#and he uses his powers for evil to convince people that have overstayed their welcome to leave

[happypeachsludgeflower]

So, like.. do you think Xie Lian knows that his cooking defies all laws of chemistry and such and such and is the most toxic substance known to man?? Because, look. He's smart. He's got to know right?? Right???

[bnha-imagines-and-oneshots]

You Being the U.A. Traitor

Type: Headcanon

Words: 1283

Gender Neutral Reader

You were fairly sociable, which naturally made it more difficult for your classmates to suspect you. You were apart of their little “family” after all.

Of course, this also benefited you. You got close to many of the students in class 1-A and decently acquainted with the rest. You even learned about 1-B (and some of the support courses through a friendship with Mei Hatsume.)

As surprising as it may sound, you encouraged Shigaraki not to go through with the USJ attack. You had a bad feeling that this wouldn’t end in your sides favor, and it made you uneasy. Shigaraki blew off your concerns though and attacked your class.

When you found out that morning that All Might wasn’t going to be there, you didn’t know how to react. A small part of you filled with fear at the thought of already having been found out, and being thwarted so soon. It would truly be a shame if you were arrested before completing your first plan in this project.

For whatever reason All Might wasn’t present, you still had to let Shigaraki know of the change of plans. You pushed down your anxiety and got out your phone, but Aizawa put a stop to that quickly.

With your phone being confiscated until the end of the school day, you had no way to contact Shigaraki.

Well, the USJ attack played out about as well as you had expected. All Might ended up saving the day with a late entrance and your poor Nomu was rocketed into the upper stratosphere.

And now 1-A was stronger.

You were a bit peeved at Shigaraki, especially when he acted like he was younger than you and threw a tantrum on the floor.

You ended up talking to Kurogiri to calm down a bit, and it honestly worked. Kurogiri had a very calming, almost parent-like presence. Something you lacked during your childhood.

The Sports Festival earned you an internship with some random hero you didn’t really care about. You pretended to be flattered every time she praised you and called your quirk strong, but it disgusted you how she complimented your power rather than how you used it. Classic heroes.

During the internships Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya encountered the Hero Killer Stain.

...and got him arrested.

You were infuriated. You didn’t really care about whoever this Hero Killer guy was as a person but he was helping you out by getting rid of those damned pro’s. Now you had to go console your classmates and act like you were proud of their bravery.

Luckily, with Stain’s arrest came the entrance of new villains. When Shigaraki introduced Toga and Dabi into what he was now calling “The League of Villains,” Toga seemed most interested in you.

“This guy’s been a jerk ever since we started walking! Who are you? I’m Toga. Do you like blood? You’re so cute. You’d look so pretty if you were just a little bit bloodier~!”

And that’s how you got yourself a psychotic best friend. Well, you weren’t one to talk actually. Though debatable, you could also be deemed psychotic.

More villains joined the L.O.V. in a steady flow, and a rank system developed itself.

All For One, of course, was the boss. He was in charge of everybody and oversaw everything that happened.

Shigaraki was the first so-called “member” of the L.O.V. and A.F.O.’s unofficial kinda sorta son, so he was sort of like second in command. Technically, he was the boss and A.F.O. was like the master.

Kurogiri had been the second to join, two years before you. He didn’t seem to get the recognition he deserved, being treated as more of a “league slave” than an actual member. Still, he had more power than most of the members.

Except for you. Kurogiri answered to Shigaraki first, but you were a close second. You were like the leader of everybody else and a little less than equal to Shigaraki. Everybody else pretty much ended up taking on a lackey role.

When you were let in on the plan to convert Bakugou to villainy and capture him from 1-A’s trip to camp, you were given a decision.

You could either stay in hiding, or reveal yourself as the traitor to try to and help convince Bakugou.

The choice didn’t seem to be yours after all though, as everybody in the league seemed to encourage you to reveal yourself to gain the extra ally. (Other than A.F.O., who stayed out of your business.)

Bakugou’s shock to seeing you was immeasurable. The thought of there being a traitor at U.A. hadn’t hit him yet, so you standing free with the L.O.V. made his heart drop.

“You’re a... villain.” The blonde could barely bring himself to say the word, a knot forming in his stomach that made him nauseous with every growing second.

You walked over to your restrained classmate and hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, that’s what society calls us. Don’t you think that’s unfair though?”

“The fuck’re you talking about?” Bakugou muttered, eyes wide.

“Well, think about it. It’s really not as black and white as you picture it. The heroes are always going out and rescuing people who are in danger, but are they saving everybody who’s in trouble?”

The blonde stayed silent, so you continued.

“Heroes ignore people who need help everyday, simply because it’s not as visible as somebody being attacked, mugged, or kidnapped. Heroes abandon you if your problems aren’t deemed worthy enough for them to care about. So who saves us then? The pathetic justice system?”

Bakugou looked at your expression, no longer finding the warmth or joy in it. All familiarity dissipated; your smile empty and your eyes dark.

“Heroes call us villains because they don’t want to admit they gave up on us. Once upon a time, villains needed saving too. So tell me, who’s really the evil one here? Doesn’t it make you upset? You want justice, don’t you? That’s what we want too.”

“You could join us, Katsuki.”

Bakugou wasn’t completely convinced. He was hesitant, but accepted your offer on the condition you’d tell him why you became a villain. You agreed.

All of you were interrupted before you could tell him, with heroes breaking in.

You dragged Bakugou with you and out of sight until both of you and a few allies could be transported into the open.

All Might wasn’t pleased when Bakugou confronted him, head held high but different than before.

“If the heroes are constantly working to save everybody in need...”

“...then why are there so many villains?”

All Might cleared his throat. “Well, because they didn’t want to be saved.”

You scoffed, stepping out from behind Dabi’s tall frame.

“Bullshit.”

“Young (L/N)?..”

You glared at the hero bitterly, your words laced with venom as you spoke.

“Heroes are the ones who corrupted society! They ignored and abandoned those who needed help, opting for what was easier for them! Villains exist not because we want to, but because we have no other choice! It is the heroes who try to quiet our voices and manipulate the media, creating propaganda and avoiding the truth! I may be a villain, but heroes are villainous!”

The heroes were forced to retreat when A.F.O. stepped in and battled All Might. Due to your speech and Bakugou’s change of heart being caught by a news reporter, villain attacks were reported to be 20% higher in surrounding areas.

You and Bakugou stopped showing up for classes at U.A. knowing full well you’d overstayed your welcome.

One day, society will return to normal. Until then, you’re fine being the villain.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 2

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: non-sexual noncon touch mention, just a tiny taste of drugging (fade to black)

Once Jerhyn had bemusedly agreed to Morgan's request for a more private meeting, just the two men and two watchful guards, things went much more smoothly. He'd been able to properly explain the situation with the dark wanderer, and the sultan had divulged a story passed down through the royal family concerning the imprisonment of a great evil within a tomb deep in the desert. The story had unfortunately been rather shy on specifics, but that proved to be a convenient segue into an inquiry about the city archives. They were housed on the other side of the city, staffed by a small team of dedicated archivists. Jerhyn assured him that they would be happy to welcome his inquiries. Lut Gholein was proud of its history.

After that was settled, it had been simple enough to convince Jerhyn that his time would be better spent searching for the source of the demonic activity rather than just reacting to it. He'd promised to share whatever he learned with the mercenaries and the local clergy, which had apparently been something of a surprise. Jerhyn had reassured him quickly that yes, of course the priests of Akarat would be keen to know more, he simply hadn't expected an outsider to consider that angle. Luckily, he seemed content to drop the issue there. There were few enough places that welcomed the Order of Rathma with open arms, and Morgan did not wish to test the hospitality of this one if he could avoid it.

He also made it clear that he was not affiliated with Blaise in any meaningful capacity, and that her considerable skills were her own to direct. After all she had done for him, it was the least he could offer in return. The mention of her got a chuckle out of the palace guards. Apparently she had arisen quite early and demanded an audience with the commander, who did not appreciate being roused. He apparently hadn't expected her to accept his cranky, blustering challenge to a test of her fighting skills, and had expected even less to be soundly beaten. So she had already earned her rank and a great deal of respect. Morgan noted that news seemed to travel quite fast in this city. At any rate, he was glad to hear she was doing well for herself.

All in all, the meeting had been a great success. Pleased with the progress so far, Morgan set out to explore the city. It was one of the largest he'd ever visited. Its centre was dominated by a sprawling marketplace spilling over with all manner of vendors. The sounds and smells were a little much to handle all at once. He would be able to manage brief excursions, but it would definitely be draining. Luckily, the archives were located away from the market. It would probably be possible to avoid the marketplace by taking the smaller side streets, once he got a better picture of the city's layout.

As promised, the archivists were polite and accommodating. After a brief tour, one of them even introduced herself as a local historian. She sat with Morgan for about an hour, patiently answering his questions as best she could. Her specialization was in more recent history, but she was at least able to fill in some of the details. The tomb from the royal family's story was that of Tal Rasha, a powerful mage who had died imprisoning a great evil. The identity of the evil sealed away was apparently the subject of some academic debate, as was the actual location of the tomb. On one hand, that meant there was plenty of reference material. On the other hand, it also meant that there were likely to be a lot of false leads. That was fine by Morgan, though; he enjoyed puzzles, and if he could approach the research from that angle, so much the better.

He settled himself in with a small collection of texts to start with. The archivists took turns checking on him about once an hour, then less often as it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. At one point the historian brought him a cup of wonderful-smelling spiced tea, which he thanked her for and promptly forgot about until after it was stone cold. It had gotten strong and bitter, but it sufficed to get him through another few hours of reading. All the parties seemed to agree that the tomb had been surrounded by a multitude of identical fakes, though estimations ranged in the exact number of those, and guesses as to what distinguished the true tomb varied wildly. It made for fascinating reading, and nobody bothered him except to helpfully point out the storeroom where the oil for the lamps was stored.

It occurred to Morgan about fifteen minutes later that the bit about the lamps had probably been a cue. He approached the archivist ready to apologize for overstaying his welcome. She reassured him that although they generally closed overnight, that restriction would be waived due to him being on royal business. That was welcome news, though he didn't recall mentioning the sultan's request. However, now that he had stood and moved around a bit, it was becoming clear that it was time to seek out a meal.

After confirming which materials he was permitted to borrow - enough to get him through the night, anyway - he left with a heavy pack and directions to a tavern that sounded promising for both food and local knowledge. Although it was his least favoured method of gathering information, it was inescapable fact that people often knew little tidbits that weren't considered important enough to record. Sometimes those scraps of information could prove vital, so he would seek them out as best he could.

Since artificial lighting was readily available and he'd been granted unfettered access to the archives, it was easy for Morgan to slip into a more nocturnal schedule. He spent the hottest part of the days sleeping or meditating in his room at the palace, slowly but surely expanding his magical reserves and refreshing his training in emotional control. That left the mornings and evenings to canvass the locals for information, and the long cool nights to pore over materials in the archives.

None of the merchants or inn staff were able to provide any useful leads, but he had received a plethora of advice on how best to avoid and treat sunburn, including several referrals to a local alchemist. It was something of a relief that his complexion seemed to be regarded as more of a curiosity than a deformity here. The alchemist in question was called Lysander, and he operated his stall by the edge of the marketplace. He was a pleasant, professional man who did not question Morgan when he requested one of each different analgesic preparation in his arsenal. Not one of them had any effect on the pain in his injured arm. That was disappointing; it would have been preferable to chalk up the earlier failures to some sort of error in the preparation on his part, but Lysander was highly regarded and very unlikely to be selling faulty product.

A couple of days in, Morgan was pleased to encounter Cain on his way to the archives. The scholar seemed genuinely interested in his research, and soon began joining him. It was unexpectedly nice to have the quiet company, a companionable silence settling comfortably between them. It was also its own kind of luxury to stay within the city, to be able to go about his business with just the clothes on his back and perhaps a coin purse instead of having to bring everything with him.

The room where he left his things was... well, it was a unique but overall tolerable situation. As promised, none of the other members of the harem guild gave him so much as a second glance, which was a relief. Jemali continued to be aggressively flirtatious, but at least he generally honoured his agreement about physical contact. He was naturally expressive with his hands, so Morgan resigned himself to the occasional touch on the arm or shoulder when he got too close to the other man.

Attempts to explain the prickling discomfort of being touched didn't seem to stick. He supposed the courtesan had little enough reason to care. Most often he retreated to Morgan's room to rest, snatching a brief nap in between whatever else he was doing. Sometimes he would talk about his work. Morgan wasn't especially fond of those times, but thankfully Jemali seemed to want an outlet more than a conversation partner.

The priests of Akarat had given Morgan a warm enough reception, though he'd been careful to avoid mention of his own profession beyond working for the sultan. They made it clear that unless his work produced substantive results, they were not at all interested in learning about his research. That was agreeable for all parties, he felt.

Occasionally, Morgan would venture out into the desert surrounding the city. He quickly learned to spot the signs of the various aggressive insects that seemed to thrive in the desert environment, from the particular patterns the enormous beetles left in the sand to the nearly invisible hives that housed swarms of blood-hungry flies. There were other creatures as well, but the insects were the most dangerous; they didn't take any notice of any golems he raised, interested only in living flesh and blood. At least the misshapen things that might once have been related to vultures, and the occasional undead, could be distracted by his constructs.

He'd managed to locate a few tombs, all in various states of disrepair. Unsurprising, really, given their distance from the city and the aggressive fauna surrounding them. Similar to what he'd seen with Andariel, the dead inside were risen and restless. Fortunately, the supplies he needed to lay them back to rest were easy enough to come by. Lysander raised his eyebrows at Morgan's requests for specific oils but produced them without further comment. There was generally little else of interest in the tombs, but it felt pleasantly useful to be able to carry out these small acts of service to punctuate the long stretches of information gathering.

He was learning much about Lut Gholein - the infrastructure of desert waypoints was particularly interesting, like portals but in fixed locations - but next to nothing about the tomb of Tal Rasha, even with Cain's help. The evidence leaned toward Baal, Lord of Destruction, being the evil that was contained within it. Unfortunately, most references to its location had either been removed or redacted. It made sense for the tomb to be hidden, to prevent grave robbers from targeting it and unwittingly unleashing Baal onto the world. That was a sensible precaution which also happened to make his current objective much more difficult. It wasn't as though he could actually track the dark wanderer through the desert; the wanderer was much too far ahead for that thanks to Morgan's long convalescence. Any traces would have long since been erased. He had to find the tomb some other way.

From time to time Blaise stopped in, usually staying for just a minute or two to share the latest news from the mercenaries. Perhaps she'd been asked to keep communications open. It was a little unusual that it was never any of the other mercenaries, but Morgan wasn't about to complain. Known allies were always preferable to strangers.

Morgan was on his way to the archives one night, later than usual. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten while he'd been reading until the oil lamp had guttered out. Rather than refill it in the dark and risk waking Jemali, who had fallen fast asleep on the bed after airing some complaints about a particularly demanding client, he decided to take his research elsewhere.

He liked the city at night. Everything was softer, the smells of the marketplace just lingering memories, the last of the vendors packed up for the day, the chatter and bustle stilled. If he sat still for long enough, one of the innumerable stray cats would find the courage to rub hopefully against his ankles. He'd made the mistake of feeding one of them once, and they'd not forgotten. They were charming little opportunists. None of them were around this evening, though. Perhaps they'd found someone with a steadier supply of food for them, he thought as he turned down a narrow street. It was nice to imagine they were being cared for.

"Hey," a voice called out softly from somewhere above. "Pale one." Morgan looked up to see a man raising a hand in greeting from a second storey window. The voice was vaguely familiar. "You ever find what you were looking for?" Ah, it was one of the many people he'd tried asking for information. Nothing in particular made this one stand out from the rest, as far as he could tell. People often blurred together, and he was too far away to see the man's face clearly.

"Good evening. I'm making some progress."

"Well, good luck with that. Akarat guide you."

"And you."

The man retreated inside and Morgan resumed walking. He followed the street to its intersection, gazing up at the skyline to orient himself with the looming silhouettes of the palace and the city gates. The streets were mazelike at times, and he still hadn't determined the fastest route across the city from the palace to the archives. Maybe if he tried taking the left fork this time...

The sharp sting of an insect bite interrupted his musing. He swatted at his neck, annoyed. The damned things were usually less active after dusk, but there was no real escape. For half a second, he was confused by the unfamiliar feeling under his fingers. Why would an insect be made of metal, he thought fuzzily as the world tilted around him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

[peacockwinchester]

Mairon/Sauron x Misha

Remembered that I have literally never posted a oneshot of my most hammered out story. I have been in love with Mairon for a couple years, he is my comfort character and this story is probably my most well-developed and longest running one. Anyway, I hope it is good!!

Warnings: Relationship issues, general LOTR things, heights, angst with happy ending, actually no curses (Wow, Misha what are you doing?!)

..

~Misha~

I had been invited (more like summoned) to Imladris by my niece, Galadriel. I had already been made aware of the stirrings near Mordor, and I had had many dreams of my husband, even though he would still be without a body for a long time. Beleg had come with me, since he liked the company of Elrond's sons and Glorfindel.

We were greeted at the entrance by Lindir.

"My lords," he greeted us.

"Lindir," I nodded.

"To what do we owe the pleasure? We had not expected you," Lindir asked politely, though I could sense his unease.

"We were asked here by my niece," I replied. "We won't overstay our welcome."

It was always icy with our kin, even after all these centuries. Such was the curse of my family. Lindir nodded briskly and stepped aside so we could enter. We were almost immediately greeted by Galadriel.

"Welcome," she smiled at Beleg and I, speaking in Sindarin, "I hope Lindir didn't give you too much trouble. He is... untrusting."

"Who isn't untrusting of us?" Beleg scoffed.

"There are many, myself included," Galadriel assured us.

"Why did you ask us here?" I inquired.

"A party of dwarves is coming our way. They are led by Olorin, who I believe has worrying news for us. I was summoned here by Saruman."

"Worrying things are beginning across the land. I assume you and Elrond will want my observations?"

"Yes, but you will not speak to Saruman?"

"I feel evil in him, much like my Atar," Beleg explained.

"He has been acting strangely, but we must not jump to conclusions," Galadriel frowned.

"Perhaps," Beleg pursed his lips. "I will leave you to the talking, I am going to look for Glorfindel."

"Alright," I nodded.

Galadriel led me to the council room, where Elrond was discussing the tidings with Saruman. I felt a similar feeling to Beleg's. Saruman had been striking me as off for a while, but I also understood Galadriel's desire to keep the peace.

When we arrived, Elrond stopped what he was doing.

"Lord Misha," he nodded, "Galadriel."

"It is good to see you, Elrond," I smiled.

"Why have you come?" Saruman frowned.

"Galadriel asked for me. It would likely be beneficial to have my experiences. She also tells me Olorin is coming with a party of dwarves," I narrowed my eyes at the white wizard.

"Very well. What have you seen?" Elrond cleared his throat.

I sat down across the table from my long removed nephew and sighed. Galadriel also took a seat at my side.

"I have been having dreams," I steepled my hands under my chin.

"What sort?" Elrond frowned.

"Troubling for our cause. I have seen my husband many times in my sleep. He speaks to me often. I know he will still need time to regain his full power, but his progression is worrying."

"Do you mind telling us what he says?"

I pursed my lips and looked at my hands. To tell the truth, most of what Mairon talked to me about was insignificant. It was the sort of conversations one has with roommates or after one gets home from work. Just like the old days... He sometimes reminisced about times we had shared together, like the weeks he spent healing me or our time in Valinor. I didn't think any of that was vital to our cause.

"I... All I know is that despite all his sentiments towards me, he isn't going to stop," I shook my head slightly.

Elrond and Galadriel seemed to pick up on my unease and quickly dismissed the council.

..

There was almost always a feast at Elrond's house, and tonight was no different. Afterwards, Beleg and I spent some time in the Hall of Fire, before I decided to go to bed. Beleg and I had been given rooms close to each other. I entered mine and put on my night shirt. My bed was comfortable, and I fell asleep relatively quickly.

..

I opened my eyes to see that I was still in my guest room. However, I knew I was dreaming because on the end of my bed sat Mairon. He looked over at me, smiling slightly.

"I always look forward to visiting you," he said.

"I know," I sighed.

"You're troubled..." Mairon frowned at me.

"Of course I am, Mairon!" I scowled. "How could I not be troubled?! You're trying to take over the world and basically kill my people, not to mention everyone else!!"

"Misha- I don't want to kill everyone! I just want to show everyone that we deserve respect, and order!" Mairon argued.

"Mairon, no one will ever respect us if you keep this up! I'm sorry, but I just can't keep acting like you've done nothing wrong. Because you have done so much... and I don't know if we'll ever be the same..."

Mairon sighed and looked away from me.

"I know..." he said quietly. "But they listen to me... The orcs truly listen to me, not like Aule or Melkor who pretended to. Misha, I'm finally important, and I'm not going to stop, because everyone in Middle Earth needs to know how important I am. How important my family really is."

"Mairon," I stopped him by putting a hand up, "Until you stop and you face the consequences of your actions and the actions you're planning on taking... I can't see you. So, please leave me alone..."

Mairon looked stunned at my words, like I had just physically impaled him. But I knew he understood, or he would in time, and he left.

..... Continuity? We don't know her. Time for the destruction of the Ring.....

I had never actually been to Mordor, even after all these years. It was a barren, volcanic wasteland. Looming over everything was the volcano itself and Barad-dur, which was a replica of my own home. My whole head was a hurricane of emotions. I was scared, scared that we would fail, scared of what would happen if we won... Scared to see him.

Frodo and Sam were at my side, disguised in orc armor. But everything was deserted. I swallowed my fear and hesitation and put a hand on Frodo's and Sam's shoulders.

"You two do what we came here to do. I believe in you," I smiled at them.

"What are you gonna do, Mx. Misha?" Sam frowned.

"I'm going to see him," I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Good luck then," Sam shook my hand.

"You too. I'll see you on the other side," I saluted the Hobbits, before jogging up to Barad-dur.

I stopped just short of the gate. Would he come with me? Would he be too proud to admit defeat and serve time for his crimes? Would everything be too much for our relationship? Almost shaking, I pushed open the giant black gate.

Centered with the door was a large, dark throne, on which sat the person I had been waiting for and dreading seeing simultaneously. I knew it was him by the shock of golden hair and the way he sat. When he saw me walk in, he stood immediately and descended the throne. He didn't come closer yet, probably in fear of my anger. But after all these centuries, I just wanted everything to be over and to heal.

"Misha," Mairon said.

"Mairon," I replied.

"Why did you come?" my husband asked.

"I want to offer something."

"Oh?"

"I want you to come home with me. We can work through everything and you can begin to mend what you've broken. I spoke with Manwe in my dreams, and he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just... I just want all this to end..."

Mairon sighed, finally coming closer. He stopped just in front of me.

"You came with the Ring, didn't you?" he said.

"Yes. Surely you know you can't win," I crossed my arms. "My friends are taking it to the mountain now. There isn't time to stop them."

"I know," Mairon sighed, "Eru, you always were smarter..."

"So?" I held out my hand between us.

Mairon looked at my hand for a long minute, and I almost though he wouldn't take it. I convinced myself he wouldn't and began to prepare to deal with that. I was pulled out of my wormhole by the warm weight of Mairon's hand in mine.

"I'll come with you," he affirmed. "Nothing will ever erase the damage I've done, but I want to start over. I want... to be a family again."

I felt tears slip out of my eyes unwittingly, and as I looked at him, I saw Mairon was crying a bit too. The weight of all the years without him and all the years of wondering whether we would ever be able to be something again finally hit me and I let go of Mairon's hand to throw my arms around him. Mairon held onto me as tightly as he could.

We just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, before Mairon's grip loosened. I let out a gasp, like the air had just been knocked out of his lungs. His knees buckled and I struggled to keep him upright.

"Mairon?!" I asked, panicking slightly.

"Misha... The-the ring's gone..." Mairon breathed.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked fearfully.

"I mean.... Probably??"

"Are you sure?"

"Meh."

It was clear that he was a bit loopy right now. I felt a shower of dust fall onto me and I started coughing. I looked up to see the ceiling begin to crumble.

"Mairon!!" I cried.

My husband, clearly out of it, barely managed to throw up a shield to protect us. When the dust settled, we were under a mountain of rubble. Mairon used what little power he had at the moment to burst the shield and throw rubble off of us. When I could see the sky, I hauled Mairon to his feet (he could barely stand and he ended up leaning heavily on me) and began dragging us out of the ruins of Barad-dur.

Once on top, I let out a string of Quenyan curses. The volcano was erupting and lava was pouring out of it, heading towards us. Overhead, I saw large birds circling. Two swooped down on teh side of the mountain and another began descending towards Mairon and I's position. I had only enough time to yelp and squeeze my eyes shut as the giant eagle picked us up.

"Misha?" I heard Mairon ask.

I let out a strained panicked noise and kept my eyes shut. I happen to be deathly afraid of heights, and I did not trust Manwe's eagles one bit.

"Netya hanu, you're ok, I think. I might be dying, actually, um....." Mairon tried to reassure me, despite him being completely out of it.

"Did... did you just call me... pretty boy?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Did I? Oh... Didn't mean to say that out loud. Did you know you smell nice?"

I laughed, though it was somewhat strained. We were finally done with the Ring and all of that nasty stuff. It was over. Mairon was going to begin mending the hurt he'd caused Arda and we could finally begin to talk through everything. Despite my issues with my current altitude, I was elated.

.....

Hi. Did you like it? I've never actually written down how this all goes down, so I hope it was good. Anywho, if you want more Mairon content, I can be persuaded to write it more frequently :)). Have a great day/night, and take care of urself!!

[angelhummel]

If you could change one and only one thing about Glee, what would you choose?

Oh man one thing... I’ve kind of answered a question like this before so I’m just gonna steal my own answer but I guess go into a little more detail about it? Also gonna put it under a Read More bc I plan on rambling a looot so buckle up babey 

But I wish they had varied the characters’ ages a little more. I know hindsight is 20/20 and they didn’t know who would end up being a fan fave and who they’d run out of ideas for (or both) so they were just throwing shit at the wall to see what would stick, and giving people crazy plotlines and letting people overstay their welcome and whatever else 

So at the beginning of the show I think Quinn, Puck, Brittany, and Finn should’ve been juniors. In general, it’s kind of silly that they make such a big deal of being popular and being the most popular kids in school when they’re like... sophomores. And being head cheerleader and the quarterback? I mean I was as far away from jocks and cheerleaders as I could be in high school but I’m pretty sure no sophomore holds that much power lol

I think it makes the most sense for Quinn. Bc in s2 it’s like she forgets all her growth and forgets her baby and is just like fucking around and then s3 is when she goes full skank. Sooo she could have that little episode at the start of season 2 instead. And it lasts longer than 1.8 episodes and is taken seriously. And then after she’s a reformed skank, she can still have all her prom queen stuff with Finn but eventually make her turn around and get into Yale and she graduates and yay. Also she never gets hit by a fucking car

For Finn, I think it would make his and Rachel’s relationship make more sense. Meaning things would pretty much be the same but there would be more validity to Rachel’s insecurities since he’s the popular upperclassman and she’s scared of losing him to Quinn or some other senior girl or whatever. Do all the stuff with the recruiter and him feeling inadequate in s2, then he graduates. Get him out of McKinley but keep him close by having him take a year off, work at the tire shop, stay close to his family and still see Rachel in s3 and whatever else

Brittany, I swear it’s not personal. I mean they really did redo the same shit for her time after time. Gotta believe in some fantasy thing like Santa or leprechauns or the got dang Mayan apocalypse and have a whole episode about that. Gotta run for class president. Gotta have a relationship with a boy and Santana is jealous. Like... I get it. And it got stale. I have plenty of complaints about Brittany but the minimum thing they coulda done is got her out of there two seasons earlier and spared us all those retooled plots. And I mean everyone keeps popping up to mentor anyway so she could’ve made plenty of appearances in s3. Or she could’ve been like Sue’s assistant coach or something. That would’ve been interesting, I think 

For Puck, just... I don’t know. I like him but I don’t think they utilized him the best they could have so just get rid of him, too :P Have him move to LA or stay in Lima and keep his business going and hang out with Finn

Santana, Rachel, Mercedes, Kurt, and Mike are all sophomores at the start, like in canon. Rachel is just doing her thing, whatever. You know she’s never going to be at a loss for screen time so I won’t worry about her. But Santana and Mercedes (and Tina) can have much bigger parts to play in s3 and actually get the time they deserve, rather than an episode or two dedicated to them before they realize that it really is their duty to sway in the background and sing back up for every Rachel solo. Kurt goes through just a teensy bit less shit because this way he’d at least get the class president thing and they could actually do something with that plot instead of ignoring it until prom. And I guess Mike goes through his canon storyline and it’s all fine. 

That leaves Tina, Artie, and eventually Sam and Blaine. They’d all be their canon ages. And with graduations and people leaving in s2-3, they’d have to incorporate the newbies better. Like in s3 it felt like introducing the newbies happened organically, no matter what we thought of them as characters. Day one, here’s Sugar. Couple episodes later - Rory. Like halfway through the season, we meet Joe. It’s not just like “new season, who dis?” like idk you got rid of all my faves and threw these bland replacements at me, I don’t know who they are?? 

Maybe Jake could’ve been introduced early and had his stuff with Puck, while Puck was still hanging around. He could’ve taken him under his wing and they have all their brotherly bonding stuff. Then Kitty comes in bc the two blonde cheerleaders graduated and we need a new one or whatever. And Brittany immediately takes a shine to her bc she’s like “aww she’s like a mini Quinn” and Santana keeps trying to convince Britt that she’s just pure evil and so we get plenty of bitch offs between Kitty and Santana. Then I guess Marley and Ryder and Unique can come in in s4 like normal. And idk just add newer, better characters and introduce them more organically. Don’t just pile watered down versions of the old characters into a catapult and launch them at my face

So that’s like two things really but oh well. Actually it’s like forty-seven things under the guise of being two things. But it’s like an umbrella fix with all the little fixes underneath. Anyway it’s not perfect but neither is canon. Those are just my thoughts and something I’d do if I could go back in time with the knowledge I have now and change things for the better lmao 

[hadanelith]

Just got back from finally seeing TLJ... I don't think I've been this disappointed in a Star Wars movie since Phantom Menace. This movie was *awful*, both as a Star Wars movie and just as a film.

Massive, total spoilers below the cut.

The opening sequence was bad. While the whole phone call thing was a decently funny bit, it went on about 2 exchanges too long. The space battle that followed was insultingly stupid, between the idea that this Dreadnaught has no effective anti-starfighter defenses and the ludicrous design of the bombers with *gravity bombs*. This sequence was effectively a straight up WWII bombing run, and it just didn't make any sense. Rey's badgering of Luke went on too long, and while it kind of aped the kung fu movie 'seek out the master, he refuses to train you but he's actually testing you/teaching you the whole time he's refusing' thing, it didn't pan out in the end at all, so it felt completely wasted. The rebel fleet escaping to deep space was fine. The FO tracking them was fine. The idea that they would just follow along, shooting at them ineffectively for hours and hours, is just insane. I was specifically irritated that they remembered that ships have shields NOW, but they totally didn't during the opening battle or the starfighter fight that started the chase. Are they going with the idea that starfighters ignore shields for some bullshit reason? If so, why would they not send in a massive starfighter wave to end the battle? The FO had 6+ Star Destroyers plus the Super Star Destroyer - they should have had at least three or four hundred TIEs, and since TIEs blew out the bridge and space Leia, they must be capable of otherwise hurting the ships. This whole ticking clock siege setup was dumb, and the follow on effects were bad too. Spacing Leia felt like 'oh, so that's how they're gonna fix it', and then they didn't. Instead they have her explicitly use the Force, which, okay, fine, but what the hell? I guess they just wanted her out of the way for a while, and couldn't think of a better way? Finn trying to cut and run? Fine. Rose catching him? Fine. Them turning around and hatching a plan to save the fleet? No. The dialogue was bizarre during this bit, and the instant turn-around from anger to camaraderie felt very forced. Poe going with it? Eh, it fits. The casino planet was one sequence that went on exactly as long as was reasonable, without drastically overstaying its welcome. It was a bit on the ham handed side, mind you, but it didn't drag on, the action half was fun, and no part of it felt too out of left field. Getting back to the fleet, Poe's little mutiny could have been completely prevented just by telling everyone the plan. Not doing so was ludicrous. Then there's the Holdo maneuver. Why the HELL did she wait that long? If the whole plan was a noble sacrifice, why wait until half the damn shuttles got blown up to get started? Just do it straight off! It also opens a brand new can of worms. Someone finally realized that a sufficiently fast drive system is also a powerful weapon. Great. Now ramming things at FTL is a thing that you can reasonably do in Star Wars. That's...a solution that no one EVER considered for the Death Stars? Especially since according to TFA, hyperdrive bypasses shields? The Rebels could have just rammed a Mon Cal cruiser straight into Death Star II, ignored the planetary shield, and won with only materiel losses and no personnel! This is a TERRIBLE precedent to set! Finn, Rose, and the slicer on the SSD: eh? BB-8 as a trash can was cute, the evil BB-8 was just merchandising, the shot of the iron descending was actually a fun shot, cinematigraphically. Getting caught, the slicer selling them out, and almost getting executed? Eh. Finn and Phasma fighting? WHY? Why bring back Phasma after they threw her in a trash compactor, just to kill her off anyway in a fight that means nothing and goes nowhere? Not-Hoth: I really liked the visuals. I liked the salt-foxes (but that's mostly just me being a sucker for foxes). But setting up for Battle of Hoth version 2 was really goofy. Why was the big gun ('based on Death Star tech', doesn't look at all like Death Star anything...)TOWED? Why did they tow it with mono-purpose walkers (that were based on Strandbeests, which is cool, but pointless)? Why the FUCK did Rose stop Finn from making HIS heroic sacrifice? I'm sorry, her reasoning is bullshit, and then they didn't even have her die!

Rewinding to Rey: Luke is *completely* out of character. His refusing is bullshit, his lessons are bullshit, his reasoning is bullshit, and the whole thing is character assassination of the highest order. Rey, meanwhile, is stuck with a whiny emo in her head, the poor girl. Those conversations drag on for way too long, and continue to include Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron, so I'm not a fan. The library tree was some hilarious bullshit - up until this point, only Han has called the Jedi a 'religion', so having Luke suddenly talking about the 'holy texts' was way weird. Ditto the idea that they've been on this tiny island on some planet no one's heard of, and not, say, in the JEDI TEMPLE. The FUCK? The whole 'infinity mirror' well of the Dark Side thing was just weird. I liked the effect, I liked the whole bit with Rey trying to figure out what the deal was...but there was NO PAYOFF. I thought they were going to go with some kinda 'many possible futures' thing or something, but for it all to come to exactly NOTHING was really weird. The back and forth about the day Ben Solo became Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron felt like more character assassination of Luke. Also irritating - they keep mentioning other students, but they never bother to show them at all. Then Rey steals the books, and leaves. Joy. Luke's whole conversation with Ghost!Yoda was bizarre. I appreciate that they dug out the old puppet, but why? Yoda was inscrutable, Luke was inscrutable, a Force Ghost had physical effect on the world, which was new and unnecessary, and the whole thing felt way out of place. Rey ends up on the SSD with Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron, and they go talk to Mutant McGrossFace, who is a condescending dickhead, but not as good a condescending dickhead as Palps, so...meh. Special shoutout to Rey summoning the lightsaber and Mutant McGrossFace clobbering her in the head with it. The way Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron kills him was pretty sweet; the big fight sequence was kinda sweet, if gratuitous; the whole 'battle of wills staring contest while doing aggressive jazz hands at each other' thing went on for FOREVER. sigh. Rey...escapes. Off screen. Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron becomes new 'Supreme Leader'. I notice that even his subordinates don't really believe in him very much. Oh, additional shoutout to the last kill in the fight with the red guard guys - that was something people have been thinking was a good idea for a long time, so it was fun to see.

Rewinding again: Chewbacca is in this movie. His little scene with the Porgs was...two shots too long, and completely pointless. And that is basically the sum total of his involvement in this movie.

Right, big finale! Luke shows up on not-Hoth, taunts Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron into fighting him, doesn't actually fight, turns out he isn't really there. This is a major Force Illusion, and it's actually kind of neat, even if it kills him in the end. Rey and Chewie draw off the TIEs in the Falcon in a fun little flight sequence through some salt crystal caves, which is fine. Porgs show up here as comic relief, which is...acceptable, I guess? They don't get in the way, which is nice. The Resistance escapes with the help of the salt foxes, Rey does some pretty significant TK, and they all escape. Luke dies, Rose is comatose, and we end by flying away in the Falcon. Feels like the end of TFA, and not in a great way. The last shot was purely setup, and it felt like some Marvel-style foreshadowing stuff. I do not approve.

Acting:

Decent acting by most people that got to do stuff. Massively hamstrung by the script. I find it telling that Mark Hamill has said (not the exact quote, but the gist) 'I disagree with everything you're doing to Luke, but I'll go do my job as an actor'. Guess it's a good thing they killed him off. But they didn't kill Leia, even when they had an easy way to do so. How the hell are they gonna fix that come the next movie? Kill her off screen? Major shoutouts to Adam Driver and Domhnall Gleeson - they managed to be thoroughly unlikeable villains, turning in convincing performances despite the script. Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron is exactly that, which appears intentional, so that was good acting. Hux was conceptually the worst sort of elitist British Imperialist, and he was exactly that. Apparently Gleeson did a LOT of research on how to portray the role convincingly, and it shows. Boyega does a decent job as Finn, but he has to fight with characterization as someone who is way more naive than the actor. Oscar Isaac turns in a good performance as Poe, despite getting handed the idiot ball by the script. Carrie does fine as Leia, but she doesn't actually get to do much in the movie. As her last hurrah, it's pretty muted. Daisy Ridley does alright with what she has - but she has to play a girl who has Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron in her head AND Massive Dick Alternate Universe Luke Skywalker being a dick to her face. Her perseverance is kind of admirable. They didn't get Peter Mayhew as Chewie. Maybe that's why he's barely in the movie. Andy Serkis is fine as Snoke. He's not as good at being evil as Ian McDiarmid, but what can you do? Laura Dern as Admiral Holdo...she's written as a bitch, she pulls it off just fine. My complaint is her script, not the acting. Kelly Marie Tran as Rose is...fine, I guess? Again, I mostly hate the script, not the actress.

The nitpicks: Do shields work, or not? Make up your minds! Capital ships have never needed fuel before. This is a limitation that they have added for this movie. I wish they hadn't. Gravity doesn't work like that, space bomber friends. How the hell do they *hear* the Star Destroyers arriving on the planet's surface at the beginning? During Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron's big 'fight' with Luke, they couldn't figure out which way he was holding his lightsaber, shot to shot. Porgs nesting in the Falcon's wiring? And Chewie doesn't say or do *anything*? Really? Given the size of the island, what the hell is up with the 'caretaker' aliens? Also, how the hell do they not exist for apparent DAYS, and then they have just always been there? Why the hell do they show us Luke's X-Wing, and then never do the 'lift it from the sea' shot? Or do ANYTHING with it at all? Why is the Mon Cal Cruiser's hanger bay empty for like 150 meters while Irritating Manchild Kyle Ron is flying through it, with a handful of fighters right at the back end? Why in the world don't the FO use all the TIE Fighters they obviously have? Actually, why is the only real dogfight the terrible bomber escort bit at the beginning? This is Star Wars, dammit, X-Wings dogfighting with TIE Fighters is something that should happen a lot. Why are the cops on the casino planet wearing samurai helmets? Why didn't Holdo bother to just TELL Poe (and everyone else, for that matter) the plan? Why did Holdo wait until half the shuttles were gone, just watching, before her (clearly planned) suicide run? Actually, why not evac the medical frigate BEFORE it runs out of fuel, and use THAT to ram? Why does no one but evil!BB-8 question the moving, beeping trashcan? Why in the FUCK does the entire 'infinity mirror' sequence come to literally NOTHING? There's probably more, but those are the ones that came to mind.

Final thoughts: Everything that has anything to do with the Force in this movie is basically garbage (except Snoke whacking Rey with the lightsaber, that was hilarious). The characters all grab the idiot ball, nobody (except Finn and Rose) bother to tell anyone else what they're about to do, and Luke just straight up gets fucked as a character. The space battles are unsatisfying...actually, they're mostly just insulting to your intelligence. Rian Johnson just doesn't GET Star Wars. What it's about, why we watch it, what people like about it.

This film is structurally a mess and thematically a disaster. I rate it way worse than TFA, worse than Episodes II and III. I honestly can't decide if I dislike this more than the Phantom Menace. If you're a Star Wars fan, this movie doesn't want you to like it, and if you're not...then why would you start with Episode EIGHT?

[ecotone99]

[SF] Matilda and the Race of Atalanta

Matilda grew exhausted from the continued battles the mounted upon her back: each task labeled urgent: twenty-twenty. She had other shit to attend to, as her job was that of a science teacher for her homies preparing for University. She called her scholars Doctors: as they each shook her hand for attendance and began to value their ability to fall ahead of the academic curve. She provided them with logic, and ensured they appreciate the campus they called battlefield: for Matilda herself would always be jealous she, herself could never afford to call herself an Aggie. Matilda gave them tools and lectures to take as they wish: believing one of them would eventually be her boss under the Blue Shield of Hope. Such blind belief in the future often inspired her scholars: as true leadership could never be confined to an obscure number: labeled age. Matilda loved her occupation and continued to search for reasons, as to why elders doubted the bright potential offered by her hashtag “woke” scholar s and their ability to demand a better future.

Matilda held her MESA/Aggie folder close to her chest beneath her green journal: one filled with tasks, and the other with confidential mathematics and notes. Each of her bosses believing in her skills without wavering doubt: her ability to work as a defense contractor standing adjacent, to her ability to lecture teenagers to protect the environment that they were eagerly priming to inherent. Without such rationality: their future would be without Universities, or clean waters, as the Boar and his idiot...in charge of their education, would destroy their future over sneaky meetings. Laughing at the youth they held jealousy to: their temperament lined with privileged ignorance.

Matilda cracked her neck from side to side once more, and felt more annoyed than ever by this bitch named Betsy-Loo-Who: her stupid smile triggering to the teacher and woman swimming in student loan debt. She had once made light joke and pranked the woman by ordering her homie to set her atrocious yacht free from a port: her love for pranks appreciated by the Republic. She would just roll her eyes whenever the woman spoke: daydreaming the near future when Matilda would be freed from the non-zero, and free to bitch slap her stupid smile...from her stupid face, using only the fiction-laced book that she rubbed upon on the faces of srangers. Her need to force her religious terrorism upon the citizens: proof that she wished to burn down the world with her own privledge and ignorance.

Matilda didn't have time for this shit. Offended the woman began to illegally stealing her tax-returns: the heaping debt deferred by default, and her greed unable to be deterred by the law. Matilda took up weapons of silver and gold once more: forgetting the woman wouldn't really be missed, and her aging life already nearing its end. Matilda had often warned her scholars of these dangerous elders and their instability, as the “adults” that called themselves citizens: voluntarily covered their eyes with static and took the lashings provided by their elders like bitches, wee and simply delighted to be a part of history. Matilda glared at her weapons with disdain for her scholars parents: wondering which of the idiots had voted for the Boar that stood crowned king. She took her glasses off at last: glaring at everything but the citizens, and began to laugh at their need to break their necks to stand in her view. She looked away as her Papa had taught her: for these pale dead-eyed savages still argued if the past had actually occurred. Their ability to grow enraged by the fact that equality were needed for a few of the citizens: needing proper nutrition, and safe places to learn and heal. Matilda had once almost fell to suicide: battling intergenerational trauma alone and writing a manuscript that served as proof of one solution that could contrubute to helping others reclaim their personhood. Matilda yelled at these citizens at last: saying only “ya’ll be normalizing these demagogues by acting like it didn't happen, and trivializing my own personal struggles by demanding I stay silent when addressing history...keep your shitty Genocidal fall holiday, but don’t act like I’m not allowed to call you out on your ignorance.”

She laughed at her citizens: forgetting her royal status meant she were expected to hold a polite demeanor at all times...in the rational fear of looking like a tyrant. Matilda knew the power of her words, as she had once introduced herself to a tall elderly Presidential candidate: his inability to say or yell anything at the moment had meant he had seen her, and all of her nakedly rude glory. Matilda had her interns inform her that he were casually strolling down the street with his wife and bodyguard: in a false micro city prized for its fortune cookies, embedded within a city notorious for its blood soaked bridge. Matilda walked up to the man and tapped upon his back: only introducing herself as an Indigenous Princess and thanking him for his service. He seemed confused by her lack of joy, and so she introduced her kind friend Cal, and the pair said goodbye without the need to act starstruck or demand pictures with the tall man. Matilda needn't brag about their position working under the Blue Shield of Hope, as she noted that the man were annoyed by his own fame somehow. Matilda needn't boast of such things, enjoying her privacy and understanding that the elder was responsible for asking for a picture: a foreign diplomat playing government on her land without her permission. Matilda knew it were odd to be so monotone around political celebrities, and laughed as she left him on a corner: watching his moves closely, as he avoided bring solutions to her community, still sitting in dire ruins. She left thinking to herself in wonderment: hoping the man would choose to be on the right side of history and acknowledge the religious terrorists that continued to diminish her existence. Matilda didn’t feel the Burn, and so she continued looking for a leader to successfully pull her drowning citizens ashore, washed up and exhausted: finally ready to move into the future.

Matilda felt pressure to weigh in on the other elders: smiling with a conniving snare as she felt people ask: “what aboot Joe?” Matilda threw her arm in disgust: pshhh...what about Joe she thought, as the man were still mobbing around without accountability for the way he touched the citizens. Laughing, as he brought up his one African American friend at any chance he could: pretending the mere presence of his friend meant that he were special. Grandma Wanda had once said: “If you don't have at least one black friend in twenty-nineteen...then you are the problem.” Matilda laughed at her wisdom, as her tone bore no suggestion that she intended to apologize or end monologue by saying: Sykes. Such leaders were admired by Matilda, as she found her own way to yell at randoms: “this is not normal.” Matilda had been raised by women of colour, but only after informed the authorities that her false maternal figure, funded by the State: were a white supremacists and child abuser. The lady named Hera had clutched her one and only book, as she demanded Matilda admit she were stupid daily and forced her to eat insects when she refused. Such ugliness were the face of the nation, as the children with little hope often commited suicide before being granted personhood: never allowed to believe that the world could change, and their despiration mocked by citizens and their bullshit stigmas. Matilda had seen these citizens for all they were: watching as adults made definitive choices to abuse and neglect children...herself included, as they pretended that she was never destined to be a tax paying citizen in the future.

Matilda point at the slew of elders she denounced: hearing their rumbling chants once more: “what aboot joe?”...until she just shook her head in disgust. “Fuck Joe.” She stood atop the famed bridge painted with blood at last: yelling at the citizens to stop setting precedence for the albino snake that silently hissed his nomination. Matilda saw his fangs protrude as he grew restless in the grass: sitting in the shadow of the Boar. His ego had caught her attention, as he decided his name should be the same size font of the Boar: normalizing his perverse extreme religious views until the citizens became obsessed with the next election, and forgetting that a broken system didn't fix itself. The albino snake had tricked the citizens by calling himself the lesser of two evils, and silently hypnotized them to associate his whiteness with the flag indefinitely. He had his eyes on twenty-twenty-four, and has spent a thousand lives convincing the world she was a witch in each life. Such uglies were the things Matilda noticed in her daydreams: worried the citizens had forgotten that white supremacy came in many forms. She had no reason to lie to her citizens and so she set out to prove her point and destroy the albino snake...if only to ensure that there would even be a future.

Matilda did her battles in an unorthodox fashion, as there was no rational way to fight foreign religious terrorists. She informed them that she were a wizard...in a soft, crumpet filled tone: finally able to point at her own wings in pride and correct the snake that charmed them with words and attempted to rally her lyching. She laughed at her citizens as she pointed at the ground...politely reminding them: that they were guests that had overstayed their welcome. These citizens were like the drunkest guests at Christmas...avoiding leaving at all costs in their joyous privilege that they didn't have to clean up after the festivities, as they barfed all over her property and giggled. Matilda rubbed her temple in stress of the situation: leaving her own house to rot as she walked off-set indefinitely: instead of placing it under quarantine or cleaning their nasty shit for them. These were the mean-hearted things she thought whenever citizens imposed themselves with their religious nonsense, or attempted taking part of her journey: by throwing themselves in her path without organic introduction. Matilda were only peeved by privilege and dishonesty, as the citizens proved her right...time after time: that their selfishness were as blatant and intentional, as their ignorance.

Matilda found her target: wondering why he said so little. She approached him with caution: lying as she informed him of her intentions to join his “Space Force". He refused to look up to her from his bladed grass, and it forced her to pick him up and place him upon cement to be stepped on by the real politicians: busy attempting to avoid the nuclear war that the Boar kept hinting at. She said to him once more: “I work in science: specializing in human psychology and additive manufacturing. I’d like to join your stupid space force ma’am.” Unsure of the sex of the snake: knowing it would correct her if she were wrong, as fragile men often did. The snake finally looked up at her beaming smile and hissed in corrective tone: “It's the Space Corp, and my name is Mike.” Matilda didn't tolerate such disrespectful tone from her teenage scholars, and so she broke from her whimsical cheerleading character at last: stepped on his tail purposely. Matilda said to the albino snake: “Listen lady...I don’t know your life, I just wanted to follow up on this ad you posted for a job...don’t be acting like there isn't documented proof that you let the Boar set free. I’m just trying to Defend Our Protectors and make your amature branch safe: this ad has to be a fucking joke, because is appears to be a massive waste of our taxpayers dollars. I just figured you would need a specialist to make sure your idiots with weapons don’t lose their shit: the second they’re out of range of any jursidiction and openly raping each other in the future.”

The snake took offense to these statically backed assumptions, and began biting at her ankles in distaste to her few chosen words. She would always call it his Space Force, as she used the two words to make him leave the famed slab of wood he had burrowed in. The snake would squirm and cringe in annoyance whenever he had to say the two words in public: for he has let the Boar give his little project a name, and the boar had childishly chosen the title Space Force. The snake would attempt to wrap himself around her: adding pressure to her already destroyed spine, as she temporarily knelt down in pain. Matilda didn’t take kindly to unruly monsters attempting to fuck up her day: tying the beast to a nearby olive tree with her magical belt, named after Hippolyta. The belt could be seen across the galaxy, as it warned its neighbors of the snake that moved aboot. Both the charmed belt, and albino snake slithering and glistened violently. He could even be seen from the false star that orbited the Earth. Matilda beaded him some glittering wings, and watched as he hid himself away in fragile wood: annoyed by the citizens laughing with silent smiles and wondering whether his wife were actually a beard. It mattered none to Matilda, as she had politely paid her taxes and deserved to express her worry. Her two pence valued by the citizens: all curious to why the snake and Boar were above the law, and they held title that declared them law in actuality. The two were a miserable pair, and so Matilda tied the Boar to the olive tree: laughing at the evangelicals bicker and one always urinated on the other. The cursed olive tree caused this oddly specific habit: as one was aroused only by urine and the other agonized by false prudishness. Matilda yawned at last, as she were finally bored by the flames and chaos: taking breathe as she glared into the void once more. She hung up her magic purse with weapons of silver and gold as she lay to sleep at last. Proud that she had pulled herself into the moment, and left her wishes behind her, as she watched the citizens begin to kneel and hold hands. These few and brave had been the reason that her elders told her to push aside her bias to their sickly pale skin and dead-eyes, as they were once all lost at sea and fleeing religious oppression. These citizens, were simply people of the world: seeking refuge for their families. They had given up the lives they known fearlessly: running away from yesterday, and demanding a sustainable future.

Such lessons on empathy...were obviously never taught to the dead-eyed savages, and so Matilda gave them all the same last name: Donner. The party would disperse itselfs and declare gang colors with pride: all under scheme with the flag that they waved in the faces of their original homelands, and the spectators indifferent to their upside down banners. Matilda smothered the edge of the flame at last: knowing the citizens would never grant her blessed olive glow and mildly askew spine, with the title of citizen..let alone admit her personhood. Matilda would ask her friend Cat to walk with her outside, and introduced her to a character named August: his Beats explaining her agoraphobia without need for words, and breaking her curse at last. She used their bro time to explain how an American boy named beardy Gilgamesh had stepped away from holding her hand: the second she had informed his lustful eyes that her spine were crooked. Such boys were trash, and without apology: believing their company were necessary and forgetting their privilege was built directly upon her back. The boy held DUI and empty words, and Matilda had been hit by a drunk driver during her time studying at University. Matilda felt her heart crushed as she assumed he deemed disgusting beyond words, and returned his silence with pride...wondering what she had done wrong. She told herself that Odysseus and his mind games were too immature for her liking: secretly glad he and Kness would never have to meet, as he had mentioned his disapproval of the childish things Kness had said before he left her side. The Indigenous Warrior were busy being naked and perturbed by her absence: silently fixing all the things she broke throughout the day without her even asking. She watched as the women called old friends: gossiped of their status once more and bombarded him with trivial questions, as they demanded explanation. She smiled at their vindictiveness and avoided reaching for his hand in public: knowing it didn't matter, as he would never...not say yes to his MuMu. Matilda blushed as she noticed how she had written him an epic poem that were sincere and honest, and laid her head down to weep until he returned once more. Remembering him embracing her, and gently asking why she smiled gazing up at the stars: searching for her love with admiration and pride. Matilda had finally found herself once more, successfully fulfilling her labours by dancing and being herself with purpose. Matilda leaned upwards to the right...sealing her twisted manuscript with a kiss at last. She whispered to her sleeping giant her endless truths: smiling only because she proved herself worthy of the name Captain. Beaming as she took silver and gold tools to the supple surface of a mythical piece of wood: carving it into a fine canoe for her brave Argonauts. Forever confused by her own hopeless romantics: having fallen in love with her estranged love once more in the process of fulfilling her destiny. Matilda smiled because she looked forward to the idea of him taking knee once more, and wondering how much shit they could destroy together as equal partners in the very near future.

submitted by /u/Artemis-VI_VI_VI [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2IF0klt