#but i don't believe it wasn’t at least partially intentional

[kvaradonaa]

thoughts on the pairing of mourinho and abramovich?

Uhh, I was afraid to answer this question at first, but then I remembered I am followed by only hot and intelligent people who don't need to be shown a huge ass "THIS IS BAD" sign to understand that something is, in fact, bad. In that case, I might as well answer.

(But if I get another anon in my ask box telling me "this ship is russian propaganda", I am blocking. You are seriously insulting me by insinuating that I could ever commit what's a criminal offence according to my country's law by spreading such statements. You might find whatever I write distasteful, unnecessary or insensitive as you please, but don't come making ridiculous accusations on me.)

Either way, back to the RPF thing. I think they make up for a really interesting dynamics. See, Jose was probably easily the only person built to survive in Chelsea of that era. Remember when Scolari said that whoever agreed to coach Chelsea, would go through hell? But Jose seems built to survive all the intimidation tactics like arriving at the training centre in a fucking helicopter to scold the staff (really!). He clearly knew there was no other like him, he tolerated bullshit from no one and damn, does he breathe drama 😂. I could see some weird tension going on, not gonna lie. Mourinho was probably the only person who spoke like that to Abramovich ever since that fucking loans-for-shares deal that made him filthy rich and equally influential. But Jose was just, not built to care. He was the special one and he was here to do his job his fucking way. I can imagine a mixture of anger and fascination coming from someone like Abramovich there.

And obviously, as a resident Sheva fucker, I gotta insert him in this story. Maybe even more than him. I had thoughts before about the weird tangled web of dynamics between Chelsea's two strikers, the coach and the club owner. Media tried to antagonise Sheva and Drogba. Well, from Sheva's side, he was kind of an asshole and difficult to work with. Even if the issue on that line was overblown, Sheva did actually see Drogba getting mercilessly bullied by fans, went out and said basically "Well, I don't dive. Never did and never will. And I know that English fans don't like it!" Yeah, shut up 😂. Mourinho obviously wanted Drogba in the club very much, he loved him as a player and as a person. On the other hand, he never asked for Sheva in the team. I can imagine Sheva, the star striker, the Ballon d'Or winner, the attention whore, taking it really badly. Weird jealous antics. Well, he did cry to other people about Mourinho "mistreating him", even if he was himself claiming that everything was fine. A list of people who accidentally outed him with this include Kakha Kaladze and tennis player Andriy Medvedev.

How does it all matter to the dynamics between Mourinho and Abramovich? Well, it later on became really clear that not only Sheva's transfer was entirely Abramovich's idea, but they were also friends, privately. When still playing for Chelsea, Sheva pretended that there was no personal relationship between them, but afterwards, it pretty much became widely known. Sheva was often blamed for Mourinho getting the sacked, but apparently, a couple of days before, it was John Terry who went to talk with the boss. So, who knows... But, Abramovich did want to hire Avram Grant as Sheva's personal coach initially, and Mourinho refused to accept it. Later, Grant went on to coach the team. Damn, that's some level of drama only Chelsea could provide 😭.

Another Sheva related antics, regarding Jose and Roman Abramovich? One time, Abramovich went into the locker room after Mourinho had left, and started giving his own instructions, contradictory to Mourinho's. He spoke in Russian, as he always did in those situations. I honestly think it was a part of intimidation tactics too. Once I knew someone who spoke one language with her ex boyfriend (his native, hers third), but when she broke up, she did so in English so that "he didn't have an upper hand". Speaking your native language does give you more power in expressing self. Not to mention that listening to him yell in a foreign language, then waiting for the translation, added some extra stress for everyone involved (John Obi Mikel once described the experience as such basically). But, oh no, this time he didn't hire an actual interpreter. He had Sheva translate his instructions, making the gap between Sheva and his teammates even bigger, putting him in the opposite position of theirs. Sheva, who surely did not speak English much better (perhaps even worse) than him. I can imagine Mourinho completely losing it as such disregard for his job and such disruption of the team dynamics.

But, well, in the end, Mourinho did get hired again. And won them trophies again. Perhaps he really was the right fit for Chelsea.

[mari-lair]

Could you do an analysis on what Hanako’s life was like when he was human? And his relationship with the “fake” Tsukasa

As in the time gap between Tsukasa jumping in the hole and until he killed Tsukasa because in the 4pm book stacks, when spider face was cleaning up his wounds I see handprints on his wrists which kind of imply Tsukasa (or someone else) did…things

Also do you feel that the manga implies that sort of thing between Amane and Tsukasa too?

I am not very interested in Hanako’s relationship with Tsukasa, so I can't do a 'proper' analysis. But I’ll share some thoughts.

I personally don’t believe there is a ‘fake’ Tsukasa, he has always been weird, he never told anyone that the ‘god’ under the house copied his speech and he didn't show any hesitation or remorse about sacrificing animals to get his wishes.

Which was all to grant Amane's wishes, a brother he decided he would die for since four. He has been obsessed with Amane since way before learning Amane would kill him.

The only thing the “God” inside Tsukasa seems to have truly done is stunt his growth (he still acts like a child) and give him knowledge a normal human shouldn’t know.

Still, the horror child framing of this change is in the mom's point of view: Amane seems happy.

And Amane’s joy remains for years.

When Nene travels to the past and meets Amane, who appears to be at the very least eight years old, it is heavily implied he didn’t come with his parents, just Tsukasa.

At this point in the story, I don’t think he was being abused, physically or emotionally: He is eager to trust and help Nene, who is a stranger, and he displays a lot of confidence, honesty, and joy. Not being scared even when Nene try to steal his wishing paper.

He doesn’t seem particularly troubled with his family either. He ever implies a member of his family is crazy, or shows intentions of wanting to use his slip to ‘heal’ them, as a kid as sweet as him would likely be inclined to do. He seems a bit lonely cause his bro was focusing on something else that he can't interrupt instead of keeping him company, but that's about it.

And in Shijima's world they are buddies, which would be... weird... if Tsukasa had hurt him.

But I’ll be honest, considering how old this plot point is, Amane’s injuries are extremely vague. It could be anyone.

Maybe something happened, and Tsukasa got violent, and clingy to the point of being hurtful, maybe his parents snapped and Amane couldn't blame family, maybe is a third party, maybe is a curse, I don’t know, I don't plan to re-read the entire manga to get a better feel on it, but since you asked for my opinion, I personally think this turn for the worst in his life is partially the red house fault, and partially Amane’s own actions.

Let’s rewind a bit.

Tsuchigamori, or spider face, said the only person to alter their own fate was Amane. Not Tsukasa, who was influenced by future Kou, or Nene, who is always seeing the past: Just Amane.

Changing the future is such a big deal it became Tsuchi’s yorishiro, the spider can’t get over it. So I would say it is important to consider Amane's ‘normal’ future.

What changed Amane’s wish? What made him give up?

It wasn’t Tsukasa’s disappearance or reappearance. It was his meeting with Nene.

These slips are a big deal.

We are told they are rumored to make your wish come true in a land of supernaturals where every rumor so far was true. And that it is so hard to get all the five colors, that Yako was never able to, and she is an old spirit.

And the wording Amane used is... Concerning.

As the astronomy teacher he was fated to be, Amane would have never met Nene again, and even in the case he was still teaching by the time she was a student, she would have not been an ‘onee-san’ anymore: He needed to die before 14 for her to stay an onee-san when they met again all those decades later.

I do think the red house and Tsukasa and so on plays a big part in Amane’s fucked up life, but it is strange he only got injured and “gave up going anywhere” after meeting Nene and putting his wish on the Tanabata tree.

We have no info on this part of his life though so it’s anyone’s guess.

[apoombeam]

[This isn’t something I’ve ever really decided was true or not, just a thought I had while writing about James’ healing abilities.

But since James can heal Anders without touching him, and he’s usually nearby whenever Anders gets beaten, (like at the lake with Simon, for example), I think maybe the reason Anders survived so many brutal beatings without being accidentally killed is that James unconsciously kept him alive.

Healing starts internally first, so maybe the worst injuries (brain injuries, etc.) were avoided, while more external injuries that left scars weren't. This might also be why James picks up healing so quickly – because he’s been doing it all along, just without realizing it. But again, just a thought I had. I don't think I'll ever go into James' healing abilities again.]

This is an interesting idea, and whether or not I’d believe it to be likely depends mainly on whether partial, or complete healing is more difficult.

What I currently think from an analysis perspective is that he has been partially healed sometimes, but not by James.

It is said that Anders' healing is barely better than that of an omega, and it is my thinking hat any extend to which it is better is probably due to alpha-induced healing.

Yet I think that if James had been healing him it wouldn't have been partial healing. Or at least that if James had been healing him, that it would have been the case that injuries that had been inflicted by James would heal notably slower than injuries inflicted by anyone else.

I think that there was a part of James’ subconscious that very intently went ‘Grr, wipe away every mark that isn’t isn’t mine’ , any and every time Anders was hurt by anyone else. And then a different, slightly less subconscious part of him went ‘no, no, those marks and that pain are warranted, they’re being bestowed by someone from this pack with the standing to do it, and this pack is basically already mine, so that person is also mine, so those are my marks and I don’t have to wipe them away.*

(… and that is a large part of the reason that he threw Simon of a roof for healing Anders, instead of beating up people left and right for hurting him.)

While he’s been doing a whole olympic level mental gymnastics routines to refrain from healing Anders.other alphas had no such desire to heal him, but not so much compunction against it.

Meanwhile while Simon was carrying Anders back through the forest he might have had a thought of ‘man, that better not have killed him’. And while Simon isn’t nearly as invested in Anders as James is, and doesn’t know him as well, and is also less strong. He is still a strong alpha who has been Anders’ classmate for a long time, and he was touching Anders at the time. So it really might have prevented some brain swelling.

Or Rainey, he was often touching Anders for short moments, he is not as strong and he is kind of distractable, but he also knows Anders from being his classmate, and he definitely might have had thought of ‘oh, I hope that doesn’t hurt too much’ while seeing Anders’ battered ass.

James’ healing the first time that he consciously healed Anders wasn’t actually immediately very skilled. It was immediately very strong.

It’s like it was at overcapacity. It actually did a lot of things that weren’t intended by James. To me that doesn’t seem like it was a long time-subconsciously honed skill, I think that it was a frequently aborted impulse, that just build up and build up, and then finally the floodgates opened a little and the part of him that wanted to be healing Anders all along jumped on the opportunity with alacrity and just poured it all out.

* (Maybe there also was a part that went ‘make my mate be well, make my mate be happy’ and then that part was countered by a ‘no, first he has to say that he is mine, and also he’s really beautiful when he suffers, so no.’)

This is an interesting theory! I think it could also be a mix of both?

[I think that it was a frequently aborted impulse, that just build up and build up, and then finally the floodgates opened a little and the part of him that wanted to be healing Anders all along jumped on the opportunity with alacrity and just poured it all out.]

I think this is also why James immediately becomes obsessed with honing his healing abilities. He’s so used to being in perfect control of everything, so not being able to control his healing powers is a failure he won’t allow.

[‘no, first he has to say that he is mine, and also he’s really beautiful when he suffers, so no.’]

I do think about James saying no to Emily when she asked him to heal Anders. I think his refusal might have been more about anyone deigning to tell him what to do with his mate than about healing.

But then he also still had his head stuck in the sand back then. So who knows.

[a-witch-with-words]

Oh My God

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None- just a fluffy little blurb

Summary: You’re not sure why one of your deities has been abnormally silent recently.

Author’s Note: This is partially Marvel Loki, partially Norse god Loki.

Word Count: 1,038

“There. Are you happy now?" I set the cup of coffee on my altar and huffed. I knew I would get no response, but still rolled my eyes and finished getting ready for bed. My patron deity, the Norse God of Mischief, had been rather quiet the past few days. I wasn’t sure why he was upset, but I also wasn’t holding my breath that a god would talk to me about his problems.

As I flicked off the table lamp, my room became even darker than what I was used to. Before my eyes could adjust, I felt weight at the foot of the bed and someone crawling towards me. Having seen way too many horror movies, I immediately started kicking and punching. I went to scream, but a hand flew up over my mouth as another went to my throat.

“I'm happy now that I have your attention.” My eyes went wide as I stopped flailing and was met with emerald orbs. “Please don't attack me again. I'd rather not get blood on my new attire so soon.” He removed his hands and lowered himself to lay on top of me, his head on my chest near my heart.

It took a few moments for me to realize who he was.

“Loki!” I exclaimed quietly, not wanting to wake my roommate across the hall. He mumbled as he wrapped his arms around me, oblivious to my confusion. “Why are you here??”

He shifted to look up at me. “You gave me an offering, did you not?"

“I did.”

“And you asked me a question. That I gave you an answer to.” Our eyes locked and I tried to decipher what emotions were behind his.

“Yes,” I laid one hand on his back and the other in his hair. “But why did you come to me? People all over the world worship you.”

He dropped his head again and exhaled, relaxing. “You treat me as a friend. Yes, I am a god, but you’re one of the very few who genuinely ask about my well-being.” He tenderly nuzzled in to me and my face flushed.

“Because you are my friend. Or, at least, I consider you to be.” I gently began to rub his back and felt him tense slightly. “I’m sorry.” I jerked my hands away from him, afraid I’d upset him.

“No, please continue.” As I put my hands back, I noticed he was still strained. But after a few moments of contact, he began to breathe easier. My head was still swimming with questions, but I was more concerned about my god’s comfort.

“Do you need anything to drink? Or eat?” He grunted softly and shook his head enough for me to tell his answer was ‘no.’

“The coffee was enough, thank you. I know you have questions. You may ask whatever you’d like.” His breath against my skin made me shiver slightly and I hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Internally, I smacked myself in the head. He was also the god of lies, of course he’d know a blatant one.

He chuckled softly. “Yes, I’m well aware you’re lying. But I will not pry if you do not wish to tell me.” He inhaled slowly. “I have too much respect for you to do that.”

I raised an eyebrow at the last statement. “I’d still like to know the real reason why you came to me. I refuse to believe it’s just because I consider you my friend.” There was silence for a few moments before he slowly sat up, hands on either side of my head. I let my hands trail down his arms to his wrists, still not convinced this wasn’t a hallucination that would attack me.

“You are different. You’re not like any other Midgardian I’ve ever encountered.” He furrowed his brow as he stared intently in to my eyes, causing my gaze to waiver. “You are supposed to come to your gods when you need help, or to give thanks. You regularly do that- as well as ask if there is anything we need.” There was a moment of hesitation. “And you always pay special attention to me. Why is that?”

I had five patron deities- all of whom knew they were not the only one. Though Loki was correct. I did always take special care of him. I stared back up at him and was surprised to find him eyeing me curiously.

“I know what you’ve been through.” I chose my words carefully. “I’ve followed the Avengers since day one and my cousin dated your brother.” He scowled at the mention of Thor. “I’m not saying I know exactly what it’s like.” I spoke quickly, afraid I messed up. “But I’ve heard the stories and-”

His lips crashed in to mine and I gasped softly, wide-eyed. After a few moments, he started to pull away, but I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him back in. I could feel him smile against my lips as his arms went around my body again. It was a much softer kiss than I would expect from the god of mischief, but I didn’t complain. He held me tightly, though, protectively. Once we separated, he rested his forehead against mine with his eyes closed.

“You have never once been afraid of me. Never once asked for something without offering an equal exchange.” He whispered as if speaking too loud would break me. “After everything that’s happened, you’ve always treated me…like a person.”

“Of course I have, Loki.” I rubbed his back gently and this time, he didn’t tense up. “You are a god, but you’re still a living being.”

“Perhaps,” he hesitated again. “Perhaps I could be more than just your friend?” He opened his eyes and they were shining with infatuation. I smiled lovingly and kissed his nose.

“If the gods are alright with one of their own dating a mortal.” I couldn’t help but giggle at the grin that overtook his cheeks.

“Oh, darling. Humans fall in love with gods everyday. But for a god to fall in love with a human? You will be worshipped for eternity.”

[johns-prince]

I was reading Norman's biography of Mick Jagger the other day and at some point I realized that good old Mick had it BAD for John. They hung out a lot in the Lost Weekend and Mick seemed heartbroken when May told him John had gone back to Yoko. He was so upset that he talked to the press about it multiple times, whining about not having any access to John and that he was hiding behind Sean. Mick wasn't wrong, though. I was just very entertained by his reaction. Then there is this:

"Mick, as a result, had found himself in the—for him—highly unusual position of wanting to see someone but having his every friendly overture rebuffed.

From his sitting room window, he could see the Gothic rooftops of Lennon’s home, and would sometimes act out the part of a spurned girlfriend: “[John’s] right over there. Does he ever call me? Does he ever go out? No. Changes his phone number about every ten minutes. I’ve given up . . .” But there was no disguising how much this apparent indifference really hurt. Once or twice, he put aside the Tyranny of Cool sufficiently to leave Lennon a note with his own current phone number at the Dakota concierges’ desk, but no response ever came."

LOL "John is right over there. IS HE THINKING OF ME?" The thirst was real, you guys. I don't remember Mick being this sad about any of his women leaving him. Me thinks Johnny hit and quit it but someone fell in love, you see.

I agree, Mick sounds like a jilted lover/girlfriend here who just wants to be at least acknowledged. He was seriously upset about the fact that, when John went back to Yoko he knew that she didn’t like him. She thought he wasn’t worth John’s time and was a bad influence. Gotta remember, Mick and John had been friends since the sixties-- Mick was much closer to John then Paul, even.

Also talk about the gall because she was completely fine with John hanging out with the likes of Klein, Phil Spector, and Magic Alex... Like, talk about bad influences-- Phil fucking pointed a gun at John because he liked to freak John out and upset him. She liked these people. She approved of them for John. Yoko isn’t fully to blame, John also holds blame for how he’d treat people and just cut them off [even if he personally didn’t want too] but she encouraged John to cut ties with family and close, old friends just, like that.  

I feel for Mick. I honestly feel for anyone who loved John, it did seem trying at times. I mean, sometimes it’s not always easy for me to love John just as some crazed groupie... I could only imagine how intense and, confusing and exciting and, memorable it would have been to know him, personally, and get to love him personally. 

I personally don’t think anything serious happened between John and Mick. Kind of like how I believe nothing deeper then just, solid friendship was between John and Stu-- someone he could confide in, who wasn’t just Paul. 

Was there flirting between the two? Absolutely, though I find it to be a partially playful joking sort of flirting between friends, and partially with a serious edge to it. Libra’s are natural flirters, they often to do it unintentionally because it’s just, part of their personality. John most likely both an unintentional and intentional flirt, and his male friends weren’t left out on his teasing’s and naughty, playful behavior [specifically moreso open and direct about it in the 70s] 

But, I do think you’re right that Mick had it bad. Most male friends of John seemed to have it bad for him, in some way or another. Women and men loved John-- he was rather easy to love, despite how he’s painted and the sort of front he put up. As Paul said-- John was a loveable guy, everyone loved him, and he was right [though Paul usually only mentions everyone else when talking about loving John, deflects onto others at the same time but I digress] 

Even men who apparently thought of him a poky bastard seemed to inevitably be drawn to him, and like him [like David Bailey] 

He was loved, so, so much.

“The theory is that when John went off to Spain on holiday with Brian, that’s what it was all about - John trying to get his position clear as the leader of the group. Also, I’m sure Brian was in love with John. We were all in love with John, but Brian was gay so that added an edge.” Paul McCartney - Anthology

PAUL: “Well, I’m sure Brian was in love with John, I’m sure that’s absolutely right. I mean, everyone was in love with John; John was lovable, John was a very lovable guy.” [x]

“What did John Lennon see in me? I think outrageousness and being true to myself and not giving a fuck. We hit it off straight away, even though I was in complete awe of him. He was nothing else but kind to me. I never saw the other side of John, the Harry Nilsson drinking side of John, where he turned on a sixpence. I only saw the gentle, gorgeous side of John, and he was gentle not only to me but my parents, my band members, and I just fell in love with him.”

— Elton John [x]

“Nowhere can the caring side of John Lennon be documented more accurately than in his relationship with Malcolm Evans, the very tall and bespectacled man who became a regular as a road manager, along with Neil Aspinall, on the Beatles’ tours. Evans had a magnetic personality and was a favorite with reporters and the women who tagged along. His smile and charm could be deceptive; he would have done anything to protect the Beatles. At one point on the touring aircraft, while traveling from Jacksonville to Boston in 1964, a tired Mal Evans sat next to me in the rear of the aircraft with tears trickling down his face. I asked, “What’s the matter?” Mal answered, “John got kind of cross with me … just said I should go f— off. No reason, ya’ know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” I never learned what the dispute was about, but I do know that a few minutes later, a sullen Lennon walked by and embraced Evans.” — Larry Kane [x]

“Sharing a twisted sense of humour and a penchant for mischief, Nilsson and Lennon were natural buddies. It was perhaps inevitable that the LA-dwelling singer would gravitate towards Lennon. Lennon clearly appreciated Nilsson’s edginess and was very likely looking for a male soulmate to fill the hole left by McCartney. For his part, Nilsson’s feelings for Lennon ran even deeper: ‘I really fell in love with him. He was all those things you wanted somebody to be.”

Man On The Run: Paul McCartney in the 1970s by Tom Doyle [x]

“But the acerbic John is the one we know and love, you know, because he was clever with it, so it was very attractive. But, for me, I have more than a slight affection for the John that I knew then, when we were first writing songs, when we would try and do things the old songwriters had done. I slightly regret the way John’s image has formed, and because he died so tragically it has become set in concrete. The acerbic side was there but it was only part of him. He was also such a sweet, lovely man – a really sweet guy. ””

— Paul McCartney, discussing John Lennon [x]

John was a charming man in his own right, charismatic, and funny. Having a good sense of humor is always attractive, and draws people to you. As Paul says, and Elton, John was kind, he was sweet and friendly. He wasn’t always this, Mr. Tough and aggressive, ripping into people with his sharp tongue. He was gentle, he could be gentle, in his own way. Warm, and loving. 

He had this ability to just... make you feel like you’ve known him longer then you actually have. Like you have some sort of, special relationship or connection with him-- that you were the only one who was close enough to see underneath his armor, to know him as intimately as anyone else ever could. 

Course, this was simply how many felt and wanted to be the reality[specifically men], when it wasn’t, not exactly. They didn't really know the real John, they didn't get to see him at his most sincere, when his beautiful armor was chipped away and he was standing naked and scared. He described himself like a chameleon when it came to social settings, when interacting with different individuals [friends], which honestly makes sense as a Libra [Gemini’s are just as guilty of this] 

They got to know a facet of John... Maybe they did get a glimpse of John here and there, but it’s just reality that John didn’t just, open up so easily to people like that. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and he had a habit of testing people’s loyalty and love for him [whether it had been consciously or not, I’m not always sure] because of the insecurities and doubt that one day, they’d turn on him or abandon him. 

Again, he had this way in making people [other men] feel as if they had an intimate and special connection with him. And maybe they did to varying degrees. John had a way to act open with others, without actually being open and vulnerable, or at least not fully. I’m not sure if I’m making sense lol

Only ones who I think ever got to know the real John, were Mimi(of course she raised him), Pete (friends since they were just peanuts), Cynthia somewhat, May got glimpses and wanted John to be himself and independent... Yoko to a degree (though she focuses on entirely pushing and talking about Brand John Lennon™)  

And who I know for a fact did, and does know John the most intimately, deeply, unabashedly, is Paul.

But anyway, speaking of being so very attractive, John was attractive. Like, many women and men found him exceedingly attractive, like this one male photographer who believed John was the most handsome out of the band;

“I think John was the best looking, actually. The refined nose.  He never went out of his way to be a disagreeable person.  He would be the one to go over and just sit and sign some little girl’s book...” 

Harry Benson, photographer who took the photo of the iconic pillow fight and other well known Beatle photos, talks about John. [x]

Then we have David Bailey, who described Paul, Ringo, and George as rather pleasant-- while describing John as being a fucker, a bit poky. 

And yet, it was John who David Bailey claimed to like, out of all of them. 

“I didn’t like the Beatles – I liked John ... John was a fucker. Paul was always the nicest guy in the world. George, he always seemed full of angst. Ringo always seemed Mr Nice Guy. But John was a bit poky; I liked him.” 

-- David Bailey Originally; published in the March 2014 issue of British GO magazine.

That’s honestly the only parts of the interview worth reading, Bailey is sort of a dickhead and clearly seems biased against Paul, and just The Beatles as a band in general, so [which is fascinating. Considering he might’ve been peeved towards Paul ever since John brought his partner along for that photoshoot because he didn’t want to go in alone lol]

Mick did love John, though in what way or in what varying degree, is up for discussion and personal conclusion. Just like how it’s up to interpretation and discussion how much and in what way David Bowie, Elton John, Harry Nilsson, Mal Evans, Billy Preston, and Brian Epstein loved John. 

But it’s clear as day that, in my opinion, they almost all seemed to have some sort of man-crush on him. A serious admiration. Harry Nilsson sounded like he was in a bro-mance with John [or at least he wanted to be in one with him]

Course we can’t forget Paul, but we all know that Paul loved John in such varying degrees, it’s truly impossible to label it. They’re soulmates, can’t really categorize the love between soulmates so easily. 

Anyway, point of this all; Mick definitely had it bad for John, but then again who didn’t? 

[siennahrobek]

Qui-Gon Jinn had not expected to wake up at all, much less in a fire fight.

He was lying flat on the ground, his back aching a little like he had fallen from the trees. Blaster fire soared over him, and it took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t, in fact, at this position, going to get hit. He could hear some explosions far off, that rumbled the ground and voices that screamed indecipherable orders. Hopefully, the explosions wouldn’t get closer. He had enough to deal with the blasters.

Qui-Gon didn’t really want to move but he knew he probably should. He just had to figure out a way to stand without immediately getting shot in the crossfire of whatever battle was happening. This was all rather strange. With a long and slow blink, he turned to his side, still too low to be in the range of the shots overhead and looked around.

His surroundings were woodsy but in a bit of a clearing. There would be plenty of cover. However, getting to that cover would be the challenge. He crawled over to a fallen log, trying to keep himself unnoticed. He didn’t know who was around or how close they were. Predictably, he failed.

Qui-Gon could practically hear Obi-Wan’s snarky comment. “Well, of course.”

“There is a civilian, sir!” someone called and Qui-Gon knew it wasn’t Obi-Wan. Not that it could have been anyways. Within the moment, Qui-Gon was surrounded, protected by a small group of armored soldiers. They have Qui-Gon enough time to get to his feet and ignite his saber.

There was not a second to waste. He leapt over their heads in a classic and well-done Aratu jump and deflected blaster bolts that were incoming. He didn’t know the sides or who was who, but these boys had defended him. So, for now, it was an easy side to choose. Aratu wasn’t perfect for this type of thing, but Qui-Gon easily shifted into something simple, a blocking form. Reminiscent of Soresu, he has been told.

“Oh! He’s a jedi!” a soldier said, a bit surprised but not completely shocked by his appearance.

Qui-Gon winced, fearing the next reaction. Not everyone was so pleasant and accommodating when people figured out who and what he was.

“I didn’t know another was stationed here,” another said.

They sounded quite familiar to one another. Perhaps it was the vocoder in their helmets.

He blinked, surprised. There was another jedi out here? This far out? It didn’t seem very likely, but the soldiers sounded pretty sure. And apparently, not too displeased either. That was a point in his favor, he supposed. Perhaps he had gotten lucky and chose the right side.

“Commander Tano!” yet another called out, loudly.

“I’m coming, Fives!” a female voice shouted back.

Qui-Gon just barely turned to see a Togruta padawan rumble and tumble through the forest and to their aid, a green lightsaber flashing with jerky movements.

“Canon fire!” someone yelled.

Sure enough, a giant blast soared over them, creating an opening. “That’s our signal!” the Togruta said. “Let’s get back! Come on, master.”

The two jedi and the squad of troopers raced through the foliage, away from the worst of the battle. It was strange, how this was all happening, and he had no idea what was going on. After several minutes, they started to slow down. “I think we are okay, sir,” a soldier said, trying to catch breath.

“Well then, I suppose this could be a moment to ask,” the padawan replied, turning towards Qui-Gon. She looked him over, scanning as if that would glean something from him. In turn, he looked at her. She seemed rather familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hadn’t been to the Temple in quite some time. “Who are you? And what are you doing out here?”

“Honestly, I could not tell you,” He admitted. “I don’t even know how I got here, much less where here is. However, my name is Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

They kept walking, barely even stopped for the pause. The girl blinked at him. “Sounds familiar but I’m not sure,” she murmured. “My name is Ahsoka Tano. I think you maybe should talk to my master. He might know more or ya know, who you are.”

The walk turned into something of an initial silence, but it ended up being rather unbearable. Luckily, the Togruta found it just as terrible as him.

“I haven’t seen you around the Temple, Master Jinn. Like at all,” she pointed out, suspicion seeping into her voice. He wondered if he should be surprised by it or not. “Where have you been?”

He was truthful, there was no reason not to be. “I haven’t been to the Temple in…quite some time. Last, I remember, I was falling on an ocean planet in wild space. I was sure I was going to die,” he confessed.

“The Force works in quite mysterious ways,” Ahsoka shrugged.

“That it does. I will admit, I do have some questions. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, Master Jinn,” she said. “I will answer them to the best of my ability, as long as it isn’t, like, confidential or something.”

As they trudged through the partially decimated forests, Qui-Gon learned a great many things. There was a war. It had engulfed nearly the entire known galaxy and then some. And the jedi were fighting in it. His heart became stuck in his throat. How long had he been gone? The enemy, the Separatists, were cruel and did horrible crimes, their army made up of droids. They invaded, enslaved and even massacred entire peoples and planets. The soldiers piped in when warranted, sometimes lending out quips and barbs when the subject called for it. They rather liked making fun of the droids, he found.

The soldiers themselves were light and warm and just a little different than most beings Qui-Gon knew and come across in his life. They felt right, like they were meant to be friends with the jedi. It was both a warm and disturbing thought.

All the talk however, rather led him to the conclusion that he wasn’t in the same galaxy he was before.

He wondered what changed.

The camp they came to looked sparse and it appeared to be packed up to move. He wondered if that was a good or bad thing. Solders ran everywhere. A few didn’t have their helmets. They looked identical…all of them. Before he could ask, Padawan Tano called out. “Master?”

A young man turned around. It had been several years since Qui-Gon had seen this boy in person, but his presence was unmistakable… although a bit lighter than anticipated.

“Anakin?” he muttered, confused.

Whatever the man was holding, he dropped it, turning to stare at Qui-Gon in what could only be construed as absolute shock. Qui-Gon didn’t think his presence was that surprising. They had seen each other around over the years although, granted, not lately.

“That’s not…” the man muttered then strode over, fierce and bright. Qui-Gon suppressed a wince as he approached. Ahsoka noticed. Anakin did not. He enveloped the master in a tight and all-encompassing hug. “You aren’t a ghost,” he murmured, shocked and airy. “You are real.”

“Uh. Yes,” he affirmed, brows furrowing in confusion. “I will admit… I did not expect you to be so happy to see me.”

Just because Anakin didn’t appear to resent Qui-Gon for not training him, didn’t mean that the boy was ever particularly happy to see or be around him. The young man finally pulled back, looking at him so intently Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what he was looking for but Anakin looked nearly as confused as the older master himself. “Why not? You are the one that saved me from slavery.”

Ahsoka looked surprised as she glanced between them. “Wait… he’s…”

“I can’t believe you are here,” Anakin interrupted, returning to a near giddy state. The girl just continued to look flabbergasted, like she was seeing a ghost but she stopped speaking on the matter.

“I am beginning to suspect I am not in my galaxy,” Qui-Gon mused, uncertainly. None of this made much sense, at least in the terms of his own. What little research he had done in phenomena of the cosmic and unifying force had usually been in the realm of prophecy, at least when he was younger. Qui-Gon had very little thought on the matter in the past ten years.

“Or you time traveled,” Anakin teased, bright and happy. Qui-Gon didn’t think so but something was niggling in the back of his mind not to argue. “This is just going to blow my master’s mind,” he grinned and spun his head around, looking. He glanced over at one of the nearby troopers, dressed in blue and white, with a large pauldron that jutted out from his shoulder. “Hey Rex, do you know where Commander Cody and my master are?”

Rex stopped and dipped his head in acknowledgement before gesturing in a direction. “Incoming, sir. From the north.”

Anakin grinned even wider, his eyes sparkling in something amazed and mischievous. “Come on, master,” he urged, looking back at Qui-Gon and pulling him towards the direction the trooper had given him. “This is going to be great. I have so much to tell you.”

*

Qui-Gon’s legs gave out at the sight of him because, well, it was impossible.

Anakin hadn’t gotten much in, just a bit more about the war when…. when he came in. And Qui-Gon had spotted him right away, he had seen him and heard his voice and felt him – oh! It could only be a wonderful dream. His brain was practically empty with only joy filling it. The disbelief and logic could not quite settle in at the moment, not with the initial reaction of this.

Qui-Gon had dreamed about this.

He was running into the camp, flanked by a myriad of soldiers, shouting out orders with a child perched in his arms like it was absolutely normal. The child was clinging to him, terrified, of course, but rather trusting with their perch. His hair was lighter than Qui-Gon remembered, and longer, a rather neat cut with bangs swept off to the side. He had grown in a beard, which helped hide his natural baby face. It aged him, Qui-Gon mused, but not particularly in a bad way. Qui-Gon wondered if it made others listen and respect him more. With his under tunics, he had pieces of armor scattered around his form. A pauldron had the Order’s symbol on it while his vambrace sported a red and yellow open circle; two halves that formed a whole.

Interesting, he thought. He wondered the reasoning and symbolism behind it.

Despite all the changes, the impossible age, Qui-Gon would know him anywhere. Even if he could not feel that familiar presence and even through the aging. He would know that voice, he would know him.

He would know his apprentice.

Anakin was trying to support his weight, but Qui-Gon was already on his knees, on the ground, staring in absolute shock and awe, leaning against one of the crates they were standing near. “Obi-Wan,” he whispered in disbelief, tears swelling in his eyes. “It’s…impossible.”

“What do you mean?”

He barely registered the young… padawan? Knight? He wasn’t sure what Anakin was at this point, although the Togruta had called him master. He was rather young for it. Qui-Gon couldn’t answer, his brain was running in circles and his tongue was completely tied up.

“General Kenobi!” one of the soldiers called from across the clearing and camp, him and two others making their way to the jedi knight – no, master. It was clear, Qui-Gon could see, could feel, his padawan was a master. With a dazzling grin, Obi-Wan handed one of them the child. The soldier ripped off his helmet and laughed, receiving the gift with such approval and glee. The child seemed to find this transfer acceptable and held on tight, wrapping thin arms around the trooper. Another just huffed but Qui-Gon feel some sense of vague amusement rolling off of him.

“Waxer! Boil! Perfect,” Obi-Wan snickered but he sounded perfectly pleased. His accent was the same as always, although perhaps a bit polished with some sort of undertone Qui-Gon couldn’t identify. Perhaps it was all the time spent with the soldiers that shifted it. “Mind watching this youngling until we can find his parents?”

One soldier scowled, away from the child. He was trying to project his disapproval, Qui-Gon realized, but no one was buying it. “Sir, that was one time.”

“You’re good at it!”

There was some more laughs and the child that was in one soldier’s arms seemed so sense something and jumped into the other one. He caught the child quickly but awkwardly and everyone just kept chuckling.

“We will find the parents sir!” the first soldier grinned.

Obi-Wan continued to smile and Qui-Gon was amazed. He had seen so much destruction and horrible feats in the little time he had spent here, in the battlefield, on the camp with the wounded and dying. He could feel the pain and darkness in the Force, in the galaxy, but somehow, someway, Obi-Wan could find some joy in the little things he had learned with and about the soldiers. They were his friends, Qui-Gon realized. All of this was hitting him like a brick.

Qui-Gon missed a lot of the conversation after that with his thoughts and he could vaguely hear and sense Anakin talking beside him, barely taking into account Obi-Wan’s presence across the clearing, so worried about Qui-Gon. But the older master…he just couldn’t stop staring.

Ten years and all he could do was stare.

Qui-Gon finally got himself to stand, and he felt hands on him, but he just shrugged them off. He had to move. He had to move, move quickly. Stumbling towards his former padawan, he vaguely heard Anakin call after him, but Qui-Gon did not really hear. He didn’t hear anything anymore; it was rather like he was under the harsh waves of the planet he had fallen into, nothing but crashing and nothing to see as water slammed into his eyes. And the only bit of light was that in front of him, the only thing he could see, the only thing he could focus on.

There was nothing but Obi-Wan.

His eyes never left him.

He was so close.

“Obi-Wan,” he whispered and reached.

Qui-Gon somehow stopped himself before he could crash into the now jedi master and leaned against the table before them. Obi-Wan had not turned, had not even reached for his presence, still going over maps and paperwork laid out.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. He sounded so fond with undertones of sarcasm and wit. “You sound as if you thought I would not survive. That is a bit insulting, don’t you think?” he snorted and shook his head. A small smile was creeping underneath his beard. One of the soldiers, a commander, Qui-Gon suspected, along with a few hours were just staring at him, unsure. Obi-Wan just continued to speak, so focused on his task at hand. “I noticed pack up is coming along. I hope the natives have been warned and moved. And delegating that to Ahsoka and your poor Captain is such bad form-.”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon croaked out again.

“You sound absolutely terrible, dear one, are you…” And then Obi-Wan finally, finally, turned around to face him, the words, dying on his lips as he stared at Qui-Gon, near uncomprehending. Qui-Gon could not see what he was thinking.

“Obi-Wan.”

The young man swallowed, staring intently before he took a shaky breath and shook his head slowly. “Someone please get Helix,” Obi-Wan said, cordially, and Qui-Gon was momentarily confused until he realized Obi-Wan wasn’t actually talking to him, personally. “I appear to be hallucinating,” he explained further. He didn’t take his eyes off of Qui-Gon, just stared and appeared to be studying him.

A soldier ran off. Others just watched. Because even though Obi-Wan had said he was hallucinating, they could all see him. Qui-Gon wondered what had happened that made Obi-Wan think this way, that seeing him was more likely to be a hallucination than real. He was dead, Qui-Gon guessed.

“You aren’t,” Qui-Gon’s voice cracked from emotion because in all honesty, it did not feel real. There were so many emotions wrapped up in all of this. He could feel Obi-Wan’s warmth, see his light and it felt impossible. “But I feel as though I must be.”

He then couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and hugged his padawan, wrapping his arms securely around him and oh – he was still shorter than the older master. Qui-Gon could still tuck him under his chin and that he did. He tucked what used to be his little child under his chin and wrapped him so tight like if he even gave an inch back, he would lose him all together.

“What is this,” Obi-Wan mumbled but he accepted the hug, even leaning into Qui-Gon, a bit limp. When was the last time Qui-Gon hugged his padawan? When was the last time anyone had hugged his padawan? He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted the answer.

“Such a blessing,” Qui-Gon muttered to himself, and he was crying now, tears slipping out silently. He couldn’t believe it. Because this was more than he could dream. He had seen Obi-Wan over the years, in dreams, nightmares, even drug-induced hallucinations (not on purpose) but he had never been able to really speak, never been able to tough and hug and reach with the Force. Qui-Gon, at this point, was scared to. Scared to see what he would find.

“I do not understand what is happening.”

Qui-Gon barely pulled back – barely – just to look at Obi-Wan’s face. He was so tired in a resigned type of way; like the weight of the galaxy had been put on his shoulders. Qui-Gon had a sneaking position something like that was, in fact, happening. “Goodness, look at you,” he said instead, trying to smile because oh, this was the most pleasant dream.

Obi-Wan’s expression turned wary, suspicious. “Me.”

“You’ve grown up so well, my dear,” Qui-Gon replied instead because he had. Obi-Wan looked so good and the older master could only imagine how well he was doing in his studies, in his learning, in what he had done and accomplished and grown. “I like the haircut and the beard, it suits you. I think it makes you look older but not in a bad way, distinguished or something,” he chuckled but then frowned suddenly. Obi-Wan frowned back. “But…you…you look so sad.”

“You can see that?”

How could he not? How could anyone not?

Who hadn’t seen this?

“It has only been ten years, Obi-Wan, not ten lifetimes,” he replied, trying to keep with another smile. “I never knew you as well as I should have…but I know that…weight. I’ve underestimated it, but I’ve seen it.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan mumbled, glancing down and Qui-Gon couldn’t quite read what he was thinking about that. “You kind of look the same.”

Qui-Gon let out a wet, half-hearted laugh and he almost couldn’t stop because that…that was something he would say, although not quite as snarky as the witty teenager Qui-Gon used to think. “One does not often change too much so into life and habits,” he admitted and he projected some type of joy.

“You smell better,” he mumbled and glanced up at him at him, watching Qui-Gon’s face for something. Qui-Gon wondered what he was looking for. “Look nice. It’s trimmed,” he noted, curiously, touching the ends, in some sort of wonder. Qui-Gon just smiled again, his shoulders relaxing.

Qui-Gon hummed. “I kept thinking of you,” he muttered, truthfully.

“This is incredibly strange.”

His note about the hair? Or the scenario? Both? It hardly mattered.

“You seem to be taking the possibility fairly well, however,” Qui-Gon replied.

Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle but there continued to be a hollowness underneath it, like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not. Oh, Qui-Gon wanted to know everything that had happened without him, everything he didn’t know. He wanted to know everything because he seemed to have missed so much and he had this strange second chance. He needed make the most of it. Obi-Wan shook his head in some form of disbelief. “Ah, if only you knew all the things we have gone through in your absence.”

“Then I’m sure I’d understand,” he guessed.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were sparkling, partially with tears. “Perhaps…we…we must go,” he added, stepping back and out of Qui-Gon’s embrace. The older man frowned just a bit, he did not want to let go of his child, the one he had lost so long ago. But Obi-Wan kept talking and then Qui-Gon understood the urgency. “The Separatist forces are approaching.”

“The droids.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him, questioning and curious.

Qui-Gon shrugged. “The padawan, Ahsoka, told me.”

His former padawan straightened so much, Qui-Gon thought if he touched him, the man would snap in half. A medic had run up, with a few others, but Obi-Wan waved him off. “False alarm Helix,” he said with some amusement that no one else probably found amusing. “It appears I am not hallucinating after all. It just appears that my former master who was actually quite dead has either been resurrected, time travelled or jumped dimensions.”

“Force shenanigans?” one of the troopers near them grinned. He had scars all over his face and some scruff on the lower half but there was a life to him that Qui-Gon nearly melted in the presence of.

“Yes, Immortal. That is probably the most reasonable explanation,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Clankers are inbound, but Oddball and his squad are ready for bombardment when you give the signal,” another soldier – the commander, Qui-Gon believed – added, stepping in and standing next to Obi-Wan.

“Let’s move out and give Oddball and his boys space to do their work,” Obi-Wan nodded and turned towards Qui-Gon. “We really should get going. Do you mind following us?”

This was currently Obi-Wan’s domain, his galaxy. His padawan may have been at war again but Qui-Gon had to believe there was a reason. There was a reason last time and Obi-Wan did not jump into these things’ willy nilly. It wasn’t something that he enjoyed. He was a creature of duty and compassion and Qui-Gon had spent the last ten years thinking about him and wistfully dreaming of more time. He had it now, he would not give it up so easily. Obi-Wan knew this world, what was happening, what they were doing. And from what little Qui-Gon could gather, he had become quite the leader.

“I will follow your lead,” Qui-Gon vowed, resolute and truthful.

Something softened in his padawan’s eyes, and he nodded, gratefully.

My, what a strange world he had ended up in, indeed.

[catrasredemption-moved]

Catra's season 4 outfit gives me Shadow Weaver vibes - her right arm is covered while the left one is not. Just like SW has her poncho thingy wrapped only around her right arm. I don't know maybe I'm reaching but if she is trying to become some evil tyrant, she is probably emulating The evil she knows. What do you think?

Oh season 4 Catra is all kinds of vibing with Shadow Weaver. I actually have a lot to say about this that plays in with my “Catra isn’t a pretty abuse victim” meta, so buckle up lol.

Let’s start with a quote from Shadow Weaver:

“You remind me of myself. You always have.”

Yes, I know she was trying to manipulate Catra and try to show that they’re similar and Catra should help her, but that doesn’t automatically make it a lie. Catra is a lot like Shadow Weaver from her Light Spinner days - she wanted more power, she wanted to challenge the Horde, and no one would listen to her. Catra’s often in the same position of being overlooked or ignored, partially by Shadow Weaver’s doing, but it’s implied that people in the Horde don’t really think much of Catra until she becomes Force Captain, something she’d resigned herself to because of Adora.

Shadow Weaver seeing herself in Catra would also explain a lot about her treatment of Catra. Because she knows what lengths she went to for power, and Catra is fully capable of doing the same. How do you stop someone from seeking power? You put them down, you force them into situations they can’t win (like competing with Adora), you demean them, you make sure they never think they can accomplish anything. And Shadow Weaver did a damn good job at that until Hordak put the badge in Catra’s hand.

And just like Shadow Weaver, Catra eventually hits rock bottom. The fact that this is also because of Shadow Weaver is being put aside for now. Catra reaches a point where she has nothing left to lose, pushing her into her own position of “do this thing that’s dangerous and literally no one wants you to do” - pulling the lever.

Again, parallels here. Catra was disfigured in the portal, Shadow Weaver was disfigured using the spell of obtainment. Catra’s wasn’t permanent, thankfully, but she still covers up the reminder with the sleeve on her arm, just like Shadow Weaver covers herself to hide what the spell of obtainment did to her. Which is the answer to what you actually asked, but I’m going to keep going, if you don’t mind.

Catra definitely displays some very Shadow Weaver-esque behavior in season four,very much following the example of evil that she’s seen, with the yelling and verbal abuse at someone who sees her as an important figure in her life (Shadow Weaver was a parental figure to Catra, Catra was a best friend to Scorpia, in Scorpia’s mind), but I think the lowest point for Catra is when she literally repeats Shadow Weaver’s behavior, right down to her words, when she’s yelling at Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio 4x12:

“Get out!”

Yes, I know they’re common words, but the context of the scene is what, to me, parallels it with Shadow Weaver yelling at Adora and Catra in Promises. Catra’s backed up into the shadows, literally shrouded in darkness, yelling at people who at the very least used to be her squadmates (I believe Kyle thinks they were friends, but the reality of that statement is debatable), and threatening them. It seems oddly similar to the scene in Promises, doesn’t it? Catra’s finally risen to power, just like Shadow Weaver did. But she’s not happy. Because unlike Shadow Weaver, power was never what she wanted. But Shadow Weaver put the idea in her head, just like she gaslighted Adora in 1x01: “Is this not what you've wanted since you were old enough to want anything?” But Catra’s happiness is a discussion for another time.

Shadow Weaver basically built a perfect cycle of abuse with Catra - she abused Catra, who then went on to emulate her abuser by repeating all her actions and mistakes. Left unchecked, Catra probably would have just spiraled further down that hole of misery.

But Catra breaks the cycle. She makes a conscious choice to do “one good thing” in her life, with every intention of dying on Horde Prime’s ship. And when she doesn’t die, she actively works on being a better person. Which does not go unnoticed by Shadow Weaver, who tries to pull Catra back down to her level:

“At least you admit she’s evil.” “You’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

But Catra has Adora to hold her back now, to keep her grounded. And Shadow Weaver is alone in her little abuse circle. The girls she raised have teamed up and turned on her, there’s no place for her in the Rebellion, no place in the Horde, no place in Etheria.

Which leads us to Shadow Weaver sacrificing herself. Actually, rewind back to her arguing with Catra in the Whispering Woods and basically repeating the Glimmer/Catra scene on Prime’s ship:

“Do something good with [magic] for once and help me save Adora before it’s too late!”

And Shadow Weaver actually listens. Sure, this is her chance to go out as “a hero”, but her presence there at all is because of Catra. If Shadow Weaver had her way, she’d have been getting wine drunk back at the rebellion cave. But Catra dragged her out, Catra backed her into a corner, and Catra made her do something. Catra proved that she could actually rise above Shadow Weaver’s abuse and be a better person.

Which brings me back to another Shadow Weaver quote:

“It's too late for me. But you, this is only the beginning for you.”

Again, probably just her trying to be manipulative one last time, but I think there’s some truth to the words. Shadow Weaver has always been self-serving and thinking about ways to save herself, screw everyone else. But she knows there’s nowhere for her in a post-war world, so what the hell, might as well go out with a bang. Alternatively, she could’ve just left Catra to die (as one might expect), and harness the power of the Heart while she was right there, alone with it, and just run. I’m sure she could’ve found a way to make herself an appealing asset to Horde Prime, at least long enough to get off Etheria and find another planet to terrorize with her newfound powers.

And I know people are going to argue and say she was straight up being manipulative, but to what end? I absolutely believe her final words were a mind fuck - the “you’re welcome” combined with taking off her mask and showing her true face pretty much screamed “this is who she really is, don’t forget that.” It’s the “It’s too late for me” that gets me. She is fully recognizing that she has fucked up beyond repair, and not at all apologetic about it, but she also proceeds to go back on the earlier parallels she drew between herself and Catra. Catra hasn’t fucked up beyond repair yet. Catra broke the cycle. Catra had a chance at a new life, better than the one she had in the Horde, and a chance to be a better person. “This is only the beginning for you” might be the most sincerest words she ever said, to the person she was so sure she had broken.

Wow this got way off track. Anyway, yeah, I think there are some clear parallels between Catra, especially in season four, and Shadow Weaver. And it’s fascinating to think about how that dynamic plays out.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Do you like El? I got the impression that you don't really like her. And if you consider Byler as endgame, what kind of ending do you expect for El? Season 2 reminded me that El supposed to die in Season 1. This is immediately felt, since I got the impression that the Duffers simply do not know what to do with her, she had a rather boring story in Season 2. The only thing that added interest to her story was her relationship with Hop. But this is more Hop’s Arc, and El is just an addition to it.

I like El. That is to say, I like the idea of the character. I think she was very well written in Seasons 1 & 2, and she’s been very well acted by Millie Bobby Brown. It was really Season 3 that soured me on her, and that’s more of a criticism of the writing than the character. I’d like to believe that her depiction in Season 3 is intentional, and that they have plans to build on it, but it still remains to be seen. Her story is complex in that her personal journey is overinfluenced by others, and this results in her appearing to not have her own journey. Season 3 can still work with that story, as long as it was meant to demonstrate that she has a ways to go still. 

Basically, El is a tricky character to work with. Her lack of social and emotional development early in life should result in a stunted child who has difficulty adapting to a more normal life. This is what we see in Seasons 1 & 2, and it was handled very well. El had a basic set of personal values that drove her actions: personal survival, protection of her friends, and a desire for freedom. She had little opportunity for growth considering that she went from being raised in the very restrictive lab to spending a year in Hopper’s cabin with little besides him and TV for models of behavior. Her “spying” on Mike isn’t terribly unusual given her isolation and the fact that she bonded with him the most. The possessive behavior, such as knocking Max off her skateboard, is concerning, but not terribly unusual given her upbringing. When she finally reunites with the Party, she makes sure to share a moment with Dustin and Lucas, showing that she missed them as well as Mike. She also checks in on Will while he’s unconscious, so one would think she’d want to get to know him.

Then comes Season 3, and, suddenly, El is fine about being stuck in the cabin so long as Mike is with her. She seems to care little about seeing Dustin or Lucas outside of helping the Party with Dustin’s surprise welcome home. I don’t recall her interacting with Will at all. She also seems to be incredibly dismissive of Hopper, despite their Season 2 arc seeming to be how much they love each other despite each having difficulty adapting to a father/daughter relationship. This would ostensibly be Mike’s influence on her, but it still shows a major compromise of her values, as well as a regression of her Season 2 development. We’re seeing her use Mike as a sort of safety blanket (she literally clings to him when Dustin shows off his gadgets), and she continues to do so until she catches him in a lie. 

I do sometimes wonder if the Duffers painted themselves into a corner with her. She was a very popular character, which I suppose led to them adding her to Season 2. They claimed that they originally intended for her to have truly died in the act of killing the demogorgon. Her power level necessitated keeping her away from the threat for most of Season 2, resulting in the seemingly out of place episode where she goes to see Kali. Any development from that arc is missing in Season 3 aside from a single mention of “bitchin’” by El. She lacks the assertiveness, sense of camaraderie, or even personal style that this episode seemed to impart onto her. Instead, she’s revealed to still be a chameleon of sorts, taking on the qualities and mannerisms of whomever she is currently attached to. She goes from having Mike’s flippant arrogance to Max’s sassy assertiveness. 

This is all something I could live with, and even appreciate, as long as it leads somewhere. I’m begging for Season 3 to all have been a means to hammer home that El is not developing in a healthy fashion. If that ends up being the case, then I will be happy. 

A sense that I dislike El may come out in regards to her powers, though. I have a dislike for super powerful characters who can solve any given problem. Season 3 was heavily reliant on El. Unlike Season 2, El is present at each occasion where her powers are beneficial, and she is subsequently able to win, to one degree or another, each time. It was particularly frustrating during the sauna test. She is shown being overpowered by Billy, which could have been a good occasion to show that El can’t do it alone, as well as her friends not being totally helpless. Instead, they have Mike utterly fail at helping, and El manages to suddenly bounce back and defeat Billy even though she had just failed a moment prior. They may have shown El struggling, increasingly so, but she was still able to win every battle. Seasons 1 & 2 carefully spooned out her powers until their climactic battles, but not Season 3.

I suppose, given that I think Season 3′s over-the-top, in-your-face action was intentional, that they wanted to highlight the overreliance on El, and also show that her powers can’t constantly save the day. They do ultimately have her powers vanish, requiring the rest of the cast to figure things out. Still, it was frustrating to also have her be the only to break Billy away from the Mindflayer’s control. That really should’ve been Max’s role, if anyone’s, and it was just another “El saves the day” moment that grated on me. Yes, she did it without her powers, but only because her powers gave her the knowledge to put it to work. 

I imagine Season 4 will involve her coping with life without powers, which I think will be great. Not only will it serve as a plot necessity to keep her from finding Hopper, but it gives her a chance to be a regular kid. Her biggest character arc, hinted at by Max, is that she needs to discover who she is. While she had some growth in Season 2, limited though it may have been, she regressed in Season 3. She won’t be able to cling to Mike or Max now that she’s moved away. It’s been her tendency to simply emulate others that has held her back. Her being Hopper’s daughter is much a part of her arc as it is his. She doesn’t know how to have a father due to her only previous experience being “Papa.” Her attitude with him in Season 3 wasn’t her learning how to be a typical teenager. Rather, she was emulating Mike, making it a symptom of her larger problems. 

El, ultimately, hasn’t achieved even a rudimentary sense of self, and Mike is partially to blame for it, albeit uninentionally. Anytime El has shown any growth, she’s ultimately reverted in order to be with Mike again. El is better without Mike, and vice versa. They were codependent, unhealthy. Their relationship isn’t necessarily beyond repair, but it would almost require a complete reboot. I think it would be extremely limiting for her story have her end up with Mike when we’ve already seen how bad it’s been for both of them. An ending for El should involve her discovering who she really is outside of Mike’s, or anyone else’s, influence. It should involve El finally being part of a family (be it just Hopper or an integration into the Byers), as well as learning to be part of a larger group of friends instead of attaching herself to one person (as she did with Mike and Max). It had to have been intentional to show her lack of interaction with other characters. Otherwise, it’s just bad writing. The Duffers may have made a risky decision in bringing back a character they originally didn’t plan to, but I choose to believe they did so with at least some idea of what to do with her.

[despair-vs-hope]

(spoiler warning) don't know if this went through but i'll try again, could i have Kokichi's s/o steps in to take Gonta's place for his execution because they couldn't believe Kokichi would do that to Gonta so they make kokichi choose between them or Gonta to be executed.

I will not deny that I got a bit carried away with writing this, but still hope that you enjoy it! - Mod Kiibo

After a long trial, in an attempt to reveal the blackened killer of Miu Iruma, the truth was finally revealed by none other than Kokichi. To which of course was rejected by everyone that believed it to be a sinister lie of Kokichi’s. But much to their dismay, it was a sickening truth that exposed the friendly giant demeanor of Gonta to be conflicting with the group’s decisions for action in regards to the trial.

His confession made your heart sink to what felt like your stomach. You had gotten so used to his tendency to lie, that you had almost brushed it off as another of Kokichi’s lies, but you had known it was a fact after considering the behaviour of Gonta in the virtual reality suspicious.

The fact that Gonta never recalled what happened in the virtual reality, only made the truth more clear. The moment when Kokichi had yelled at Gonta to defend himself, to prove that he wasn’t the culprit made the tension of the trial room to emit such emotion that everyone felt that they were reaching the climax of the trial. But with such approaching, emotions were high. Kaito and Kokichi butting heads over the survival of the class, to which made you feel overwhelmed.

When Gonta expressed his guilt of making everyone angry and him not being able to provide evidence or knowledge to what happened made you process something. You think that Shuichi had the same gears turning in his head.

“Hold on a moment!” You interjected, everyone looked at you, “Gonta saying that he doesn’t know anything from the virtual world may be something to do with how he was acting in the virtual world.” You explained your train of thought.

“What do you mean, S/O?” Kiibo questioned, in an almost becking for you to continue on.

“Well something seemed to be off when Gonta volunteered to watch over Kokichi, leaving him more susceptible to being manipulated to Kokichi. Then after the whole bridge thing and in the chapel, something was different about Gonta, I thought it was just me, but now I’m thinking that something caused such a difference in Gonta.” You continued your explanation, to which triggered Shuichi to realize something.

“Then that would mean something happened between the time before and after Gonta had logged onto the virtual world.” Shuichi added, then pondered to himself. “No, it was when he was logging in, when there was an ‘avatar log in error’. So that would explain his forgetfulness of the virtual world and the behaviour change that S/O noticed.”

“The memory and consciousness cords!” You exclaimed.

“If he mixed the consciousness and memory cords, then there’d be an error with memory.” Kokichi chimed in, understanding what the new evidence meant, “Like…an error that won’t let you bring your avatar’s memories to the real world…”

Then all came together when Gonta confessed that he confused his left and right directions, and that he was in a sleeping trance when he logged into the virtual world. But the questions still  remained: what was Kokichi’s motive and why did Gonta do it?

With some arguing and begging, Kokichi finally agreed that he would explain why it had to only be Gonta through the process of elimination. As he gave the names and made Shuichi explain why they couldn’t be possible suspects, to which Kokichi added on and ran the show.

As Kokichi got to himself, and Gonta as the remaining suspects, Kaito accused Kokichi again of being the blackened, to which you annoyingly yelled at him to shut up.

“Kokichi explained so many times that he couldn’t kill Miu, get it through your head that he isn’t the killer.” You were harsh with your words, but they were of good intent.

Kokichi grinned at you, “Seeee? Now if some of you understood how this killing game works like S/O and Shuichi, you would have seen who the culprit is. Now tell me, who’s left on the list?” His grin turned sinister when he looked at Shuichi.

“I…it’s Gonta.” Shuichi answered in hesitance.

Even after Kaito tried to provide some sort of evidence to prove Gonta innocent, Shuichi proved him wrong and everyone could feel the betrayal.

“That can’t be true..” Kaito sighed in resistance to defeat.

“Enough!” You shouted, gathering everyone’s attention. “You all don’t want Gonta to be the killer, right? So, I may as well offer myself up, there isn’t a rule about not doing that.”

“Just like in the Hunger Games!” Tsumugi exclaimed.

“S/O.. what are you doing?” Kokichi questioned, staring at you in a way that made you feel hesitant.

You smiled sadly, “Nobody feels that Gonta is responsible and I don’t want you to die. I’m partially responsible for Gonta’s actions for not saying anything about his situation, so it makes sense.”

“S/O, we already discussed that the person who carried out the action is the blackened. I’m the one who planned it, so we aren’t the blackened.” Kokichi argued in a tone that sounded hurt, conflicting with your response.

“So what?! In a way, I forced him hand, I was the action for not stepping up and telling anyone!” You defended yourself then looked at Monokuma, “Can it be allowed, just this once? Please? I volunteer to die in place of Gonta Gokuhara.” Your voice sounded strong and sure of what you were doing.

“S/O..” Gonta whimpered.

“Okay stop being stupid! You can’t do that, we proved Gonta to be the culprit and now he has to die!” Kokichi sounded desperate and frustrated, just like when was telling everyone the truth that they so adored.

“Hmmm..” Monokuma pondered as he considered the sudden suggestion. When he had a malicious grin, he let out a signature laugh. “It seems that everyone is feeling such despair, I wouldn’t be opposed to it! Phuu Phuu Phuu! Let’s have a vote, to execute Gonta Gokuhara or S/O?”

Kokichi was in utter disbelief, not like the others, but he felt utter despair in this situation. He was forced to vote between the actual culprit and the person he cared for most. Now he may lose them due to a plan to win the killing game, he wanted them to survive at least. He knew very well that he and S/O were alienated from the rest of the group and that they cared for Gonta more. They would execute S/O, he knew they would, they pretended to be good people.

“Kokichi.” He heard his beloved S/O call to him, “Please vote.” They begged, making his lips to tug down into a frown.

“It isn’t fair.” He gritted his teeth, “Why should you pay for Gonta’s crimes, when you were busy being nice to those idiots who were going to betray you in the end when given the choice!” He could feel the tears sting his eyes as they threatened to spill.

There were only four votes yet to be placed, those belonging to Shuichi, Gonta, you and Kokichi. Only 3 of the already published 5 of the votes were to you being executed, sure it hurt a bit, but you asked to be executed.

Kokichi was choked up that he was forced to vote, yes he would vote for Gonta, only after convincing you to vote for him as well. Shuichi was hesitant to vote, due to there not being a wrong answer and someone would die no matter. Gonta himself didn’t want to vote entirely.

“Guys, just vote for me, you’re better off. Gonta is more useful and cherished, you get the answer you fought for. Just let him live, c’mon.” You tried to reason with the remaining voters.“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself too.” Kokichi pointed out, “Why would you sacrifice yourself when you’re afraid to die yourself? And you’d be… leaving me!” At that very moment, you thought that Kokichi would crumble right before everyone. The way he clutched the railing in front of him and sent a look at you that gave you impression that he was breaking down.

He was right, you were the only one who accepted him and comforted him. You were about throw it all away in his eyes.

You then noticed that you were crying, making you avoid all eye contact with the class.

That made Gonta break down.

“Gonta can not let S/O die for Gonta, when S/O did not…. kill Miu!” He sobbed and voted for himself.

Now the voting was all equal with three left.

“Kokichi it’s better f-for everyone else if this happens.” You argued, trying to convince him, but he began to yell again.

“But what about YOU?! You’re always concerned for everyone else, that’s what got us into this mess! Gonta’s right, you didn’t kill Miu.”

“But I’m still a cause, it could have been prevented!” You fought back, but then contradicted yourself, “In a way, I’m glad Miu died instead of you. The fact that I am glad that some died is inhumane and deserving of death myself!”

At that moment, you voted for yourself to die.

Kokichi was taken aback that he couldn’t convince you to vote for Gonta. In that very moment, Kokichi knew that Shuichi was his only way of saving your life.

“Is it really fair for someone to die for a crime they didn’t commit?” He asked Shuichi in a quiet tone, then pressed the button to vote for Gonta.

Nobody spoke a word, as Shuichi felt the pressure. Whoever he voted for, would die and their fate was in his hands.

Shuichi put himself in the shoes of someone who didn’t know Gonta and S/O and who they would vote for.

“I’m sorry Gonta.”“LET THE EXECUTION BEGIN!”

——–

The aftermath of the trial was filled with hurt feelings and betrayal.

Before anyone could leave the trial room, Kokichi ran towards you and hugged you.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He shouted, the tears he tried to hold back beginning to spill from his violet eyes.

You rubbed his back and apologized for causing him such grief and promised to not take their life together for granted again, all with a heavy heart.

[ohliverfelicity]

chokehold

“Well, there you have it," Magnus sighed dramatically, "the things I would do for you, Alexander Lightwood."

or: when magnus proposes to alec, it doesn’t go as well as he had planned.

Mundane traditions were never Alec's go-to's but Magnus always entertained them because he found them endearing. The thing about mundanes was that they were so ignorant of the world that was devouring theirs completely, of demons and monsters, that they lived and loved carelessly and to the fullest and if anything, Magnus found that horribly wonderful.

So when it came to the stage in their lives where Magnus and Alec had come to terms with the unshakable fact that there would be no one in their lives but each other, Magnus looked for ways that were perfect enough in both their intention and presentation to ask Alec Lightwood to marry him. Magnus had watched innumerable episodes of reality tv shows and angsty movies alike to know by now at least seven different ways of proposing. There was the 'propose at the top of a roller coaster' option, but Alec was terrified of roller coasters though he'd never admit it, and the 'gather the whole family on a national holiday and set up a public spectacle' option but for one, he'd seen that one go downhill and end up in public embarrassment too many times when the significant other said 'no' and second, Alec wasn't fond of public declarations of undying love. At the end, what was utterly them, and said 'stay-home date, good food and a private evening to themselves' was the notorious hide-the-ring-in-dessert tradition. Alec loved it when Magnus cooked instead of magically conjured food and everything else was too uncharacteristic of them anyway, so Magnus planned the night of his life.

When the day came, Alec arrived home early with wild hair and a huge smile. He was told, like Magnus had watched on TV, that this was a good old, normal, plain-Jane kind of date.

"Magnus," Alec smiled brightly, approaching Magnus after he'd showered, "You look great."

Magnus looked at Alec with amusement, down at his half-sleeved grey shirt, an accomplishment of a change from his birthright black wardrobe.

"Alexander," he replied in his huskiest voice, "You're rocking the spring colours too, my darling."

Alec laughed with feigned exasperation and something carefree in his eyes that looked more beautiful than any clothing item would on him. Magnus had started witnessing that airy, freeing thing in Alec more and more often now: sometimes in the loose way his shoulders fell even when Magnus touched him around his mother, or in the way he intertwined their fingers on a crosswalk, and sometimes, just sometimes, like on New Years' Eve, in how Alec would kiss the sanity out of Magnus in front of a whole crowd of people without a backwards glance with that feeling of having nothing to lose.

The rooftop looked beautiful, with glowing paper lanterns and Christmas lights hanging along the walls. Magnus had set a table in the middle, lit with candlelight and adorned with flowers he couldn't name. There were platters of rice and sauces and meats and everything else that Alec liked best and Magnus promised him that nothing had been stolen by magic, he'd cooked it all himself.

"You know, you really didn't have to do all this," Alec said, "I know you're allergic to it."

"Allergic to what?"

"Manual cooking."

"Well, there you have it," Magnus sighed dramatically, "the things I would do for you, Alexander Lightwood."

"Oh wow, I never knew I could eat this much." Alec had been bullied by Magnus to try absolutely everything on the table because "I slaved over the entire day for you, Alexander Lightwood" and besides, Alec had truly been touched by the effort. He kept mulling over in his head the possible reasons that called for such an eager Magnus tonight and it wasn't anyone's birthday, it wasn't Magnus' yearly anniversaries of getting banned from anywhere in the world, so really, he resigned to  believing that since he loved good food and Magnus loved him, it was an innocent, uneventful gesture.

"Oh, but you haven't even tried the best part of the night yet," Magnus said to Alec's horror. Alec really was full and with training everyday to stay in shape, Alec wasn't used to downing so much at a time.

"Really, because I think you're the best part of my night," Alec said in a low voice, raising his eyebrow in that mischievous way Magnus liked, and it was only partially because he was trying to divert Magnus' attention from the food. Magnus looked at him intently and he almost caved in to kissing Alec right there and then, but he had an agenda and it wasn't going to get him engaged by the end of the night if he couldn't stay disciplined.

"Alec, darling, as much as I love you, the chocolate fudge cupcake I made for you loves you more, you're absolutely going to have to give it a shot."

If Alec was anything, he was stubborn by default and he'd really try anything to took to not eat it.

"How about I eat it tomorrow? Magnus, I love you for the cooking but I'm going to explode if you make me."

At this point, panic started rumbling in Magnus' stomach because maybe he shouldn't have tried to force Alec to eat absolutely everything on the table, maybe he should've done dessert first, veggies later—

"Okay, I'll eat it," Alec sighed. Magnus looked up, surprised. Alec smiled at him, "Well you look so sad I'm not eating the cupcake thing, so preventing self-destruction isn't worth seeing you worried."

Magnus was confused until he realized the horror of Alec not getting to the cupcake part must have gotten to his face and as guilty as he was in tricking Alec, he was grateful for his concern. Besides, it would only take one bite for Alec to bite on the ring.

Alec sighed with a smile, "Well," he picked up the cupcake delicately and without flinching, "go big or go home, right," put the entire thing in his mouth in one go, just as Magnus registered the sight with horror and had time to say, "No, Alec don't—"

Everything that happened after happened way too quickly. Magnus was reaching for Alec in horror, Alec Lightwood, epic soldier and powerful Head of the Institute choked on his own wedding ring, several utensils clattered to the ground, and somehow, after lots of dragging and coughing, Magnus managed to lay Alec on the ground, with his arm under Alec's head, trying to get him to breathe.

"Oh for God's sake Alexander, the whole thing? You can't take things slow can you," Magnus mumbled with an ugly combination of worry and anxiety.

 All he'd wanted to do tonight was to propose to the light of his life to marry him and he instead had him on the concrete floor of a rooftop, under the most romantic moonlight and the coolest night wind, choking out empty air instead of a "yes, Magnus, yes."

Marriage was a big deal for everyone, mundane, shadow hunter, downworlder alike, but for Magnus, it was colossal. It was acceptance and finality and finally calling a place home because home was where he'd smell Alec's clothes and hear Alec's voice. It meant Magnus still owned a villa in Paris and a mansion in Rome but home was his loft in New York City. Magnus Bane loved a place of a few two thousand square feet, decorated not with paintings of L'arc de Triumph or any work of Picasso, but with sloppy photo booth pictures of Alec and him, with a bedside frame of Alec Lightwood on his 20th birthday, where the couches were draped with Alec's jackets and the laundry bin was filled with nothing but seven pairs of Alec's black jeans. He'd never had that dependency before, never waited up for anyone after midnight before. He'd loved before, yes, but this was so much more than love. It was need and it was trust and it was everything that could break Magnus and he was holding it dearly in the palm of his hand and offering it to Alec tonight in a chocolate fudge cupcake, if only Alec would say yes.

Alec coughed a final time, his eyes red and his throat hoarse and he coughed up the culprit in his hand.

He groaned, "I think I'm okay now," Alec said hoarsely. Magnus almost laughed.

"You can't get rid of me with a poorly cooked cupcake. I'm not that eager to leave," Alec joked and Magnus had just looked a little wilted. Alec sensed that he had murdered, or rather, had choked up the mood and then spat it out, so he brought his free hand up to Magnus' cheek.

"Hey, I'm sorry I choked on your cupcake. It really was good though, don't look so upset, I loved it," Alec grinned. Magnus looked down and him, at the way he was still looking up at Magnus with his cheeks flushed and eyes eager and Alec Lightwood had never looked more beautiful.

He smiled, his heart ramming against his chest because Alec still hadn't opened up his fist to see what he'd choked on. He was almost afraid of what'd happened next, he'd had everything planned out and then this happened and there was nothing else to do.

Magnus took a deep breath, preparing his heart for a massacre and whispered, "Open up your fist, Alexander."

Alec looked confusedly at Magnus and then his hand, then shifted his eyes slowly back towards Magnus' face.

"Okay," he said tentatively, and Alec's fingers opened to reveal a shining, (magically cleaned, he presumed) silver ring on his palm. It had thin, elegant carvings on the outer edges that was simple and remarkable in its making. The first thing Alec thought of it, strangely, was that the clean styling was so Alec-like. It took Alec a while to understand what he was looking at, why there was a random ring he'd never seen in the cupcake Magnus had made him, why Magnus had insisted he eat it. Did Magnus want to show him a new ring? He'd never done that before. If not, then why—

Oh.

Magnus practically witnessed the hurricane of questions and confusion pass over Alec's features, his eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes shifting to process his thoughts and then, Magnus saw, the moment, the eureka moment, when it all clicked into place, and for all the emotions in the world, Magnus felt cold fear rise up his throat.

Alec froze, his pupils blown as realization finally dawned and he finally thought that for all the battle plans and strategies he could think of, why hadn't he known what this was before? Somewhere, a string in his heart went loose and Alec felt like he was breathing for the first time because he didn't deserve this, he didn't think he could ever have this and how did he get so lucky—

"Yes," he whispered with awe, after what Magnus will describe had felt like a decade, to their children.

Alec looked at Magnus and this time it was just raw awe and wonder that was choking the air out of his lungs when he tried saying it louder, "Yes, I'll marry you," and he didn't give Magnus a chance to finally let go of his breath because too quickly, they were kissing and it felt infinite and perfect and for a moment, all of New York held it's breath as Alec Lightwood kissed life back into Magnus Bane.

That night, Alec laughed like he had conquered the world.

"Angel, Magnus, murdering your fiancé via unintentional choking would've sure landed you in the next edition of World's Best Husbands."

Magnus had laughed too, because it all felt unreal: the words, being able to laugh as if there were flowers planted in his lungs and feeling Alec's laughter build a home in his bones. He didn't know which was more magical, that Alec Lightwood, doused in cool moonlight, looked like a mirage laying there in red silk bed sheets, or that looking at him, Magnus feared that he would perish in the strength and intensity of what he felt for this Lightwood boy.

And when Alec leaned in and kissed him this time, Magnus knew it was neither. The only magic in the world was this and this and this.

[blazinginbus1]

i don't really get your tags for these zayn/fan gifs. 2017 zayn HAS been like that with fans (sgt listening party).. you said "i wanna see him like this again", not explicitly that he isn't like that at all, but i noticed these kinds of tags from you on a lot of zayn vids/pics this year and get the impression that you think zayn isn't silly/happy/whatever anymore in general.. but i think he just figured out what he's comfortable to share with the public, and that is almost nothing.

Hello, lovely! Well, first off, I appreciate you coming to me with your concerns directly, and that you’ve presented them in a very respectful way. So, Thank You. Additionally, I can understand and respect your point of view. I will be the first to preface that, yes; my thoughts, feelings, or concerns about any of the boys are partial and have no substantial bearing on how they live their actual lives. But I’m very adaptable to changes of opinion if reasonable points are given, and not just to appease a, “You’re unsupportive if you don’t agree with everything said or seen,” mentality. Because I don’t think that’s reasonable to demand of anyone. If I don’t feel right about something, I would like to think that intuition is still somewhat valid, right? If I’m misinformed about something, I can absolutely admit as such, but when you feel something, you just feel it. For the sake of not overbearing you with the length of this post I imagine it will be, I’m gonna condense it with a read more below.

That all being said; No, you are right; I don’t particularly find Zayn to be completely ‘happy’. At least, given what I’ve observed of him in retrospect. Which, yes, I know little to nothing about Z firsthand, what he thinks, or how he feels beyond what he’s shared with us over time. I understand that, and remain open-minded. So, that’s not to say I invalidate what Zayn says, because I hold a lot of trust in him that some, if not most, of what he says holds truth. I have more faith in trusting him than I have hesitancy of not believing him. That aside, it’s often some tend to project an opinion of theirs onto someone like Z, in such ways as saying, “But he said he’s happy.” “Oh, but his girlfriend says she’s never seen him happier!”  “Just look at how happy he is! He’s elated!” That’s projection. A secondhand opinion. Could it be true? Yes, of course. But couldn’t that person be just as incorrect, given they’re not in Zayn’s head either, and cant speak for him? Yeah, just as possible.

So, it’s almost expected by most to just accept those opinions as fact. And I absolutely understand respecting someone’s word, but I cant help but notice that Zayn’s words and Zayn’s actions don’t always seem to link up, at least to me. If you decide to, open up your Google image page, type in, “Zayn Malik with fans,” then hit send. Take a look around, but also note the photos in which he’s smiling, laughing, pulling a funny face, or otherwise showing some expression of joy or excitement. Odds are most of those photos with fans were taken before his leave.

Yes, those are just a few. And I absolutely understand there is probably plenty of other photos in which he’s not always smiling or being silly back then. But, would it be somewhat fair to say that observation has some truth to it? That Zayn was a tad bit warmer to fans in the past than he can sometimes be now? These are how Zayn fan photos come out now, if he even tends to stop to take one. And that’s not meant to be a dig, I understand he has absolutely NO obligation to do any of this. But the ones he does stop for tend to give off a slightly different vibe, in my humble opinion...

I only bring these up to show what I’ve progressively noticed. Yes, there have been days here or there, where we see Zayn smile a little, or act cute, and a bit silly, but they’re not nearly as frequent, nor do they seem as personal. Which, granted, Zayn has absolutely NO obligation to interact with fans, or do so in an overtly “cheerful” way for it still to be meaningful. I don’t want that to be misconstrued; I am not saying Zayn doesn’t care for his fans, I’m absolutely sure he does. All I’m saying is—from an observant point of view, his demeanor has changed in ways I’m not quite sure are the best warmest we’ve seen of him.

You can see it in many forms; in videos, in photos, in passing, music videos, and the few interviews he’s taken part in, he holds a very stern, slightly-pained looking face and doesn’t show quite as much open enthusiasm as we’ve seen of him before. Could that just be a byproduct of how Zayn has chosen his personality to be, now that he’s grown up or wants to market himself as something, “sexy, and mysterious, and cool”? Sure, and that’s fine; he has every right to act how he sees fit. I acknowledge your statement that he shares what he’s comfortable with now…but that’s what concerns me a little? Why do I get an unsettled gut feeling he’s more uncomfortable now than I’ve seen before? You gave the example of his SGT listening part as showing him to be happy and playful. And YES, I agree! That was a wonderful day and any time we get the chance to see even a fraction of that happy man again, I make note of it. I acknowledge it and take appreciation in it.

But, also—If I'm not mistaken—I think that’s just almost the only fan event he’s had in 2017, much less fan interactions. And even then, it was really hush-hushed and hand-picked in a way that provided little content to really anyone that wasn't there. Don't get me wrong; I am so incredibly grateful for the content some did give us, but it still felt short-lived, and we really haven't been able to see much of him since. He didn't have a fan event for his shoe line, and there was that weird mess of misinformation with his Versus launch; Was there supposed to be a Zayn fan event or not? I still don't know. But in totality, we’re progressively getting less and less of Zayn as time goes on. 2015 gave us some Zayn, but in the midst of really chaotic times. 2016 saw us with less personality-driven Zayn and more unspoken ‘candid moments’ captured of him in transit to and from visiting his girlfriend’s place. 2017 is still an active time frame, so I'm sure anything could occur from now til December. But, so far, I cant really say I recall much of seeing him thus far. Which is slightly saddening, because I love seeing Zayn. And a happy Zayn, at that.

I don’t want this to come across to you guys like this is an insult to him, or that I don’t absolutely love and care for him. Because I do, and I try my hardest to show that as often as I can. Whatever commentary I’ve made about Zayn’s personality or happiness from then til now, is genuinely coming from a place of love and concern. Not that I find myself in any power or position to have concern for him or what he does; Since, no, I don’t have the pleasure of knowing him or being in a position to help him directly, I know that. And for the most part, I do keep my thoughts to myself or my space, be that of this blog or lovely friends of mine on here. So, I’m incredibly sorry if my thoughts of concern upset you because that’s obviously never an intention of mine. But I also feel like I cant really apologize for how I feel or what I think, ya know? Cause, sometimes your gut has the right idea, even if it’s not ideal.

I’ve gone on waaaay too long of a tangent, so I will try to be as concise as I can wrapping up. Do I think things have improved for Zayn in some ways? Definitely. But, do I have the total confidence to say I think he’s exponentially happier now than he has ever been? No. But, I obviously wish nothing but the best for Z, and I would love to see him come to a place willingly in his life where he wants to engage. Again, he doesn't have to. But I think he’s always lovely, always kind, and has his heart in a good place, so it’s just...always nice to be able to see him outwardly happy. I'm sorry if this confused you, or if my answer didn't quite hit all of your key concerns, but I appreciate you asking, and I’m always willing to explain my thoughts when curiosity rises. I didn't write this to stir up any sort of argument to be made, so I hope this stay within some reasonably calm boundaries, and I hope you understand where I'm kinda coming from. I guess the only thing left to do, is end it on a lighter note, by inserting a happy, happy Zayn in.

Thank you!

[cjjingram]

I netflixed the shit out of arrow season 1-4. I really don't see how laurel and oliver were ever friends. I can see tommy and Oliver being life long friends but I don't see how laurel fit in their dynamic. I could just imagine Tommy covering for Oliver whenever he cheated. It's hard to believe laurel was anything more than just a hanger on. I didn't understand the three musketeers vibe the writers were trying to peddle with 4:19, when they were being nostalgic. What's ur take on that dynamic?

Okay, if you’re familiar with my writing you know I psychoanalyze the crap out of my characters. I was just talking with some friends of mine tonight about my ‘writing style’ and how I  get inside the heads of the characters and base their reactions to any given situation based on their actions in canon.

Like my husband always says, ‘A person can say anything but their actions don’t lie.’

In order to understand how these three characters connect you have to examine who each of the characters are starting with Tommy since he’s the bridge between the two.

Tommy has two major issues: An inferiority complex and abandonment issues. He lost his mother, his father abandoned him for two years, and then came home completely changed and treated him like a waste of space by constantly criticizing him and telling him he wished he wasn’t his son. This is canon.

Tommy latched onto Oliver and the Queen family because they were his only support system. He gratefully accepted the role of second banana to Oliver because A) he never felt good enough to ask for more and B) Oliver was his only constant and the first person to tell him that he’d always be there for him and mean it. It’s why he ran all the way to Hong Kong based on an unsent email and never lost hope he was alive. It’s also why when Oliver came back he immediately offered to back away from his relationship with Laurel (such as it was) because, in his mind, she was Ollie’s girl and he was the interloper.

Unfortunately for poor Tommy, that was true. 

Remember that in canon Tommy said he and Laurel were only booty buddies before Ollie’s resurrection. They’d only hooked up three times before then, quote: ‘Her place, my place, my place again.’

Tommy pursued Laurel because she was the last tie he had to Oliver but he knew what he felt for her wasn’t what she felt for him. He also knew that the reason Laurel hooked up with him in the first place was because he reminded her of Ollie and that she would always go back to Ollie no matter what. He even said to Oliver that even if Laurel found out he was the Hood, despite the fact that he had killed people, she’d immediately choose him every time.

Again, he was right; Laurel, all throughout her relationship with Tommy, would run to Oliver or the Hood every chance she got. The fact that she refused to have a relationship with Tommy until AFTER Oliver returned is telling as well. Laurel only got serious with Tommy to show Oliver she was over him then she stayed with him in order to make Oliver jealous. Tommy knew that but he stayed because he was convinced that eventually Laurel would see how much he loved her and how hard he was working to gain her trust and respect. That’s what really soured his relationship with Oliver, the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be everyone’s second choice.

Still, Tommy’s greatest strength has always been that he’s a good friend and highly loyal. No matter how badly both Oliver and Laurel betrayed him–and they constantly betrayed him long before the sex up against the wall thing by carrying on an emotional affair behind his back–he stood by them. He protected Oliver and helped him even when he disapproved of what he was doing and he rushed onto a burning building to save Laurel even though she made it very clear through her words and actions that she never really loved him.

She confirms that in episode 1 of season 2 when she refers to him as her ‘friend’ then makes excuses about the fact that she didn’t cheat on him, not really, even though it kind of felt like she did, then reassures herself of that by saying that Tommy ‘would’ve wanted us to be together’ even though that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

Oliver’s biggest problem is that he’s emotionally immature and lacks the chip in his brain that recognizes that actions have consequences. Even now he sees himself as the center of the universe and everyone around him are there merely to serve a purpose within his narrative. 

I get that it’s his show but, if this were real life, then that would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Everyone uses Oliver’s 5 years away as an excuse for his actions but he had 22 years of life BEFORE the island and now 5 years after and a lot has changed but a lot hasn’t changed as well.

Oliver was always his mama’s ‘beautiful boy’ and he said to his mother in canon that her parenting style has always to let her children do anything they want and then to step in to sweep the consequences of their actions under the rug. Moira protects her children but she likes keeping them dependent on her as well. She offered them no structure, no discipline, and she withheld affection as a punishment before swooping in to save the day and basking in her ‘heroic motherhood’. In a way Moira has this sort of Munchhausen’s by proxy where she ensures her children have no sense of consequences so she can always remain the center of their universe.

It’s why we see a grown ass 20 year old Oliver curled up in his mommy’s lap and whimpering to her about knocking some girl up. Subconsciously Oliver  knew she’d make it go away, that’s why when Samantha told him she paid her off, Oliver began to object then immediately let it go with a guilty look on his face. After all, he practically told his mother to do it so how could he be angry with her for it?

Because of this, Oliver was raised with this idea that he should hand over his autonomy to his mother and let her fix everything and that nothing has consequences for him.

Notice that he treated Laurel the same way he treated his mother right down to the way he would curl up in her lap like a little boy.

Everyone saw this gif and cooed, I didn’t because I saw it for what it was:

 Ollie and mommy

Oliver knows he screwed up, he knows he’s about to get into trouble, so he cuddles like a little boy looking for comfort. This would be endearing except for the fact that we see him do this same thing with Laurel right after he finds out he got Samantha pregnant and knows he has to tell her soon and then he does it again when he confesses to Moira.

Basically Oliver is stunted emotionally. He knows he loves Tommy but he has no problem with telling his best friend to get the girl then sleeping with her because he wants the girl for himself. He doesn’t even stop to consider the consequences of his actions, he doesn’t care that he hurt Tommy until after the fact. 

As for Laurel, she’s a classic type A personality with a superiority complex. 

I want to emphasize that, as much as we may dislike her, Laurel is not the bad guy. Another friend of mine shared her headcanon about Laurel one day. She asked, ‘How did a girl from a working class family grow up with the sons of billionaires?’ The answer is that her mom was a teacher and, chances are, she taught at the school Oliver and Tommy went to. Lots of private schools allow the children of the teaching staff attend for free or at a discount so Laurel was probably enrolled at the same private academy. That said, she was still the teacher’s kid and she’s going to school with people who spend more on shoes than what both her parents earn in a year combined. Not only that but she has a little sister who is an admitted fuck up and two parents who are always working or going to school at night so she’s given the responsibility of taking care of her sister. Whenever Sara screws up, she catches the blame because she’s ‘the responsible one’.

Laurel busts her ass to be accepted by the kids she goes to school with; most teenage girls would. She gets straight A’s, she’s active in all the clubs, and she’s popular, but she can never be good enough. What’s worse is that Sara seems to have everything handed to her. Sara gets great grades without trying, she screws up and her parents bail her out or yell at Laurel for not watching her better, and she makes friends easily because she has this kind of laid back personality people respond to. Sara is fearless and people love her for that while Laurel resents the hell out of her for it. When she finds out that Sara is planning on hooking up with Oliver at a party, that’s the final straw for her.

Oliver is the most popular guy at school and her sister is going to wind up dating him on top of everything else so she tells on her, gets her grounded, then marches into that party with the intentions of snagging Oliver for herself.

Again this is at least partially canon.

Sara tells Oliver that Laurel hooked up with him that night because she knew they were planning on meeting up. She wanted to ‘steal’ Oliver from Sara because she resented Sara and felt like she deserved him, like he was a trophy. She justified her actions by saying that Sara was too young for Oliver or that she had a crush on him first but, really, Laurel never wanted Oliver so much as she wanted credit for getting Oliver. 

Throughout their relationship, Laurel constantly pushed Oliver into doing what she wanted. She had a plan and she expected Oliver to eventually fall in line. She couldn’t deviate from her plan which is why, no matter how many times Oliver cheated on her, she always took him back. 

Despite the fact that her father called her a gold digger, that’s not what Laurel is; she’s more like a social climber. Laurel is a goal oriented person; she knows what she wants and she won’t stop until she gets it. She also has that same blindness to consequences and collateral damage Oliver has and cannot accept failure. When she fails or is wrong she lashes out and deflects blame onto others or rewrites history in her mind. 

She stole Oliver from Sara but she rewrites history to say that Sara was a boyfriend stealer first even though she’s the one who spread that rumor around the school in the first place (again, that’s canon).

She says Oliver is the love of her life even though she caught him with more than a dozen of her ‘friends’ even before finding out about Sara and Samantha. (canon)

She runs into CNRI for files even though she’s warned not to go inside the building leading to Tommy’s death but she blames the Hood for not getting there in time to save him. She completely disavows any responsibility in the events leading up to his death. (canon)

She also disavows any serious relationship existed between them by rewriting history and painting them as ‘friends’, not ‘lovers’, and tells Oliver that Tommy would want them to be together. She even stages a romantic scene mere days after his funeral where she’s all smiles while looking over his pictures then launches into a discussion about moving in together and getting married as if the last six years never happened. (canon times infinity)

How these three people connect is simple:

Oliver is with Laurel because she offers him structure and she reminds him of his mother. Tommy fits in because he just wants a family and he wants to have a place where he is loved by the people he loves. Laurel wants to save the world and be the hero. She wants everyone to look at her and admire her and she knows she can do so many good things if she’s Mrs. Oliver Queen. She convinces herself that she loves Oliver because she has to love Oliver otherwise it would make her look like a bad person and Laurel is a very good person. Laurel is a hero in her own mind and anything else is unacceptable.

To put it simply, these are three very damaged people locked in a toxic relationship where they enable each other and feed on one another’s worst traits. If anyone comes out smelling like a rose it’s Tommy but he isn’t perfect either. He doesn’t understand that the reason Laurel can never love him isn’t because she loves Oliver more, but because he allows her to treat him like a tool and doesn’t have enough self-respect to demand more. 

Now, what should’ve happened was Tommy should’ve gotten therapy and met Felicity and never hooked up with Laurel in the first place that way when Oliver returned he’d be married to her and she would’ve turned him into a grown up.

Laurel should’ve dumped Oliver the first time he cheated on her and demanded the respect she was due. At the very least she should’ve taken that job in San Francisco and gotten the hell away from Starling. Maybe she would’ve met someone like Ray Palmer, someone who was successful and a bit oblivious who she could shape into the person she needed him to be but who could also stand up to her when necessary.

Oliver should’ve grown the fuck up a long time ago. When he knocked Samantha up, his mother should’ve gone to Robert, they should’ve sat Oliver and Samantha down, and Oliver should’ve been made to take responsibility then and there. If Oliver had been allowed to become a father then he would’ve buckled down and his entire life would’ve changed. I doubt he and Samantha would’ve been a couple but they would be co-parents. Oliver would begin working at QC part time and gone to school at Starling U. He would’ve matured and become more independent because he wouldn’t have had a choice. If Laurel was smart, that would’ve been the final straw and she would’ve left him to pursue her own life because sisters are doing it for themselves.

There wouldn’t have been an island either because Oliver wouldn’t want to be away from his kid for three months. It takes a minimum of a month to sail to China so they would’ve flown instead. He would’ve gone to the meeting then come straight home. 

The whole thing is a tragedy when you think about it. None of these characters are completely blameless and no one is the bad guy. The only bad guy, IMHO, is the writers who decided to tell us what a strong, smart, and noble character Laurel was without allowing us to see that.  She came off much worse than they intended her to because, in the end, these were male writers who thought a strong female was the same as a bitch. They thought that ambition was the same as being a social climber, and they failed to realize that no strong woman would put up with all the shit Laurel put up with.

The way most women viewed it was that he cheated and she took him back once. That’s fine, that’s understandable. He cheats again and she drops his ass because fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice, shame on you. The fact that Laurel took him back after he cheated on her more than a dozen times then slept with him after he ran off with her sister?

Yeah, no. That’s the point where the vast majority of your female audience turns on her and asks why the fuck she’s with this guy if she isn’t after the name and the money?

I honestly doubt that Oliver would’ve ever married her if the island ever happened. He never wanted that, he was just too chicken to say it. After Tommy died, the minute she started in on that crap again and began waxing poetic about becoming Mr and Mrs Queen and saving the people of Starling City together he tuned out and split for Lian Yu because he would rather go back to hell then live in that particular section of heaven.

Hope that answers your question. :)  

[teenycabb]

Okay I don't know how you feel about writing platonic Roy and Olivier but 72 for them if you feel up to it!!

Sooooo, the prompt was for a platonic Roy and Olivier, but it sorta turned into Royai for some reason? Forgive me, I’m trash. Also this took a bit longer to get out, partially due to school and all the papers I had to write, as well as that I wanted it to be told from Olivier’s point of view. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.

72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

Words: 2,117

Central Traditions

Tradition was highly valued within the Armstrong family. Not that that fact was a mystery to anyone within earshot of Alex as he did anything that was ‘passed down the Armstrong line for generations,’ which was generally either followed or preceded by Alex stripping his shirt from his body and flaunting his muscles.

Thankfully he had yet to strip his short at this party.

Olivier tugged at the collar of her dress. She would much rather have attended this nonsensical, utterly pointless ball in her dress uniform. Or not at all, if she were to be honest. While her fort at Briggs was in capable hands while she was in Central for the first formal ball to celebrate Fuhrer Grumman, she would much rather be in the cold vastness of the mountains the stuffy clutter that was Central.

Although she supposed she should consider herself lucky that she was even invited to the ball. In the chaos that followed the military after the Promised Day, Olivier was lucky that the council saw the truth that all of her actions were for the betterment of the whole country and reinstated her to her position as Major General, allowing her to return to her mountain fort she loved so much.

It was better than any alternative that could have been offered to her.

A waiter passed her by and grabbed one of the glasses of wine from it. Personally, she would have preferred something stronger, something that would actually intoxicate her so she wouldn’t have to deal with the idle chit-chat of the ninnies that made up a significant portion of the Central soldiers. She drank deeply out of the crystal glass.

“You might want to take it easy there. We wouldn’t want any unsolicited sword fights due to intoxication. It wouldn’t do well for anyone if you were to seriously injure yourself.”

Olivier nearly spit the wine that was in her mouth out again. Fortunately for her, it was a fine wine, not one that could be wasted simply due to an unsavory character idling up beside her. And she was Olivier Armstrong, heir to the Armstrong family line. She did not spit.

Lowering the glass from her lips, Olivier didn’t take her eyes from the rest of the party on the floor in front of her.

“Shouldn’t you go back to your date Mustang? Or have to abandoned her to pursue other interests?” Olivier’s voice was as cold as the ice that surrounded her beloved fort.

Mustang laughed, seemingly unfazed by the hostility in her voice. If Olivier were to wager a guess without looking, she would expect that his face would hold the tell-tale flush of someone who never could hold their alcohol very well. She had heard through the grapevine he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. It was appearing that she was about to find out for herself if the rumors held any weight.

“What date?”

Olivier broke her intent stare-down of everyone on the dance floor to look at the recently promoted Brigadier General. After the take-down of the upper echelons of the military on the Promised Day, a power vacuum had been created, and Grumman had been forced to promote some of the more trustworthy commanders to surround him.

And of course Roy Mustang would be one of those that was promoted. To the public he was something of a hero, protecting the First Lady from assassination in the chaos of the day. Of course they didn’t know that a part of the chaos was actually planned by him. But they still didn’t know that the former fuhrer was a homunculus either.

Mustang was indeed showing the signs of intoxication. There was an undeniable blush dusting his cheeks and he was leaning unsteadily on his feet. It was lucky there was a pillar near him, Olivier refused to catch him if he should lose the stability he had left.

“‘What date?’ Don’t tell me that an esteemed womanizer like you came to a party like this without a beautiful woman on his arm. People may get the idea you’re starting to mature.”

Olivier turned her attention back to the floor. Grumman was leading his granddaughter around the floor with an amount of energy that one wouldn’t normally expect from a man of his age. Most of the other dancers abandoned the steps of their dance to watch as their ruler danced with the only living family he had left.

Hawkeye was looking like she very much wanted to fade into the draperies. As a trained sniper and professional bodyguard, standing in the spotlight would never come easy to her. Especially now that she was the only relative of the leader of the country.

Luckily for her, that piece of information wasn’t common knowledge midst the masses. Otherwise there would be no escape for her from the spotlight.

“She didn’t believe me when I told her that she looked beautiful before she came tonight.”

Olivier spared a sideways glance at the dark-haired alchemist. Roy had made his way to stand beside her, a sappy grin on his face. His arms were crossed easily on his chest as he admired the way his subordinate moved across the floor with her grandfather. The longer his eyes stayed on the blonde woman who had recently cut her hair short, the softer his face became.

It was almost like a reflection of her brother’s face when he found something new to fawn over.

After a small huff, Olivier downed the rest of the wine in her glass. She didn’t like Mustang. As a rival, any assistance she gave him would run contrary to the way she worked. Only the strongest survive. That was the way of Briggs. Yet she still opened her mouth.

“I will knock you on your ass if you think about it.”

Startled from whatever daydream he was having, Mustang tensed, though his eyes never left the dance floor where Grumman and Hawkeye had finished their dance. In an attempt to regain the suave exterior he fronted with the public he cleared his throat.

“Excuse me? Think about what?”

Olivier restrained the growl that was forming in her throat. This man was truly naive if he assumed his thoughts were hidden behind a sturdy mask. His poker face may fool many people on aspects of who he really was, but this mask was clear as glass. And it was this mask that seemed to get him in as much trouble as his big mouth of his.

“You really are too open with everything you feel Mustang. I’d feel sorry for the saps who play poker against you, but that would infer that they would get tired of winning.”

Tipping her empty glass, Olivier examined the inside. A finger reached out and wiped along the rim of the glass. She pulled it away to look closer to see if there was any grime from the glass. There wasn’t, but she wasn’t intent on searching out the flaws in the cleaning ability of the staff anyway. She refused to look Mustang in the eye.

Yet another thing that went against her beliefs.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system. But most likely it was not. She had the Armstrong blood in her veins, and Armstrong’s could hold their liquor better than the average man. Olivier hadn’t even drank more than two glasses of wine yet.

Pathetic.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about General. Perhaps you should ease up on the drinks; the night is still young and I’m sure that there are some gentlemen out there that would love for the chance to dance with the heir to the Armstrong estate.”

His words were calculated and chosen with the utmost care. Presumably just as his bluff had been called before his whole team was taken from his side before the Promised Day. Probably had lied just about as convincingly then as well. There was no mistaking the beads of sweat that appeared near his hairline and the way his jaw tightened.

One of the many waiters walked past where the two of them were standing, and Olivier deposited her empty glass on the tray the waiter held.

If she held onto it any longer she was sure she would shatter the glass with her bare hand.

The waltz that had been playing as the new Fuhrer danced with his granddaughter ended. Every eye in the ballroom watched as the older man bowed slightly to the younger woman before they parted ways to intermingle with the rest of the crowds. In the Fuhrer’s case at any rate, Hawkeye was probably going to attempt to go back to blending in with the crowds, a feat nearly impossible now that her identity was exposed to everyone in attendance.

Within seconds of the dance floor being cleared, the band was playing another song. One more upbeat started to play and other couples drifted onto the floor, filling the void left by the previous pair. Men in their expensive suits and women in their long gowns that looked as uncomfortable as the one Olivier was wearing. She tugged at the neck of her dress again. At least it wasn’t frilly and pink, like Catherine had wanted it to be. Still, it confined her in areas she would rather not be confined in, and she wasn’t in possession of her sword. There just had been no way to properly wield it with the seemingly yards of fabric smothering her.

Mustang cleared his throat beside her, which garnered that Olivier turn and look at the man. He was looking at her with a smirk on his face and a dangerous twinkle in his eye. The last time she had seen Mustang in such a state, he was passing along the information that Selim Bradley was a homunculus through a bouquet of flowers.

Her hand itched for a sword that wasn’t there.

“General Armstrong, may have a dance?”

Olivier only returned a glare at him. He couldn’t possibly think that she would follow the old tradition and dance out on the floor. With him.

“Come on, General, it’s tradition.”

There were steak-knives only a few feet away.

Before her hands could think of acting on the muscle memory of a short blade, someone walked up from behind Mustang and rested a hand on his shoulder. The familiar face of Riza Hawkeye appeared, touched only with a dusting of makeup on her face.

“Easy sir,” Hawkeye remanded her superior officer. Her face was flushed from the dancing she had finished and the attention she was getting. “You can’t monopolize all of General Armstrong’s time.”

Hawkeye nodded to the other blonde woman.

“General. I hope your evening is going well.”

Olivier scoffed. She turned away from Hawkeye and her superior once again. Despite how gifted Hawkeye was with a scope, she continued to waste her potential remaining at the fool’s side. Although Hawkeye said she had her reasons why she stayed, she never divulged them when asked. Those were her secrets to keep. Although there were suspicions and rumors as to why she stayed.

Olivier never took stock in rumor. She chose to observe with her own eyes and make her own judgements.

Her judgement upon these two remained the same as always.

“If you two will excuse me, I believe I have something to attend to.” Hawkeye politely excused herself before making a beeline towards one of the many tables with hors d'oeuvres where a few other members under Mustang’s command were. Judging by the body postures of the men and of Hawkeye, they were being told off for something only her sharp eyes caught.

A small breath of amusement escaped Olivier’s nose.

And Mustang still had not left her side.

“Was there something more you needed Mustang?” Her voice dropped to just above a growl.

Mustang responded with a laugh. His hand reached out as if he were to drop it on her shoulder, but changed his mind last minute when he caught the look of death in her eyes.

For a man in his position, he was exceedingly cheerful for a man that was on the verge of being on the receiving end of the blonde general’s temper and blade. He began to walk away, with a familiar arrogance he called confidence in his step.

“A raincheck on that dance then?” Mustang called back to her over his shoulder. Olivier ignored him and went off in search for that stronger drink. There were still four more hours of this party, and she would need something a little stronger than wine to get her through.

She hated Central.

[njawaidofficial]

'Survivor: Heroes vs. Healers vs. Hustlers' 'I Don't Like Having Snakes Around' Recap

https://styleveryday.com/2017/10/19/survivor-heroes-vs-healers-vs-hustlers-i-dont-like-having-snakes-around-recap/

'Survivor: Heroes vs. Healers vs. Hustlers' 'I Don't Like Having Snakes Around' Recap

[This recap contains spoilers for the Wednesday, October 18 episode of Survivor: Heroes vs. Healers vs. Hustlers.]

Farewell, Heroes vs. Healers vs. Hustlers. You were not the best of arbitrarily divided themes, but now you’re done and it’s time to get to the business of actually playing Survivor.

And wouldn’t you know it? The season’s first episode after a pre-credit tribal swap was easily the best episode of the season, establishing that even if this season doesn’t have any clear heroes, it at least has an entertaining villain and some other entertaining oddities. Plus, one player full-on became Keanu Reeves before our eyes and if that’s not entertaining, I don’t know what is.

The tribal swap eliminated the randomly determined tribes and, as the best of tribal swaps do, it underlined several available storylines moving forward, without establishing clearly mismatched new clans.

Instead of Heroes, Healers and Hustlers, we now have:

Soko – The yellow-buffed tribe is made up of JP, Ryan, Ali, Chrissy, Roark. Roark, the season’s most invisible player thus far, is the only former Healer on a tribe in which we’re getting at least partial fulfillment on the promise of Chekhov’s Immunity Super-Idol, with the uniting of Ryan and Chrissy. It’s funny that Ryan said he gifted Chrissy with the idol because of the vibe he got from her and even funnier that Chrissy says that getting the idol made her feel loved, but since I like Chrissy and I like Ryan, I’ll allow it. Because what was Ryan going to do? Say, “I looked at the composition of the tribe and I knew that either you or Katrina would be the weakest player and therefore the clear target”? No. He was not going to say that. And what was Chrissy going to do? Say, “Thanks for assuming I was weak, that was… sweet.” No, she was not going to say that.

Yawa – The red-buffed tribe consists of Jessica, Cole, Mike, Lauren and Ben. Yes, that means that healer-of-the-economically disadvantaged model Cole and his virginal bae Jessica are still together, giving more opportunities to Jessica to realize that her infatuation with Cole is abdominal-deep. Also, separating Mike from his emotional blackmailer Joe is probably good for Mike’s spirit, if not his game. And yes, that’s three former Healers on one tribe, which would seem to bode well for the long-term hopes of that tribe, if you believe that a group of people with no real unifying characteristics will be faithful to the people they spent nine days with when they’re brought back together again later.

Levu – The blue-buffed tribe includes Ashley, Alan, Desi, Joe and Devon. So that’s two former Healers, in Desi and Joe, plus two former Heroes, in Alan and Ashley. But the two former Heroes happen to be people who were at each other’s throats from the beginning. Plus, in Alan and Joe, the Levu tribe got the two players most likely to stir things up for no reason.

And? Guess what? Wednesday’s episode revolved heavily around Levu and before going to tribal council, Joe and Alan both found a way to get up in each other’s business, because that’s who they are and Survivor probably wishes they could have put in another couple weeks of mutual irritation. Oh well. And Joe, who I hate in the way you’re supposed to hate Survivor villains, ended up winning the day after making a mess of the day in the first place.

Did Joe really figure that he could tell Devon that the former Heroes wanted to vote him out without the Heroes making a plea of their own to the surf instructor? And did Joe really figure that whatever plea Ashley or Alan made wouldn’t come across as more sincere? Surely Joe knows he’s one of the least sincere-seeming people in the world? So Joe sullied his own good name by accident, but then turned around and tried making it to his advantage by badgering everybody pre-tribal in the hopes that he would put the target on himself so that he could play his own hidden idol, except that he somehow shifted the target more toward Desi, who demanded Joe play the idol for her as a sign of solidarity. So then at the tribal, Joe played his idol, but claiming he was able to read Ashley’s eyes, he played it for himself and this was exactly correct. Ashley and Alan’s votes against Joe were thrown out. Joe and Desi’s votes against Alan stuck. Bye, Alan. Well-played, Joe, even if it would have been much more spiritually satisfying for Joe to have given the idol to Desi and then gone home in embarrassment. I obviously can’t say for sure if Joe really did read Ashley’s eyes or if he really never had any intention of giving her the idol, because no matter how loudly he protested, “giving somebody else an idol” doesn’t feel like the sort of thing Joe would do. Alan and Ashley just chose poorly.

And that’s before you get to poor Devon. He got a note saying he had an advantage that he couldn’t open before tribal, but then he got to tribal and discovered that the advantage had been used against him, nullifying his vote. The neutralizing of Devon let him opine “That is not an advantage” Keanu-style and let us witness the excitement dim in his eyes. It didn’t matter, of course. Had Devon been able to vote, there would have been three votes negated against Joe instead of two. The vote itself was unchanged. The funny twist would have been if Joe had given the idol to Desi and it had become a tie. That did not happen.

The advantage was played against Devon by Jessica, presumably to protect Desi and Joe, her fellow Healers. I’m not sure I get that choice. Jessica, who found the advantage in a bag of reward chips, wanted to keep the Healers strong and the tribe that had to go to tribal had two Healers, two Heroes and one Hustler. Voting Devon out would have been a no-brainer for Levu — get rid of the outlier, worry about the tie later — in which case snubbing Devon’s vote would have been worthless. But what if Joe had successfully stirred Devon’s paranoia and he had been wrangled in to vote against Ashley and then his vote was neutralized and Jessica had forced a tie herself? Why would she not have used the advantage to take a vote away from one of the Heroes and strengthen the Healers advantage? Right?

Just seems odd to me. Maybe Jessica was distracted and confused by trying to figure out, for the second straight episode, why her beau hunk would tell people not aligned with them about something she thought was her secret. Or his secret, for that matter. Last week, Cole was telling anybody who would listen about Joe’s idol, weakening the exclusivity of his knowledge in the name of alliance-building. That wasn’t Cole’s idol, but it was at least his knowledge. This week, he just sold out Jessica’s advantage to Lauren and Cowboy Ben in the hopes that they would trust him eventually.

“He hurt me, whether he meant to or not,” Jessica sniffled.

She added, “When I’m hurt, I always wonder, ‘Was it me?'”

Poor Jessica. She has been hurt. She hopped in bed, metaphorically, with a guy who has a good sense of Survivor strategy, but no sense of Survivor pace and restraint. I’m really, really rooting for Jessica to come to her senses and stab Cole in the back. Soon. If she doesn’t do it, he’ll screw things up for her himself.

Let’s get to some bottom lines…

Bottom Line, I. How many of Jeff Probst’s Foo Fighters references did you get during the immunity challenge? There was “You are looking for both the color and the shape” and “In times like these, you need a little luck” and “You have to finish this, no matter however long it takes. Otherwise, it’s a long road to ruin… at tribal council.” There was at least one other that I think I noticed at the beginning, something about “weight” and I believe there was supposed to be a sixth. I’m not sure where. I’m also not sure why. But that’s between Probst and the Survivor gods.

Bottom Line, II. I’m still sad for Jessica. The emotional betrayal courtesy of Cole was bad enough, but to get no real use out of something she was so pleased with! She thought it was a sign of her angel tapping her on the shoulder and saying “Bing!” and since Jessica is really religious, she actually may have meant that literally. 

Bottom Line, III. With “I don’t like having snakes around,” Devon got the episodic title quote. That was more generous of the Survivor editors than honoring him for the also Keanu-esque, “That was a crazy one. What the hell just happened?” He could have saved time by just saying, “Whoa.”

Bottom Line, IV. Since Roark got some exposure for her several seconds as odd-woman-out in her tribe and since Desi took an unwanted spotlight as potential target in hers, that left JP has this week’s invisible castaway. Without Ashley to ogle him, JP could vanish for the rest of the season and just reemerge in the finale with a string of fish wondering how he made it so far.

Bottom Line, V. I don’t quite get why Alan was Joe and Desi’s target other than, “Well, he was.” One minute Joe was calling Ashley out as the tribe’s weak link and that, relatively speaking, may have been right. It’s not that I disagree with voting Alan out. It’s just odd for a player as out there as Alan to get voted out without real cause. It just didn’t feel like Joe was punishing Alan as a threat. Hardly matters. No sweat.

Back next week for more! And be sure to read all of Josh Wigler’s great interviews!

Survivor

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