseus,who spent most of his life on islands without a single flower forest, looks nearlyready to throw down his pack right now and start sketching every detail.

Mo's eyes, however, are right back on the others, watching andwaiting because there's some kind of tension here and they know it.

 --

River and Toby are equals in how utterly trapped they feel bythe crushing sense of incoming doom.

The pause to take the view in– this vibrant mix of greenery andcolorful petals hovered over by idling fuzzballs and cut through by thesluggish winding stream– lasts only long enough for one of River's fingers totwitch while Toby winces.

When Durango opens his mouth, it's too late to retreat.

"Well, it looks bee-utiful enough."

Quinn bounces back fastest, replying almost immediately andgrinning as she does.

"If you say so– I don't get what all the buzz isabout."

The others groan, as is expected when it comes to poor jokes andwordplay, but they don't get it. They don't comprehend what horribly bad newsthis is. Not yet.

(In all their talking on the pillars to pass the time, it hadn'tcome up that Durango, cocky as he already normally is, could be insufferablyproud of his puns, or that Quinn has a seeming inability to not share the onesthat pop into her head at random, which are of course all terrible. Durango'sweren't, and aren't, any better. Quinn and Durango, in all their time workingwith Kate and Zed and all their time talking and bickering with each other, hadlikewise somehow missed bringing it up or displaying their natural, painfultalents.)

Toby and River glance at each other.

It's a look of immediate kinship, of "ah, yes, you– youknow the hell I've been through, you have suffered as I have." But theycan't escape the recognition that comes with it, the knowledge that theirtormentors have not only joined forces, but that they have found kinship ineach other as well and in their shared form of torture.

Not only are Durango and Quinn going to keep making puns,they're going to make more now.

The look River and Toby share is, at its core, one of pureterror, tinged with rising horror and built upon the stable ground ofwell-established exasperation. It's one that screams to the heavens, shriekingin a hopeless plea, begging for mercy that will never be granted. It's a lookthat clearly embodies the very spirit of "no".

Quinn and Durango, however, share their own glance, one alreadyitching with the need to compete, to conspire as well as utterly obliterateeach other. Their look replies, loudly, clearly, and gleefully, with no roomfor any argument, "yes".

--

"I always figured Quinn would be, y'know, too cool for badjokes. They don't seem her style." River traces the petal of aparticularly large red flower, touch as light as she can manage. Beside her,Toby tosses another pebble into the stream, and she does her best to not flinch at the splash or the water that hits her arm.

"And I'd hoped Durango would be too worried about hurtinghis 'tough cowboy' image."

"Guess we were both unlucky." River leans back,resting one hand on the grass as she glances over her shoulder at where Durangoand Quinn are still at it. "D'you think they hate us?"

"Not half as much as I hate them."

"They– they've gotta tire themselves out at some point,right?" Everyone else is busy relaxing, or napping, or exploring theclearing and watching the bees without getting too close, having given upwaiting. Slugger's on watch in case anyone screws up and manages to anger theswarm, and Mo's slouched beside her, mushroom covering their eyes but not theirsteady breathing. River's ready for a nap herself at this point, and the darkcircles under their punny tormentors' eyes are hard to miss. "Don't they?"

"Nope." Toby lays back on the grass, one foot in thewater and his eyes half lidded. He looks as tired as she feels, though there'san exaggerated bitterness she can agree with too. "They just have tooutlive the rest of us long enough."

They wait there, for a while, not saying anything and doingtheir best to not wince with every bad pun (and there are so many and they are somehow gettingworse), until Quinn makes an especially bad one about honey. Toby almostjerkily stands up, taking his foot out of the water like it's burned him, andstarts walking, half hopping as he shoves his sock and shoe back on.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the Greek Isles– the kraken eating me would beless painful than this."

"...I think I might just join you." River stretchesher arms to the side as she stands, pushing herself up even as the rest of herbody demands she stay down and keep watching the bees. "Want to getstarted on dinner?"

Technically it should be lunch, but they've all been up sincebefore the sun rose and they had something close to two meals already, andhunger is hunger. They'll make food and they'll enjoy it, no matter what itshould or shouldn't technically be called.

"I don't see why not. It'll serve them right if they missout because they're too busy being totaldorks."

His voice gets loudest at the end, glaring over his shoulder atDurango and Quinn to make sure they know exactly who he's talking about.

Durango doesn't bother responding to it in any way, too busymaking rapid-fire puns, and Quinn's gaze doesn't shift even as she makes an...interesting hand gesture in Toby's general direction– he just laughs, rollshis eyes, and keeps walking.

It's not the same team relationship she and Durango had, or eventhe same friendship they've got now, but River's glad Quinn and Toby aren'tserious with their bickering.

The supplies are hastily scattered, anything not currently beingused as a pillow left in a bit of a disheveled circle of their own, but it'seasy enough to get the cauldron set up and to start sifting through theingredients they have. In the meantime, they keep chatting, with each other andquietly with Theseus.

(It was, it turns out, a lie to say that everyone had given upwaiting.

While Rudi and Sacha are, like almost everyone, sleeping, they'veapparently set up a betting pool for who'll win the pun war. Rudi's personallyin Durango's camp while Sacha's own vote is for Quinn, but Theseus doesn'tmention what anyone else has bet.)

"...personally, I don't really think there's a way to win or lose,especially not with those two." He looks almost forlorn as he keepssketching, using his knees to support the journal and keep it upright."I'd join them, but most of the puns I know probably aren't funny topeople who aren't from the Greek Isles. Too much focus on legendary monsters orthe Gods."

"Believe me, we're glad. It's bad enough with just the twoof them."

Theseus lights up and River bites her tongue, knowing why andknowing it’s too late to try and save the situation.

"That one wasn't half bad!"

Toby's brow furrows for half a moment and relaxes just asbriefly, eyes narrowing as he frowns.

'Bee-lieve'.

"I'm going to drown myself in the river."

"Nah, come on." River grabs Toby's shoulder as hebegins to turn and gently tugs him back, giggling. He's pouting, but he doesn'ttry to get up again. "I still need your help with cooking."

"Anyone else could help."

"Yeah, but this way we can keep each other busy, make somenice stew for when everybody's awake, and I can make sure you don't go and tryto kill 'em." She passes him a few potatoes, eyeing the oddly shapedcarrot at the bottom of the pile.

"You make it sound so nice."

"...I'm glad they're enjoying themselves. I mean, I hopethey'll stop soon or that this'll keep them from making more puns later, but I'mnot expecting it and that's not the point. They're having a good time. Nomonsters, nobody to save, nothin' to run from, no squabbling... just themgoofing off."

"...I'm glad too." Toby unwraps one of their bundledknives, blade slicing through the bumpy and ruddy potato skin. "I stillwant to throw myself in the stream. I reallywant to throw Quinn in the stream, but there's no way I can do that."

She'd just yank his arm and flip him backwards. 

River tries not to laugh or chuckle, but Toby's pout lets her knowshe's failing; she doubts he can really blame her, not when the mental image isso funny.

She pats his shoulder before she starts cutting the carrot intomore typical carrot slice shapes, dropping them one by one into the pot. Funnyor not, she can understand where he’s coming from, helped as it all might be bythe exhaustion settling in all their bones and the hunger beginning to gnaw atthe back of their minds.

"If you figure out a way, let me know. I'll have to try itwith Durango."

Toby's eyebrow quirks as his gaze turns calculating, the shrewdlook not quite completed by the small smile he can't hide.

"Is that a mean streak?"

"It's a fed-up-with-puns streak." Still, River'sfingers fiddle with the inedible top of the carrot for several moments beforeshe sets it and the knife aside, hands clasped in her lap as she glances away."You're right, I wouldn't do it. Not really. I'd worry too much abouthurting him, but I don't think I ever could."

River waits, for a moment, waits to see if he’ll joke about her beingtoo gentle or too much of a worrywart, but if Toby thinks about it, he doesn’tshow it.

"...I don't want to hurt Quinn either, and the river's tooshallow to really throw anybody into it." Toby tosses his now-peeled andchopped potato into the cauldron before starting the process again, barelyavoiding nicking one of his fingers as he does. "We'll just go and splashthem after we're done cooking."

The mat Theseus is sitting on shifts on the grass as hestretches, pencil still gripped in one hand as he grins at them, dipping backinto the conversation as quickly as he'd left it.

"That sounds like fun. Just– please try to leave my artout of it."

River and Toby share another glance, this one far lessexasperated or terrified, and River's excitement wins first.

"You could help!"

Theseus tilts his head, closing his journal as he does.

"I'm still the son of somebody who was seen as the god of the ocean and I spent most of my life completelysurrounded by water. Seems a little unfair, don't you think?"

Another sliced up potato gets tossed into the pot as Tobysnorts.

"It's hardly the sea." The river is long, likelystretching out of the forest and across many empty plains like the ones theyhad to cross, but it isn't terrifyingly deep like the ocean, dark blue with thepromise of untold horrors, and it's hardly as vast, only wide enough for aperson to lie in. (Even a person who can’t swim can stand comfortably in thestream, content in knowing the water's too gentle to be any trouble if they fall.)

Theseus hums and tilts his head again, but his smile isn'tenough of an answer. River pushes the subject again, gently.

"You don't have to, but we'd sure enjoy it if youwould."

Theseus's smile grows, and she realizes his smile was an answer. He wasn't consideringsaying yes; he was putting his strategizing to good use and was working out hisbattle plan. Theseus might not be the leader of their group, but he's awonderful fighter and an excellent tactician.

"Alright, we'll have them outnumbered."

There’s no doubt in her mind that the others will join in– and alittle horsing around before dinner sounds perfect.

[kurainohikaru]

Ozma/pin and Salem. The Duality of Choice: Confrontation, Complacency and the Missing Compromise Between Them.

So I felt this topic deserved it’s own separate conversation in regards to episode 3 of Volume 6. Specifically I want to talk about Salem and Ozpin, and what they and their struggle represent, at least in my opinion. If you want to hear some more of my general thoughts on the episode check out my previous post here.

SPOILERS BELOW Also TW for Slight mentioning of Suicide attempts

So let’s start with the elephant of the room and what has probably the most discourse of this episode. Who’s truly at fault? Most would probably lay that with Salem, others with Ozma, or the gods for their outward cruelty in how they handled the whims of humanity? Well I’m here to say the entire point of this episode was to show the exact opposite of this mindset. Prior to this episode many a spectator, myself included were theorizing as to whether or not ShadyOz(TM) was a morally grey good guy or had ulterior motives and was the true evil. This episode has simultaneously made the viewer feel sympathies for his plight while also expositing Salem, who prior to this point has been not much more than the evil puppet-master. She has, from the beginning, touted her respect for humankind, in their unity and resilience, and now we have a much greater understanding for the framework behind the respect of that which she is seemingly out to destroy. The Lost Fable redeems not only Ozpin but Salem as well, for they are two sides of the same coin. They are the duality of choice, Salem of confrontation and Ozpin of complacence. Let’s explore this throughout the episode, screenshots will be posted and I’d like to pay careful attention to expressions here.

This moment was the beginning of everything. Salem lost the only person she had ever known and loved and it sent her into a deep despair. Desperate to have Ozma returned to her, she ventured off to the god of light, her very first confrontation of many. Only to be told that though he could easily return him to the world, he would not, in doing so he would overwrite the delicate balance that he and his younger brother, the God of Darkness had striven to create. Now I’m sure some people already found themselves frowning at how Disney Princess-like this may feel but rationally let’s think for a moment about what this would mean for Salem.

That deep frown and tower was her life. All she ever knew was to be locked and confined within this tower, and unlike her Rapunzel counterpart, there was no happily ever after foretold in the cards that she was to expect. Yes many a warrior came to try and conquer the tower for her hand and beauty, but what does that mean to her? She knows nothing and no one outside these walls, save for the failed attempts of heroes who saw her nothing more as prize to be won and conquered. And then that all changed when a knight who came to save her because it was the right thing to do, and not because of her purported beauty.

You’d be hard pressed to tell me these two didn’t fall in love in this moment, these looks on their faces. I’d wager a guess this is the first time Salem has ever been free from the constrictive rule set by her cruel father. Salem finally had the world to explore, but the definition of her world changed, now her world was Ozma.

We all as humans have undergone the deep pit of despair that is loss. Loss of a friend, a pet, a family member, a partner. None of these losses can be compared to one another but they all lead to the pit of utter despair. And now I posit a question for you, did you ever wish you could change it? Think, “What if things had been different, if they were still here now?” I certainly have. It is a dangerous cycle and one difficult to break and Salem lives in a world where the possibility of resurrection has tangible weight of possibility behind it making that cycle even more difficult to come out of. So how does one break themselves from the self-destructive what ifs and grieving? Most would say time. Time and support. Support from the interpersonal relationships you’ve built over the course of your life and fostered into lasting friendships that will carry you through arduous times. Surely Salem could have moved on as the God of Light told her eventually? Except Salem has NO ONE.

As far as we are made aware, her family is her father who locked her up in the first place. Ozma was the ONLY person in the world she had to support her. He was ripped from her when she finally could see a road that was paving the rest of her life and it crumbled right before her eyes.

That’s not fair. That’s not fair!

And to her it really wasn’t. And I know some people will say “Life’s not fair,” and that is correct. Objectively speaking, Salem was selfish in choosing to confront him and plead for the creators of her world to take pity and bring him back.

That’s the point. After all, can you say as a human you are 100% objective and selfless, especially in a time of great trauma and desperation?

“You monsters! Give him back to me! Give him back!”

And so Salem ventured to the Realm of Darkness to plead with the younger brother of darkness, her second confrontation. She gets her wish, if only for a moment.  I won’t comment much on the actions of the God’s here, saving that for a separate post, but I will say that their inexperience and inability to understand the emotional complexities behind this situation laid the foundation for the chessboard game we know today.

I can’t possibly imagine what the hell this would do to Salem’s mental state. To literally see her love brought back and ripped away from her twice in quick succession would have been anyone’s snapping point. To have something you wanted so desperately you were willing to prostrate yourself before, and even manipulate gods to achieve, only for it to be taken from you just as quickly would be maddening.

Yes I did say manipulate. I know this post has been very Pro-Salem up until this point but that’s because personally, I don’t think she has done anything outlandish enough to be branded as pure evil as some people have been. Is she selfish and arrogant as the God of Light later says? Oh absolutely. Is that out of the ordinary for a human? Not in the slightest. Not to mention Salem has literally been locked in a tower for what we can assume is the majority of her life. Now that is not to say she is unintelligent or naive, but I imagine her social graces are lacking to the point she comes off as childish. Children are arrogant and petulant and selfish, hell most humans adults are, I don’t see Salem acting this way as bizarre at all.

The god’s respond to her manipulation by cursing her to never be able to leave the mortal realm, namely granting her immortality so that shew may never rest with her beloved Ozma. Again I won’t comment on the gods too much in this post, but that punishment seemed rather infinitely torturous. They basically made her immortal with a vague purpose of her needing to understand the delicate balance of life and death. That being said that way does not imply that she would be set free once she did. I would say current time Salem understands that balance very well, even if she uses it for her own gains and manipulative strategies, and she’s still very much immortal as we know it now.

They... were fallible.

Even if Jinn claims this was out of spite towards the gods, don’t you think it’s rather tragic that the girl in the tower, who spent her whole life wanting to see the outside world finally got it and now it’s all worthless without Ozma? That great beautiful world and she’d rather die. Maybe I’m reading too much into this scene but it really made me feel for Salem, and it’s clever given how things develop later.

The gods had hoped Salem would learn from her eternal curse. And she did. She had learned that the hearts of men are easily swayed.

Salem has resolved herself to fight the gods and rid herself from their curse, using her immortality to manipulate humankind into following her with the promise of said curse, not knowing her true goal was to rid herself of it. And so she amassed her army and made her choice to fight, her third confrontation.

And just like all the others, it didn’t end in her favor.

And once again, Salem was alone.

The gods’ retaliation was ruthless, Salem the last remnant of humanity as they shattered the moon and left the planet, their “beautiful experiment” no longer worth staying on the planet and becoming pseudo-deistic as they watch from afar awaiting judgement day, more on that later.

Salem was despondent at this point, nothing to live for but unable to die. She stumbles back into the realm of darkness and lets herself fall into the pits of Grimm, her last hope for the death she craved. The result?

She was wrong.

Now I’ve seen a lot of people write her off as irredeemable by this point once she has been transformed like above. However, I would argue everyone in this story is as redeemable as they are irredeemable. A Choice made is not something that is constant. It can always change because that’s inherently what choice is, the act or decision to decide from a number of possibilities. You are choosing the way you act and you can change your choice just as easily as you cannot. Salem chooses confrontation and it has always been her strategy, the reverse of this is complacency, the inaction based in comfort of the Status Quo, or Ozpin’s side. Let’s move to him for a moment as the episode does.

Where you seek comfort. You will only find pain.

So in an ironic twist the God of Light takes a card out of Salem’s book and manipulates Ozma into accepting the role of reincarnation and humanity’s jury, with the god brothers’ as Judge and executioner through the relics. Ozma also begins to make his first choices of complacency here.

“I’m sorry but that world just isn’t as dear to me without her. If I may, I’d rather return to the afterlife to be with Salem”

Ozma decides that the life of savior is not for him thinking he should return and be with Salem, now that humanity is extinct he can be with her as they both have so long wished for. Nobody could fault him for that. In fact he’s preserving the very “balance” the God of light was up in arms about in the first place. He causally forgot to mention the reason that Salem is still alive is thanks to their curse, instead cryptically stating she was corrupted and no longer the woman he once knew (woo for petty manipulative gods, just like the good ol Greeks).

Ozma either sees through this or wishes to see Salem enough he will ignore the warning and accepts the role almost immediately and then finds himself in the body of this young man, the world reborn from dust like in the WOR episode mentioning it (which I totally forgot about in my last post). Ozma finds himself confused by the presence of Faunus and the absence of Magic, dust replacing it in a shoddy attempt at the gifts of magic he possessed. He hears rumors of someone else possessing his gifts a witch of sorts. He seeks her out and...

“ What do we do now?” “Whatever we want.”

the two reunite again as lovers and we see each of them lie to one another almost immediately. Salem out of fear of rejection and Ozma out of not knowing what the truth was. You could argue this was complacency on both of their parts and I wouldn’t disagree, but the motivations don’t quite work out that ways considering the status quo was nonexistent since they had spent literal lifetimes apart since then.

“These humans have no one to guide them. Perhaps that’s all they need.”

Salem believes that they could be the new, more benevolent gods that the previous god brother’s could not be for them. Ozma clearly was not a fan of the idea but with Salem’s arm on his shoulder he agrees, complacent in her more aggressive methodologies out of his love for her as Salem confronts him with emotional manipulation. The two fall more and more into their choices that have defined them as their tale continues.

“The hearts of men are easily swayed*

“And at the head of that kingdom blossomed, a family.”

The two carry out Salem’s idea and procure a rich following that leads to a kingdom and the happy picturesque couple above. Now I specifically want to point out how happy Salem looks here. Not to say that Ozma isn’t also extremely happy and proud of his girls, but I highlight Salem here for the particular reason that some were claiming that she was pure destruction ever since diving into the pools of Grimm.

To that I argue, she settled down. She wanted to preserve humanity and put them on the right track together with Ozma and had a beautiful family and were loved by many people. I think the pool definitely changed her and gave her a larger penchant for destructive tendencies, but that’s just it, they were tendencies. Just like any human has tendencies to kill someone sometimes or wish they were never born or wish cruel and unusual punishment on someone who has wronged them in the heat of the moment. To say she was irredeemable in this scene made little sense to me and this happiness she feels now makes the eventual outcome that much more tragic when it plays out as we know it does.

“Are we sure this is right?”  “You said we had to bring humanity together. In order to do that we have to spread our word. And destroys those that will deny it.”

“It was a miracle. Their children could perform magic.”

These two scenes are pivotal in the tonal shift they create, though it may not be abundantly clear at first glance. Here we see Salem grinning downward with a slight smirk more like we’ve seen her in the present as she explains to Ozma that confronting dissenters is the only way that they can spread the word of their rule as the assumed new gods. Ozma looks away and has a moment of introspection where either his first life or the life he inhabits posits, “what are we doing?” Ozma begins to break from his complacency realizing that this isn’t the path he wants to take as one of his daughter bursts in and displays her magic for her parents. This is extremely important to Salem, now instead of guiding the current humanity she will begin to think differently shown in the following scene.

“Don’t you see? None of that matters anymore? Why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?”

Ozma finally breaks and comes clean to Salem about everything. Her response is that above. She has now shifted to recreating the paradise they once had with the two of them replacing the old gods as the rulers. At first I didn’t see anything wrong with this at all and thought Ozma was odd for not wanting to rekindle humanity with magic. But then I thought more about it and I realized she meant completely wiping out the current humanity and replacing it with their children, since they are both immortal they essentially could repopulate the planet by themselves (though I’m not going to dissect the finer points of that one...)

Now to Salem’s credit this was a perfect solution for the two of them. Both of them, in her eyes at least, had been cursed by the gods to live forever, they were only so lucky enough to find each other again and make that living bearable once more. Why would see want to spare the creations born from those who cursed her so? Why would she ever allow them to return to this world and judge them when she could recreate the utopia they once had, but better because they would be it’s rulers? To her it makes perfect sense for Ozma to forget his task and focus on the new world they would create together, a world full of magic that every human could perform. A world with gods that cared about them and would do better than what they had done to her, to the both of them. Would this have worked? Who can really say for sure but I don’t blame Salem for thinking the way she was, and I don’t quite find her irredeemable here but Ozma plays a critical role here that he fails spectacularly.

See Ozma had a responsibility to his wife and partner to try and reel in some more of her destructive tendencies,  speaking with her frankly and honestly and the two of them working to some sort of compromise that didn’t involve senseless death and destruction but still reintroduced magic into the world through them. It wouldn’t have been a difficult solution either, all they would have to do is keep living and having children through the ages and then as those kids grew and had children of their own eventually it would resurface over time. And It’s not like they don’t have infinite time to spare. But no, instead Ozma decided to exchange complacency for idiocy and outright betrayal.

“We were finally free.” “I...”

Ozma decided his best course of action was to try and sneak out of the castle under the cover of night with their 4 children in tow. Obviously Salem catches him and her rage consumes her and she initiates magical combat against him. The following shot is of the fallen toy one of the girls was holding and Ozpin bleeding and crawling away as Salem rejuvenates and stands over him, distraught that he would throw away their freedom before cutting him off with a stream of fire to end his life.

This could not have been any deeper of a betrayal to Salem. She had risked and lost literally EVERYTHING for Ozma. Her life, her kind, her world. She thought she was doomed to obscurity of living forever only to find him once again, for them to rekindle the happiness she thought had been cruelly ripped away from her by the gods of old. Everything couldn’t be better as her children just displayed magic and she could bring about the utopia she craved, Ozma by her side. Only for that same man who she sacrificed again and again for to try and leave with their children and leave her behind? Please try and tell me that wouldn’t bring you into a catastrophic level of rage, I’d love to hear how you could keep calm there.

Not to mention that the shot of the toy implies that their fight ended up killing the lives of their daughters which I’m sure sent both of them spiraling even more.

Ozpin eventually makes his way back to the task, after an unknown number of lives of mourning and drinking,sent by the gods and he realizes that the only way he can keep man unites is to rid the world of Salem.

We don’t know what happens to Salem after this point to get where she is today but the image of the crystal implies she made that with her magic and integrated it with a Grimm and perhaps that is how she controls them.

What we do know is that both of them took this experience of their fallout to shape their strategies in the present day.

Salem realizes that she should have played her cards closer to her chest. Openly confrontational choices proved disastrous. Now she operates from the shadows, causing mass panic and chaos while never leaving any threads that can trace back to her. Outside of Ozpin, the world knows not of her existence and she can disrupt Ozpin’s task indefinitely. Moreover she wants the relics. Perhaps so that she can summon them early and show what humanity has become so Ozpin can suffer the ultimate failure by her hands’ and rob him of what he treasures dearly just as he had before as we saw. She has learned form her mistakes and it has made her all the more calculating, cruel, conniving, and threatening. She failed to learn that compromise before confrontation could have led them to living together harmoniously

Meanwhile Ozpin has had a regression. His one act of confrontation led to disaster and so he he has returned to complacency, He chooses to be extremely selective about who he informs about his plight and leaves the general populace in the dark, thinking this is the best way to preserve unity. He used Jinn to locate all the relics and locked them up in the schools while he played the role of the most influential headmaster as a way to try and unify humanity against the Grimm (and unknowingly Salem). He lies and tells half truths because the more darkness and evil of the world he exposes to people, the further from his task he gets. He has not learn that choosing to openly communicate without facades or masks, yes may induce some panic and anxiety, can also lead to compromises and cooperation that isn’t backed by ultimatums (Pyrrha).

Well here’s my little essay on choice and it’s duality of Ozma/pin and Salem. Let me know what you all thought! Also I don’t know why or how this got so long and why I decided to do it so late. Gonna go pass out now X.X