#anyway. this has given me too much power that I will almost certainly abuse (assuming I can make myself make things)

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

"the Commander getting an elixir that allows them to talk to any animals that wish to speak with them is definitely a concept that I will use entirely responsibly" I say as a lying liar who tells lies.

[pathetic-dumpling]

Coming to Terms

Dream has been having a bad day, which has quickly turned into a bad week. Techno and Phil both need to go out and do essential tasks around the tundra, but they can't leave Dream alone either. So... they find a babysitter. words: 5,188 - read on ao3 instead

CW: overstimulation, implied panic attack, unintentional self-harm, referenced abuse

Dream has been having a bad day. Correction, he’s been having a bad week. He’s been caught in a bit of a spiral for the last several days, and the exhaustion from an attempt at healing keeps dragging him down before he can get out. The last thing Techno wants to do is leave Dream alone like this, but he and Phil have already pushed off as many necessary tasks as they can. They need to head out, but they can’t leave Dream alone… So in comes the Syndicate.

They consider a few people. Niki is chosen.

“Look, all you need to do is watch him for a day. We’ll be back by the end of it, and you can leave, alright?”

Niki scrunches her face up, which is, in all honesty, reasonable. She’s one of the people who didn’t want to interact with Dream, but Techno and Phil are running desperately low on options.

“Is there anyone else?” She asks. “What about Puffy? She’s a therapist, right? Wouldn’t she be more equipped for something like this?”

“A, we don’t want more people knowing about Dream than necessary, and she’s already refused to give Dream treatment. B, we don’t trust her to not psychoanalyze Dream when he really doesn’t want to be psychoanalyzed. Plus, we don’t know what kind of domestic issues there are because Dream hasn’t opened up about that part of his life yet.”

Niki winced. “What about Ranboo?”

“Well, you see, Ranboo’s been growing into himself recently,” Phil interjects, beside Techno. “Which is good, by all means, but that also means he’s been embracing that he’s a little bit of a dick sometimes. You’re literally the only person we can think of who can be… pleasant and hold your tongue around Dream.”

“And- and we don’t wanna sound misogynistic,” Techno quickly adds. “This isn’t a ‘the kind woman puts up with the toxic man’ situation; it’s just… Dream is fragile right now, like, really fragile, and we’re pretty sure you’re the only person who has the kind of self-restraint to not break him any more, you know?”

Niki raises a brow but ultimately sighs. “This is your only option?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Phil laughs.

“...alright. I’ll watch him. One day, got it?”

“Oh my gods, thank you so much, Niki.”

So Niki is given keys to the house. Mentally, she prepares for whatever Dream might try. She saw him, briefly, in a Syndicate meeting or two, but only between several layers of fabric and zero spoken words. She doesn’t know what he’s like if he’s grown out of his… nastier habits yet. Techno has done everything in his power to tell the Syndicate that Dream has changed, but none of them have actually seen any change. Niki kind of doubts it, if she’s being honest, but she trusts Techno’s judgment more than anything. She knows Techno wouldn’t lie to her and lead her on like others in the past.

She wakes up the following day when things are still dark. Niki can see her breath, even within the small haven of an underground city warmed by countless fires and lanterns. She throws on her Syndicate cloak, getting ready to head out to the arctic. Hopefully, Techno didn’t want her to do anything with the animals because she definitely wouldn’t be able to stand being outside for that long. When she arrives, Techno thanks her profusely. He pledges to show her around the house and offers a few tips while Phil gets ready for their trip outside.

“Alright.” Techno swings his hands by his sides. Niki has noticed he’s stopped clapping them when he begins to speak. “First things first, Dream hasn’t eaten in, like, three days, so we really need you to try to get him to eat something. His diet has been pretty limited so far, but we left a list of things he’s been able to eat so far on the counter. Try to stay fresh- anything stale makes him throw up, and so does steak. Don’t offer it. We keep apples in a little icebox downstairs because he likes fruit cold. Also, Dream likes himself cold, too. He gets anxious when he’s hot.

“If Dream hides in his room, he’s most likely hiding under his bed. If you need to interact with him during that time, do not try to pull him out. That will scare him and he might bite. Instead, just kind of lay on the floor and face him and just… wait until he’s ready to talk. If you try to push him, he’ll probably just curl up more, and he tends to get really distant for the next day or two when that happens.

“If he asks for something, it means that he needed it about three hours ago and has only now gotten the courage to ask for it. Even if he prefaces it between a lot of ‘only if you want to’ and ‘you don’t have to,’ don’t believe him. We’re trying to teach him that asking for things is good but it’s been a bumpy ride. Also, he’s iffy on touch; I’d say it’s better to not try.”

Techno stops, tapping his lip. “Try not to let him outside without supervision; we haven’t really been able to block off potential hazards yet. Other than that, I think that’s everything. Dream is sleeping right now, but he knows you’ll be here. He might get startled anyway. Try not to stare or anything. It makes him uncomfortable. Just treat him like a nervous cat or something.”

Niki blinks, trying desperately to process all of the information that was just dumped on her. Techno waits patiently as she mentally backtracks and tries to commit everything to vague memory. Nervous cat? That’s what the ruler of the server has turned into?

“Okay… I think I got all of that?” Niki says, hoping she got everything she truly needed down. She knows how awkward things get when she or Techno has to start repeating themselves.

“Cool.” Techno sighs, running a hand through his hair until it gets caught in his braid. “A nervous, injury-prone cat… That’s Dream. Thank you for doing this, really. Dream just started being okay with being in the same room as boiling water, and I think I might have a breakdown if I have to leave to make tea again. This means a lot. Anything you need from us, me or Phil, we’ll be happy to help as soon as we get back.”

Niki nods. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be on the agenda when I joined the Syndicate, but I’m happy to help you, Techno.”

“Of course.” Techno bows his head. “Of course. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Again, don’t let him… do anything to himself, okay?”

Niki gives another nod and a thumbs up. “You can count on me, Techno.”

Techno gives a strained smile and then, awkwardly, does a slight bow before leaving. His muffled voice filters through the door as he calls out to Phil, and then they head out. Niki takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before sighing as she watches the silhouettes of her friends disappear over the horizon.

Alright. She can do this. She may not like Dream, but she did agree as a part of the Syndicate to… help. This is just for Techno and Phil, to keep them from worrying. To watch Dream and make sure he doesn’t try anything he shouldn’t. Niki could do that. In fact, she was happy to keep the man out of trouble, if it were for Techno’s sake. Now she just needed to find something to do until there was someone to watch.

Niki glances around the house, finding things pleasantly clean. The chests were a bit of a mess, but things weren’t lying all over the place, and it looks like it’s been cleaned recently. It looks like the house has been somewhat baby-proofed, too, which makes a little chuckle bubble in Niki’s throat. They’ve only been housing Dream, and he’s certainly a grown man, isn’t he? What would they need to keep him out of drawers for?

Niki gets to entertaining herself with one of Techno’s many book recommendations, making a tiny home for herself on the couch. She opens the blinds and curtains, letting any sort of light filter in as much as it can. The sun is slow to rise in the arctic, and candlelight can only do so much. Slowly, as the sun rises over the north, Niki finds herself growing more hungry, so she starts making some food. It gets bright soon after that, lighting up the room with the near-blinding rays of the sun. Niki adjusts soon enough, simply happy to have more than enough reading light.

A few hours later, after Niki has already eaten and taken care of her share of the dishes, Dream emerges. The first thing she notices is that he’s completely maskless. Secondly, he looks exhausted to the bone, drowned in a dark green jacket and a black shirt underneath. Loose-fitting pants cover Dream’s legs, almost completely hiding his figure from view. Dream’s eyes are dark, his posture slouched inward, and his hair is messy, long, and frail. He looks unbearably tense. His eyes squint at how bright it is, but he tries to shake it off quickly with a flick of his hands. He does a quick double-take on Niki, eyes darting around the room before relaxing slightly. His attention never leaves her, though. His gaze makes a shiver crawl up Niki’s spine.

“Good morning, Dream!” She says politely because maybe Dream is worse in the mornings.

Dream waves tiredly, and Niki notices his bandaged finger. Something about it looks off until she realizes it’s too short to be normal, missing nearly the entire first section. She wonders how it happened, how she’s never noticed before. Dream takes his bandaged hand, dragging it down his face. He lets out a long sigh, sitting down at the circular table in the kitchen, leaning heavily on it for support. He raises his hands, and although they tremble and shake, Niki recognizes one thing. Dream is signing.

Oh. It looks like Technoblade forgot to mention one thing.

“Oh!” She says quickly, tucking her book into her chest. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know sign language.”

Dream, from the table, raises a brow at her. He raises his hands, signing what Niki can only assume is: you don’t know sign?

“I always meant to learn, but the only people who use it actively on the server are Callahan and….”

Me. Niki can guess that one well enough.

“Yes… you. I’m sorry.”

Dream waves his hand dismissively. He gestures for a pen, which Niki retrieves without much hesitance. She may not like Dream, but she still needs to communicate with him if this day even has a chance at going well. She places the pen and small pad of paper on the table, stepping back quickly. Dream lets out a long breath before beginning to write.

I’ll show you some stuff I probably won’t be able to translate in the moment, Dream writes. Writing looks a little more challenging with the ever-present tremor in Dream’s hands and his shortened finger, but he makes do. He writes down a few simple words: can’t, stop, no, sorry, and shows the signs for each of them. Niki furrows her brow.

“These are all negative responses. What about… ‘yes’?”

Dream struggles to meet Niki’s eyes for a second, looking away almost immediately. He seems borderline uncomfortable. Slowly, he curls his hand into a fist, nodding it forward twice.

“Yes?” Niki asks in conformation.

Yes.

Niki nods, trying to commit this information, like everything else dumped on her today, to memory. Dream drops the pen after that, cradling his hands in his lap. They certainly… don’t stop shaking. Hm. Niki would ask about it, but she doesn’t really want to poke at any boundaries. Dream fiddles with his fingers, beginning to bounce his leg.

“Em-” Niki starts, catching Dream’s attention and picking at the back of her neck awkwardly. “Techno told me that you should probably eat today, right? I made food a few hours ago, but I can make something for you or….”

Dream waves his hands, furiously shaking his head. He scribbles down variants of I’m not hungry, and you don’t have to, which Niki isn’t given a chance to object to. Dream carefully gets up, grabbing the notepad beside him and pushing past Niki. He makes his way over to the couch, plopping himself down and sighing. Niki watches him, unsure of what entirely to do. She knows what Techno told her, but there was only so much that was truly in her power. It didn’t help how dismissive Dream appeared to be with her attempts at offering him food.

This Dream is… new, to say the least. She didn’t know the old Dream outside of what she heard from her peers, but she especially doesn’t know this Dream. Is he better? Does he know that what he’s done is bad? Terrible? Unforgivable, even? Does he regret it at all, or does he just think he’s a victim in all of this?

It takes two more attempts at getting Dream to eat before Niki’s patience starts running a little slim. She’s never had the time to talk to Dream before, but right now, he just seems nothing more than tired. He looks fine, if not a little skinny, maybe a little quiet. For all Niki knows, this could be a ploy, a trick, to live the high life off of Techno’s dedicated care and then run off into the woods. Niki feels a little nasty for thinking this, but what if Dream is just faking this all? What if he’s just playing it up for show and sympathy? To get free protection while his next plan brews quietly in the background? She’s heard about the lengths Dream was willing to go to in the past; what would make this different? She knows how convincing an actor Dream can be, and dedication to a part can take someone a long way.

Well… Now is as good of a time as ever to get a few things off her chest, Niki supposes. If Dream isn’t faking, he’ll have some kind of genuine reaction, and if he is, then, well… Niki can keep her friends from getting used again. It’s a win-win, really.

“You know, you’re very lucky Techno decided to care for you so much,” she says from the kitchen because the distance makes her feel safer. “He didn’t have to do all of this, you know? It’d certainly be easier for him to have ignored your favor. I would’ve.”

From behind, Niki hears a sharp intake of breath, but no objections come. Niki looks behind her at Dream, still sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and staring at her. He swallows, eyes darting to the side like he’s sorting through his thoughts. He gestures at Niki, a sort of go-on movement, so she turns around and continues. “Things like Wilbur, Doomsday, the festival, you played a role in all of those, you know? You’ve been the authority figure of the server for so long. You-- you had control over exile and Tommy and… Everything you’ve done, it’s hurt all of us. It’s- it’s hurt me, and I-”

There’s a loud, distinct sniffle behind Niki. Slowly, she turns to look behind her, finding Dream curled up on the couch. He brings his knees up to his chest, pressing tightly into himself. He’s looking to the side, almost shameful. His shoulders are shaking.

“...Dream?” Niki asks. Maybe this is the genuine reaction she’s looking for.

Dream nods sharply. He looks up, meeting Niki’s eyes, his own glassy and red and wet. His eyes fill with tears, so he quickly hides his face again, pressing it into the arm wrapped around his knee. It feels like he’s forcing himself to keep his gaze on Niki, and that information tastes a little bitter going down Niki’s throat. He lifts his head just enough to meet Niki’s eyes again, folding his hand into a half square and pressing it to his temple. Niki doesn’t know the sign, but she doesn’t need to.

I know, he says. I know.

Dream takes a shuddering breath, fingers dancing across the parts of the body he’s gripping. They speed up and slow down as he filters his thoughts, eventually coming to a standstill. He grabs his notepad with trembling hands, scribbling down something hastily, ripping out the paper, and holding it out for Niki while hiding himself. Nervously, Niki steps forward because the memory of powerful and quick and ruthless Dream has never left her, even when presented with the sight of the trembling man before her.

I know, the paper says. I want to listen. But not today. I can’t today.

Niki swallows. She looks at Dream, trembling and crumbling in on himself, and nods. “Okay,” she says. “I understand. I… I’m sorry. That was out of line, I...”

Dream nods quickly and sharply. His fingers tap quickly against his leg. Niki feels awkward, standing in front of Dream like this as he fidgets and shuffles. She puts a little distance between the two of them, retreating back to the kitchen. The house is plunged into a small period of unrelenting silence. Niki wished that she knew at least a little sign because maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward. Dream doesn’t look all too thrilled to be talking with her either way, though, so perhaps it was wishful thinking. He’s running a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on the long strands every few seconds.

Niki frowns. Has Techno told her anything about how to handle something like this? Sorting through her memory quickly tells Niki that, no, Techno hadn’t spilled anything helpful for a time like this. He’d asked Niki to make sure Dream didn’t do anything to himself, but certainly, he wasn’t that much of a danger to his own wellbeing, right? Techno had mentioned some other useful things, but he seems to have forgotten some details Niki would’ve loved to have. She sighs.

Niki supposes that the best she can do right now is swallow her words and try to be helpfully polite. To, in kinder words, simply watch Dream. She tried to ask him about some things here or there but mostly ended up talking at Dream instead of with him. That’s okay, Niki didn’t mind. She didn’t really go into today expecting some sort of riveting conversation, and the one she’d already tried to have ended oh-so-splendidly.

Suddenly, the sound of Dream’s stomach growling caught her attention. Niki looked back from her chunk of dough that she’d started kneading to fill the silence at Dream, who was caught like a deer in headlights. He looked to her quickly before starting off on what Niki thinks is a garbled bundle of excuses about how he wasn’t hungry again. Niki laughs kindly, making Dream’s hands pause mid-air.

“I’ll go get you an apple or something,” she says, running her hands under the sink to wash off the extra flour. “Techno showed me where everything was before you woke up. I’ll be back in just a second. Stay put, okay?”

Dream nods, hiding his face and giving a small thumbs up. The trip downstairs is quick, only interrupted by a skulk of three foxes Techno apparently kept in his basement. The box with cooled fruit was propped up, probably to keep the foxes out of it, Niki mused, if the scratch marks on the side were anything to go off of. Dream was sitting in virtually the exact same position Niki had left him in, nervously glancing at her when she approached. At least he’s good at following directions, Niki noted. She held out the apple, waited a long few seconds for Dream to take it, then set it on the table next to him. Dream’s eyes watched her with rapt attention, almost like he was afraid she was suddenly going to turn around and attack him.

After that little experience, Niki went back to kneading dough as pleasantly as she could. She couldn’t explain the small smile that crept onto her lips when the inevitable crunch of an apple being eaten hit her ears after minutes of silence. Niki chalks it up to the fact that Techno would be happy that Dream ate and tries to move on from it as passively as she can.

Shuffling fills the corners of the house between the clanging of various pans and Niki’s humming. Dream had come a little closer, sitting stiffly at the counter and watching Niki work after throwing his apple core into Carl’s stable from the window. He keeps the notepad close to him, bouncing the pen back and forth against the solid surface. Niki greets him and starts explaining what she’s doing, to which Dream nods along. She tries to suggest Dream join the baking whenever she can, moving pans around and into the sink when they’ve become dirty. Dream’s eyes follow her hands as she gestures around, eyebrows twitching downward every few seconds. Every semi-loud sound makes his eyes blink in surprise and something else Niki can’t quite place. It goes on like this for about half an hour, with various levels of participation coming from Dream.

Eventually, he begins to look more and more lost in thought, distracted, even borderline frustrated, eventually dropping his pen roughly and tapping his pointer finger against the counter. His other hand goes to his hair, pulling, as a small whimper tumbled into the air. Dream’s nail makes a quick tap, tap, tap that sounds borderline panicky, only increasing in speed. His shoulders are tense, and because Niki is so used to providing comfort to those unscarred by touch, she reached out for his shoulder.

Dream jerks away as soon as her hand meets his shoulder, a small, distressed noise leaving his throat. He stumbles onto shaky legs, looking almost as if Niki burned him. Niki, in return, pulled her hand back to her chest. Dream holds up a finger, a small give me a moment, before distancing himself. He hangs his head and holds up his hands, shaking them out almost violently as he paces the living room.

“Dream?” Niki begins to ask, watching the man pace and shake his hands. What was he doing? What was going on?

Her thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sharp yelp when Dream suddenly turns and pushes over a chair. This is still Dream at the end of the day, and once upon a time, he was terrifying and dangerous. Niki clamps her hands down over her mouth to keep any further sound from escaping when it makes Dream flinch. His breath picks up in shakiness and speed until a loud crash makes the house go silent.

Dream’s head whips around, finding a pile of shattered glass on the floor next to the chair he flipped over and the table it apparently took on its way down. He stares at it for a good, long second, the breath stolen from his lungs. A quick, strangled sob leaves Dream’s mouth as he drops to his knees, scrambling for the glass pieces. Hot, fat tears fill the corners of Dream’s eyes. His hands are shaking so much it makes the glass pieces he picks up clink against each other. Almost desperately, Dream tries to wipe away the tears, and Techno’s worry about Dream hurting himself suddenly becomes much more apparent as the world catches up to Niki.

“Oh- Dream, no, we- let’s not-” Niki drops to her knees beside Dream, holding her hands out gently. “Let’s not do that, okay? You’ve got glass in your hands.”

Dream doesn’t stop. The tears and sobs only spilling harder and faster. Niki doesn’t think this can get any worse, so she slowly puts her hand over Dream’s, grasping it and pulling it away gently. There’s no resistance, even as Dream digs his chin into his chest. Pricks of blood are already forming on scratches left on Dream’s cheeks from the glass, quickly mixing with tears. Dream starts signing something frantically, and Niki doesn’t know what he’s saying, but, oh, she wishes she did.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Niki tries. “Are you worried Techno will be angry?”

Dream nods, choking on another sob.

“I’m sure he won’t be!” Niki presents her hands, cupped, to Dream again. “He really cares about you, alright? He won’t be mad over a broken cup, okay?”

Dream makes a strangled sound that almost sounds like a “but” as he snaps his head up to face Niki.

“No. No buts.” Niki pushes her hands forward pointedly. “I’ll clean up the glass, okay? I think you should go lay down on your bed and rest. Calm down a little, alright? I’m supposed to be here to help, and Techno would be upset if you hurt yourself. I’ll let you know when everything’s been taken care of.”

Shakily, Dream brings his free hand up to his face, fingers touching the newly formed cuts as his lips trace Niki’s words. His eyes go wide, pressing down on the tiny bubbles of blood forming. He drops the glass into Niki’s hands, staggering up with a sharp breath. He mutters something too faint for Niki to catch before disappearing into his room. Niki picks up the rest of the glass, her hands thankfully much steadier than Dream’s own despite what just happened. Periodically, she glances up to Dream’s room, watching, waiting.

She isn’t quite sure what she’s waiting for, maybe for him to come bursting out, angry at being coddled, or perhaps for him to come slinking back with shaky hands and hot tears and try to help again. Whatever it is, it never comes.

Carefully, Niki spends a few minutes making sure no shards had spread out over the house or that she misses any finite pieces. After her searches come back clean, Niki moves to the knocked-over furniture. She rights the table and chair Dream had knocked over, huffing out a small sigh of relief. The living room was clean again, thankfully. She hopes Techno won’t be mad. That would just make her look bad when Dream was so clearly distressed over the whole ordeal.

At the thought of Dream, Niki makes her way over to his room. She knocks, the wood giving way and opening up into the small room. Dream lays on his bed, curled up into a ball, and appears to be fast asleep. The blankets look almost deliberately untouched around him. Niki steps into the dark room, noting the closed blinds on his window. Everything is kept down to nearly a depressing minimum, the only trace of life in the room being the messy, yet unmoved, sheets and a single flowerpot laying on a chest.

It would be better to let him sleep, Niki thinks. The room is kept cold, and Niki doesn’t want Dream to get sick, so she decides to drape the untouched sheets over Dream’s sleeping form. As she pulls up the blankets around the sleeping body, though, Dreams’ eyes flutter open, and his body tenses. He turns his head to watch her silently.

“I’ve cleaned up the glass, so the living room is good to be in again,” Niki offers. She pulls her hands away, crouching down so she doesn’t loom over Dream. “I was going to let you sleep; sorry for waking you.”

Dream shrugs, not really looking like he had been sleeping in the first place. He sits up, glancing at the sheets pooling around him. Dream glances around, scrubbing at his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Despite Niki’s protests, he gets up and shuffles his way into the living room. His eyes fall on the now empty space on the table, sucking in a soft, shuddering breath. Niki comes to stand beside him.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m not angry, and they won’t be either, okay?”

Dream’s eyes flit from the table down to Niki. His body, slouched forward, leans a little closer to her as he nods silently. He looks back to the room, eyes squinting. He shoves his hands in his pockets and produces the pen and paper he’d kept on him; scribbling down, can you close the blinds? Niki smiles. She needs to encourage him to ask for things, too.

“Sure.”

Dream makes a home for himself on the couch. He eyes Niki’s book and they make idle chatter over it, Niki sitting across from him in the chair. They slide the notepad between each other on the table, both patiently waiting for the other to read or write before responding. Dream apologizes for the outburst. He said that he was feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t had to deal with something like that in a long time. The apology was accepted. Niki even manages to get a small laugh out of Dream, one that tugs gently on his throat and makes his chest stutter. It’s nice to see Dream’s smile, the way it cracks his face as he chuckles to himself. Somehow, it’s the most pride she’s felt in a while.

When Niki gets up to make herself some food, Dream takes her up on the offer to eat together. The list Techno left with what Dream could eat suddenly became very useful when preparing dinner. He doesn’t eat much and apologizes about it, for the hassle he must be causing, but it was what Niki was expecting anyway. Dream goes to sleep soon after that, pausing at his door and sending a quick, earnest thank you to Niki. She smiles.

“You’re welcome, Dream.”

Techno wasn’t mad, and neither was Phil. They seemed more focused on the fact that Dream actually ate a decently sized meal for the first time that week than anything else. Dream, who was hovering in the back, made sure to send Niki off with a little wave.

If she feels a little protective over him during the next Syndicate meeting, that was only her business. If she spoke in a hushed tone and kept an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into trouble, it was just general caution mixed with a bit of care. When she brought the loaves of bread with her on a visit, they were for Techno, Phil, and Dream, but she couldn’t deny the tiny bit of excitement that bloomed in her chest when Phil suggested Dream learn how to bake to help with tremors and outbursts.

If she let Dream into her stash or secret recipes for pies and bread, it stayed between them. Dream promised to keep them secret, and Niki didn’t doubt him. He smiled at her one day, growing nicely into the freckles that had started to speckle his skin, while his third batch of experimental dough was baking. Niki couldn’t help but smile back.

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ���rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[razorblade180]

Overall thoughts on V8? Assuming you didn't answer this already.

I meant to do a volume wrap up review but I got incredibly busy and it fell to the waste side. The thing about me judging RWBY I have to come at it from two angles or I won’t feel like I judged it appropriately. There’s the casual, first time seeing the episodes and seeing this through the lens as a casual watcher who probably only sees the episodes once or twice. But then there’s the other side to that coin. I review these episodes, write aus, theorize, check extended lore, listen to the music, etc; that means I have to go back and watch episodes several times for any given reason and that’s when you start noticing the holes or picking up on things you didn’t before.

As a casual watcher, I’d give this an 8/10. There’s plenty of moments where characters do things that got me excited and plot points I wanted explored. This volume actually gave a decent amount of things I wanted for quite some time and some things I didn’t know I needed. Certainly there are things I don’t like in this but I’m open and curious to see where RT takes their storie because it’s their story.

Okay, now as a someone who’s had to deep dive and take a step back multiple times for a variety of reasons. 6.5/10 maybe a 7/10 if I’m being generous. A lot of my problems with this volume are problems that aren’t new to RWBY and that’s just how surface layer portions of arcs are and how a variety of choices/bonds don’t exactly make sense with what we were previously shown, or they only make sense because the writers don’t want introduce other complexities even though they should be there realistically. I’ll give a couple examples of these and yes, I’m aware what I say doesn’t bother everyone but it bothers me.

Qrow was never angry at or brought up Robyn being the reason their airship crashed in the first place because she started the fight; which aids in Clover dying.

Emerald follows Cinder, not Salem. Even if Cinder is working under Salem, why would Emerald be so willingly to complete shift to the side that actively goes against Cinder? There’s been no grand revelation to make Emerald believe Cinder doesn’t give a damn about her. Leaving made sense because she was about to get tortured. Going full turncoat right now doesn’t. No change happened. Emerald always hated being near Salem but adored Cinder no matter the crimes and the show hasn’t done anything to switch that view point.

I’m happy Whitley and Weiss had a touching sibling moment that implies they’re okay and making/made up, but there was never a conversation about the actual problem and thoughts that had them at odds in the first place. Weiss saving his and Willow’s life shouldn’t be the thing that smooths things over. It would’ve been terrible if Weiss do something to save their life. Whitley helping Penny is okay I guess because he really had no reason to contribute but did anyways. Even so, a person doing a morally correct thing doesn’t automatically warrant the conflict between him and Weiss’s resolved.

We got Cinder’s backstory; it didn’t tell us anything about how she eventually came into contact with Salem. Honestly her back story felt more in line of her main goal through the series was an absolute freedom by the means of breaking down the systems that trapped and didn’t give a damn, rather than her quest for power. Yes you can argue gaining power means it’s easier to maintain her freedom to do whatever she wants but I personally think that’s a little off the mark when you gave her a story that involves her trapped by rules and time rather than being too physically weak to gain freedom.

This show has built up that the Schnee family has suffered various types of abuse because of Jacques and uses Weiss as a medium to build towards breaking free from that. Not just overcoming but confronting the abuse by cementing it’s place below you. We don’t really get that. There will never be a moment where the siblings and mother truly get to break out of Jacques grasps emotionally and then put him in his place because he’s dead! Yeah they never have to worry about him again but even last volume they showed Winter still having turmoil and being able to get strung along by him. We don’t even really know how Whitley perceived his father. It feels so lackluster. Then they care to mention how it’s Weiss’s idea to save him like it’s an empowering moment when in actuality, it would be against her character, values of a huntress, and morality to let a person die in cell when you’re the reason they’re in a cell! Letting him die in there would just terrible. I don’t even know why he wasn’t let out in that scene! He’s a coward! He’d follow their orders to save his skin. All he has to do is shut up and walk through a portal.

Ironwood and Oscar both knew they could remove that staff to use it and Atlas wouldn’t drop immediately. Why did nobody have any kind of compromise with one another since there’s nothing stopping them from using the staff for something and then putting it back? They had this morally gray thing going on which I liked but then they decided to make Ironwood go full evil. I’ve never had to say this before but the song he got in V7 and the character they made him be in V8 just don’t connect. I got upset listening to that song recently because I liked that Ironwood.

Clover’s importance. RT tried making a character who had no more than 9 minutes in the series and one meaningful line of dialogue into the cornerstone of a side plot. Clover is such a nothing character. Vine did more than Clover. They try to make him have such a profound impact to the people around him but we never see him bond with his team; Harriet specifically. We get one scene of Clover telling Qrow the kids are fortunate to have Qrow even if he doesn’t think so. First, I doubt Clover knows Qrow decided to get drunk in a ghost town and the kids nearly died and cellar while he did it so that compliment doesn’t hold much weight for me. Second, We see nothing meaningful between the two. V7 has a time skip and just expects viewers to be on board with Clover being this influential change on Qrow without showing anything outside of a witty remark and Clover flexing his semblance. I would’ve bought it more of Qrow almost relapsed and Clover stopped him then had a real meaningful conversation.

Ruby goes against Ironwood only to then want to do a plan that’s aligned to longer term thinking than even his, talks about how everyone should be working together, but then adds a part in her video to actively antagonize and vilify Ironwood. Afterwards, she wonders where everything went wrong and doesn’t think of a plan or do anything to immediately help either kingdom until the final hour between the ultimatum being made, to everything getting destroyed. The inciting incident was disagreeing Mantle should be left in favor of Atlas but the main character didn’t do anything to help Mantle 90% of the season and hindered Atlas’s safety up until the final plan.

Yang is used to be the devil’s advocate in a bunch of situations, but she’s wrong most of the time or her lines just don’t make any sense. They weren’t doing just fine before Atlas. They almost died every step of the way. The team didn’t beat a Leviathan; silver eyes and a robot take credit for that. Why would Blake think less of Yang for wanting to go save people immediately? Blake was never mad at anyone to begin with. Yang consistently calls out people for following orders as if it’s objectively wrong, but is never called out on the fact she hasn’t followed anybody’s orders but her own and added discourse to every situation. I get RT is making her ask questions because that’s what Raven told her to do, but all she’s really doing is picking fights and disobeying every order. Yang states to Ruby they accomplished more than they expected. That’s false, getting Oscar back is correcting a mistake caused by her own plan that she didn’t even complete.

It took 6 volumes before Yang had anything to do with the Summer Rose subplot again and 7 volumes before her and Ruby had a sister to sister conversations; 5 if you wanna count Yang telling Ruby to leave at the end of volume three. The reason I bring this up is because in V8 , they treat their argument as if it’s a big deal but then have every character say it wasn’t that big a deal; but then have two circle back to that conversation later after having neither character discuss to anybody that the argument actually did weigh on them. Yang doesn’t think about Ruby until she sees her again and the closest we get with Ruby is Blake reassuring her that people need her and how Blake admires her. I like that scene but it’s not the same as Ruby actually airing out the specific point that Yang said something that Ruby found hurtful. Vol8 in general people trying to comfort others but nobody ever actually addresses what made them uncomfortable to start with. Except Ren.

This one is a nitpicking but I’ll say it anyways. Penny getting hacked only served as a purpose to go to the vault, a thing Ironwood already wanted them to do. Nobody got her because she was hacked. You can’t even say her getting hacked is the leading factor to her actually dying because Penny became a vulnerable human afterwards that can’t be rebuilt. Pietro was gone, and already stated last volume he doesn’t have the aura to build Penny again. If she died as a robot then it’s still permanent death. No core, no Pietro, and no aura; hacking her was just to create a Hound reveal situation and make them go to the vault on a different set of terms. I’m not exactly upset with this, but I don’t understand why the extra steps. The Hound was hunting her anyways. I would’ve brought some kind of value if she hurt a friend and it caused them to potentially hinder the plan later on or remove them entirely. Penny could’ve rekt Yang and it only adds value to Yang getting one shot later. I don’t know. I’m rambling.

I think I’ve wasted enough people’s time. Honestly, I do like this volume. I’ve enjoyed a bunch of it. But there’s things that legitimately make me think it’s not as good others and makes V7 even worse.

[defilerwyrm]

For the ask meme: burning bright, anything about the parts at the table with the Nein. You write their banter so well!

FIC SPOILERS BELOW!

Burning Bright on AO3

The entire dinner scene hit me like a bolt of lightning while I was working on this fic. It started with Beau’s outburst, and then Veth’s willful denial and subsequent fit, and I built the two scenes around that.

Diving into particulars….

“Uhm,” he said, intelligently, but quickly recovered and flashed his friends a smile. “It is most impressive. Certainly a step up from a tiny hut.”

A direct reference to the name of the spell. Originally it was Leomund’s tiny hut. I have no clue why in 5e Wizards decided to 86 the attribution names on so many spells like Otiluke’s resilient sphere and Tasha’s hideous laughter. Things like that always made me curious about the (what I assume were) PCs the spells were named after. I had thought maybe it was because the characters who diegetically invented them were specific to one setting, but in that case I don’t know why Bigby’s hand is still Bigby’s but Evard’s black tentacles are no longer Evard’s. I don’t like it. As an aside, Widowgast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower is, mechanically speaking, Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion. Anyway. Moving on!

It was delectable that Caleb wanted to impress him.

This boy hungry and not just for soup

Flustered, Essek tried to fend them off, but it was Caleb that did him in. It was always Caleb. The human took a large roll from his own plate, broke it in half, and offered one of these parts to Essek, who tried his best not to choke.

“You need to keep your strength up, ja?” Caleb implored him quietly.

The steady hand that accepted was a point of pride because it very much wanted to quake. The Kryn weren’t bread people, but...did he have any idea what this gesture would mean in Rosohna? Any inkling at all?

This is another one of those places where I delight in playing to cultural differences. What I’d had in mind for what that gesture—breaking food into two pieces and offering half to someone—WOULD mean in Rosohna was a bit nebulous, as I like to keep the reader guessing a bit and let their imagination fill in the blanks; but my rough idea was that it’s a courting gesture that signifies “I can and will provide for you, even if it means less for me.” An expression of selfless caregiving and an offer of partnership. Not wholly unlike a bird bringing food to a prospective mate.

And actually it’s a little bit funny coming from Caleb, who has fuck-all to his name but his name, when Essek is a rich bitch who answers directly to the Bright Queen.

Not that he was about to say it out loud, but he was a quick convert to this whole bread thing. To say that it won him over would be an understatement. That seemed to be a recurring theme here.

I imagine if I’d grown up never really eating bread and was introduced to it in adulthood I’d be like “Where have you BEEN all my life?!” But also: the bread is friendship, the bread is the Mighty Nein, the bread is communion in the spirit of sharing rather than politics and appearances and power plays—things he thought he was fine without until they were foisted upon him.

Somewhere in the course of the multiple conversations going on at one time, Jester got an Idea, as she was prone to doing. He became increasingly aware of her talking about kissing, of all things, and this culminated in her shouting above the din, cheeks flushed purple though he hadn’t seen her touch any wine: “I have an idea you guys! Why don’t we all go around and say how many people we’ve kissed?”

Jester is the most wonderfully convenient deus ex machina if you ever need to insert an awkward or embarrassing conversation among the Mighty Nein, because this is exactly the sort of shit she would do.

Jester leaped up and slammed her hands onto the table. “Caduceus you’ve never been kissed?! That’s so sad!”

The firbolg was unfazed. He merely shrugged and said, “It hasn’t come up and I haven’t gone looking. Not something I’ve ever thought about, really.”

Jester’s tail lashed back and forth behind her like an overstimulated cat. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Fjord went a bit wild-eyed at this. Caduceus smiled gently and said, “No thank you.”

Three things about this part:

1) Jester’s tail doesn’t get NEARLY enough mention in fic! If I’m playing (or writing) a character with a tail you can be damn sure you’re gonna know what it’s doing! Makes me wanna play a tabaxi tbqh.

2) Cad’s “No thank you” is the sum total of his sexuality, lol. Jester was raised in a pretty highly sexualized setting, didn’t really get out much before she fled Nicodranas, and can be pretty naïve, so she doesn’t really get the whole aroace thing; but it never crosses Cad’s mind that this would be “abnormal“ or ”sad” in any way—it causes him no distress, as it shouldn’t. This is yet another “Same planet, different worlds” moment.

3) Fjord is physically restraining himself from yelling “JESTER WHAT THE FUCK” lmao

Veth kept picking at it. “So you’re um. You know. Into the fellas?”

Beau snorted. “I could’a told you that months ago.”

“Yeah you could’a!” Veth pouted with a self-conscious curl to her shoulders.

I saw a comment on Tiktok that said Veth was being borderline homophobic, but that wasn’t my intent! It’s just that she inherited a certain blind spot for male queerness from her player, and as hard as she’d been trying to encourage Caleb to hook back up with his female ex, it never occurred to her that he had a male ex, too—and given that they’ve been so close for so long, she’s feeling pretty self-conscious about the fact that she never figured out that Caleb is bisexual in all that time, as well as kind of upset that no one—Caleb especially—told her. She’s having a moment of “Why didn’t I know this? Did you think it was going to change things between us? Did I make you feel unsafe?” And also a little bit of “Okay well, now I have to get him to hook up with TWO people AT ONCE because my boy deserves threesomes 😤”

Jester went goggle-eyed at him. “You’ve only been with one person?” she exclaimed. “But you’re like a hundred years old! And very handsome. I would have thought you’d get like, all the ladies.”

Ladies. Right.

Veth might not be the only one with a certain blind spot.

Beau gave her a funny look, snorting. “I dunno, he seems like the kinda guy who turns down those offers left and right.”

..…But Beau’s got his number, for more than one reason. She’s got super gaydar, for one, and has him pegged as the type who’s very choosy about his partners (also mind you, this was before demi!Essek was canonized by WoG, so I was still rolling with my hc that Essek got around when he felt like it).

The uproar was instantaneous. Everyone—almost everyone—started talking or shouting at once. Beau’s voice rang out among the din with, “HOLY SHIT ESSEK FUCKS.” Strangely pleased with himself, he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and spent the next few minutes fending off increasingly prying, personal questions until the Nein grew bored with his lack of answers and someone changed the subject.

There it is, the line that spawned two entire scenes!

He was not a war mage, but he was experienced and wily, and he was damned good at what he did, and as long as there was breath left in his body, the Mighty Nein would not fall here.

Joke’s on me, motherfucker literally has the War Caster feat -_-

But like in my defense, that’s just what it’s called in the book. The feat just means that you have either the training or experience to cast well during a fight, which I see as not necessarily the same thing as a war mage, which was my way of saying an arcane caster who is a soldier.

Veth stared at her blankly as if willing herself not to understand. “Caleb? With who?”

She breathed steadily. “...Essek. Caleb and Essek.”

Beside her, Jester squealed and brought her fists to her face.

Veth was less enthused. “WHAT.”

Beau’s mental commentary here is dead on. Veth still doesn’t really trust Essek at this point and has been pretty vocal about that…despite being the one to declare him part of the Mighty Nein? Eh, she’s allowed to have complicated feelings on the guy, all things considered. But I find it kind of comical and very Veth (and very Sam) for her to be all full of zest for trying to get Caleb back together with the frigging Volstrucker who is actively working for his abuser and worst enemy but balk at him hooking up with Essek.

Jester “explained” in a delighted yell: “Caleb and Essek are gonna fuuuuuuck!”

I don’t know, is this too unsubtle to call foreshadowing? The line flowed naturally in the dialogue, but it’s also letting the reader know exactly what they’re in for next, lol.

“...He’s going to break that little elf twink, you know,” Veth said, sounding distant. Seemed she was having some difficulty processing. Not too surprising, considering how adamant she was about wanting their wizard to hook back up with his old flame, the fucking Volstrucker. “We’ve all seen his dick.”

This was 100% taken from Sam’s little throwaway line “It’s above-average” but it turned out to serve two purposes other than reminding the reader that all of these people have seen Caleb naked:

1) It’s yet another thing Veth thinks she understands about him but doesn’t. Caleb’s a top like Dalmatians are purple and if you disagree then I respect your right to be incorrect ;)

2) That said, it is, in fact, foreshadowing for the sequel, in which Essek experiences a great deal of frustration. (I haven’t touched the damn thing in weeks, feels like; I’ve been too busy with work, being exhausted from work, and being in a tizzy about my upcoming surgery.)

Fjord blurted out, “I’ll join you.”

Poor Fjord has had such an uncomfortable night!

Hoo boy that was a lot. Thanks for the ask, this was really fun!! And sorry it took so long; I work Saturday nights and things got really busy for a bit there.

[acabang]

Nerding out on the Borderlands

I finally got around to playing Borderlands 3 and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Personal order of preference for the franchise: Tales ≥ BL2 > BL3 > BL1 > TPS

Depending on how the DLC goes though, 3 could be just as good as 2 for me. Unlikely but it’s possible.

I really enjoyed playing all the Vault Hunters, Zane in particular, even if it seems like he lags behind the rest of them. And while she’s fun as just a straight up gunner, my only real bummer is Moze. For me when it comes to the playable characters, it’s all about their Action Skills and if I don’t find myself using it regularly then I hope they have something fun in their skill trees to make up for the lack of it other than shooting guns exceptionally well (ie. Gaige with Ricochet-Anarchy stacking abuse, Krieg with Flame of the Firehawk-Raving Retribution Hellborn madness, etc.). The idea of Iron Bear is rad but vehicles have never been useful outside of a means of map traversal, which this mech isn’t for, and if I’m gonna give up the benefits of my gear then it better be fucking OP or at least viable, especially at the highest of difficulties. So far it’s not looking like it is and I don’t expect it ever will get to that level. For the most part though, she’s still a lot of fun to use as a Plain Jane FPS character.

Overall, I actually enjoy all four initial characters pretty much equally which I can’t say about the other games. I still had fun with them but I didn’t like Roland, Salvador and Nisha as much as their fellow Vault Hunters in their respective games. I’m really looking forward to what DLC Vault Hunters they have in store though, they’ve all been pretty solid and just plain fun to play as.

                               -SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT-

I liked the story well enough and felt engaged the entire time. I didn’t really feel bogged down throughout and enjoyed the pace. Even the sidequests I thought played along well with the storyline missions, they didn’t feel as jarring with too much backtracking or as tediously boring as The Pre-Sequel had it. Although, all the games are guilty of this, the Underdome/Circle of Slaughter missions are still lame.

I loved pretty much most of the new NPCs, however major or minor a role they played. Lorelei was interesting and I want to know more about her, the same goes for Clay, who I could both see becoming Vault Hunters themselves (hopefully) in a future game. The Katagawa-Rhys dynamic was fun, as was BALEX and GenIVIV. I loved Wainwright Jakobs and I especially loved Typhon DeLeon, two of the more likable and wholesome characters in the entire franchise. They don’t hold a candle to Loader Bot & Gortys from Tales but still very admirable in a universe full of assholes and psychopaths. Even some of the minor villains were fun, the Traunt Brothers and Pain & Terror specifically.

Now it’s going to be unfair to compare the Twins to Jack but... they still could've been written better. Brats with god complexes and one with an inferiority complex to boot is fine, not the most compelling, but wait! They’re also streamers because *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*. Despite that, the VA performances of what they were given were both still very well done. When they start to actively antagonize each other is when they started to turn around for me, especially with the power corrupting Troy to the point of almost killing off Tyreen. The Twins being the children of Typhon is a neat twist reveal but I feel like if you’ve been discovering his logs throughout the maps you can put two and two together long before they outright state it.

Though I should probably give credit to the Twins for being a part of why I love Typhon so much. With him being revered the way he was, especially by Tannis, as the first Vault Hunter, it’s refreshing to see a fabricated myth actually turn out to be mostly a myth and not a 100% accurate depiction or historic event like most other games usually do. Even the damn posters of Typhon got him all wrong which I loved. He’s endearingly flawed and his admittance to not being the best father to Tyreen & Troy after they lost their mother actually really got to me. He wasn’t around for long but it was smart of Gearbox to have built up his backstory through those logs, it allowed his character to make some sort of impact like it did on me which made his death actually quite poignant.

Thus leading to probably what I can only assume, since I haven’t bothered to read other people’s reaction to it, is the most controversial part of the game. I love character deaths, especially for ones I adore. When done properly it brings more meaning to them and for the character that may have taken their lives. Bloodwing and Roland helped build Jack up to be even more of the villain that most people love (to hate). Hell, even Sasha’s death in Tales actually had me crying... then immediately laughing because I totally got baited by it especially after already losing Scooter.

Now, like I said, I love character deaths and I’m totally fine with Maya being the one we lose but the way she dies was more of a pathetic wail than whatever Gearbox was hoping to achieve. And for what? All I hope for in a character death is to have more meaning to it than a passing of the torch to a cipher of a character that was basically just introduced and I have no real connection towards, good or bad, because going forward from then on certainly isn’t going to be positive at all. Who knows, she could end up being a favourite character of mine in the future as she develops more but as of right now, no, the only reason for her existence in this game world so far was to take the place from two beloved characters that hasn’t been earned yet.

The other character being Lilith as she sacrifices herself to keep Pandora closed. I don’t believe she’s actually dead, gone for now but at least not dead. It’ll probably be the main focus of the next game, if not in a DLC, in figuring out a way to get her back from Elpis, if she’s even stuck up there. It’s sad to lose her immediately after regaining her powers back but at least she went out with Alicia Keys singing her a fire swan song. Unfortunately, before going off to save the day and Gearbox not being entirely satisfied yet with shoving Ava down our throats the first time, Lilith hands over protection of Sanctuary III to her. Hopefully Ava is given an extremely satisfying character arc in the proceeding games because woof, that’s going to be a tough mountain to climb especially if it takes another 2-5 years for the next game to release.

I don’t actually hate Ava, I just don’t care about her. Also our Vault Hunter(s) were right there, technically, and as was Tannis. She may not be able to fight but she’s more than capable of leading the Crimson Raiders. She’s also the most consistently well written character that’s shown growth over the games that she’s been a part of in the franchise, in my opinion.

As for the rest of the characters, I’m good with moving on from Vaughn now. He was unexpectedly funny to okay during Tales but yeah, he’s already worn out his welcome for me. Rhys was fine, not as good as he was in Tales but he wasn’t really even my favourite character from that game anyway. Who I was missing was Fiona, I really wish that she had shown up but hopefully that might still be a possibility in DLC. Maybe she’ll show up alongside Athena & Janey, continuing her VH training somehow saved from wherever she disappeared off to. Preferably with Loader Bot and Gortys as well. It’d also be nice to run into Axton, Sal, Gaige and especially Kreig considering the whole Maya situation and her promising to see him again.

Then there’s also the B-Team, which a part of me wanted to interact with more but another part where I think I’m okay with what we got. I was disappointed in Tina’s development however, I didn’t expect a full maturation of character but I also hoped she wouldn’t be the spaz that she was when she was a young teen. Even in Dragon Keep she showed a little bit of growth with her acceptance of Roland’s death but I guess they wanted to keep her annoying, which was fine back in 2 and TPS when she was basically a kid but I believe she’s supposed to be at least 18 now? I guess it’s fine as long as it fits the dynamic between her, Brick and Mordecai. I will also say that Mordecai’s side quest to attend his protégé’s birthday party was really bittersweet, I loved that brief respite from the chaos that is the rest of the game and a stark reminder that Pandora sucks.

Aside from the actual plot and characters, I thought they did an even better job at world building the rest of the universe. The mega-corporations side of Borderlands has always been fascinating to me and I feel like they often take a backseat by most fans since they’re just these ever present entities in the universe and not actual characters themselves, despite each of them having quite unique “personalities” in the products they manufacture and the individuals that represent them. We had Commandant Steele & General Knoxx show off a militaristic side of the original Atlas as The Crimson Lance, then there was Jack as the face of the Hyperion we knew, and the fallout from his demise during Tales. There’s also Tannis giving us slight tidbits of how Dahl operated on Pandora between the first & second game and, of course, Mr. Torgue with, well, Torgue and I guess now he’s in charge of the battle arenas. Now we get insight on the current incarnation of Atlas with Rhys at the helm, Maliwan with Katagawa Jr. and Wainwright as the heir to Jakobs. It’s just fun to see these corporations steadily being fleshed out with each game and I’m interested to see how Tediore, Vladof and maybe even S&S Munitions, if they ever make a return, will turn out.

On the other end of the spectrum and more of an active danger to the universe are the Vaults, their purpose and the monsters contained within, one of them called the Timekeeper who we have yet to encounter. Also more insight into who the Eridians were, the siren Nyriad’s role with their eradication and warning of a seventh siren who shouldn’t be found. There’s definitely plenty of seeds that were planted, it’s just a shame that it’ll probably be a long time from now before any of them get answered unless they start pumping out these games which I hope they don’t. Oversaturation and fatigue can ruin a franchise.

This has been my TED Talk, thank you for reading.

[goodmythicalshipping]

Three Wishes (3/4) - “On a Dark Night”

Hiya, MBs! Happy October. 🎃 

I’m back with the third chapter of my Aladdin-themed fic, “On a Dark Night,” which is now available to read below as well as on my AO3 page. 😊

I hope you enjoy it and it gives you all the feels. The final chapter should be up later this week!

Summary: In Pre-Islamic Arabia, a poor street rat, Rhett, struggles to survive in an unforgiving and discriminatory world… that is, until he comes across a rather mythical-looking lamp. Having concealed a deep secret his whole life, his entire world is soon changed forever by a certain bespectacled genie.

<< Chapter Two / Chapter Four >>

After touring the entirety of the palace, Rhett and Princess Stevie had gotten to know each other a good deal and were able to savor each other’s company, albeit not in a romantic way like her restless father had hoped. Link, on the other hand, had trailed far behind them the whole time, watching their actions with leering eyes. He was too out of earshot to hear anything they were saying, but couldn’t help but feel a little envious whenever they would smile or laugh at what the other one said. He carried Barbara, now turned back into her canine form, as the three of them approached the banquet hall. Once again forced to remain hidden, Link watched the pair enter the hall from a high-up window.

“I take it you enjoyed your trip around the palace grounds,” the sultan greeted them once again. “Come, let us begin our feast!”

The three of them sat down to enjoy their four-course meal, with the two younger guests essentially listening to the elder man ramble on for the next three hours straight. Rhett found it troubling how enthusiastic the sultan was to discuss wedding plans, given he had only met him hours prior and it clearly wasn’t what Princess Stevie, nor he himself, wanted. Despite their chagrined expressions, Link grew more jealous with each passing minute as he peeped down on his master dining with the royals, which admittedly stemmed from his desire to just be near the mortal man over reveling in their luxuries.

“Way to go, Genie-us,” Link whispered angrily to himself. “You were supposed to grant his wishes, not devise yer own selfish ones!”

He couldn’t help it: Rhett looked striking in his silk ensemble, which complimented the colors of his handsome, angular face. Certainly, he believed, out of all of his masters up to this point, Rhett was the most beautiful. However, Link remembered Rhett’s statement from hours prior about setting him free, which now left a sour taste in his mouth as he watched him indulge in the array of expensive delicacies before him. The genie was sure a combination of temporal fate and his master’s own greed would keep them apart in the end…

As the trio finished their meal, the sultan guided them to the front of the mansion once more. Link floated down with Barbara to eavesdrop on them, once again hiding himself behind a nearby column.

“Stevie, please escort Prince Rhett to his living quarters,” he commanded. “In the morning, we shall begin preparing for the upcoming blessed wedding ceremony!”

Rhett kept a calm, unphased demeanor, despite his inner aversion, while Stevie made no effort in concealing her contorted face. She huffed as she took Rhett’s hand and led him to his bedroom, much to the dismay of Link, whose pools of cerulean beaded at the sight. It was late by the time the duo finally arrived at the doors of the living quarters.

“Well, I guess this is g’night?” Rhett asked meekly, knowing that they were both not looking forward to the following day.

“I suppose,” Stevie replied morosely, keeping her head down. Rhett felt incredibly guilty: the two of them had only known each other for a few short hours, but he felt such a strong connection to the young girl who was facing the same predicament. He would do anything in that moment to rid her of all her woes, as well as his own, but it was the lamentable law of the land that she marry a prince, although he was placated knowing it would be him and not some egotistical and abusive raja.

“Stevie, I’d like to think I’m pretty good at readin’ people's eyes,” Rhett suggested, causing the girl to lift her head. “Just know that no matter what happens, I promise ya that I will do everythin’ in my power to keep you safe and happy as possible in these adverse circumstances.”

She then gave him a soft smile and sympathetic embrace.

“Same to you, Prince Rhett,” she reciprocated. “Now I believe it’s best that you tend to other matters at this time.”

In the hours they had communed, he had nearly forgotten about his remaining two wishes. However, he was appetent to be in the company of his genie companion again and thus, bid her a good night as he stepped inside the room.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice began. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

Rhett snickered before answering. “I wouldn’t say good, I guess just more… satiated.”

“I can’t relate,” Link retorted, crossing his translucent arms. “Genies don’t eat much. Anyway, have ya thought about yer second wish, your majesty?”

The genie bowed to him in a dramatically condescending way, much to Rhett’s confusion. The mortal man chose to brush it off, too tired from the day’s events to ponder the odd gesture.

“Not exactly,” Rhett yawned, stretching his long arms upward. “I’ve been tourin’ the palace grounds all day, and haven’t had much time to think about it in all honesty.”

“Uh-huh,” Link replied disinterestedly, whipping out an imaginary fan out of thin air. “Too busy indulgin’ in extravagant wonders, I take it? I don’t blame you, s’not every day you’re served tabbouleh on a gold platter.”

What’s his problem?, Rhett thought to himself. “Um, actually, most of the feast was taken up by her father discussin’ wedding plan-”

“Well, isn’t that just MARVELOUS?,” Link barked, cutting him off. “We’ve got a royal wedding approachin’! How prodigious! I’ll have t’send a messenger to the local couturier to inquire about a suit in my size. I hope he can accommodate my ghost tail! Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Rhett just stood there, unsure of what to say. Was Link upset with him? It wasn’t like Rhett wanted to marry the princess, nor did she want to marry him. This was simply the easiest way to escape the tragedy he had been living for so many years, desperately clinging to some sort of importance in the world. Still, he felt an incredible ache of culpability each time he remembered the princess’ hidden prayers, and part of him considered that Link too did not wish for them to wed for unknown reasons. Although Rhett had his hopes…

“What, dog got yer tongue?” Link goaded, pointing to Barbara, who was currently rolling around on the floor. “Anyway, like I said: got a second wish? I don’t got all night.”

“What’s gotten into you?!” Rhett finally reacted, surprising Link. “Did I do somethin’ wrong? It’s not like I wished to marry the princess!”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, master! As if you weren’t aware that marriage might come with the package of becomin’ royalty!,” Link rebutted, growing angrier. “Am I wrong to assume that this was what ya wanted all along, and I was just along for the ride?”

“Yes! All I was lookin’ for was to achieve greatness for once in my meager life! I’m sick of bein’ a nobody!”

“You can be great in other ways than obtainin’ riches, master! Perhaps you may consider other outlets in which y’may exalt yer greatness, such as considerin’ the feelings of others around you!”

“Don’tcha think I’ve considered the princess’ feelings throughout this whole thing?!” Rhett shouted. “I’ve heard ‘er out, and for your information, it doesn’t sound like she’s excited about this arrangement either!”

“I’m not talking about the princess!,” Link yelled loudly, scaring both Rhett and Barbara. “You promised me one thing, Rhett! D’ya recall what that one thing was? I’ll give ya’a hint! It starts with ‘FREE’ and ends with ‘DOM’!”

The syllables lit up in fiery, neon lights before Rhett’s emerald eyes, causing him to stumble backwards. After taking a moment to process what Link had accused him of, he spoke up again softly.

“...y’really think I’d take back my promise?”

The grief-stricken look on his bearded face was almost enough to turn Link’s entire mood around, that is before he remembered why he was upset with him in the first place.

“Rhett, in the short amount of time I’ve been in yer possession, all I’ve seen ya do is ask for a big, shiny royal title,” Link berated him. “What am I supposed to think? M’surprised you haven’t blown yer last two wishes on five million dirham and for me to be yer lifelong slave yet!”

“M’not that selfish of a man, Link!” Rhett argued, standing himself back up. “In fact, the one thing I truly want is somethin’ so unattainable that I’m not even sure a wish could grant it!”

“Oh yeah, and what is that, yer highness?” Link scoffed.

Suddenly, Rhett turned his gaze toward the floor and sprouted a sullen expression, to which Link stiffened his guard.

“...acceptance,” the mortal said finally.

“Acceptance? From who, the citizens of Agrabah? I think you’ve already impressed ‘em by becomin’ a prin-”

“Not just them. Everyone,” Rhett stated bluntly, interrupting him. “S’been that way my whole life. I’ve had to keep one of the most important parts of me a secret to avoid serious consequences.”

Link at last ceased his hostility after hearing this, his anger transferring to worried interest.

“What I want and what everyone else wants in terms of my love and happiness don’t align,” the bearded man continued. “What I want is seen as disgraceful to my family, who banished me from their home in equal parts disgust and an attempt to save my life from authorities. Should they discover the truth about me, I could be executed. Thus, I’ve had no choice but to protect myself by hidin’ from the public eye, which has steered me to live a life of poverty.” He then surveyed Link carefully, reading him for any sign that what he was about to say next wouldn’t disgust him as well.

“I don’t wish to marry the princess, Link... nor any maiden, for that matter.”

Link floated there in shock as his ability to speak vanished. This whole time, Rhett was… Link wasn’t sure if he should be mortified at his own previous actions or thrilled by his confession. Most importantly, he felt like cradling the tall, somber man who remained on the ground in sympathy, which was exactly what he subconsciously found himself doing after a long moment of silence.

Upon noticing Link’s arms around him, Rhett was unable to contain his tears and wept softly into the genie’s neck, hugging him back. As Link brushed the man’s hair with his palm, his heart throbbed even more intensely, but he decided not to push his boundaries in light of Rhett potentially reacting in a negative way, given his current emotional state.

It felt like hours had passed before the pair separated, Rhett’s olive eyes glassy and bloodshot from crying.

“I’m, I just-” he began, his voice fluttering.

“I’m sorry,” Link interrupted. “I shouldn't have accused you of such awful things or questioned your sincerity. I’ve just had some real nasty masters in the past, and made the false assumption that y’might be the same. I know now that I was wrong.”

“No, I’m… happy,” Rhett countered, confusing Link until he spoke again after a beat. “I’m… happy there’s someone who finally accepts me.”

---------

Rhett lay awake for hours after his and Link’s exchange, staring at the marble wall. Fortunately, Link did not notice, as Rhett had his back turned to him and the genie had taken to counting stars in the night sky. Many thoughts wracked his brain: what was he supposed to do? Not only would he be forgoing his own happiness by marrying the princess, but he would be preventing her from attaining true happiness as well. As for Link… things were quickly becoming more “complicated” between them, meaning Rhett had to act fast if he were to fix any of this with his two remaining wishes.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t people just more accepting? It would certainly make this whole ordeal far less complex, but this was the world they lived in. Whatever he wished for next had to be followed by the promise of setting Link free… which for Rhett, to be frank, was another heartbreak on its own. He knew Link couldn’t simply grant a wish that involved someone falling in love with another person, so he had to be clever.

If he wished to go back to being a civilian, Princess Stevie would still have to marry a complete stranger. If he wished for her to marry who she wanted, he would still be forced to hide his true self from those around him and live a life of rich misery.

If only there was a way in which they could both be happy, or in which the universe would allow them both to live carefree and without-

…

That was it. Rhett knew then what he had to do.

(To be continued)

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-Four: A Label You Hate ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, vulgarity ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

He tries not to let it bother him.

In truth, when it comes to himself, Sasuke couldn’t care less what people think of him, what they call him, what they blame him for. He made peace with his own decisions as he made them. Even after all was said and done, there’s little he regrets. And that which he does, he knows there was no avoiding. The confrontation with Itachi was almost destined: he had no means to know Itachi’s truth, and therefore reasons to rescind his vow of vengeance upon his brother.

His actions after leaving Konoha - joining Orochimaru, aiding Obito, trying to wipe the Kage slate clean - have been questioned and scrutinized since they came to light. But though they weren’t the best path, Sasuke also knows it was one he had to walk.

And it’s not like he’s not attempting to make amends. True, he’d planned to travel, watch the world be reborn, and see what changes he himself could make with his new power. But in the end...he came back. Itachi’s return, his niece and nephew, and Shisui’s revelation of life all but solidified his intentions: if this is where his family is to be, then...he’ll be here too.

He hasn’t fully come to trust and feel comfortable in his birth village yet. Those responsible for the Uchiha massacre are all either dead, or stripped of power. And they, in truth, were the true roots of evil in Konoha.

...but he knows there are more.

There will always be more.

But, for now...Konoha is home once again. It’s where his brother’s family and his cousin remain. And though Sasuke has plans to help reshape Konoha from the inside alongside Itachi’s ANBU, he knows that will be a long road he’ll likely have to walk for the rest of his life. But he’s patient.

...but if anything happens to those he has left - if Konoha lifts a hand against them - he won’t hesitate to remove it. And then burn the rest to the ground. He’s paid far too much into this place to tolerate anything further against them. The Uchiha have more than paid their dues. Should anyone attempt to take anything else...Sasuke will not stand for it.

But it hasn’t all been easy. His agemates are still wary, even his team...which he can’t blame them for. The village as a whole - even after Itachi’s pardon by Kakashi - still mostly glower at any who dare to wear the Uchiha fan and flame.

When it comes to anyone giving him lip, Sasuke just brushes it off. Everyone knows he’s far too powerful to actually stand up against...but that doesn’t mean they don’t risk trying to push his boundaries just shy of his breaking point. He could swat them like flies...but he won’t. Words can’t hurt him. Little petty actions, either. The only thing he’d make a fuss over is anyone doing the same to his family.

...and they do.

Itachi - for reasons Sasuke feels he only partially understands - is rarely out in public. He’s either at home in the manor with his family, or at work. The younger brother assumes it’s to avoid the jeering and muttering, but he also figures Itachi cares little for anyone’s opinion. After all...he spent nearly a decade being hated by nearly everyone. Surely by now he’s numb to it.

But what truly pisses Sasuke off more than anything...are the accusations people throw at his brother.

Namely one label in particular: traitor.

Oh, how it boils his blood…! By now, everyone knows the story - the one Kakashi told when pardoning Itachi in the first place. The truth behind the massacre, Itachi’s mission, and the reasons behind his actions. Everyone knows he’s not really a traitor. Everything - even his death - was for the good of this thankless, petty village! Even now he serves them in the shadows within ANBU as he did before the fall of his clan.

So why…?! Why do they still regard him so? He only did what he was told - what their precious Konoha dictated to him, a boy with the world on his shoulders at thirteen. Manipulated not only by Konoha’s Kage and council, but the shadowy leader of Akatsuki. Sasuke knows more than anyone that the gentle boy Itachi had been wanted anything but such violence...but he had been led to believe it was the only way.

Sasuke can’t help but wonder if some kind of shame makes his brother hide as he does. Shame at falling for the tricks of those older than him. Shame at taking a route that may not have been as necessary as he’d been made to believe. Shame at having that truth exposed.

But his wife is right...if they are to truly clear the slate within Konoha, the Uchiha’s truth must be brought to light. If for no one else...then for the sake of their children. The past cannot be allowed to be repeated.

Or forgotten.

Itachi’s begged Sasuke not to lose his temper for his sake. But Sasuke now lives for one thing, and one thing only...and that is his family. The few shreds of it he has left.

But given Itachi’s insistence...he has no one to vent his frustrations to.

Well...almost no one.

“I just don’t get it,” he seethes one afternoon. “These people are so ungrateful…! If it wasn’t for Itachi and his sacrifices, there would have been civil war! So many more people would have died! And with Konoha weakened from the inside, it would be all too easy for the other lands to start yet another war trying to claim Hi no Kuni with it vulnerable!”

Across from him, brows wilted in a mix of concern and sympathy, Hinata just...sits and listens. The pair are currently seated at an outdoor table out front of a small cafe. Their blooming friendship - born out of things like the Hyūga and Uchiha alliance, and the rest of team seven making them third and fourth wheels - means that she’s one of, if not the only, person beyond his family he feels he can truly talk to.

“Bunch of ungrateful pricks,” he scowls, head held in a hand as he leans on the table with an elbow. “And Itachi just...takes it! Doesn’t say a word, lift a finger!”

“Well…” Hinata offers softly. “Neither do you, when it comes to people insulting you.”

“That’s because I actually was a bit of a bastard for a while,” Sasuke mutters. “And I’m not afraid of them. But Itachi...his choices weren’t like mine. All of them - all of them - were selfless. It just…!”

Giving a soft smile of understanding, Hinata reaches across the table and rests a hand atop Sasuke’s. His uncovered eye flickers to it, but he doesn’t move to pull away. “...I think it’s very telling about you that you feel so strongly for your brother this way. You want justice and fair treatment for him. That’s a v-very noble thing. But...I think Itachi has a point. Reacting and fighting back won’t change many - if any - minds. The only thing it would l-likely do is make them resent him all the more. Call him reactionary, unstable, violent...if he says he can handle it, then I believe him.”

“He shouldn’t have to…”

“I know...I certainly don’t agree with it. But at the same time...you have to pick and choose your battles. If something serious were to happen, I’m sure Itachi would act. Until then...he knows his limits, and he’ll keep to them.”

Sasuke heaves a curt sigh. “...sometimes I wish we could leave.”

“...you do?”

“I do.” Rather than move his hand still covered by Hinata’s, he shifts his posture and gestures with the other. “...this village hasn’t really been home for a long time. Just...a place to be. The only thing keeping me here is my family. And honestly…? If I could convince them to leave, I would. Take them somewhere where they wouldn’t have to suffer this abuse. Any of them. Even Shisui gets it, and he didn’t do a damn thing wrong! And Itachi’s wife, their kids…” Teeth grit in a snarl. “They don’t deserve this.”

“...and you do?”

...he has no retort for that.

“I think...the best thing you can do is keep leading by example. Be the bigger person. Where people sling mud, stay your hand. Where people curse your name, hold your tongue. Prove that you’re not what they think you are. It might not convince everyone...but I’m sure some will, in time, come to realize who you all r-really are.”

Rather than reply, Sasuke just sighs, form wilting a hair.

“...after all...I think you’re all good people. True, you’ve made some poor decisions...but in a lot of ways, you didn’t have any choice. And you did what you felt you had to for the g-greater good. Life is full of difficult choices. And no one makes the right ones all the time. Not even those everyone praises. You’re trying to better yourself, and your village, and this world. That is what matters. The only opinion you should worry about is your own. And I’m sure Itachi feels the same. Someday...things will get better. I’m sure of it.”

“...I hope so.”

Giving him a warm smile, the pair lapse into a quiet pause...and then Hinata realizes she’s still holding his hand. Going a bit pink, she carefully retrieves it. “S...sorry.”

“...nothing to apologize for, Hyūga.”

“Will you ever start calling me Hinata?”

“...one of these days,” he assures her, biting back a smile at her pout. “...but hey...thanks for listening. I know I bitch a lot. But I guess no one else wants to hear it.”

“I understand. And I’m glad you t-trust me enough to talk to me,” Hinata assures him gently.

“Right now, you’re about the only friend I’ve got.”

That...takes her by surprise.

Realizing he’s maybe said a bit too much, he glances aside, the tips of his ears pink. “...anyway...I should probably let you go. You’re a busy woman these days, right?”

“Well...yes,” she admits. “But...I’ve always got time for you, Sasuke-kun.”

“...same goes for you.” Refusing to let her pay her tab, he watches her get up and leave, not yet feeling like rising himself. A long sigh escapes his nose. He always feels so much...calmer after talking with her. She’s a good listener...reminds him a bit of Itachi’s wife. Must be why they’re such good friends.

Maybe she’s right...maybe he takes this all too seriously. But anger was his guiding emotion for so long...letting go of it isn’t so easy. And what better way to vent it than in defense of his family?

...he’ll try to rein it in. See if it makes a difference in how...irritated he gets at times. It’ll still likely piss him off - he can’t just not hate people badmouthing his family. But he’ll try to be a bit more like his brother.

He can’t help but hope she’s right.

                                                           .oOo.

     Welp, more random ALAS stuff! Sasuke and Hinata having a little chit chat regarding Konoha's continued poor treatment of the Uchiha. That's a major factor in the post-699 arc of ALAS...but it goes far beyond some glaring and insult muttering. So HInata's advice, sadly, won't cut it for everyone...some are just a little too hateful.      And a little too dangerous.      But we've got a lil fluff amidst the angst! So maybe it's not quite so bad, lol - cute lil awkward beans!      Anyway, it's late, so I'ma go call it a night. Thanks for reading!

[hollywayblog]

How “The Umbrella Academy” Surprised Me

In many ways, good and bad.

This is a spoiler-free review of season one of The Umbrella Academy

I remember when The Umbrella Academy comics came out. It was 2007 and I was a broke thirteen-year-old living in suburban Australia (a cultural wasteland!) so I never actually read them, but as a rabidly obsessed My Chemical Romance/Gerard Way fan, I managed to fold The Umbrella Academy into my identity anyway. I’m not sure exactly how that works, but hey. Adolescents are powerful creatures.

As a distinguished almost-twenty-five-year-old (I’d like to acknowledge that I took a small break here to have an existential crisis) my walls are free of band posters and my eyes are no longer encircled with that thick black eyeliner that always managed to look three days old and slept in, but I still got kind of a thrill when I learned that The Umbrella Academy was being adapted into a Netflix show. It was something I had always assumed I would end up reading, back in the depths of my emo phase (which is probably more accurately defined as a My Chemical Romance phase) but then just kind of forgot about. So, great, I’m simultaneously being reminded that this thing exists, and freed of the nostalgic obligation to go seek out the comic and read it. As much as I love reading, comics have just never been my thing.

Then the trailer came out. Honestly, it kind of killed my enthusiasm. It just looked kind of generic. Apocalypse. Superpowers. Bold characters. Lots of action. My takeaway was a big ol’ “Meh.” Frankly, without my pre-existing attachment to Gerard Way and the very idea of The Umbrella Academy, I highly doubt I would have given it a chance - not because it looked inherently bad, but just because I’m a hard sell on the kind of show it appeared to be.

But it’s Gerard Way, man. I had to watch at least one episode.

The Umbrella Academy centres around the famous-yet-mysterious Hargreeves family. The seven children - six of whom have special powers - were adopted by Reginald Hargreeves, a cold and severe patriarch who didn’t even deign to name them. He made them into “The Umbrella Adademy,” a crime-fighting squad of tiny children who would later dissolve after a tragic incident. Now they’re grown up, and Dad’s dead. His spare and tense memorial is what brings the adult Umbrella Academy back together, and this is where the show kicks off.

We’re treated to a rather clumsy beginning; a gripping opening scene followed by an unimaginative montage. We get a glimpse of each of the Hargreeves’ regular lives, leading up to and including them learning of their father’s death. It’s a heavy-handed introductory roll-call, complete with on-screen name cards. It’s a baffling waste of time, considering we don’t learn anything in this montage that isn’t later reiterated through dialogue or behaviour. We don’t need to see Klaus leaving rehab to know he’s an addict. We don’t need to see Allison on the red carpet to know she’s a movie star. It dragged, even on a first watch not knowing that the whole thing would be ultimately pointless, and I’m surprised no one thought to cut it and let us go in cold with everyone arriving at the mansion for the memorial - an opening that would have both set the tone and let us get to know the characters much more naturally. Maybe it feels like I’m focusing too much on this, and that’s only because it gave me a bad first impression - and I want anyone who reacts the same way I did to stick with it. It really does get better.

The further we got from the montage the less gimmicky it felt, and I started to sense some sort of something that I liked about this show. Stylistically it was interesting, and there seemed to be an underlying depth; room for these characters to be more than brooding ex-vigilantes with daddy issues. I was intrigued enough by the end of episode one to keep watching, and was gratified as the series went on and truly delved into those depths. There was a memorable turning point for me around episode five, where Klaus (the wonderful Robert Sheehan) was given space in the runtime to visibly, viscerally feel the effects of something he had just been through. It sounds so obvious, and so simple, but it’s something that is frustratingly glossed over so often in fiction. You know. Fallout. Feelings.

It wasn’t just that moment, though. Prior episodes laid the groundwork, developing not just Klaus but all the Hargreeves. Each character feels real and grounded, each of them uniquely good, uniquely bad, uniquely damaged by their upbringing. It’s this last point I particularly appreciate, this subtle realism in the show’s execution of abused characters. We see how siblings growing up with the same parents does not necessarily mean they got the same childhood, endured the same abuse, or that their trauma will manifest in the same ways. And certainly, it’s important to see the different coping mechanisms each of them have developed. Furthermore, there is a lot more to each of these characters than just their trauma. There are seven distinct personalities going on, and I have to applaud the writers for this commitment to character. It was largely this that kept me hooked (I’m such a sucker for good characters), and to my own surprise very invested in the way things unfolded.

I love the tone, which found a cool rhythm after the pilot. The pacing was decent and the character development balanced well against the plot. I like the little quirks that remind you of the show’s comic book roots, like Pogo, the talking ape and Five, the grouchy old man in a teenager’s body.

Weirdly, I like the apocalypse stuff, which they managed to put their own spin on despite it being such a played-out trope at this point. I like that the show found small ways to go in unexpected directions, even if the overarching plot and big twists weren’t all that surprising. And most of all I love that in a world saturated with forgettable media, I woke up today still thinking about this show.

Even if not all of my thoughts were so generous.

See, for everything I love about this show, there are also quite a few things that rubbed me up the wrong way. I can’t list them all without going into spoilers, but I think it needs to be said that there are like, a fair few problematic elements in this show. I couldn’t help but notice that while women and people of colour are the minority in this cast, they also seem to cop the worst abuse. Only two of the Hargreeves siblings are female. One of them has no powers and the other’s power is influence (a non-physical power). Their “Mom” is literally a robot created for the sole purpose of caregiving; she dresses and acts like the epitome of a submissive 50s housewife. The Hargreeves sisters are also the ones most likely to be left out or ignored when it comes to making decisions, with one of them even literally losing her voice at one point (yikes!). Beyond that we have some truly disturbing imagery of violence being inflicted on women of colour almost exclusively by white men, and the fact that the only asian character is um… well, he’s literally dead. Before the show even starts.

Overall the problem is not just insufficient diversity, with white men taking up most of the screen time, dialogue and leadership actions, but the way that the few female and non-white characters are depicted.

These are all depictions that, in a vacuum, would be innocuous. I mean, just looking at the root of many of the show’s problems exemplifies that - the root being that all of these characters were white in the source material (uh, a problem in itself, obviously). It wasn’t a problem, for example, when Dead Ben was not the only Asian character but just another white Hargreeves sibling. And wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a world where you could race or gender-swap any character and have everything mean - or not mean - the same thing. But life is more complicated than that. Art is more complicated than that.

Honestly, I’m not sure if we should give props to the developers of The Umbrella Academy for diversifying their cast when the fact is they did so - and I say this gently - ignorantly and lazily. Race-swapping willy-nilly and leaving it at that ignores a lot of complex issues surrounding the nuances of portraying minorities in fiction, and leaves room for these kinds of harmful and hurtful tropes to carelessly manifest. So many storytellers don’t want to hear it, but let me tell you writer to writer that it does matter if the person being choked is white or black, male or female, trans or cis. It does matter who’s doing the choking. Camera angles matter. Dialogue matters. It’s all a language that conveys a message - about power and dominance and vulnerability in the real world. Because art doesn’t exist inside a vacuum, as inconvenient as that might be. Having the empathy to recognise that will actually make us better storytellers.

In shedding light on these issues, I am not dragging this show. I am not condemning it. And although it is problematic in itself, I’m not even saying it’s problematic to enjoy it. I’m pulling apart the lasagne, looking at the layers, poking and prodding at the individual ingredients and saying, “Hey, the chef probably should have known better than to put pineapple in here. Maybe let’s not do that next time.” I’m also saying, “When I get a mouthful with pineapple in it, I don’t enjoy that. It’s jarring and unpleasant. But it doesn’t ruin the whole meal for me.”

I’m getting better at allowing myself to dislike something on the basis of its shitty themes. To not have to justify myself when something is problematic in a way that just makes it too uncomfortable for me to watch. That wasn’t the case here. I won’t lie; the bad stuff was no afterthought for me. That kind of thing really gets to me. It does ruin a lot for me. But in this case, the show redeemed itself in other ways; mostly by just being a compelling story with characters I liked. I’m trying not to justify that too hard either.

So I liked The Umbrella Academy, and I hope it gets a second season. I also hope that the creators will listen to people like me who want to be able to enjoy their show even more and create more consciously in the future.

And please let Vanya be a lesbian.

The Umbrella Academy is out now on Netflix

Watch this show if you like: witty characters, iconic characters, complex characters, mysteries,  dark themes, superpowers, vigilantes, comics, dark humour, epic stories, shows about families, stylistic TV shows, ensemble casts, character dynamics, dramedies

Possible triggers (don’t read if you care about spoilers): suicide, child abuse, claustrophobia, addiction, violence, violence against women, violence against women of colour, death, torture, incest, self-harm, pregnancy/childbirth, kidnapping/abduction, blood, mental illness, medication/themes of medication necessity, blood, manipulation/gaslighting, homicide, forced captivity, guns, hospitalisation, medical procedures, needles, PTSD, prison rape reference (1).

Please feel free to message me if I failed to include a relevant trigger warning and I’ll include it.

[drkungfus-customs]

Mtg Custom Card Competition Round 2: Phyrexians on Ixalan

Hello everyone and welcome back to the second week of I and Alyssa's custom card challenge. Just a quick foreword to thank everyone for the warm response we have had to the last round of judging, it is always nice to see people throw feedback back at us for running it. This weeks prompt was provided by Alyssa where participants were asked to present a theoretical Phyrexian corruption of Ixalan. As always submissions were gathered through discord and were judged by myself and Alyssa.

Michael says: So our first submission of the prompt, this card is a powerful reanimation and board control effect stapled onto a phyrexian corrupted dinosaur. However the power level, especially for a rare, is what has me most concerned. The colour pie is fine and the card feels very black, there are no problems in that regard. The part that has me worried is that the reanimation is instant, comes at a low cost, and is a replacement effect. Once Corruptosaurus is on the battlefield, and if itself gets a -1/-1 counter, it becomes almost impossible to deal with as traditional measures such as rest in piece or leyline will do nothing to prevent this effect. Additionally because the return is instantly rather than at the end of turn as with Marchesa, the Black Rose it opens the card up to some silly loops with persist cards or anything that has -1/-1 counters built in.  While the card is slow to distribute -1/-1 counters, their existence on this card implies they exist elsewhere in the set which will make this card much stronger. Especially in limited this card would be a nightmare as -1/-1 effects your opponent controls will be useless against your creatures and your own also feature as a steal effect. In order to make this card feel a little less broken and more fair I would restrict the resurrection to either only your own creatures or only your opponents. The potential value engine of this card seems a little above the curve as-is, especially when considering older formats with access to things like black sun’s zenith. There isn’t a single factor that pushes this card over, its just a confluence of factors that would make this card just not fun to play with and too warping in the limited environment.

Alyssa says: Formatting is mostly fine. The third ability shouldn’t be a replacement effect, because as written it inappropriately uses “return”. (Because the word return requires a card to be in the graveyard, and this replacement effect means that you gain control of the creature instead of it dying, it never enters a zone it can “return” from.) As written now, it resurrects friendly things with -1/-1 counter on them, meaning anything that has a -1/-1 counter either endemic to it (Bloodied Ghost, Grief Tyrant) or has permanent persist can be infinitely looped by it. You’ve accidentally prevented some abuse like Disciple of the Vault and Blood Artist by replacing the death trigger, but you can still benefit immensely from the infinite sacrifice. Furthermore, it just makes immortal creatures.

Balance-wise, it’s doing a bit much. The endemic wither is fine, giving it a way to damage stuff and get it back, and it would tie well in with the third ability like a souped up Necroskitter. The second ability is completely unnecessary, though perhaps more novel. You really only need one of these for the card to be useful for Limited and narrow Constructed applications (which is where this thing feels like it belongs.) It would be so much better if you went with only one of these abilities: I prefer the second one, as the incremental infection-based effect, perhaps through infected bites or claw injuries, seems much more “dinosaur” than a resurrection effect.

Flavor-wise, it’s okay, but it’s a bit bland. It’s a zombie dinosaur that does vague infection stuff. There’s not much of a story to the card, and a bit of flavor text with the space freed up from the above changes would be just dandy. I want to see how it fits in with the set around it, how Ixalan responds to its new apex predators. You have no art credit. We wouldn’t have noticed that “Mr. J” wasn’t an art credit if someone else didn’t use that art and credit it correctly.

Possible improvements:

-          Focus on one of the two passives and cut the other. If you wanted to focus on the incremental blight aspect, then perhaps make it asymmetric and only affect your opponent’s creatures.

-          Fix that malfunctioning third ability if you decide to stick with it.

-          Flavor text never hurts.

-          Drop a reminder text bubble on Wither for easier reading comprehension.

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 3/5

Flavor – 2/5

Michael says: This card appears to have a serious flavour issue which really hurts the mechanical execution of the card. The flavour text indicates a phyrexian merger of Ghalta and Etali, something I would expect to have a similar importance as Brisela from Eldritch Moon, however the rest of the card appears to instead by an Ixalani call-back to Phyrexian Obliterator. This card feels like two excellent ideas combined to a less effective whole.

Judging by the perspective of an Obliterator call-back this card feels like a very good way to make a dinosaur version of the card, using enrage as an in theme way of simulating the desired effect. However in this case the card doesn't feel very green at all, outside of the dinosaur tribe and enrage there is nothing mechanical to make this card green. Given the enrage effect is symmetrical and only sacrifices a single land, if you had to keep the green in the mana cost rather than making it BBBB you could probably improve its power and toughness. Additionally if we assume this card is representative of the rest of the set, it is important to note that Wither and Enrage really do not play well in the same environment as wither -1/-1 counters will not trigger any enrage abilities on blocking. I personally would look to replacing wither with another ability, preferably one that is more green to help reinforce the colour requirements.

Again the card isn't particularly bad by any means, but the foremost improvement I would make is replacing the flavour text. The combination of Ghalta and Etali shouldn't be as small as a 5/5, should certainly be a legendary, and should at least cost red. The dissonance of these two ideas harms the card severely.

Alyssa says: Wither shouldn’t be capitalized. In a list of keywords, only the first one is capitalized. When you’re writing quotes in flavor text, make sure you put a shift line break in between the end of the quote and the beginning of the speaker’s name. The card feels barely green at all: in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to see this as red/black. The only bit that really strikes me as possibly green is the trample, which is secondary in black anyway. Enrage is also really hard to trigger intentionally in black, making abuse of the ability in its two intended colors very difficult.

The enrage ability is beyond busted. I understand you want to reference Phyrexian Obliterator and its extremely powerful on-damage ability, but remember that ability can only be as strong as it is because there’s very few ways for you to abuse it, since the controller of the source sacrifices the permanents. There’s tons of enrage enablers that would allow you to use this to repeatedly Armageddon the board. You may think its symmetry compensates for it, making it a “risk vs reward” play, but if you’re building around it the play will never be symmetrical. If you have one of the many ways to reliably damage this each turn you can just pop every land your opponents play consistently, and you’ll have a giant 5/5 that can wear down literally anything over time provided it doesn’t die. There’s a reason people play Armageddon despite the “this includes your lands” line, and making a repeatable version on top of a strong creature isn’t a good combo.

But it’s the flavor which really grinds my gears. The implication is that the Obliterator is some kind of Brisela-like chimera of Etali and Ghalta… which completely doesn’t gel with the card itself. It’s not legendary, it’s less than half the size of Ghalta, it has none of Etali’s lightning stuff or draw power going on. It looks like a generic compleated dinosaur, which would honestly be completely fine if it weren’t for that flavor text implying this was an amalgam of two of Ixalan’s Elder Dinosaurs. It would be similar to Brisela being, like, a 3/3 Eldrazi with a card draw ability.

Possible improvements:

-          You need to find a way to make it green. Perhaps play on the legendary Phyrexian resilience and have it punish by getting bigger when it takes damage. Or perhaps have it dredge its way out of the graveyard at end of turn if it would die from combat damage. Who knows?

-          Figure out a new enrage ability. This one is ridiculously easy to turn into Armageddons For Ever.

-          Use some new flavor text. If you’re dropping story characters, then you need to reflect their abilities, roles, and legendary status.

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 2/5

Flavor – 1/5

Michael says: A compleated Azor is a very interesting concept from a lore perspective, and his card would surely excite players to see printed. This card however I am not sure would accomplish this feat. His mana cost is highly colour intensive meaning he is very difficult to cast in any normal game, therefore I would expect to see a reward equivalent to the effort I put in to cast him. In addition to possessing no built in way to protect himself, his effect feels incredibly weak. While seeing your opponents hand is noteworthy, in the vast majority of games when you cast Azor you are likely to be in the later stages of the game. At this point your opponent has likely already cast most of their hand and if not you are playing against control in which case Azor is never resolving let alone actually attacking. And even if the effect does trigger you are only likely to draw a single card at most given the opponent will play around the effect as much as possible. In order to make this card playable its effect needs to be tuned into a specific niche; given Azor's previous identity as a control piece I would want to see an effect that works well against control to help tie the flavour into the mechanics. I and Alyssa came up with giving him "this card cannot be countered" to help give him an anti-control niche along with changing his effect to be an enter the battlefield trigger. Allowing you to look at an opponents hand, pick a card type, and producing a static draw effect whenever your opponent casts one similar to how Archon of Dawn's Reach is worded we believe would be the best way to give him a specific use worth the extreme mana investment to cast him as well as being more relevant in multiplayer.

Alyssa says: Some small formatting changes. It’s “…look at defending player’s…” rather than “the defending player’s”. You need to add a “Then” before “Choose a nonland card type” to help sequence the effect (basically, so you know you look, then declare.) Make sure you install the M15 Mainframe layout for MSE, so you get the M15 card style, holofoil stamp, legendary crown, flavor bar and text chopping.

Woah, that’s a restrictive mana cost! This gent would be underpowered at 3WUB, so making him six mana of specific colors is a bit too much. I get that it’s acknowledging Azor’s original 2WWUU, but he had two strong abilities, one with instant payoff, that necessitated four color pips. This card doesn’t, and should be priced accordingly. I doubt you’ll ever get value off of his ability. He needs to survive a turn to use it, and by that time you not only have to attack an opponent with a brimming hand, but choose a card type they’ll play loads of. It also only triggers from that player casting that card type, so if Jimmy jams all the enchantments that you just disincentivized Bimmy from playing you dont get any cards. Even so, he doesn’t stop your opponents from comboing off, and the fact it isn’t a “may” means in fringe cases he might mill you out. You might get, like, one card off this guy every two turns, and that’s far too weak. Just play Cloudblazer. This ability isn’t black at all. Becoming Phyrexian doesn’t just jack black onto your mana cost, as New Phyrexia demonstrated, and his vague lockdown/card advantage ability doesn’t do much.

Flavor-wise, I’m not sure what Azor is doing here. He’s evidently compleated, and is doing vague law things, but I just don’t see what the ability is meant to indicate. Does he demand tribute from those who would transgress his twisted law? It just doesn’t have an immediate, strong flavor resonance for me. There is also an Incorrect art credit, which also is already in use. This is the art for Sphinx of the Steel Wind, by Kev Walker, from Alara Reborn. (It’s also one of the five first Mythic Rares! The more you know.)

Possible improvements:

-          Make him 3WUB. Or just make him 4WU. He isn’t strong enough to need all of that color.

-          He needs protection, or a stronger ability to justify the risk. Perhaps make his ability also trigger off entering the battlefield, a la Arashin Foremost. You could also retool it into an effect that names a card type that can’t be played, a la Archon of Valor’s Reach. If you make it stronger, tick up the mana accordingly.

-          Make him scale to multiplayer scenarios.

Grades:

Formatting – 3/5

Function – 2/5

Flavor – 2/5

Michael says: Ok so I really enjoy this card. Its a silly win the game condition with a really crazy activator. These sorts of cards are almost always popular and incentivize weird brews in both the standard environment and in eternal formats. Also I do appreciate the effort you put in to photoshop this yourself, good job on that front. While there is nothing wrong this card in its present incarnation, I think it needs to be improved from where it is now. Phyrexia in general often has an identity of using -1/-1 counters, and so if those exist in the environment it will stop a significant +1/+1 counters theme from being present which would be a key tool making this card workable. In addition while the precedent for win the game effects has been established for the upkeep step this particular card would struggle significantly with such a timing window, as many cards that buff or double power last until end step. If we assume this set cannot use +1/+1 counters the main pathway for this card would be effects that double in power, and therefore I think you can change this effect to an end of turn trigger without much concern over power. If you have a creature with power 40 or greater you are probably winning anyway. In order to avoid confusion with the cleanup step and to improve flavour I would suggest an end of turn trigger where if you attacked with a creature with 40 or more power you win the game.

Alyssa says: You need a comma between “more power” and “you win the game” as they’re two separate clauses. You spelt “versus” wrong, and you want to add a shift line break after the quote finishes before the speaker’s name. Make sure to get the M15 Mainframe card style to add a flavor bar.

Funky, fresh, and Green! The problem is that it’s way too hard to pull off. Placing the win trigger at the beginning of the turn means you need a creature with static power 40 or more, plus instant boosts/abilities, which is really hard because it and the creature both need to survive a full turn to trigger outside of some abstruse circumstances. This just feels like it’s been made too safe out of power level concerns.

I appreciate the need for some counterplay in win conditions, but I feel it’s pretty telegraphed anyway, and if you’re getting the beefy boy that you need to win with this there’s some other enchantments for similar cost that will make your beater so ferocious it’ll probably just win you the game anyway. I feel that it’s perfectly fine to make it an end of turn effect. One variant that we like is for you to attack with a creature with 40 or more power to win the game on the end step, really playing up the flavor of the card.

That flavor is really nice, and I appreciate the photoshop. It’s really cute! I would really prefer to have the artists who made the art you’ve edited credited too (the people who painted Ghalta and Vorinclex.)

Possible improvements:

-          Make it an end of turn effect to better synergise with creature buffs.

-          If you want to keep it at upkeep, add an activated ability that boosts power or whatever. It’s hard to use counters in a Phyrexian set (which is going to be a -1/-1 counter set nearly all the time) but temporary boosts still work.

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 4/5

Flavor – 4/5

Michael says: This card I find somewhat disappointing in all honesty. To give credit where it is due the templating is correct, I love the flavour text, and the card works. But it is far too safe, and that safety really hurt the card. This is obviously a call-back to the original Mavren effect, but creating 2/2 horrors with deathtouch instead. This really does impact the card in a few ways. Firstly the tokens you make are not vampires, one of the benefits of the original Mavren is that he did not need to attack, and the tokens he made would fuel his ability further so you could always swing in with a single vampire every turn and remain even on tokens. This Mavren requires a significant amount of other vampires in the deck, or to swing with himself which opens up a lot more vulnerability to the card getting blocked and killed. And this plays into my other concern as well as the creatures have deathtouch instead of lifelink. While a more powerful mechanic it promotes a slower and more defensive playstyle, which conflicts with the precedent of the vampires being the white weenie deck, in addition to meaning that if Mavren does swing it is more likely there will be creatures available to block him. Finally and this is the most important concern, he is a white card that creates deathtouch tokens. Yes he is tied to vampires, a tribe mostly in black, but he needs to have black in the mana cost or otherwise this card is a colour pie break.  

Alyssa says: The formatting is just dandy. The full art is nice, but it does reveal the Legend of the Cryptids watermark and copyright information below, which really takes you out of the card. You also spelled Mavren Fein wrong! It’s a small quibble but it really, really hurts the card’s aesthetics and is something that could be easily fixed with some proofreading. Unless compleation made him shuffle his name around a bit.

This card puzzles me. For one, it’s not remotely white: Mavren Fein does produce tokens but they’re white tokens with lifelink rather than black ones with deathtouch. I don’t like the fact that mono-W can break the color pie and make deathtouch creatures relatively easily with him. For another, unlike Mavren Fein’s initial form which produces aggressive tokens with a keyword that incentivizes combat and attacking each turn, Mavren Fien’s ability produces defensive tokens instead. I’m therefore confused as to what exactly his game plan is: attack in every turn, or hunker down? There’s also balance considerations in that he does make 2/2’s, which is fine perhaps on a multicolored card but a bit much for a monocolored one, especially when it’s a color bend like this.

I also don’t like that it lets token vampires make tokens. Small thing, but the Torrezon vampires traditionally make lots of tokens so I worry that might kick it over. The flavor is fun, if a little lazy. It’s literally just Mavren Fein again, but with a slight change in some knobs. I want to see something a little more exciting.

Possible improvements:

-          Proofread! So close to being perfect.

-          He’d be perfect if he just cost WB. No color breaks there, and a neat compensation for being two colors.

-          Is deathtouch really the best keyword for his token? Possibly look to making the tokens more directly incentivize aggression

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 3/5

Flavor – 3/5

Michael says: Another odd infect card, this time a compleated siren with the ability to steal creatures. Firstly I really, really love that flavour text. Definitely one of the best I've seen in a while from a personal perspective, it resonates just right. My opinion on the mechanics however is that this card is pulling in two directions. Its raid effect wants it to sit back and block attacking creatures to distribute -1/-1 counters, and this would inevitably be very powerful in limited. However on Ixalan I expect to see bigger creatures than normal thanks to all the dinosaurs, which means it can be very difficult at times to block with this creature. The card really wants to both attack to activate the raid safely as well as remain untapped to block incoming attacks. While this dissonance helps to balance what can be a very potent steal effect, it would also make the card very unfun to play as you cant play in the way this card wants to. Yes a board presence and other infect creatures help to mitigate this, but by itself it will not have a good gameplay loop. Additionally this card uses art that already exists on a magic card. I'm not particularly bothered by that but it can lead to a bit of confusion so if you can avoid that it helps.

 Alyssa says: You forgot the “on it” part of “with a -1/-1 counter on it.” You don’t capitalize the “The” in “the Stormwreck Sea”. Otherwise, formatting is good!

I feel mixed things about this card. On the one hand, it’s mechanically sound, on the other I’m not entirely sure how well it will play. It’s a seemingly very powerful trigger, but I worry that its implementation is internally competitive. You want to steal big stuff here, which is good, but as a 1/5 infect on its own you can only steal things that have 4 or less power that attack into Ichorfleet Despoiler. You aren’t going to be taking any Colossal Dreadmaws with this thing. Similarly, anything it can safely block will probably be worthless when you get it: it’ll be out of the way, sure, but I want more for 5 mana. If the surrounding environment supports putting -1/-1 counters onto creatures, then this could have applications, but it’s really, really bad at triggering its own ability and I think that should be taken into account.

I’m always awkward about putting infect onto things. Once again, this exposes another internal competition within the card. Its 1 infect damage means it’s going to kill people at the speed of a Coral Eel, but I don’t like that you’re incentivized to steal your opponent’s stuff, which probably won’t have infect. You want to win in infect by dealing 10 damage as quickly as possible, but because “not having poison counters” isn’t a resource, you don’t really gain much through incremental, slow upticking. If you’re stealing creatures without infect it’s like the damage this deals doesn’t even matter. In effect, it’s kind of like giving this infect has reduced its power to 0. Just give it wither, like several other entrants have twigged.

It’s a good card, but it just doesn’t sit right to me. The potential line of “attack with my dinky infect rat, get blocked by a gigantic dinosaur, play Despoiler main 2 and steal it” is really fun but once you’ve seen it once you’ve seen it all. This is a card that’s so hard to evaluate outside of set context.

The flavor is lovely, but this art is in use! It’s the art for Siren of the Silent Song from Born of the Gods. Reverse image search your images before you use them just to make sure.

Possible improvements:

-          Give it wither, so it can actually attack well.

-          Swap out the art for something that hasn’t been used.

-          Consider making the card better at activating its own abilities, so it doesn’t rely on the context of a set that doesn’t exist.

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 3/5

Flavor – 4/5

Michael says: So because of the nature of this card as a goblin piker I am less reviewing the card as I am the mechanic, and to be totally honest I am not super keen. The mechanic is clearly a riff on explore, providing a poison counter instead of a +1/+1 counter. My concern with this kind of mechanic is that it would struggle to exist in an environment with infect already present as they compete with similar design space and infect is often easier to get to 10 counters thanks to how it scales and is repeatable. With this mechanic you would need to trigger it and hit a non-land 10 times to win and that is almost impossible in limited if we assume the mechanic is seeded like explore was in Ixalan. Another issue here is that these poison counters are functionally useless until you hit 10 meaning that there is no real benefit for the first 9, whereas with explore the +1/+1 counters can be supremely relevant to the board. Encroach would need to be significantly pushed in how often you can activate it in order to see any amount of constructed play and in doing so could produce a harmful standard environment as these counters would be more difficult to interact with than creature damage through infect. In addition seeing this effect on a BB goblin piker at uncommon is very below rate, while this effect existed in Ixalan the explore trigger was significant in that it existed on both a 1/2 and a 2/1 while also costing one coloured and one generic mana. This card is seriously underpowered in almost every circumstance except when the opponent is on 9 poison counters and I am unsure as to how the mechanic could be tweaked and still keep the flavour of phyrexia while also working similar to explore.

 Alyssa says: Formatting wise, this is completely fine. It wants to be a Soldier, though. Or perhaps a Horror, with appropriate art?

Mechanically, I don’t really have that much to say. Encroach is a very weak ability because it really doesn’t do anything to alter the game state aside from when your opponent has nine poison, which, if that is only being spread through encroach, means the first nine activations that don’t hit a land basically do nothing. With explore, both times you’re getting something, whether that’s a land card or a counter plus a surveil, but with the Conquistador you just give a worthless poison counter. It also feels very lackluster as a concept. It’s literally just explore, but with a tinge of Phyrexian spice that ironically makes it weaker. I can’t think of a set that would want this as one of its 3.5 mechanics. The card wants to be 1B rather than BB. For BB you’re getting a 2/2, or perhaps a 3/2, with that basic effect, especially at uncommon.

A big problem I have is that it’s ripped wholesale from Vraska’s Conquistador, which is also a black uncommon 2 mana 2/1 Vampire with the same art (which you didn’t credit, by the by.) There’s nothing spooky or Phyrexian about the art that tells me that this thing is encroaching on Ixalan, and there’s no flavor either. It just feels like it was slapped together in a couple minutes from Vraska’s Conquistador, even down to the name, with a mechanic that’s just Explore covered in Phyrexian graffiti.

Possible improvements:

-          It needs to be overhauled from the top.

-          Encroach needs some genuine thought to turn it into an incremental poison/value generation mechanic, with a benefit on top of just giving them a single poison counter.

Grades:

Formatting – 4/5

Function – 2/5

Flavor – 1/5

And finally we have our winner for this week:

Michael says: This is a safe design, but I think it checks a lot of boxes for a good call back design while still having its own unique effect. Here the original value engine of kumena is replaced with an infect strategy which supports itself through a token creation ability that also possess infect. I also enjoy how in order to fuel his unblockability, it requires a sacrifice instead of just tapping merfolk, an elegant way of powering down the card in a very flavourful way thanks to the addition of black to his mana cost. While infect can be scary I think the limiters on dealing combat damage to players to trigger the token making definitely helps to mitigate the potential of the card. In order to break this card you would need a lot of tribal investment and synergies, which means he would probably make a strong commander but his standard impact can be well measured. In addition to this the formatting has no problems and the art was well picked for this card. Honestly it makes me sad I cant say much more about this card, its just a really good example of linking old and new flavour. The power level may be a bit suspect but I think it is correct to err on the side of caution for infect cards, especially with built in evasion.

Alyssa says: The formatting is superb. You even got the rules for multiple instances of a legendary creature’s name in a text box right! I also appreciate that you provided the token it produces.

I always get leery of infect, but I can honestly see it working here. The stats are about right (considering it attacks players as a 4/4) especially for a 3-color legendary creature. It’s not Boltable, but it has no inbuilt protection, which I feel compensates. The combat damage trigger is a little uninspired, and perhaps a little weak. I’d like to see something sexier, maybe a card draw? I can’t help but look at Phyrexian Swarmlord as a point of comparison. But I suppose incremental infect production is a decent enough compensation. Either way, I feel it’s a good implementation of infect on a creature that is its own game plan.

You could probably dink the sacrifice condition for his unblockability down to two merfolk. Going in on a -3 to then get, I dunno, Divine Arrowed or whatever is really sad. I like it being free on mana but high on card disadvantage to really sneak infect hits through.

Flavorwise, he’s a real treat. Lovely to see a Phyrexian card with a bit of personality, especially with him being all shouty up in the card art. Flavor text is actually unnecessary on this, in my opinion. His charisma and influence is demonstrated by the Merfolk he summons, his cruelty by how quickly he disposes of them for his own benefit. It’s a shame he’s not a Zombie too but the typeline is packed to the gills (ha) already.

Possible improvements:

-          I want to see either the combat damage trigger a bit sexier or the unblockability trigger a little cheaper.

Grades:

Formatting – 5/5

Function – 4/5

Flavor – 5/5

So thank you to everyone who submitted a card and to Hyperviper for his winning design of Kumena, the Tainted Tyrant. As always feedback on this would be greatly appreciated and hopefully the next prompt should be provided shortly.

 As a bonus please see our take on the prompt with Azor the Mad, unable to intervene in the conflict thanks to his oath limiting simply to providing a passive sanctuary on Useless Island.

[bigskydreaming]

You know what I need more of in the X-franchise, Marvel? Above all else?

Official adoption narratives. Especially of older kids.

The X-Men’s greatest strength as a franchise is that they’re one of the ultimate examples of the found family trope. Practically every single one of them is all about finding bonds within the X-Men that they couldn’t in their biological family, if they even had one they’d ever known at all. 

And because of the weird nature of time in comic books and how they want to keep characters relatively young forever, they tend to shy away from storylines that would provide an easy comparison for exactly how old certain characters are supposed to be, such as having kids. It’s not easy, narratively speaking, to keep kids young forever, and its a lot easier to be vague on whether an older X-character is meant to be early thirties or closer to forty than it is to be vague on whether their child is meant to be seven or thirteen. Which is why even when they do baby storylines, inevitably they use time travel or accelerated aging or something like that to turn the baby into a grown character like with Cable and then with Hope Summers and assorted other instances.

So even though most of the X-Men are now assumed to be in their late twenties to late thirties age wise, and with this reflected in their teacher-student dynamics with current teen characters, none of the X-Men have really ever started families of their own, outside of the occasional storyline where evil scientists or supervillains result in an X-character getting a teenage clone or already adult child. And of course not having children is a perfectly valid choice for any adult, be they single, a couple, and regardless of how family oriented they are or not. But it bugs when you know the only reason none of the X-Men are parents by this point is just because Marvel doesn’t like dealing with the issue of young kids skewing their timeline.

And it especially bugs when you consider that there’s an extremely viable, simple and obvious way to fill this void with a narrative that’s 100% in character for all the X-Men, and that could use waaaaaay more representation in media anyway.

LET. THE. X-MEN. ADOPT. KIDS.

Especially older ones, the ones too often written off as problem children and trouble makers or ‘too old to really help’. The ones so often treated in media as though they’re basically glorified houseguests, just there to be materially provided for until they’re eighteen. Like there’s a cut off point after which older kids can’t possibly still want not just a guardian but a PARENT, not just a mother or father figure, but someone who wants to BE their mom or dad.  Like adults can’t possibly form a parent child bond as strong as any biological one if the child doesn’t come into their life before they’re a teenager, when they’re still a cute little adorable tyke.

Give me Bobby Drake encountering a gay trans mutant teenager whose parents kicked them out of the house. Bobby Drake, with his own experiences growing up in an emotionally abusive and neglectful home, who knows that this particular child needs more than just being brought to the school and getting lost in the crowd, that this child needs someone who says you deserve a parent who loves you and I want to be that parent. Because hell, every kid needs and deserves that of course, but something about the way Bobby connects with this kid right off the bat, like he just knows that what this kid needs, he can be and hey, maybe this kid is what he needs too. His love life has always been a disaster, but kids? He knows kids, hey everyone says he basically is a kid, but that’s never meant he doesn’t know how to be an adult when someone needs him to be. And hey, he’s spent the last fifteen years mastering the art of the embarrassing dad joke, no sense in letting that go to waste.

Give me Ororo Munroe adopting a STEM-loving black teenager with thick glasses and a habit of babbling when she’s nervous. Which is often at first, but gradually fades as she outright BLOSSOMS under the attention Storm showers her with, her insecurities nothing in the face of the knowledge that this legendary superhero, a woman who has been both a goddess and a queen, chose HER, looked at her when nobody else ever had and said this is her, this is the child of my heart. Whose excited ramblings about math and physics might seem an odd match for Storm at first, but really is just another way of connecting with and understanding the world around them. And Storm in turn, who never really liked being called either a goddess or a queen, but who basks in the memory of the first time her daughter called her ‘Mom.’ Who is so used to be treated reverently, but from a distance, by so many people who don’t get that nobody really wants to be considered majestic all the time, that the first time her daughter musters the confidence to tell her that for all her many talents, Storm is apparently terrible at making pancakes, all she can do is throw back her head and laugh in delight.

Give me Kurt meeting his daughter when he evacuates a burning building one teleport at a time, too exhausted by the end of it to be anything more than utterly unsurprised by the crowd keeping their usual distance thanks to his appearance. All except for one girl, standing apart from the rest, pointing at him almost reverently. “You have a tail, like me,” she says, awed.

Give me Rogue and Remy, who have always wanted a big family free of expectations or agendas, everything they wanted for themselves but never really got to have. Who’ve been nervous about starting a family for a long time, Rogue uncertain about having and raising a baby given how unpredictable her control over her powers can be, Remy uncertain about how good a father he’d be....until the day they take down what they thought was a new mutant crime ring. Turned out really to be a couple of older criminals exploiting a bunch of teen and younger mutant kids with a variety of obvious mutations that make it an unfortunately safe bet the foster system isn’t too invested in figuring out why they slipped through the cracks. There’s one who seems to be the oldest, despite the fact that he’s barely five feet of foul-mouthed, defiant fury, and he’s still more than willing to pit his malnourished frame against the two older intruders trying to mess with his ‘family’. Rogue and Remy look at each other and just know, and when the whole group arrives back at the school, various foster families the X-Men reached out to are all ready and eager to make sure each of the children has someone they feel comfortable around to go home with....no one all that surprised when the only ones the scowling young pipsqueak deems acceptable are Rogue and Remy themselves. Who are more than happy to comply.

Honestly, they’d have taken the whole group in if they could, but its one thing to want a big family and its another thing to....start off with a big family right off the bat with zero actual parenting experience. Still, they’re more than willing to host any of the others whenever their newly adopted son asks if one or two can come over. It’s obvious seeing for himself that they’re doing okay helps settle him, after feeling responsible for them for so long. And who could blame him....Rogue and Remy are more than a little attached to all the little scamps by this point, they certainly see enough of them, and there swiftly comes the day that they realize they’re more reluctant to see them go back home than even the kids themselves. Remy heads to the living room where his son is camped out in front of the TV, stands between the two until he’s forced to look up at the X-Man crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. “You’re a little con artist,” Remy accuses admiringly. The scoundrel smirks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was still here first though. I’m not sharing a room.”

Give me a LeBeau household that’s crowded and cramped and chaotic and messy and so full of love it’s like a physical punch to the face the second you open the door to the sound of several kids screaming at each other, full Defcon 5. It’s not always easy, and its not always nice. Sometimes older kids do have behavioral issues, because that’s what happens when someone’s been nothing but screwed over for most of their life. But the kind of choice Rogue and Remy made that first day isn’t really a choice, and its definitely not one they’d ever take back, so they weather the ups and downs and the good and the bad, anchoring themselves with the memory of themselves at those ages, and what they would’ve given for someone who didn’t want or need anything from them and would never give up on them, no matter how much they pushed them away.

And Remy, who for all he’s seen and done in his life, never got around to joining in most of the X-Men’s baseball games. Or, well, learning to play it, really. But dads should be able to play catch with their kids, he figures. Oh, he doesn’t think they’ll be like, horribly scarred or anything if they don’t, but, y’know. Might be nice. So he seeks out Bobby and Sam and Jean and various others for what should be a quick tutorial, except for the fact that Remy seems to be bizarrely untalented at this one specific thing. Meanwhile, one of the girls is very into pink dresses and French braids and all the things Rogue most decidedly is not, but if her daughter wants to be a pretty princess, Rogue is not going to be the reason her daughter can’t be a goddamn princess. So she rolls up the sleeves of her bomber jacket and marches off to Janet van Dyne’s, because if you gotta learn how to braid hair, where else would you go, she figures.

Except two weeks later and they’re up after midnight at the kitchen table, Rogue practicing on a damn doll and about to pull out her own hair while Remy scowls at the glove he’s trying to break in, finding the whole process to be utterly stupid. He looks over at Rogue, about to melt the doll’s head off with the power of her ire. “Trade ya?” He asks hopefully. “God yes,” Rogue groans. “Why didn’t we think of this weeks ago?”

Which results in the other girls joining their mother in terrorizing the other X-Men families at baseball, with yodeling battle cries and a complete and utter disdain for any of the actual rules of the game, while most of the boys flock to learning to braid hair from Remy and their sister. Their own hair tends to be too short to do much more than tie it off in the back with a short little pony tail. “I like that shade of pink,” Rogue says to one, of the ribbon used. He rolls his eyes. “It’s fuchsia, Mom.”

“Of course it is, sweetheart,” she says flatly, shooting Remy an exasperated look. He smirks, unrepentant.

Give me a legacy generation of adopted X-Men children who want nothing more than to grow up to be just like their parents, because they’re secure in the knowledge their parents want nothing more of them than to be happy. Who grow up not safe, because the mansion or school or wherever the X-Men are based will never truly be safe, but none of them were really safe to begin with, and at least now they’re happy and loved and they’ll take that over safe any day. Give me a next generation of X-Men who are as diverse and varied as the X-Men should’ve all been from the start, if not for an industry and audience mired in racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc....but a next generation of diverse new characters who benefit from close personal ties to the most iconic X-Men, giving them a potential profile and staying power most other newly created characters can never hope to match. Except in the cases of new characters who capitalize on exactly those kinds of close personal ties, like X-23.

You’ve been using the X-Men to provide narratives about surrogate parent figures for decades now, with Wolverine and Kitty and then Wolverine and Jubilee, with various other characters in a number of dynamics. But with rare exceptions of stories that ultimately only last for a short arc or two or else never get mentioned again, like with Dani and Elixir or Northstar and his daughter, there’s hardly ever any instances of actual adoption or X-characters not just establishing a close mentor or guardian bond, but an actual familial relationship. The only one I can really think of is Cable and Hope, and like....spoilers, so....yeah.

Anyway.

Marvel looooooves to play up the tragic home life backstory for most of its teen or new mutants, with their being a huge number of characters over the years who’ve either been orphaned or disowned or rejected by their families because they’re mutants. 

And you expect me to believe that in all this time, not a single one of these X-Men has ever looked at one of these kids and said “you know what? You need a home, I can give you a home, let’s make this happen”?

Nope. Fake. Unrealistic. OOC. 

[utopianparadoxist]

Do you think that Rose and Kanaya were originally going to be moirails, and that their being girlfriends was OOC and detrimental to their characters? Generally, what do you think of rosemary?

Well, it’s @rosemarymonth and I’ve wanted to talk about Rosemary and why I think the canon gets WAY too little credit with regards to their execution for ages so I may as well do it now. 

Keep in mind, of course, that I am a dude and in no way want any wlw to feel I’m shutting down critiques of Homestuck’s flaws in this regard. I think that’s perfectly valid, this is just my reading. I’ll be interested in seeing what people have to say. 

I don’t get to talk about Rosemary enough anyway, so I’ll also take you up on it and go over why I love Rosemary and why I think readings that they were “meant to be moirails” and “go ooc” is straight up just misreading the text, because the comic is actually pretty clear in broadcasting its intent.

The thing to keep in mind is that Homestuck’s entire plot follows one consistent rule: The message of AURYN from The Neverending Story, “Do what you will.” 

The events in Homestuck that actually happen are by design the sum product of the wills of the entire cast, and how well characters express their wills on reality directly correlates to how “powerful” they are.

Caliborn is the villain because Lord English violates EVERYONE’s agency by confining them all to the plot of Homestuck/his Alpha Timeline. Within the confines of those prescribed paths, however, reality always defaults to fulfilling the wishes of all characters involved, or resolving the tension between them.

What this means PRACTICALLY is that almost every event that happens in the story, no matter how ridiculous….

is, on some level, foreshadowed by the desires of the characters, just as Arquius’ heroic sacrifice and absorption into LE is foreshadowed by the desires of both him and Caliborn:

Oh, and speaking about Caliborn wanting to be bros with Dirk and allowing him to die as if going to sleep:

All this in mind, let’s focus on Rose and Kanaya. No, I don’t get the impression they were ever going to be moirails. I’m not sure when Hussie decided on Rosemary, but I get the impression it was early, at least by the time Kanaya was introduced.

Why? Let’s take stock of both girls’ desires and conflicts throughout Act 5.

Kanaya’s early characterization revolved around A) A tendency to gravitate and pacify take-charge, forward individuals, 

and B) A profound dissatisfaction with that role.

That’s what burned her out so hard when she was interested in Vriska. So I’m not sure why one would assume that actually, Kanaya’s True Destiny was to fall into… the exact same arrangement with Rose once again, despite expressly avoiding it. That doesn’t seem like good storytelling to me.

Especially since Rose is, from the very beginning, posited as an idealistic escape from that solitude for Kanaya. Kanaya is the receiver of Rose’s prophetic text—one of her earliest big contributions as a Seer of Light– and it makes a tremendous impact on her. 

That impact is partly manifested as an out and out romantic fantasy about Rose, who Kanaya idealizes as the legendary leader of her session. 

Kanaya’s fantasies about Rose in this regard play heavily into her attempted courtship through the Flighty Broads and their Snarky Horseshitometer sequence—and it is romantic courtship. 

Kanaya makes that clear in the mission-critical text document where she positions herself as an antagonistic suitor to John, and that document is first referenced in… oh, mid-Act 4.

So Kanaya’s romantic interest suffuses the narrative from pretty early on. What about Rose?

Let’s talk about romance aesthetics. Pretty much every endgame ship in Homestuck is couched in a distinctive brand of romantic connotation.  For example, Dave and Karkat are linked to anime romance cliches, with Dave as shonen hero and Karkat as heroine. 

Jade and Davepeta are linked by a mutual indulgence in furry identity. Vriska and Terezi get the “Home Sweet Home” connotation of The Wizard of Oz, and Dirk and Jake have the undying devotion and mutual passion implied by their link to The Princess Bride.

Rose is once described as a reserved girl “enamored by what dwelt in shadow”. This is a facet of her characterization that’s present from moment 1, what with her interest in the Horrorterrors.  Another obvious place to go is Mom, and by association Roxy–both of whom certainly “dwell in shadow” as Void players.

And then, of course, we have Kanaya:

Vampires are traditionally associated with hiding in darkness, away from the Light. And Kanaya describes her rainbow drinker fantasy in exactly those terms. So this aesthetic link between them is established pretty damn early, too.

Of course, Kanaya is not a traditional vampire. I’m far from the first to point out that Rainbow Drinkers most strongly resemble the hyper-romanticized, shine-in-the-light vampires of Twilight, one of the most popular romance series for teen girls of the 2000′s.

Taking that incredibly popular aesthetic and using it as a wrapper for the love story of two girls is instantly compelling. What’s genius is that this is a cocktail of imagery that has natural appeal for Rose as a person, because while it’s true that she’s interested in the darkness that surrounds her, it’s clear that Rose spends her narrative seeking the truth and the meaningful. 

In other words, even when she’s enmeshed in darkness, what Rose wants is…

The Light. She may not have taken an interest in Meyer’s prose or Edward’s surly patriarchal authority, but all else being equal? Rose was all but made for a story with imagery like Twilight’s. That in and of itself would be evocative and romantic enough, but it goes deeper. 

Because Rose’s relationship with Kanaya is deeply interwoven with her relationship to the reality of Homestuck, a conflict that Kanaya directly helps her solve.  Perhaps fittingly, given that Kanaya is a Sylph implied to be “Made of Space”, and so innately linked to the Setting of the story through her Aspect.

This conflict between Rose and the Setting of Homestuck is, in my view, nothing less than the main thrust of Rose’s character arc, so it’ll take a little bit to unpack. Let’s dig in.

Rose gets too little credit. She is the first of the main cast to really learn about Lord English, and the unfathomable, canon-defining threat he poses to the cast. 

But even before she learns about him in name, she spends pretty much her entire arc resisting and fighting against his machinations, subtly perceiving something deeply wrong in the story from its very beginning. 

In this, Rose strikes a compelling counterpoint to her partner TT, Dirk Strider. Because If Dirk’s character arc revolves around his belief that he himself is inherently evil, then it’s fair to say Rose’s main conflict is a belief that the world itself is inherently evil. 

Or at the very least, incomprehensible and meaningless. Random and empty of logic or reason. And borderline antagonistic to her and her friends, as though reality itself is an unfortunate occurence. 

In other words, Rose’s experience of reality is deeply colored by Void, the aspect of the unimportant, meaningless, irrelevant, and most importantly: incomprehensible. 

Just as Dave’s sense of self is broken by his abusive upbringing from a Prince of Heart, so too Rose’s sense of reality is shaped by her codependent relationship with her Mom, a guardian whose actions she can neither understand nor predict. 

As a Seer of Light, Rose is drawn towards trying to understand the truth, and in particular the inner truths and meanings behind the minds of others.  At the core of her being, Rose is a person who desperately desires to know and understand.

Consider how frustrating this must make Mom’s erratic and dysfunctional behavior to her–there’s no rhyme or reason behind her mother’s actions, influenced as they are by her depression, loneliness, and alcoholism. There’s just apparent randomness from the person who defines her entire life–in essence, the God of her household. 

Add in Roxy’s tendency toward passive-aggressive behavior–which Rose definitely perceives from her Mom, whether it was intentionally directed at her or not–and it’s unsurprising that Rose quickly begins to view reality as not just nonsensical and arbitrary, but outright antagonistic.

Rose’s inherently defiant worldview is only intensified by Sburb. Not only does Mom continue being aloof and indecipherable, but Rose discovers that fate has apparently already decreed that she and her friends are doomed to failure and death. To Rose this is more than unacceptable: It’s infuriating. 

Throughout Act 5, characters often comment on how Rose’s obsession with subverting Sburb leads her to becoming withdrawn, self-serious, and distant from her relationships. She also attempts to assume responsibility for herself and everyone around her, culminating in the suicide mission she tries to take on alone.

All of this is accompanied by her tearing her Land apart, as she foregoes its “childish” path in favor of something she perceives as more mature and adult. Most blatantly of all, Rose flirts with emulating her Mom in her most obviously adult activity: indulging alcohol. Rose is, in essence, trying to be an adult. Forcing herself to grow up too fast. 

By the way? Withdrawing emotions, carefully managing the feelings of others, attempting to assume outsize responsibility for their households and attempting to take care of their guardians are all behavioral hallmarks of kids who grow up in codependent households. 

Fast-forward to the aftermath of Cascade, when Rose achieves God Tier and comes face to face with Kanaya for the first time. It’s notable that achieving God Tier is the first moment that Rose is given any indication whatsoever that the plight she shared with her friends was not just random, pointless doom.

It is instead a lucky break. Or a suggestion of greater meaning. In essence, it’s the first time Rose is given really any reason to see reality as anything but the chaotic, nonsensical burden she’s experienced it as so far. 

The revelation is accompanied by Kanaya’s sudden phosphorescence, which Rose describes as “inexplicable”–a word usually associated with frustration for her. Here, however, it comes as a happy surprise. Here, Rose is seeing through the incomprehensible Void of her reality to perceive Light for the first time.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the moment is paired with Rose’s first romantic overture toward Kanaya. 

Especially since the trend continues. As Rose grows more confident reality not necessarily ALWAYS being a hellish, meaningless landscape of random and pointless suffering, she also grows more playful and willing to be sincere. She grows to trust the Light she was once so suspicious of, asks Kanaya out on dates, and comments on things she enjoys about her without insincerity. 

But she remains traumatized and conflicted about her relationship to both her Mom and the world, and takes up Mom’s alcoholism as a way to try to understand the former and ignore the latter.

This comes between her and Kanaya, since Kanaya relies on Rose to help her figure out HER role in the world, and to figure out how to achieve the revival of her species. 

It’s worth mentioning that alcohol abuse, for both Rose and Roxy, is extremely Void-coded. It leads Rose to prioritize the pointless, ridiculous, unimportant and non-existent.

Void is also deeply tied to all things physical, as opposed to Light’s link to ideas and the imaginary. And Rose’s lack of guidance is a factor in making Kanaya succumb to her own addiction to Blood. 

Here, Kanaya ends up valuing the desires of her physical form as a Rainbow Drinker over the more idealistic goal of the revival of her species, or even her relationship with Rose. As such, the two girls’ problems are marked as the same problem, even as they drive them further apart from one another. 

And we see where their disunity and lack of direction takes them Pre-Retcon: It renders both of them less effective, and thus less important to the plot. It also leads them to misfortune. Rose’s inability to connect with and help, or even be helped by Kanaya, leads directly to tragedy in her relationship to the world.

Good thing there’s a flip side. 

In the retcon timeline, Rose and Kanaya work stuff out. Rose gets past her alcohol addiction and directly credits Kanaya’s aid for it. Kanaya resists the pull of literal blood as she takes Karkat to Echidna and engages in an intellectual discussion about his relationship to his Aspect and the future of Troll-kind.

Rose reconciles with her Mom completely through Roxy, finding meaning where she could only speculate before. And with her increased ability to sort truth from lie, important from unimportant, and meaningful from irrelevant…

She resolves the tension between herself and the “demands” of Sburb, openly voicing her ambivalence to the very concept of her Personal Quest. In so doing, she illuminates an important truth to both the cast and the audience: that Sburb’s prescribed path to self-actualization is not particularly important, and certainly not strictly necessary. 

Inner truth, understanding, good fortune, foresight, and happiness–Rose never needed to comply with some videogame’s 12-step program for self-satisfaction to get any of that, and neither do we. Light can arise anywhere, as long as you have the patience to look for it and people who love you at your side.

Hope this helps you see what I see, anon. Rose and Kanaya’s story is one worth cherishing, and I haven’t even come close to saying all I think there is to say about it, if you can believe that! But its a start. 

Happy rosemary month, happy Halloween, and as always

Keep rising! ;)

[Patreon] [Hiveswap Discord]

[mismaris]

Here I am, back at it again with that wonderful angst we all enjoy! This one’s for @bohemianbluerhapsody. This is part one, part two will be about the aftermath of these events. 

Possible spoilers for at least the trailer of tlj, so if you don’t want to know what’s been in the trailers, don’t read! The rest is purely speculation between @bohemianbluerhapsody and myself!

I hope you enjoy it!

Forgiveness Part 1

“Ah, there you are. I have been expecting you for a long while, girl.”

Rey stepped obediently up to the throne Snoke sat in, stopping only a few feet short of it. She showed no hint of fear, not a whisper of disgust at the decrepit, withered old…thing that sat before her.

Snoke. She was finally coming face to face with Leader Snoke. Darkness seeped from his chair, curling out in tendrils around her. She allowed it to test her own mental shields, allowed it to push and prod. Rey put up no resistance, but did not let him into her mind, either. Snoke seemed pleased, and he sat back on his throne. The darkness, however, stayed.

“Finally, a student who seems to know not to let just anyone walk into their minds.” He cast a look over her shoulder, at where she assumed Kylo Ren was standing. “You ought to learn a thing or two from her, Ren.”

 Feelings of fear and jealousy that were not her own washed over her, but Rey shut them out. Shut him out.  She could not focus on whatever had happened to Kylo Ren at such a young age to turn him into this monstrosity. That was something to deal with at another time. Right now, Rey wanted knowledge that only Snoke could give her.

Well, someone else could have given her that knowledge, too. But he was too much of a coward to even admit that much.

 Resist it, Rey.

Rey felt a fresh wave of bitterness wash through her. She let it straighten her spine.

“Leader Snoke.” She said, raising her head high, “I was told that you would have answers for me.” What she assumed passed for eyebrows raised on his head. Snoke drummed his fingers on his throne, observing her.

 “Of course, girl. The dark side knows all, tells all. You can see in the light, yes, but it blinds you. The dark is able to give you freedom. If you trust it, it will show you the way.” Rey was beginning to feel numb. The room was cold, so cold. She repressed a shiver. Snoke held out a hand to her, an offering.

“Would you like to see?”

Rey!

Rey blinked, just barely catching sight of her own fingers settling onto Snoke’s palm, before the cold was replaced by hot, desert air.

Jakku. This was Jakku! She would recognize the wasteland that had served as her home anywhere. What was she doing back here? Had it…had it all been a dream?

“Please, watch over her.” Rey whipped around, just in time to see a cloaked figure stepping away from someone who was unmistakably Unkar Plutt, and—

She sucked in a breath.

“Come back!”

See how you were left, all alone? You cried for him to come back, but he didn’t even turn around to say goodbye to you. Just left you with false promises, that’s all he ever does.

Anger flared in her. She tried to snuff it out.

He had too, she thought. I was in danger.

 Danger? There is always danger, girl. It lurks in every corner of the Galaxy. Just because he left you on a planet where there was no shade does not mean there weren’t shadows.

“Be quiet, girl!” Rey watched as Unkar Plutt pulled the younger version of her backwards, away from the ship that was powering up. Little Rey cried out again.

“Come back!”

The ship left.

Pure, unadulterated rage flared in her. He’d left her, stranded there, promising to return and then going to live out his days in exile anyway. He hadn’t wanted her, not then, not ever.

Yes, you see now? All he’s done is push you away. 

Rey blinked, and suddenly she was watching herself, only a few standard months ago, handing a lightsaber to a man who did not want it, did not want her. He paused long enough to take it, to study her, and then walked past her, dropping the saber to the ground with a soft thunk. He’d left her, yet again, standing on that hill.

He will continue to leave you. To make you feel unworthy.

The anger was now joined by pain, as she watched herself argue with him. Her blood roared in her ears, but she didn’t need to hear to remember what had been said that night, her last on the island. If he wasn’t going to come back with her, then fine. She’d save her friends all on her own. She didn’t need the help of a cowardly old man, anyway.

That’s when you captured me. Some of the anger receded, only just, but the absence it left was filled with cold, numbing, darkness. Her ears rung, but she couldn’t place the sound.

It was necessary. A…test, if you will, to see just how much he had taught you.

Was he…is he…? Still, she couldn’t bring herself to truly believe it. This was the answer she had wanted. Why she had made Kylo take her directly to Leader Snoke.

Search your feelings. You know it to be true.

She did…and while there was certainly that truth present, there was also…something else. Something, not quite right. Snoke sensed her hesitation, but Rey cut him off before he could question her.

I want to see, one more time. Darkness swirled around her, and Rey swore it almost felt like smug satisfaction. The scene changed back to Jakku.

But of course. Snoke practically purred. Take all the time you need.

Rey walked forward, cautiously, as if afraid to disrupt the memory playing out around her. What about this didn’t feel right? Jakku looked the same, Unkar Plutt was still his disgusting self, and she was…her. So, what was it?

Rey turned, finding the source to be the man walking away. She trailed after him. He seemed uneasy on the sand, not as sure-footed as one would expect a man who had grown up on a desert planet to be. Her curiosity overtaking her anger, Rey trudged forwards, quickly catching up to him.

He was tall. Taller than she anticipated. Behind her, the younger version of herself cried out.

The man paused. He turned, only slightly, barely looking over his shoulder back at her.

But it was enough.

Rey recoiled, stumbling over her own feet and tumbling down, down…past the sand and heat, away from the bright light that was Jakku. She plummeted into darkness.

You liar! She snarled, her anger returning in full force. He didn’t leave me there!

 He didn’t come back for you, either. Snoke seemed agitated. Rey felt it in the darkness that snaked around her once more, this time grasping her tightly.

Let go of me! The ringing was back in her ears, shrill and loud.

Give in, girl. Snoke said, tightening his hold. It does not matter who you are angry at, so long as you are angry. Let it fester, let it take over. Darkness is the only option.

Everything was cold again. Rey, feeling her energy drain out of her, began to tire. 

Yes, that’s it. The darkness is soothing, isn’t it? Weakly, Rey pushed against him, trying to grasp onto the force. It slipped away from her like water through a strainer. Join me, and we can take revenge on those who have wronged you, left you.

An image of Kylo Ren flashed in her mind. She wanted to kill him, right? She could avenge Han Solo, and rid the Galaxy of a complete lunatic. She’d stopped struggling, now.

And he’s not the only one.

Being betrayed by scavengers in the desert; Unkar Plutt yelling abuse at her; Han Solo falling to his death; Leia sending her on a fool’s mission; Luke refusing to train her.

Finn, as he pleaded with her to come with him. He was fleeing, and though she asked him to stay, he left her anyway, with a “take care of yourself”. The pain was overwhelming, and Rey invited the numbing darkness. It was soothing. So much better than the light she’d been forced to live in for so long.

That’s it, yes…give in to the darkness.

The ringing in her ears was fading now, quieter, but no less shrill.

Do you wish to know how to make the pain stop?

Y-yes, please! Rey choked out the words. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Very well…all you must do is to let go of any…obstacles, in your way. Your so-called friends, for instance. As long as they live, they will try to pull you back. They aren’t like us, they can’t understand what it means to have all this power. We must get rid of them, so you can achieve your ultimate potential.

The darkness began to feel colder now, bordering on ice.

 I need the location of the Resistance Base. You can be free of any pain they will cause you. After all, they’ll leave you behind in the end, just as before.

A memory surfaced then, sneaking up through the darkness. Rey saw Finn, standing in front of her on Starkiller base. He’d come back for her.

The memory was so clear, so bright, that it brought clarity back to the darkness surrounding her. Finn had come back for her, had insisted upon it. He’d lied to the entire Resistance, just for her! Rey tried to sit up, but found she wasn’t able to move. Her anger was replaced by panic and dread, as she realized that the darkness had wrapped itself firmly around her.

Let go of me! Her throat burned, and Rey panicked as she tried to breathe, but found she couldn’t. The ringing became louder, and Rey realized it wasn’t the blood rushing in her ears, but someone screaming.

Her screaming.

And with that, Rey was shoved back into her body. Pain engulfed her as Snoke rifled through her mind, tearing down wall after wall to get what he wanted. Rey tried to crane her neck around to see him, but she was suspended in the air, with an upside-down view of Kylo Ren.

He looked…horrified. Not at all like the man who had done the same thing to her only months ago. Who had done it to countless others. Conflict.

“Rey!”

She almost missed the shout over her own screaming, but less than a few seconds later, she was dropped to the ground. Every part of her ached, and the ice-cold floor was not helping much either.

Warm hands held her by the shoulders. Her head lolled to the side, and she groaned as she cracked open her eyes to see bright, brown eyes staring back at her.

“…Finn?” He smiled at her, half relief and half concern written all over his face. Finn looked like he wanted to say something, but another familiar voice shouted back at him.

“Finn, go, now!” Rey’s heart leaped. She tried to push herself up, wanted to see what was happening, but her arms shook with the strain. They were numbed still, from the darkness Snoke had used on her. Seeing she wasn’t able to stand on her own, Finn quickly lifted her into his arms, and began to turn from the room.

As he did, Rey finally was able to get a good look at what was happening. Snoke was still sitting, but now completely forward, his left hand braced on the arm of his throne, the right outstretched, as if pushing against an invisible wall. Now that the numbness was beginning to fade, Rey could feel the force in the room.

Snoke’s, still dark and icy, filled the area round him. Rey flinched away from it, holding tighter to Finn. He squeezed her back in turn. His presence was solid and warm, but nothing compared to the absolute bonfire they were now walking through. It surged through the chamber towards Snoke, and though there was no visible light, Rey still felt the need to squint at its source.

Standing across from Snoke, both hands raised and robes billowing around him, was Luke Skywalker.

I’m hallucinating, Rey thought, blinking hard several times. Finn’s head was also turned towards the man, but he continued forward, his soldier’s instincts kicking in.

But Rey could not look away from him, not for a second. For the first time since she’d known him, Rey could see what everyone else had: Leia had described her brother as selfless, compassionate; Han Solo insisted Luke was stubborn but utterly determined, especially when it came to his family; every legend she’d ever heard about him was true.

His eyes blazed a clear, sky-blue as he glowered at Snoke, both hands spread in front him. Luke’s blazing light pushed against the icy darkness trying to overtake him.

I can’t leave him!

She began to struggle, her mouth opening to tell Finn to let her down, to let her help her Fa—

Finn ducked, his knees hitting the floor so hard Rey felt the jolt ripple through him. Blaster fire blazed overhead as Stormtroopers marched into the room. Already moving to block her position and bring his own blaster around to return fire, Rey rolled easily out of his arms. She flexed her arms and legs, relieved to find that the muscles were responding once more as they should. She began to reach for the lightsaber at her belt, when the unmistakable sound of one igniting caught her attention.

Jerking her head back to Luke, she was mortified to find Kylo Ren, now up from where he had been thrown across the room into the wall, and stalking towards him. Luke didn’t seem to notice, or, if he did, he payed his nephew no mind.

She wouldn’t make it in time. There was only one way.

Slowly, controlled, Rey stood. Finn was shouting at her to get down, even as he dodged blaster fire himself. Rey blocked him out.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Her Jedi robes fluttered, a wind swirling around her as she gathered the force to aid her.

Feel the light. It’s always been there…

It had always been there. He had always been there, calling for her, even when he didn’t know it. Rey had thought she needed him, but really, Luke had needed her.

She could feel the presence of those in the room. Snoke’s icy darkness, Luke’s fiery light, Finn’s warm solidity. Even the Stormtroopers, brainwashed as they had been, were a wall of rock.

And then, across the room, there you are.

Kylo’s dark rage was unmistakable. It churned around him, like a tornado raging across the sands of Jakku. And yet, at its center…there it was again. The conflict. Yes, he was angry. But he was also… 

...sadnessdissapointmentwhydidyoumakemegoawayimsorryimdifferentiwillbebetter…

…Rey’s heart bled for him. She knew those feelings all too well, had lived with them for the past few months. Even longer, on a level she hadn’t been able to accept as she clung to hope scavenging on Jakku.

But he was still marching towards Luke, still raising his lightsaber. There was no time for reason, only time for action. Rey’s eyes snapped open, and with a cry, she thrust her arm forward, sending every ounce of force she could channel behind it. Like a spear, it soared through the air, directly through Luke and Snoke’s battle, causing both to startle and break their concentration, and straight into Kylo Ren’s chest.

He grunted, lightsaber clattering to the floor as he landed, hard, on his back. He did not get back up.

Adrenaline pumped through Rey’s veins. Turning her attention towards the doorway, where Stormtroopers were still shooting, she arched her hand out to the left, causing the troopers to fall in a wave. They also did not get up.

Her friends safe, Rey began to turn back, ready to deal with Snoke and end this once and for all, when a warm presence settled over her.

No, Rey. Not like this. Don’t let it be out of hatred.

Rey stopped, looking up to meet Luke’s eyes. They were sorrowful, an all-too-familiar shininess in them, but there was something else. An emotion she couldn’t place. All at once, the adrenaline drained out of her. She hadn’t realized that she’d been using the force to hold herself up, but now that her connection was gone, Rey began to fall forwards again.

The last thing she saw was Luke, rushing towards her.

 He came back.

[trulycertain]

Dignity

Skyhold fluff, and Gal’s battles with the Helm of the Inquisitor. 1.8k.

Dorian walks into the undercroft to discuss those odd spirit-shards with Dagna, and then stops. And stares. And he can’t quite restrain his laughter. It echoes along with the sound of the falls.

Gal would probably be glaring if not for the oversized helm that covers his eyes completely and ends some way past his jaw. The noseguard touches his chin. He looks like a boy stealing his father’s armour.

“I told Harrit it needed some adjustments,” Dagna pipes up from behind him.

Dorian tries to recover his composure. “…Adjustments. Yes.” He stalks over to Gal, examining it in morbid fascination. “Well, it’ll certainly have a striking effect on our enemies.”

Gal mumbles something, and it’s lost in the echo of silverite.

“Can you see?” Dorian asks. He steps forward and lifts the helm slightly to peer into Gal’s eyes, receiving - ah, yes, a half-hearted glare for his trouble.

“Can when you do that,” Gal answers. He sighs. “I thought the wings were too much.”

“Oh, no, they add something… indefinable.” He remembers, then, and he gently lets the metal go. It slides back into place, probably throwing Gal once again into darkness. “Is this from those plans you found in the Wastes?”

Gal nods, and the helm wobbles. Dorian uses every ounce of will he has to keep his laughter silent.

Gal says, “You’re mocking me.”

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m the pinnacle of solemnity. And you’re laughing.”

Even under the helm, it’s obvious that Gal is biting back a grin. “No idea what you mean,” he echoes. “I’m just glad Sera isn’t here.” They both snort at that thought, and Gal slides the helm off his head, handing it back to Dagna and saying to her, “Thank you. Could you tell Harrit that I’ll be back in to talk about adjustments?”

For a woman raised under stone, Dagna has a remarkably sunny smile. “Sure. We’ll have it done before you can say ‘Corypheus’.”

Gal smiles back - the small, true one he uses for friends, no trace of the Inquisitor in it. It makes him look freer, more approachable, and… interesting. He’s foregone the war paint today, not even wearing the kohl; it’s possibly the third time that’s happened now. Dorian wonders if people have been startled by the fresh-faced stranger who keeps talking like he leads them. “You’re amazing,” Gal says, with that frightening sincerity.

Laughing, she says, “Only a little.”

Gal’s still grinning when he turns back to Dorian. “I’ll just - “ he starts, jabbing a thumb doorwards and starting to leave.

Dorian has, oddly enough, completely forgotten what his business here was. He falls into step with Gal and says, “No, no, I’ll accompany you. We can discuss further adjustments.” Then he says, for Gal’s ears only, “Should I be jealous?” It’s light, an obvious joke. Gal’s interests lie elsewhere. Besides, it’s not as if he has any sort of claim -

Gal gives him a look, even edged as it is with laughter, and then says into his ear, “Not like you have to be. You know you’re amazing.” Gal’s mouth… lingers somewhat, and Dorian feels the slightest scrape of stubble, that smile against his cheek. “And one more word about the helm and I’m putting you in official plaidweave.”

Dorian looks over his shoulder but only sees Dagna, who appears to be grinning into her research and barely pretending not to eavesdrop. She looks up to give him a cheery wave. He returns it, trying not to show his surprise, before he says, “That would be an abuse of your power - “

“I’m stuck being Inquisitor. Might as well enjoy it,” Gal says, looking almost… fiendish.

 “Inquisitor?”

Leliana raised an eyebrow when he walked into this meeting. Gal doesn’t think it’s come down since. She looks too knowing, and like she might be trying not to laugh.

Fuck. He can’t be that obvious. Can he? He used to be good at this. Impassivity, he remembers being told, is the mask of the templar. You must be able to assume it at will. There’s barely been a second’s delay while he tries to focus, and he says, “I’m with Cullen. Adjust their rations? They can’t like being trapped in the Western Approach.”

He’s been listening, and he has been thinking of the Western Approach. (But he’s also been thinking of the night before, and the way Dorian looked asleep, and that low laughter at something he’d said. Also of when he’d given an honest compliment, called him a good man, and Dorian had just stared. Dorian Pavus, speechless.)

There are nods and murmurs of assent. They’ve dealt with most of it: preparations for the Winter Palace, and for protecting the empress. Josephine’s been saying something about dress uniforms and looking at him with interest. That worries him. She’s doing it now, but her interest’s of a different kind - worry’s on her face. She watches him but she doesn’t say anything, and he’s grateful.

He heads to the rookery with Leliana to collect a couple of letters. Goes to the tavern and tells Bull and Krem about a job for the Chargers. Visits Dagna to ask her about the rune that’ll break Samson’s armour, and asks about the helm gently as he can. He knows she’s doing five things at once, usually for him. Shouldn’t ask for more.

There’s more to do, but he’s walking past the kitchens when someone grabs his arm. A sharp-nosed woman, with dark hair and a severe expression, and she nods. “Inquisitor.”

He takes his hand off his sword hilt, nods back. “I…” He hasn’t got her name. It shames him.

She sighs. “I’m a cook. Haven’t got the apron on yet. And we’ve all seen you about. Eat, before you fall over.” She presses something into his hand.

He blinks and moves to thank her, but she’s already gone and he’s not certain following her would be right. He frowns at… something wrapped up and shrugs.

He ends up sitting under the biggest tree in the gardens. A few people have given him odd looks, but generally he’s glared back and they haven’t tried to disturb him. He balances the parcel on his knee and unwraps it, still wary. Raises the contents to eye level and squints.

“Remarkably well-disguised, isn’t it?”

He looks over his shoulder in surprise.

Dorian saunters over and continues, “If it is an assassination attempt. Myself, I think it may just be a ham sandwich.”

Gal examines it one more time in wonder. “She’s used decent mustard. I didn’t know we had mustard.”

Sitting next to him, Dorian replies, “Oh, I’ve noticed. I’ll take it, if you’re not interested.”

Gal pretends to glare at him, then looks back to the sandwich. Rewraps it and puts it aside. He takes the morning’s letters out of his pockets, half-looks at them and mutters, “Inquisitor has first rights on all sandwiches.” They both seem to be requisitions requests. Business in the Emprise, mainly.

“You’re a tyrant.”

“A well-fed tyrant.” He lays the letters next to him, weighing the parchment down with his belt dagger. Then he looks up. He tries not to let everything show on his face, but he knows he’s failing. “I… Good morning.”

With a nod, Dorian says, “Good morning.” There’s a glint in his eye when he speaks again. “Do you know how hard it is to sneak out of your quarters when you’re not even beside me to provide a pretext? I can’t have an important meeting with myself, no matter how hard I try. The guards are trying not to laugh at me. Which might be why one somehow found himself startled by a dead spider.” He tilts his head. “Formerly dead, anyhow. Uncontrolled releasing of magic. Terrible accident. Tevinters are less disciplined about that sort of thing. I think that was what he was saying, at least.”

Gal snorts. “Don’t antagonise the troops.”

“What if they antagonise me first?”

“They’ve been doing that since Haven.”

Dorian pauses and looks like he’s considering that. “True.”

Gal looks at him interestedly. “Are we still doing pretexts? Thought most people knew.”

“If by ‘most people’ you mean our friends and that messenger you terrified with your sex hair - “

Gal puts his face in his palm. “Least I was dressed.”

“There’s that, yes. I’d say she took it rather well, all told.”

“That’s because she already knew.”

“She… I’m sorry?” Dorian raises a brow, his eyes just this side of wide.

“Think she saw me kiss you goodbye first time I left for the Wastes.”

“Ah.” Dorian exhales, nodding.

Gal sighs. “And I’d kiss you now, but half the troops are here for morning rations and Mother Giselle’s glaring at us. Thought you’d mind.”

Dorian leans back against the tree and says casually, “The troops are all here to see if you’re really consorting with the Magister of Skyhold. The Revered Mother knows you are, and frankly I think her face might be stuck like that.”

“...Oh.”

“Rather puts a dampener on things, doesn’t it?”

Gal looks around and considers it. “Could be worse. At least there aren’t any demons.” He thinks about it. Realising he’s tempting fate, he adds, “Yet.”

Dorian huffs a laugh. “Yet,” he echoes. “But I meant what I said.” At Gal’s questioning look, he points to the sandwich. “Eat that, before I do.”

Gal silently looks at his idea of treasure. Looks back to Dorian. Calculates which one of them is faster.

Dorian looks back, obviously doing the same.

Giving Dorian a pointed look, Gal reaches for the sandwich, takes away the paper and bites into it. Then he makes a noise that severely startles the Revered Mother and makes several of the troops turn pink. “’S good,” he manages at Dorian’s loud silence.

Dorian raises an eyebrow.

Gal just mumbles, “Fuck pretexts,” and goes back to the sandwich, making a note to thank that cook and watching Dorian try not to laugh at Mother Giselle’s expression.

  The helm looks slightly less ridiculous after the adjustments, even if the dragon-wings would make several magisters raise an eyebrow. In Dorian’s opinion, anyway.

Gal buckles the chin-strap as they’re leaving Skyhold, walking tall and proud, and almost looks like something out of some old tome. An entirely stereotypical hero, except for the Tevinter pariah in his bed, Dorian tries not to think as they walk through the main hall with Sera and Cassandra.

And then Varric says from behind them, with a smirk in his voice, “Taking the Galahat for a spin?”

Sera cackles, Dorian makes a choked-off noise, and even Cassandra’s mouth is twitching.

Gal freezes. Then he turns, very, very slowly - all six-foot-odd of him, war paint very much present - and then simply looks at Varric. “I…” He put his head in his hands, suddenly looking very unheroic indeed. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “That’s… actually not bad. Or... really bad.”

Varric’s laughter is quiet, but smug. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Gal shakes his head and starts the walk again.

“You’re laughing,” Dorian says, as they head under the portcullis.

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“I can hear you trying not to snicker like an overgrown child.”

“Plaidweave,” is all Gal says.

“Tyrant,” Dorian responds. It sounds far, far too fond.

[doppeldonger]

Weigh Me Down

[Inspired by Lorn’s ‘Weigh Me Down’, I decided to come to terms with how bad my PTSD has gotten lately with the help of that scene in Tales ep 5 where Rhys terminates Jack. 

Trigger warning for: Depression, abuse, suicidal thoughts, dissociation, blood and general violence.]

Reasonable arguments are out of the question at this particular point of his life, he has long given up on trying to put some sense into the other man. He's obstinate, deaf to opinions, and basically a condescending bastard. There aren't enough adjectives to describe how unbearable he is, to be quite honest.

Rhys is so done with the sorry excuse of a Handsome Jack knockoff he allowed to reside so shamelessly in his head.

Their minds have been connected up to some point, so the young man is quite sure the rotten little bundle of codes has felt his frustration and eventually, the utmost feeling of lethargy. He's not sure the man's capable of feeling the tiniest piece of empathy, though, so nothing really matters.

There's one thing that matters, however. He keeps repeating the words in his head, it's been a while since he started doing that; ever since he made the grave mistake of trusting Jack, to be exact (I mean, trusting the CEO who is notorious for his kill streak and narcissism over a bunch of Pandoran scum is the right thing to do, right?)

Right. Jack's started yammering about something again and Rhys is in no mood to put up with the man. He starts with the words that have become his mantra as of late, basically talking to himself, "You weigh me down..." He doesn't care if he's going mad, he gave up on telling himself he's a sane person long time ago.

As he sifts through the glorious wreckage that was once the mighty Helios, he ignores the glitching face appearing on the broken screens. He's talking about betrayal like he has any right to after betraying Rhys himself.

Rhys has no one to blame but himself about that, really. He knew what Jack was like from the very start, but was too blinded by his fascination with the man that he chose to ignore the thorns the AI so happily stuck in his side for the sake of worshipping him like a god.

"You weigh me down." he mutters, jumping over and ducking under the broken mess. And Jack. Still. Talks.

Breaking things down to build them anew is a thing Jack's into now, apparently. Even though he doesn't reside in his head anymore, Rhys can feel Jack's booming, albeit stuttering voice in his body. Wasn't that his goal anyway? Take over Helios, take over Rhys's body, take over Hyperion, take over the universe. Right?

Right. "You weigh me..." Rhys is so damn tired, of running, of trying, of simply existing. He can feel depression tugging at the corners of his mind. "You weigh me down." Maybe he should just give up. He raises his head, eyeing Jack's colossal figure looking down at him.

He looks so pained, so vulnerable. He looks so sympathetic, so interested in Rhys.

He looks like the god damn liar he is, and he. Still. Tries. 

Unbelievable as the whole situation that's been dominating his life is, haggardness is what guides Rhys and not Jack's spiel. "Give me a drug and I'll take it." he speaks up, his emotionless voice cracking. Jack actually shuts up for a moment to regard Rhys with a surprised expression. He makes a comment about not wanting to hurt Rhys, so what the hell are you talking about, cupcake?

The grim smile darkening the host's face is the only reply the persistent virus gets. He returns to his monologue, not fazed by the sudden mood change.

Rhys is simply feeling suicidal, looking for a way to stop existing; he has no goal in life anymore, nothing to be proud of. Hyperion is gone, so are the con artists and his friends; Jack continues to subsist and there's seemingly nothing Rhys can do about any of this. No hope, no thrill, no trust. "Watching you sharpen knives."

Then he hears it: a gentle whir from behind him. He turns around sluggishly to see the USB drive from before, the one connected to that dumb golden wheeled office chair, heading mercilessly for his head (Huh. Funny pun, Rhys knows).

He may want to give up with this shitty life, but welcoming Jack back into his mind is the last thing he needs-

But he's too slow. 

The thin long device lodged easily into his port, he thinks maybe he's being punished for his sins. He lets out a yelp that borders on a scream when he feels Jack being transferred into his head, forcing himself onto Rhys and abusing his host with his arrogant greed.

The man himself now stands before him like he did for so long, an evil smile gracing his sharp features. Rhys thinks "Handsome" Jack must be a name chosen sarcastically, because the sneer on this man's face, the way his brows furrow, the way he squints his eyes... He's just so damn ugly, inside and out.

Screw dying.

...oookay, maybe not. Jack making him strangle himself with his own arm has become an old trick he's very bored of at this point, but the AI seems like he actually plans to kill Rhys this time. Well, shit. He flails and fights as the corners of his vision start to get darker. He yearns for oxygen, wheezing pathetically for air- then he notices a piece of metal that went through the wall after the fall of the space station. Perfect opportunity, unlike Jack's shitty city.

He jams his arm onto the metal, almost gurgling in pain and lack of air in the process. He pushes and he pulls.

You weigh me down.

The arm goes offline and Rhys can breathe again. Jack's back to his monologue.

"You give me hell but I'll make it." Rhys interrupts, forcing pressure on his arm to tear it off like one tears a piece of paper into two. If there wasn't so much blood, he'd give himself a mental pat on the back for being such a badass. Naturally, he simply ends up letting out an agonized whine.

He falls down and sits on his ass, watching Jack saunter close like a lion and loom over him menacingly. The AI threatens him, boasting that he'll never go away; he might rip off an arm ("Big deal, Rhysie!") but what is a metal arm to a god, to Hyperion himself? Jack does not receive the terrified reaction he was waiting for, as Rhys is too distracted by his ECHO eye malfunctioning at this point to understand the words spilling from the other's mouth.

...his ECHO implements.

He looks at Jack, stupefied and mouth slightly agape. The AI opens his arms in a welcoming gesture, assuming Rhys has finally seen how much of a raw power he has. They smile simultaneously, but the reasons behind Jack's gloating grin and Rhys's sour smirk are completely different.

You weigh me...

His remaining hand gropes at the floor, coming back with a piece of glass secured snugly between his fingers. Jack does not notice, too busy with his ideals and dreams.

You weigh me down.

He experimentally presses the glass to his port, and finally, finally Jack notices what's going on. He looks scared, good. Rhys gives him a watery leer as he tears the ECHOport from his temple with the help of the glass shard. He screams, and Jack yells; his hand comes down on his lap, bloodied. His eyes have not left Jack's, not even for a moment. Now, though, he feels like he's watching his body move from afar, like he's not a part of it anymore. He wonders if he's dissociating or it's the pain and blood loss. Maybe it's Jack taking control, who knows? He certainly doesn't.

He stands up with great effort, he won't let this pathetic man look down on him while they scream at each other.

Why won't he go away anyway? God, Rhys is so done with Jack.

Right.

Still feeling the disconnection between his mind and his body, he moves the bloodied glass shard closer to his ECHOeye; both men watch each other with wide eyes and quickened breaths.

"I've still got one good eye..." The shard picks at the bright blue eye. Jack falls to his knees, his form flickering in the ECHOeye's malfunctioning vision. Rhys smiles sardonically as Jack begs. "Blind as a fool, I can fake it, telling the truth with lies." The eye is off the socket, held by an assembly of wires connecting his sight to his brain. It's gonna be painful as hell, he knows, but it'll be worth it. 

He pulls. Jack lunges at him. "It won't be long 'til I break it."

The pain is blinding.

Jack is gone.

He can hear the fires going off in various places, smell blood and feel the dust. The Pandoran night welcomes the remains of Helios along with Rhys in a dangerous embrace.

Silence engulfs the existence, gracing Rhys's trembling figure with a moment to take it all in; a terrified sigh escapes him in the next moment as feelings return to his body in full force.

'Cause you know, you know... 

He's gone. For real. Forever. Despite the pain, Rhys can feel a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

You weigh me down.

His body hits the ground, but he doesn't feel the impact. He tries to keep his head up, still smiling, the perfect mockery of the condescending Hyperion smile.

Darkness welcomes him, with no Jack this time.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Fun with Numbers

I was an auditor when I was a bit younger and participated in the audit of HSA-UWC. In financial accounting, an audit is an independent assessment of the fairness by which a company’s (or church’s, in this case) financial statements are presented. The auditor examines the entity’s books and procedures. Thus, I saw church accounts first hand. That audit helped solidify my view that, far from being messianic, the Moons weren’t even good people.

To understand why I say that I have to explain one thing first.  I have to explain money.

I’ve asked a lot of people what they think money is and typically receive hardcoded responses like “Why, it’s the root of all eeeevil!”

Maybe. Certainly a lot of naughtiness has been done in its pursuit.

But, fundamentally I think money is something simpler – a representation of ones past work or labor. Whatever dollars one has are the amalgamation of the effort one has put into accumulating those dollars. If those dollars were given to a person, then they are the sum of someone else’s work that the lucky recipient inherited. But make no mistake; someone at some point worked to generate those dollars. The value of that work may vary from one person to the next, but there is always work. Money is work.

A lot of people miss this distinction. And missing it is what can result in abuses when one is responsible for large pools of other people’s money. Bad people willfully miss the distinction or ignore it, treating the money as if it were their own.  

We hear many of those stories in the press these days; stories of bad people doing bad things, wasting, abusing or stealing money. But I’m going to submit something that might shock you. Most people when given the chance don’t abuse or steal money. Most people are, in fact, good at heart and conscious of money’s origins and, thus, make choices reflecting that.

Shops like Whole Foods or American Apparel have grown because those stores sell products ethically farmed or manufactured without sweatshop labor. I don’t vouch for the validity of those claims, but am pointing out that that people are making what they think are ethical choices with their money, even if it costs more to do so. Why? They are trying to be good people. They give a shit and want to do the right thing.  

Consider this: few people know this, but a common problem among mutual fund managers is a reluctance to take big risks with client money when investing. They tend to be timid with the money of others, avoiding risks they would take with their own money, and ironically tend to underperform investment indexes as a result. The reason they do so is that despite Wall Street’s reputation for meager ethics, most managers don’t want to lose people’s money. And it actually has nothing to do with liability or fear of reprisal, studies show. It is a deep seeded psychological disposition. Normal people don’t like doing harm to others and are not willfully ignorant of the circumstances of others. Normal people aren’t Bernard Madoff. They don’t want to abuse their power either as consumers or as managers, and generally want to do the right thing.  

So what does that say about someone who doesn’t display any such sensitivity? What does it say about someone who abuses money of others, or doesn’t consider its origin?

As I was doing the audit, examining pile after pile of church receipts, I thought a lot about how much the average fundraising member might earn. I remembered from my childhood in church centers that the better fundraisers would make up to $500 per day selling trinkets or flowers. Subtracting the cost of the product and expenses like fuel and food (lodging not included as many slept in vans), I suspect a decent fundraiser probably earned about $250 per day. Assuming a 10 hour day (they worked a lot harder than that, I know), that got me to roughly $25 per hour.

So, assuming my numbers were right (I personally think they were way too high, and that the average member earned less) it would take about 200 hours, or 20 days of fundraising (almost a full month!), to generate $5,000 of income that could go back to funding church activities.

Why $5,000?

Well because that was the cost for one night of hotel lodging for Dr. Rev. Hak Ja Han during her speaking tour in the mid 90’s. I remember another bill was as high at $7,200. Again, this was for only one night’s stay, and only for her, not her entourage.

Fortunately, UC members are an energetic bunch glad to give up their time and money for the betterment of the messiah. However, as I looked over these bills I couldn’t help but wonder if the membership would be quite as energetic or happy had they known that almost a full month’s worth of going up to strangers peddling foil prints or moncheechees was being spent on one night’s stay in the presidential suite of some overpriced hotel. Keep in mind, I was doing the church audit, not an audit of a Moon business group like UCI. This was church money being spent.

That tour was 20 cities.

Flights were also unbelievably expensive. Dr. Rev. Hak Ja Han flew first class, of course. I saw one fare that was $10,400. I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty young at the time and had no idea someone could spend that much money getting from one place to the next. That was more than one third of my pre-tax annual income at the time! And the irony was that I had literally just flown the exact same route a short while before, but for $325.

Why wouldn’t they have tried to find a cheaper flight, I asked myself? Was business class not an option? Who even flies first class anyway, other than Arab royalty or the families of emerging market dictators? Could “true mother” be that insensitive? Does the members’ work not matter to her at all? Again, I was stupefied.

Then I went through the phone records from the trip. $900 for one call. What?! How is that possible? It turns out that “father” listened to every single speech and then commented afterwards. The calls would go on for up to four hours, regardless of the location or cost. This particular call was to Russia, where the per-minute cost was just under $4.00 at the time.

After the audit I spent a lot of time thinking about the Moon’s spending largess. I kept trying to reconcile church utopian tenets of a global family with the reality of what was essentially two feudal tiers with a vast gulf in between. One tier labored to make the money while the other spent it, offering only platitudes and promises of spiritual salvation in return.  

I guess I wasn’t entirely shocked. I had grown up in the East Garden area and already seen first hand what the Moon’s definition of “global family” was. I already knew that Dr. Rev. Hak Ja Han’s daily routine consisted mostly of waddling through expensive shopping malls and spending church money. And it was quite apparent when the Moon children would do their annual charitable wardrobe giveaways (presumably to make room for the next year’s fashions) that what they wore and what troglodytes like me could afford were worlds apart. I had never heard of Prada before that. Their house had a bowling alley. Ours didn’t even have an alley…or a house!

So, again, what can be said about someone who displays no sensitivity at all to the work of others? Can it be said they should be revered or emulated? Can it even be said that they are good people?

No, dear reader, it can not. It can be said the person is bad. Bad like the people you hear about in press stories, like Imelda Marcos with her extravagant homes and 2,700 pairs of shoes while her husband reigned over one of the world’s poorest nations. Or like Marie Antoinette, whose famous response when learning that her French subjects were starving for lack of bread was, “why don’t they eat cake?” (Many have translated the quote as “let them eat cake” – that translation misses the meaning. She was completely and willfully oblivious to the conditions of her people. If she couldn’t have bread, she would have cake since it was always available in the castle. She didn’t understand why her people couldn’t do the same).

No, people like that are worse than those conscientious enough to make simple ethical choices about how they consume goods, and worse even than the average Wall Street money manager referenced above. People who make conscientious choices are people who care about others. Dr. Rev. Hak Ja Han was not one of those people.  

Having grown up around them, I can confirm that when the Moons wanted something, it was there. Thus, they learned to take and only to take. They learned to brow beat, insult, demean and ultimately to physically intimidate those around them. But they never learned to give and never learned basic empathy for those that provided them all their untold wealth.  

One last point: one of the first people I ever worked for had been fired from a previous job three years before I met him. He was fired for physically assaulting an obnoxious rich woman at a cocktail party. Unfortunately, that woman happened to be wife to the president of the company’s Asian division. As he tells the story, he was visiting the Singapore office from New York and was introduced to the pair when they arrived at the party. The woman was wearing a coat made from fur of a snow leopard, an almost extinct species. He asked her if she knew that the animal was endangered and she answered gleefully, “Oh yes. They are almost extinct! That’s why I bought two coats instead of one.” Three men had to hold him down or he would have killed her on the spot.

I love that story. It reminds me that there are good people out there from all walks of life willing to do good things and not just take crap. That man subsequently went on to have a very successful Wall Street career.

Until next time,

MLP