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beevean · 3 years ago

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@mashounen2003

The whole thing with Fiona Fox (and Scourge, for that matter) is a mess, indeed. There's a lot of misinformation, as well as Flynn fans once again not wanting to admit their fav writer fucked it up big time. Long story short: Flynn tried to write an abusive villain (Scourge) and a reference to Joker & Harley Quinn (Scourge & Fiona), but never understood Harley was supposed to be Joker's victim

Flynn also grew fond of Scourge, who became his pet villain & a Mary-Sue. Scourge's abuse towards Fiona was shown, wasn't ambiguous, and unlike Penders, Flynn recognizes emotional abuse as a bad thing. But Flynn didn't do all the necessary steps to clearly send the message that Scourge was evil, so now everyone thinks Scourge is some anarchist sex-god anti-hero

Also, Fiona was portrayed as massively petty & mean; before Flynn's run, Fiona was painfully underutilized but had some interesting depth and the potential for an uplifting story. When Flynn turned her into Scourge's victim-- Sorry... "girlfriend", her personality changed completely. There are clues of Fiona having secretly been manipulated by Scourge since a long time before her "betrayal", but this all remained at subtext-level

As you probably already know, Flynn has a problem, not with his own ideas on morality, but with how he makes morality work in his stories' universe. He thought Sonic & the Freedom Fighters would think that traitors like Fiona are worse than genocidals like Eggman or abusers like Scourge. & his stories mirror some of that too. Scourge is undoubtedly a vile monster but is treated a bit better, while Fiona is just misguided and has untreated childhood trauma but is written as an alpha bitch

That's also why I don't like when fans wanna make Fiona a good guy again and they give her a "redemption arc" when, TBH, that's not the way to do it. More of that in this post in my "mashounen2003" blog: post/646874203783577600/a-couple-of-grievances-i-have-with-some-tails-x. I recommend to take a look at what I reblogged from other people about both Fiona & Scourge (use tags "Fiona Fox" & "Scourge the Hedgehog" if necessary).

Admittedly, I'm a bit biased in favour of many concepts from Archie (yeah, I'm a fake fan, I should feel ashamed, yadda yadda yadda), but I like Archie mostly for its potential, not so much for what was actually done with its concepts (minus a few genuinely great stories). I still dislike most of Archie but for its ideas' execution; its concepts are interesting. I'm willing to pair Tails with Fiona, but only after rewriting this from scratch and doing some "character deconstruction".

Sorry for the long chain of continues in your ask box. There are many things omitted by both Archie fans (because they skipped every comic issue before Flynn, they're spellbound by Flynn and can't admit he did something wrong) & Archie critics (because they just stopped reading after all the genuinely ugly shit, so they didn't look beyond that)

I'm still a bit conflicted myself. Flynn isn't like Penders, he's not an abuse apologist or rape apologist like Penders; Flynn did point out other characters' emotional abuse & crappy actions during Penders run; & Flynn's versions of Shadow -& the entire Team Dark- and Knuckles in Archie (not in IDW) are some of the best in the franchise (that's why fans accuse SEGA of keeping Flynn's hands tied 24/7 now). But... *sigh*

Flynn has good ideas, but he executes them poorly half of the time, and he's quite unprofessional. If the audience thinks something is really "cool" or a trend at a given moment, Flynn lets that "cool" or "trending" thing influence his work a lot. "House of Cards" happened largely because Marvel's "Civil War" event, as infamous as it was, also had record sales. Metal Virus was so stupidly depressing because The Walking Dead was still popular at some extent

And the same happened with Scourge & Fiona, albeit this'd only be evident 10 years later, when the 1st Suicide Squad movie was released. Jared Leto Joker was sanitized as hell, pretty much like Scourge; Harley was just arm candy for Joker while the abuse was never even mentioned (even though anyone who watched DC cartoons or read DC comics knows Harley is a victim and, not a long time later, gets away from Joker & becomes very much a hero), pretty much like Fiona and it was all because that "bad boy & bad girl" thing, devoid of the source material's context, was popular because there were many teenagers romantizing abuse. In Archie's case, Flynn fans lacked the context for Scourge's creation and didn't know about Fiona's previous appearances because they never wanted to touch the comics before Flynn's run (which I can understand, but still... they were still canon; moreover, Flynn outright referenced them time & time again until Archie's reboot)

I should have written all this on a post on my own blog. Once again, I apologize; I wrote this after being suddenly inspired & I didn't want that inspiration to go away. I also recommend reading "toaarcan" Tumblr account, maybe asking him about this; he can explain all this better than me, more patiently and in a more concise format, and he's useful as he has opinions different from the prevailing ones in the Archie-Sonic fandom and in the Sonic fandom in general.

I had to put your askes like this haha

I appreciate the perspective of someone who has read the entirety of Archie, the good, the bad and the very ugly. I go by hearsay and posts of other people, which is not enough to form a complete analysis

Huh, Flynn turning another female character into an asshole? Apparently he did the same with Rouge (to be fair, such an amateurish mistake was common at the time :\). Also Fiona being treated worse than Scourge? Sheesh...

I would like to see his Team Dark and his Knuckles in Archie, especially his Shadow. I don’t like justifying his mistakes with “mandates”, but with Shadow I can believe that he had to change his personality to follow the current canon one :\

Also yeah, Penders... I’m glad that the dude was pretty much exiled from the franchise and we don’t have to worry about him again, because man, what little I know about him makes my skin crawl.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic archie #scourge the hedgehog #fiona fox

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snat-snailcat · 2 years ago

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TLDR: we gain more from being critical in our consumption and analysis of problematic media than we do throwing it away.

There’s already been essays written about it but I just am having one of those times where I feel I shouldn’t have to justify still being able to enjoy a media even if there are problematic elements. Just because a clearly bad take was made doesn’t mean I have to throw the whole book in the trash.

It feels harder and harder right now to be like “here is a thing I hyperfixated on for months/years and really care about” when I *know* that somewhere in the history of that thing is some racism. I know it, I acknowledge it, I learn to be better, and I move on still being able to hold these characters and stories close to me.

Need some sort of stamp that I can smack on things like “I know that this media has some Issues, I have come to terms with them, acknowledge them, and will still enjoy the parts of them that really mean something to me”.

I really like Dungeons and Dragons. I just do, I love Forgotten Realms for how vast a setting it is, and for the decades of world building and details that it has put into it. I know that there’s a history of the game and its lore having some Issues. Some pretty bad ones too. As someone who loves to plunder the (digital) pages of books from the older editions (AD&D 2e is my current baby), I see a lot of it. Some of it has been addressed and changed to be less racist in the years since, some of it has been retired or shuffled away altogether, but I trust myself in having a critical eye to see the parts of the game that aren’t as inclusive or thoughtful as they ought to be, and I change them for my games.

I love drow. I’ve always been fascinated by the ideas of underground worlds since I was a kid, reading books like City of Ember and writing Warriors Cats fics about sprawling underground mazes. I love the aesthetic of caves and tunnels, of luminescence and strange fungi. And I love reading War of the Spider Queen, a series of nothing but drow and their betrayals. It’s far from unproblematic, but it’s a study in magnificent bastards, in characters who are so far from being moral paragons that they stand out. And from the moment I first read of her, I love Eilistraee. It’s that same story over and over again, about enduring all that is horrid and still choosing to be kind, to be better than those before you. But I also will not deny that in these books, especially the older ones, there is racism. There’s white authors depicting struggles far from their own with clear analogies to real world people.

I enjoyed a lot of shows, especially in grade school; Steven Universe comes to mind. And some issues do exist with this media, but at the same time, I enjoyed it. It did things that had never been done before for a network cartoon for children. Are there much better shows now that have similar, if not better representation? Yes! Absolutely. But someone had to walk so that others could run.

We learn nothing from tearing down the world behind us as we all move forward. It’s important to have it there to see how far we’ve come.

Part of being a good consumer of media is being able to identify that, take it, and reflect on it. What is being said? What do you believe the author’s point was in trying to include this? What were the common views/rhetoric at the time this was written? Was there intention to cause harm by this, and if yes, how can that intention appear in other places? What can we learn from this in what not to do, and what we can do to fight against people like this in our world today?

I’m not saying to ignore the issues that many pieces of media have, but to be able to use those faults and flaws to better yourself. When it comes to a media as vast as TTRPGs, it’s easiest to rewrite and disregard issues, because it becomes *your* world, your rules, and your place to exist.

There’s no easy way around it. Hate still exists, there are still terrible people out there, a lot of which we should not be supporting. But there are also people who make mistakes, who mess up, who are still learning. And there are ways we can learn from those before us, or those we watch.

It’s all about how we work with what we have.

#media analysis #rant #problematic media #i didn't proofread this #please send me a message about issues before leaving a very long or harsh comment #it's a tricky issue to go about #this was partially brought about by the Hadonzee errata from spelljammer 5e #I agree that it was bad and needed change #but I don't believe in boycotting WOtC over this #i believe that people can get better #and if they dont #there won't be a place for them much longer

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themadlostgirl · 4 years ago

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Abandoned (11)

*That took longer than expected. Had to rewrite the beginning like five times cause I hated how it kept turning out. Bleh! But we got it now! Should have the next and final chapter of this mini-fic out soon! Love ya and enjoy!*

~~~

As the years passed I found myself growing even more attached to Neverland. I had called it home for years already but after Peter told me he loved me it felt more permanent. I guess a part of me was always sort of waiting for my father to show up one day and take me away. Worried that he would return and ruin the peace and happiness I had found on Neverland.

He was the last person I had ever loved before he abandoned me. As much as I hated him there would be nights when I’d sit in my hut and his face would come to mind. The sound of his voice singing a lullaby to me that I only half remember. I would sit there simmering in my hatred and feelings of betrayal but down deep in my soul there was a twinge of sadness. Memories that feel more like dreams reminding me that for as angry as I was at him there was a time that I loved him. He was my family. My papa…

But that’s all gone. He left me. Traded me. I have a new family now. I know real love. Unconditional love.

Peter loved me exactly as I was. He never asked me change. He never forced me to do things I didn’t want to do. We had fun together. We told each other everything. He knew my deepest darkest secrets and in turn I was entrusted with his. He held me close and kissed me softly. HIs arms were the safest place I had ever known.

He was patient with me and despite how badly he may have wanted to escalate our intimate relationship he never pressured me. If anything he may have been too cautious but given what he knew of my history I didn’t blame him. I’d rather he be courteous than to just assume he’s okay to take what he wants from me. So when the day came that I knew I was ready I asked him to make love to me. He had been so nervous and I couldn’t help but tease him a bit despite my own nerves. It felt nothing like the first time I had sex. It was so much softer, slower, and all of my partner’s attention was solely on me. It felt like love.

After that first time things got a little intense. We may have made it our mission to christen every inch of the island. Soft and sweet love making in the meadows to hard and rough in caves, there was nothing more we cared about. Peter didn’t even return to camp for an entire week once because we were too wrapped up in one another. His body became as familiar to me as my own.

That isn’t to say that we didn’t drive each other mad either. There were days where I wanted to throw him off a cliff and he wished that I had never set foot in Neverland. For as stubborn as the both of us could be the fights never drove us apart for long. We would come back together and everything would be right with the world until we got annoyed and started another fight.

Through all of it I worried though. From what Peter told me all that time ago, he’s dying. He creeps closer and closer to death and there’s nothing I can do to help him. I ask for details, I ask if there is anyway I can help, and Peter tells me it is not for me to worry about. He assures me he has it all under control. That sentiment loses some of its reassurance when he comes to me shaking and pale as a ghost. It’s always after he visits Skull Rock and looks at the hourglass ticking away his life.

One of these such nights he found me at my camp and held me close for a long while not saying anything. Not that he had to. I just wish there was something I could do to help. I hate seeing him like this.

“My love?” I whispered. Peter sat between my legs with his head resting on my chest and his arms wrapped around me. “You need to tell me if there is some way I can help you.”

Peter sighed. “I told you, my pearl, there is nothing about my situation that you need to worry yourself over. Now be sweet and keep playing with my hair. That is helping immensely.”

“I feel like I should be doing more though,” I carded my fingers through his hair, “I don’t want to just stand idly by while you…” I couldn’t finish the thought. “I want to help you.”

“You already are.” He gazed up at me with those clear green eyes I loved so much, “I don’t need you to fight or search or anything like that. I want you exactly where you are now. I want to know that you are safe here, waiting for me. That is all I need.”

“But--”

“Hush now,” he kissed my palm, “You worry yourself so easily. Things are already in motion. I will be safe and far from death by the end of the week if things go according to plan.”

“What? Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“Because I fear it may stir up painful memories for you. The Truest Believer will be here soon and I have a plan for when he arrives. You are not a part of it and that is how it is going to remain. Do you understand?”

“But I can help!”

“My love, my precious pearl,” Peter smoothed a finger across my bottom lip, “You already are. I want you right here where I know you are safe. Stay here. That is how you will help me.”

“But I could do so much more.”

“I don’t need you to do anything more.” He kissed me gently, “Now please, can you obey me in this one thing? I need you to trust me on this. You do trust me, don’t you, my love?”

“Of course I trust you.” I sighed, defeated, “But you will let me know if you need me to do more, right?”

“Of course,” He laid his head back down.

The night the Truest Believer arrived I didn’t see Peter at all. He told me he would be gone from my side for the majority of the time the Believer was on Neverland. It wasn’t unexpected but the sting of loneliness crept in still.

After the first night without Peter I became restless. Despite Peter’s warning to remain at my camp I decided to take a short stroll through the jungle. There were adults running about somewhere trying to rescue the boy Peter had. It is such a big island though and I know every inch of it. What were the odds that I would run into one of these adults? Still, I strapped my sword to my hip just in case. Adults or not Neverland was still plenty dangerous, especially at night.

I meandered through the jungle with no real destination in mind. Maybe I would go to Peter’s Thinking Tree. It had to be more fun than sitting all alone in my hut back on the beach.

“My young love said to me, ‘My mother won't mind and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.’ Then she stepped away from me and this she did say, ‘It will not be long love till our wedding day.’” I sang quietly.

“She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair.” A voice from the deepest recesses of my mind answered with a melody as soft as it had been in my dreams. It was not a sound in my head though. It was much too real.

“And fondly I watched her move here and move there.” The foliage parted and in the moonlight appeared a troupe of adults but I only saw the one at the forefront. “Then she made her way homeward with one star awake. As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

He took a knee and gazed up at me, “Hello starfish,”

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

My father...my father was standing right in front of me after gods know how many years and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I just stared at him as my mind went through a million emotions at once.

“Hook?” One of his party asked, a blonde woman, “Who are we looking at here?”

“My daughter,” he answered simply, “I told you I had informants in Neverland.”

“You have a kid?” The other adults looked at him in shock. “You never mentioned that you had a daughter before.”

“Yes, well--”

“What are you doing here?” I said, my voice shaky and choked. All eyes swiveled to me once again. I gazed down at my father as all the sorrow and anger I had been harboring for decades started to boil over.

“Darling,” He reached out for me but I jumped back so he couldn’t touch me. He sighed, “Starfish, I know that what happened in the past must have been a shock but I’m here now. I’m back and I desperately need your help. Then all of this can be undone. Things can go back to what they were before.”

How dare he. How dare he come back. How dare he kneel in front of me and ask for my help. Did he not know? Did he not realize what he had done? How could he come back here after decades and pretend like nothing had happened?

He took advantage of my silence to reach for me again. I was still trying to think of what to say or do when he grabbed hold of my hand. “Starfish,” He whispered the nickname like a plea, “I am so happy to see you again. Please, can you help us? We can get you out of here.”

“No...” I pulled my hand from him. Tears sprung to my eyes and there was nothing to do to stop them. “NO!” I screamed, “No! No! No! No! No!”

“Darling, please--”

“You abandoned me!” I wailed, years of pent up anguish spilling out at once, “You left me here! That is not just a shock! That is not something you get to brush aside like it wasn’t a big deal. You traded me away for your freedom and now you have the gall to come back here and ask for my help?”

“It was a lot more complicated than that--”

“No it wasn’t! You had a choice and you chose your freedom over me! Your daughter! You didn’t even try coming back for me!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I endured after I was forced to leave you.”

“Forced? You were not forced. You could have told Peter no when he asked you to trade me. You could have kept me and we could have stayed together. We’d be marooned here but at least we would have been together.” I kicked him in the center of his chest so he went falling backwards. The other adults tensed, weapons aimed but no one made a move to stop me as I towered over him.

“And do not tell me that you endured anything like it was a struggle. I spent months alone on the beaches praying that you would return. I cried myself to sleep and pleaded with the universe to send you back to me. When I was finally given a chance to be reunited with you do you know what I found? I found you in a tavern drinking and having a merry time without me. I wasn’t even a thought in your head!”

“Starfish--”

“I am not your starfish! I am not your daughter! You do not get to call me that after what you did. After what you put me through. You betrayed me! You traded me to our enemy and you didn’t even care!”

“I’m here now though.”

“But not for me.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “You knelt before me but it wasn’t with apologies or words of reassurance that you had come to rescue me. No. You returned and asked for my help like you have any right to it. Do not look for me again. Do not talk to me again. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Starfish, please,” He grabbed my arm, “Let me explain.”

“Let go of me!” I tried to pull my arm free.

“Hook, I think you should--” One of the other adults tried to intercede.

“No!” He pulled me closer, “Please, darling, I need you to listen to me. If you just give me the chance to explain then everything will be alright. We’ll get Henry and we’ll leave. You can leave this place and we can be a family again. I know I hurt you but we can still fix this.”

“You are not my family! I want nothing to do with you!” I kicked at him but he held me tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Let go of me!”

“Starfish--”

“PETER!” I screamed. A hand was quickly clamped over my mouth but it was too late. Ominous clouds started to roll in casting the jungle into darkness. One of the adults conjured a ball of fire in her hands, the only source of light as the others strained to see in the dark. I felt a tingle go up my spine and relaxed.

“Get your hands off her.” Peter’s voice growled from the shadows. Father’s grip on me slackened for just a moment and I took the hesitation to rip myself away from him. I could make out Peter’s eyes glinting almost like a cat’s in the darkness and ran for him. He caught me in his arms and smoothed my hair, “Hush now, precious, it’s alright.”

“Pan,” Father barked, “Give me back my daughter!”

“And my son!” One of the women yelled.

“Neither of them are going anywhere. Especially not my Lost Girl.” Peter grinned. His thumb traced over my cheek wiping the tears that had fallen away, “Did the awful man make you cry, my love?”

I nodded. Peter pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Love?” The other man in the group spoke his eyes wide in disbelief. He turned to father, “Your daughter is dating Peter Pan?”

“No…” Father looked horrified as he took in our body language. "My daughter would never--"

"Well she's not your daughter anymore. She ceased to be yours the moment you sent her to me.” Peter held me closer, “And I swear if you try taking her I will gut every last one of you.”

“Remove whatever spell you placed over her!”

“There is no spell. Did you really think that you could leave her here for decades and that she would still be the loyal pirate you had set adrift in a rowboat? I welcomed her to my island as an equal, I made sure she was provided for and looked after. Then in time she welcomed me as her friend and eventually as her lover.” Peter’s smile grew wide with that sadistic edge I loved. “She makes just the cutest noises.”

“You vile bastard!” Father charged at us with his blade drawn and murder in his eyes. The next moment Peter and I were standing on the beach by my hut.

“Was that last comment so necessary?” I asked.

“You can’t blame me wanting to torture him a little after what he did.” Peter chuckled lightly. “But how are you, my love? I told you to stay here. Why did you go wandering?”

“I was bored and lonely so…” I shrugged. My body was still shaking.

Peter sighed and kissed my forehead. “Hush, my love, I can’t imagine what you must have been thinking seeing him again.”

“I said what I wanted to. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough though. I don’t think I can accurately put into words what he made me feel. He could never understand what I endured because of him.” More tears started to slip from my eyes. Peter brushed them away.

“Come back to camp,” He said, “I want to be able to watch over you.”

I nodded, too emotionally exhausted to fight him on this. We drew curious glances when we entered camp. One of the boys I did not recognize and I realized I now had a face to pair with the heart Peter needed. Peter ignored everyone’s whispering and led me to his tent.

“Will you be okay in here?” Peter asked. “If you need me I’ll be right outside.”

“I’m fine.”

“One second,” he left and came back with a canteen and a bowl of food. “In case you get hungry. I also grabbed a couple books from your hut in case you wanted something to do. Do you need anything else?”

“Can you sit here with me for a minute? I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, precious,” He sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. “You’d tell me if you really aren’t doing well, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” I buried my face in his neck. “Peter, I don’t know what game you are playing with these adults but if I can I want to be a part of it.”

“You already know why I won’t allow that.”

“Peter,” I fisted a hand in his tunic, “If you have the chance, leave Hook alive.”

“Why should I let that worm breathe after what he put you through?” Peter spat, “I should have killed him the second I saw him trying to take you.”

“No. Leave him alive and leave him to me.” Venom started to drip into my voice, “I want to be the one to kill him.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

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zeta-in-de-walls · 4 years ago

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Okay, in the wake of the L’Manburg war, allow me to get meta for a bit.

Now obviously the war, and the SMP server in general, are just for content. The stakes are all fictional - nebulous things like freedom on a minecraft server, sentimental value placed on music discs and all that nonsense.

Bearing that in mind, I want to discuss how it played out.

Who were the best players? It’s clear who were the most powerful and dangerous as enemies - Dream, George, Sapnap and Punz. (I’m leaving aside Eret for the moment btw) They all had full netherite armour, planted TNT traps and planned betrayals and ambushes to win the war. They had the upperhand throughout. Meanwhile the other side felt weak and ill-prepared and did very little damage to any of their opponents.

But you know, being more powerful doesn’t actually make for much content on its own. What makes good content? A good narrative filled with drama, tension and excitement. In those terms, we’re looking at Tommy and Wilbur carrying the server with this war.

The second they said independence and made some grand speeches, there were stakes. Instead of the server being a somewhat peaceful building simulator, it was in a state of conflict. Alliances were created, flags were made, Hamilton and Revolutionary war references were heard, matching skins and all that were being created. Putting great significance into stuff like a patch of tilled soil, suggesting carrying sticks instead of weapons and wearing no armour but fighting with words - that’s the sort of stuff that made this whole scenario work. Without it, this dispute wouldn’t have been able to call itself a war. They even make ridiculous stuff sound convincing - just the idea of calling L’Manberg its own separate server that happens to be inside another server with the running costs still being paid by Dream. It’s crazy but it works.

And my goodness, did they have their work cut out for them.

You see, I feel like Dream and co. weren’t really playing along. They heard ‘war!’ and thought - let’s win. Let’s absolutely crush the enemy! No mercy.

Now playing the villain can be cool, sure. And it kinda worked here. But only just. Some of their actions definitely irked me.

See, there are kind of unspoken agreements in stuff like letting people prepare, not attacking too early, that sort of thing. You tell everyone that the war’s gonna take place at 7pm and sure enough it does. And there’s Dream’s server rules: No stealing and no griefing. These rules do get bent in the middle of an ongoing battle - eg battles often involve a lot of placing and breaking blocks and when you’re low on stuff, trying to run to a nearby chest to grab some last minute supplies is going to happen (and later after the battle’s done you’ll probably get yelled at a little before making up) - but generally they are upheld. Especially when others are offstream and you aren’t in the middle of something.

‘Ah but it was war - rules can be broken!’ one might argue. Yeah, no, this is entertainment. You don’t start early because you’re going to ruin the stream and make the content worse - and the whole point of the war is to make good content. Like, when WIlbur’s stream died - they asked for a pause so WIlbur could sort out technical difficulties before continuing.

Yeah so Dream and Sapnap basically broke all the rules in order to win. Fundy and Tommy put up insulting signs in different languages. Funny content. Dream and Sapnap burned Tubbo’s house to the ground. Err... okay that’s a bit excessive but we can make it work. No mercy, ha.

So Tommy asked Tubbo to prep for the war. Tubbo agreed and got to work to try and balance the already uneven odds. At this point, the war’s in a day and all of Dream’s side has full netherite and none of L’Manburg do save Eret. Time is short but that just makes it all the more exciting.

So Tubbo uses villagers and trading, stealing a frugal amount to get himself started before really getting into it and grinding for diamond armour and makes nine stacks of emeralds - enough to place some high level enchants and even the odds a little and make the fight interesting.

While Tubbo’s offline, Sapnap comes in and steals them, getting books to enchant his own set of netherite armour using Tubbo’s set up. Well then. There goes any hope of a fair fight. And they are trying, you know. They realise the armour discrepancy so they’ve been trying to get potions but even that’s a struggle - when Dream finished his apology stream he logged on to the SMP without warning and managed to kill Tubbo before he could get away while his inventory had been full of potions. (Tommy and Tubbo had been visiting Dream’s base to put a sign in it - an offer of Mellohi for peace. Nothing comes of this sign or any of the other Tommy put in other people’s houses - more potential good content there like demanding Sapnap stay neutral in return for a supply blaze powder (a ref to the drug war that preceded this conflict)). It’s not that Dream killing Tubbo is the issue - it’s more how he logged on basically without warning so Tubbo had little chance to get away as he was mostly unarmoured and ungeared.

Still, the next day Tubbo is trying to grind back up, to even up things a little. He’s only managed to get 2 end crystals and he has a few sets of plain diamond armour and a few books. So he grinds like crazy in the limited time, trading all his iron, chopping trees, carrots, bamboo, sugar, everything he has into emeralds. But he needs levels. He tries to go to the spawner which the other side has been freely using to grind up exp and they kill him when he goes near. One time, Dream kills him while he has several books on him so he has to trade back emeralds to get them again. And now he doesn’t have a good way to get experience so he can’t even the odds. Punz and Sapnap even combatlog inside the spawner so if he goes near they’d come online and kill him. And yeah, they’re stream sniping. They’ve all streamed very little, hiding all their preparations while taking advantage of the fact that the other side have all been streaming everything they’ve been doing.

‘Imagine streamsniping.’ Tommy and co. said that at one point during today’s conflict. It’s cheap - it’s not fun, it’s taking advantage - one that’s not even necessary as you’re already all OP. Dream’s side aren’t the underdog, they don’t need every single advantage to win this. Instead it’s more like rubbing salt into the wound.

And yeah, despite all the griefing that Dream side have done, not once does anyone grief anything of theirs - like the chat was totally asking for them to burn down Punz’s house. No, they just place signs and talk.

Okay, so Tommy announced the war would be at 7pm. He logs on at 6.45 to say hello and hype all his viewers up, get his music playing and give a rundown of the situation and what’s occurred since he’s last streamed. No sooner has he logged on then Tubbo gets ambushed early! They attacked prematurely!

...

It’s like there was one rule - war begins at 7pm. And instead Dream, George and Sapnap all attacked Tubbo at his base at 6.45. Tommy is ages away and can’t do anything and Fundy’s in trouble too and Tubbo just barely manages to save the gear he has managed to prep. They’re even more on the backfoot. All their strats are known anyway as they’ve been watching streams so they know all about the potions and endcrystals while Tommy’s side are in the dark about Dream’s side’s preparations. For instance, offstream they filled Tommy’s base and L’Manburg with Tnt which they set off to devastating effect.

The ‘war’ is as one-sided as you’d expect. Tommy and co. are trying to attack even though they lack arrows and food and are hopelessly outmatched but they put up a pretence of trying anyway. At no point is a single one of Dream’s side even moderately threatened (except perhaps when they ambushed Tubbo early as he tried using harming potions) and everyone knows it.

Still, Tommy and Wilbur push on - they talk, they rally etc. Finally, Eret betrays them and they’re all killed in an ambush. And they’re shocked by this twist, they react, they call Eret their downfall. (Dream’s side didn’t need to resort to such tactics to win given their obvious advantage.) and Eret being a traitor is fantastic for content anyway so it is a great part of the narrative that they all react to perfectly. Eret seems to have a good instinct for making good content as well as this sort of twist is a good addition. It works because its drama - they trusted him and they never expected him to betray them to the other side after all they’d built together.

In the end, Tommy finishes it on a high with a dramatic bow duel followed by offering the discs in exchange for freedom. And fittingly, despite have being entirely outplayed in terms of power and tactics, they win the thing they cared about - which was the independence that they started the war for. The content - not anything material. Dream’s side was far stronger and better prepared and they weren’t given so much as a chance to catch up for a pvp conflict. But L’Manberg - they got that.

Okay, so this has been long and I’ll probably rewrite something similar soon - but I wanted to highlight how in meta terms, the war was being played unfairly and its obvious that Dream’s side had different priorities - win under any means necessary rather than continue to make great content for the SMP. They’re treating it like a manhunt or something when its absolutely not and shouldn’t be. They’re lucky that Wilbur and Tommy were so good at making it work as they do all the heavy-lifting for the SMP which ensures its got a healthy lifespan.

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kataraqui-archive · 4 years ago

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Johnny Silverhand Meta

Why telling Johnny Silverhand he fucked up his friendship with V was cathartic as hell, more meta that no one asked for but I’m gonna go off anyway:

Obviously, spoilers ahead.

At the Pistis Sophia V and Johnny have arguably one of the deepest heart to hearts so far. Johnny reveals some of his history in the military, how a friend died to save him, how being used as a corporate tool radicalized him, and then gives V his friend’s dog tags as a symbol of his promise to sacrifice himself so V can live. It’s pretty emotional and made me feel like V and Johnny’s relationship had really grown over the course of the game.

Then Johnny asks for a favour, his last wish so to speak. To speak to Rogue and get revenge on Adam Smasher. He asks for control of V’s body so he can speak to Rogue and reiterates, multiple times, that this is ALL he’s going to do while in the driver’s seat.

Instead, immediately and without hesitation, Johnny goes joyriding. He gets completely wasted, gets a tattoo, drinks some more, makes out with a stripper, gets into a brawl with the bouncers, then fingers the stripper in the car, crashes said car, and THEN goes to talk to Rogue after getting what information he could from the stripper. All of this he does with V’s body. He hands V back control, leaving V sick as a dog, beat up, tattooed, and with little memory of how they got in that state.

Here’s where I get into my feelings as a player. I felt DEEPLY violated by this sequence of events and my inability to do anything about it. V’s getting piloted through sexual situations with a woman they don’t know. They’re getting tattooed. Yeah, in the world of Cyberpunk, that doesn’t have to be permanent, but it’s still all an enormous violation of V’s autonomy and what he consented to. It’s THEIR body. Beyond that, I thought V and Johnny were getting along, trusting each other, and the first moment V gave Johnny their unequivocal trust, Johnny lied. I felt betrayed. I was honestly so pissed I cried, in particular because Johnny brushed aside V’s (valid) arguments that this wasn’t what they’d agreed to and they could have done all that other stuff themselves without Johnny driving. The reality is: Johnny never intended to just speak to Rogue, he deliberately misled V so he could have one last hurrah with zero appreciation for how those actions would affect V. V who is already sick and dying because of the relic. No matter how you slice it, this is deeply fucked up behaviour.

It’s even more deeply fucked when you consider Johnny’s take on dolls. He’s openly disgusted by the way dolls are used as toys, the behavioural chip robbing them of autonomy/identity, and then their memories wiped so they don’t have to live with whatever depraved crap clients want to do with them. Then he goes and treats V exactly the way those behavioural chips treat dolls, and at first is completely unrepentant about it.

All throughout the story, Johnny reiterates how much he hates Arasaka for rewriting people’s identities. Even acknowledges that this is why he can’t stand the fact that, through the relic, he’s being made to do the same thing to V. What he does in Chippin’ In is hypocritical as fuck, but not the first time Johnny’s done something contrary to his general ethos. Though it’s not acknowledged in his memories because, as Alt points out, they were tinged with Johnny’s bias, the entire bombing of Arasaka tower was funded and backed by Militech; he hates corpos more than anything, but Johnny still accepted their backing when it served his interests.

When you follow that quest line to the point where you visit Johnny’s grave, we get to see a totally different side to Johnny. He seems humbled and distressed that, despite all he did in his lifetime, his body lies in an unmarked grave, an oil field where no one remembers it’s even there. I felt really bad for him in that moment, but I was still pissed. My V acknowledged that he would write ‘The Man Who Saved My Life’ on Johnny’s grave because, despite their falling out, Johnny is still trying to save him. There’s still a bond forged by sharing the same body and what they’ve been through. But when Johnny tries to sidestep by saying that, while he fucked up his relationships with everyone else, he’s glad he didn’t fuck up what he has with V, I wasn’t standing for that. I wasn’t going to let him play for sympathy over the unmarked grave to sweep his betrayal of V’s trust under the rug. I chose the ‘Nope, you fucked that up too,’ option.

Honestly? One of the most cathartic moments in any game for me. Johnny doesn’t deny he fucked up either. He asks for a second chance, which my V agreed to give him, because even with all that fuckery they’re still close friends.

I didn’t know this dialogue was what unlocked the secret ending, it just made sense given what had happened and how I felt V would respond. My partner played it differently though, which is how I came to realize that the dialogue you get with Kerry and Johnny is an indicator of your relationship. When Kerry asks ‘do you get along?’ my partner got the response, ‘Not lately, no.’ Whereas I got, ‘The kid loves me.’ That seems almost contradictory, given I’m the one who chose to go off on Johnny for his betrayal, and my partner let it lie, but looking at Johnny’s other close relationships and his general ethos in life, it painted a bigger picture. (Note: I don’t know for SURE that the ‘you fucked up’ line is required to get this, but from various playthroughs between my partner and I, and what I’ve found online since, it seems that this dialogue is the key.)

The only people Johnny considered close friends are all people we’ve seen in his memories, and in every single one he is butting heads with them in some way. Johnny knows he’s damaged the people closest to him. Acknowledges it not just over his own grave, but in various endings as well. I think it’s telling that the memories V experiences, the ones that stick out most in Johnny’s subconscious, all involve some kind of argument between he and Alt, Rogue or Kerry. I think the fact that they stood up to him mattered to him more than anything because they weren’t giving up on him. They weren’t going ‘Johnny’s beyond help.’ Johnny even asks why Denny never tried to fix him. He’s also disparaging of being a ‘yes, man’ in most quest lines, rebellious to a fault. I think V standing up to him in kind garners Johnny’s love and respect more than if V just accepts what Johnny did. Maybe Johnny sees that as disingenuous or even cowardly, but I think on a deeper level he sees it as a sign that V has given up on him too. That V can’t be bothered because he doesn’t believe Johnny can change. There’s also just something really moving to me when two people can express their anger or hurt to one another and still be friends after.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on Johnny’s relationships and why the ‘you fucked up’ line was so important for both V and Johnny. I really love the way these characters are written, and this relationship in particular just felt really genuine in all it’s complicated glory.

Fin.

#Johnny Silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #cp2077 spoilers

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anamelessfacelessnerd · 4 years ago

Text

Not me rewriting the ending to Mizumono only to have a much better idea halfway through so as soon as I finished the first one I started on the second

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Relationship: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Smut, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Mild Blood, Rough Sex, Coming Untouched, Not Beta Read, Dark Will Graham

Language: English

Summary: “I need him to know.” Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes then, searching for the desperation he could hear in his words. “If I confessed to Jack Crawford now, you think he would forgive me?”

“I would forgive you.” It’s clear that Hannibal’s not talking about the murder, but the betrayal. He would still forgive Will for conspiring against him. “If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, Will, would you accept his forgiveness?” The double meaning is apparent. Hannibal was asking Will if he would go with him knowing that Hannibal would forgive him. It’s an invitation. One that Will wasn’t sure he wanted to decline.

“Jack isn't offering forgiveness.” Hannibal wanted to say “I am”, but he didn't. “He wants justice. He wants to see you. See who you are. See who I've become. Know the truth.” Will takes another sip of his wine and Hannibal accepts his defeat. He really hadn’t wanted to hurt Will, but it seemed that it would be the only option.

“Still, I suppose we don’t owe Jack that do we?” Will spoke again.

Notes: Okay, I know I rewrote the ending of Mizumono yesterday, but I had this idea while I wrote it and I couldn't help myself.

“Do you know what an imago is, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“It's a flying insect,” Will replied.

“It's the final stage of a transformation. Maturity.”

“When you become who you will be,” Will said, catching on to the point Hannibal was making.

“It's also a term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis. An imago is an image of a loved one buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives.”

“An ideal.”

“The concept of an ideal always searching for an objective reality to match. I have a concept of you just as you have a concept of me.”

“Neither of us are ideal,” Will says after taking a long drink of his wine. Hannibal considered what Will had just said for a moment. He had nearly trusted an ideal. He thought that Will would leave with him until he smelled Freddie Lounds on him. Perhaps Will was right, neither of them were ideal.

“We are both too curious about too many things for any ideals.” Hannibal paused a moment, feeling a twinge of hesitation for what he was about to ask. It was completely out of character for Hannibal to grovel, but in recent weeks he had grown accustomed to the idea of running away with Will, and he wasn’t quite ready to give the fantasy up. “Is it ideal that Jack die?”

Will matched Hannibal’s pause. Most would not even notice the hesitation, but Hannibal did.

“It's necessary. What happens to Jack has been preordained.” Will’s voice was cold, free from any emotion. In any other circumstance Hannibal would be proud of how well he schooled his expression, but now it just frustrated him.

“We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs. Leave a note for Dr. Bloom, never see her or Jack Crawford again. Almost polite,” Hannibal was nearly begging now and Will knew it. Their eyes locked and at once Will understood. Hannibal knew and he was willing to forgive.

“That'd make this our last supper,” Will said, considering Hannibal’s offer. Now, just days away from the sting that he and Jack had planned, Will still wasn’t sure whose side he was really on. Part of him wanted to be good, he wanted to atone for his sins and clear his name for good, because even though he had been acquitted, there were still those who believed he had actually killed all those people.

The other part of him wanted to become what everyone thought him to be. Though he hated to admit it, he had felt a thrill as he killed and mutilated Randall Tier. Even worse was that now thinking about that feeling didn’t make him feel guilty or sick, only enhanced the adrenaline.

If he was being completely honest, half of the thrill was seeing how Hannibal looked at him when he knew what Will had done. The subtle adoration and pride that he was no doubt allowing Will to see. Hannibal’s gaze made Will feel things, things that he had never felt with anyone before, and he wanted to chase that feeling.

“Of this life. I am serving lamb.”

“Sacrificial? Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” Will snorted.

“I freely claim my sin. I don't need a sacrifice. Do you?”

“I need him to know.” Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes then, searching for the desperation he could hear in his words. “If I confessed to Jack Crawford now, you think he would forgive me?”

“I would forgive you.” It’s clear that Hannibal’s not talking about the murder, but the betrayal. He would still forgive Will for conspiring against him. “If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, Will, would you accept his forgiveness?” The double meaning was apparent. Hannibal was asking Will if he would go with him knowing that Hannibal would forgive him. It’s an invitation. One that Will wasn’t sure he wanted to decline.

“Still, I suppose we don’t owe Jack that do we?” Will spoke again. Hannibal perked up almost imperceptibly.

“Perhaps a note will be sufficient. I didn’t want to leave the dogs alone, but they’ll be fine for a while. Knowing Jack he’ll send a cruiser to my place within an hour after I don’t show up in the morning.”

“Let us prepare then. I would like to be out of the country before Jack realizes that you are no longer his man on the inside.” Hannibal stood and began gathering plates to bring to the kitchen because of course he would want to leave the house spotless. Will helped him with the dishes and wiping everything down. They caught eyes several times, both revving with the anticipation of what was to come. Will considered apologizing for his conspiracy, but when he looked into Hannibal’s eyes he knew he was already forgiven.

It was a little intoxicating to know that he had this kind of control over hannibal. To know that he made Hannibal beg. He wondered how else he could compel him to beg. That was, once they stopped dancing around the physical aspect of their relationship and finally just fucked like they both wanted to.

Once they were finished they retired to the study to write a note. Hannibal wandered around, collecting particular books and knick knacks that he wanted to bring while Will drafted a note. After much thinking and many balled up pieces of paper, Will finally got it right. When he finished, he handed it to Hannibal to read.

“This will do nicely,” Hannibal said. He slipped the letter into an envelope and sealed it with blood red wax and a stamp that bore his initials.

Will watched as the wax dripped. The flow of the thick liquid was giving him all sorts of dirty thoughts. Thoughts of Hannibal pouring that warm liquid all over his body. Thoughts of being covered in other kinds of red liquid. Will had to take a deep breath to steady himself and bring some blood back up to his head.

When the wax had dried, Hannibal handed the letter to Will, fingers brushing against Will’s skin tenderly.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hannibal said, hand coming to grip Will’s wrist.

“Oh?” Will replied.

“Come with me.” Hannibal led Will upstairs, never letting go of his wrist. Will had only been to the upper floor of Hannibal’s house a few times, and never in the dark, so he didn’t really know where they were going. He had two ideas, one much more enticing than the other, but both equally likely.

As it turned out, neither of his assumptions were correct. Hannibal led him to a closed door at the end of the hallway and knocked.

“May we come in?” He asked. Will didn’t even have time to question who was in there before the door was being opened from the inside. Standing in the doorway was none other than Abigail Hobbs.

“Hi Will,” She said, a small smile playing on her chapped lips.

“Abigail?” Will asked, voice barely audible. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had Hannibal drugged him? Was he hallucinating?

“How are you here? You’re dead,” Will said.

“Not dead, just misplaced,” Hannibal replied, “they never found a body, well, not a whole body at least. It was merely a charade.”

Abigail tucked her hair back to show Will the flesh where her ear had been. It was healed over by now, but it still brought a wave of bile up in Will’s throat.

“You’ve been here this whole time?” Will asked, choking down the anger that was building in him. There was no sense getting angry now, especially when he was teetering on the edge of a new beginning.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail said, tears welling in her eyes.

“I forgive you,” Will said. Abigail took two big steps forward and wrapped her arms around Will’s middle, burying her tears in his shirt. He brought a hand to her hair and stroked, both soothing her and assuring himself that she was really there and really alive.

“Thank you,” Will whispered to Hannibal. He wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for. Maybe for keeping Abigail alive, maybe for bringing him to her, maybe just because he didn’t know what else to say.

Hannibal’s hand came to rest between Will’s shoulder blades, fingertips shooting electricity down his spine.

“I do not wish to rush you two, but we must be going,” Hannibal said, “there is still much for us to do and little time to do it.”

Abigail pulled back from Will and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffling a few times.

“Will, would you care to help me pack?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Will cast one last glance at Abigail before following Hannibal to his bedroom.

“Everything in that top drawer must come,” Hannibal said as he set a large suitcase on the bed. Will began transferring the carefully folded garments from the dresser to the suitcase while Hannibal sorted through his suits to find the ones he liked best.

Will and Hannibal's hands brushed for what felt like the 500th time that night as they both attempted to place clothing in the suitcase at the same time. Their eyes met and there was a moment of contemplation before they pounced.

Will dragged Hannibal to the floor and straddled him, hands balling up around fistfulls of Hannibal’s jacket as he pressed their lips together. Hannibal kissed back with equal fervour, hands sliding back to cup Will’s ass. Will moaned into the kiss and rutted his hips against Hannibals. Hannibal bit Will’s lip, not stopping until he drew blood.

They broke away, panting and breathing each other in. Hannibal brought one hand to Will’s cheek and stroked, the pad of his thumb brushing over Will’s parted lips. Will sucked the digit into his mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.

Will ground his hips down, ass rubbing against Hannibal’s rapidly hardening cock. The older man stared up at him in wonder, lips parted and eyes blown wide. He withdrew his hand, swiping his thumb along the bleeding cut on Will’s lip until the skin was stained red. Then he brought it to his own mouth, his eyes rolling back as he savored the metallic taste of his lover’s blood.

“You taste divine Will,” Hannibal said, deep voice sending tremors through Will’s body. That was it, that was the breaking point for Will.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” He demanded as he scrambled off of Hannibal to remove his own clothes.

“Such crass language,” Hannibal scolded, clicking his tongue disapprovingly, “whatever should I do about that?”

Hannibal was trying his best to regain some of the power he had lost in this exchange. Will would let him believe that he did, if only to sate his ego, but Will knew deep down that he was in control. He had known since before Hannibal had pleaded with him that he was in control here. Hannibal had several layers to his persona. The first was the polite, yet slightly eccentric doctor who loved good food and opera, behind that was the calculating psychopath cold, and emotionless. His true personality was hidden deep within himself, but Will was able to see it, after all, he had not yet met a person he couldn’t read.

The person that Hannibal truly was was driven by his emotions. Anger and hurt bubbled under his skin, suppressed by years of burying everything akin to a feeling deep below the surface. He was intensely narcissistic and hedonistic. Everything he did was to fulfill his desires. He ate to satiate his hunger, he killed to assuage a compulsion. He acted solely in his own self interests, and right now Will was his interest. That gave Will ultimate power over Hannibal. He wanted Will in every sense of the word, and would do nearly everything to have him.

Perhaps what solidified Will’s control was the fact that he was aware of this while Hannibal wasn’t. Hannibal had spent so much effort repressing feelings that he genuinely believed that they were never there in the first place. Will knew about Hannibal’s nature, not from the beginning, no he was fooled like everyone else at first, but certainly longer than he let on. He only raised the issue with Jack when he was in danger.

Will put on the facade of being overly emotional, of being unstable, but deep down he was something different entirely. That’s why he was so good at “faking” the coldness he showed with Hannibal, it was never fake, the emotions were fake, and Hannibal was none the wiser. This was Will’s game and Hannibal was barely aware he was playing.

“Will?” Hannibal asked, pulling Will from his thoughts. He kneeled in front of him, now fully nude, his erection jutting out proudly from a bed of well trimmed blonde curls.

“Fuck me,” Will insisted, trying to pass his momentary spacyness off as fascination with the admittedly impressive cock that hung between Hannibal’s legs.

“As you wish.” Yes, as Will wishes. Hannibal will do exactly as Will wishes.

Will doesn’t wait for any more negotiations. He turns around and sinks to his elbows, thighs spread wide to accommodate Hannibal. He heard the older man’s breath catch as Will displayed himself.

“Oh Will, you truly are exquisite. Beauty incarnate.” Hannibal mused. Will watched between his legs as Hannibal reached into the bedside table for a bottle of lube. Hannibal poured the lube onto his fingers, then pressed them to Will’s hole, tracing the rim to get it nice and wet.

Will buried his face in his crossed arms to stifle a moan. The last thing he needed was for Hannibal to know exactly how sensitive he actually was and to exploit that fact. They didn’t have much time and Will was really just looking to be fucked.

Finally, one finger breached Will. It slid in with little resistance and Hannibal added a second. His thumb came to press against Will’s perineum as he scissored his fingers. Will let out a choked sob when Hannibal’s other hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head up sharply.

“I want to hear you Will. I want to hear exactly how much you like this.”

“God, just fuck me already Hannibal,” Will begged, “I’m ready, just get in me.”

Hannibal withdrew his fingers at once. Will didn’t even have a chance to get a word out before Hannibal was pressing his cock inside.

“There you go sweet boy, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it. Like you were born to take me.”

Will had never heard Hannibal speak so lewdly before, but he liked it more than he would ever care to admit. Not that he even could right now with Hannibal thrusting into him with punishing force, hitting his prostate every time.

Hannibal still had one hand in Will’s hair. The other was gripping his hip so tight he would undoubtedly have finger shaped bruises in the morning. He brought his lips down to Will’s shoulder, placing a few gentle kisses there, and that would simply not do. Will needed him to be rough, he needed to be fucked hard.

“Harder,” Will grunted, “come on Hannibal, you can do better than that. Do it like I know you want to. Hurt me.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Hannibal panted.

“Fuck yes, give it to be Hannibal, fucking ruin me.”

Hannibal complied immediately, using all of the force he could to pound into Will like he was trying to split him clean in half. He bit down hard on Will’s shoulder, just short of drawing blood.

Will rocked back to meet every thrust, letting out a litany of pathetic noises that he probably should have been embarrassed about. Hannibal was groaning now too, grunting like a beast in Will’s ear as he shoved in impossibly deeper.

Will’s orgasm was so sudden, he didn’t even feel it coming. In an instant his body went rigid as white hot pleasure coiled in his abdomen and he came completely untouched.

After coming for what felt like hours, he dropped to the floor, thighs shaking too hard to support himself any longer.

Once he had caught his breath, Will rolled over onto his back and spread his legs.

“Keep going,” he told Hannibal, “I want you to use me to make yourself come.”

Hannibal didn’t need to be told twice before sliding back into Will. He hoisted the younger man’s knees up over his shoulders to get a better angle as he slammed in over and over again.

At last, Hannibal gave a final hard thrust and spilled inside Will, coating his insides with his seed. He pulled out and laid on the floor next to him, breathing hard and trembling.

“I would have run away with you a long time ago if I had known that was in store for me,” Will panted, struggling to sit up.

“If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said, reaching over to brush a lock of curly hair behind his ear.

Will smiled and kissed Hannibal again. It was softer this time, full of much more affection, especially on Hannibal’s behalf.

“I would sit here with you for eternity Will, but I fear that we must leave soon. We would not want to keep Abigail waiting.” Hannibal said when they pulled away.

“Of course, but first will you promise me something?”

“What is it that you desire?”

“Do that again as soon as we get to wherever we’re going.” Hannibal grinned and cupped Will’s cheek.

“I would gladly have you every day, my dear Will.”

Notes: Listen, we all know who's actually in control and this relationship and it's not Hannibal "Simp" Lecter.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #abigail hobbs #smut #fanfic #ao3 #hannigram fic #hannibal fanfiction #mizumono #2.13

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thelostguardianau · 5 years ago

Text

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

Chapter Nine

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #lamp/calm #LAMPR/CALMR #LAMP/CALM + remy ‘sleep’ sanders #tw angst #tw long post #long fic #thelostguardianau #morally grey deceit #for the time being #the aim is that he reach sympathetic but trust aint that easy

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pathofcomet · 4 years ago

Text

mystical time, cutting me open

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC

summary: Isaac’s not sure a sin would entirely feel this right.Written for Isaac week, day 3. Prompt: Forbidden fruit. (AO3)

Whenever Isaac teaches, he has an apple on his desk. At this point, it’s part of the decor, it’ll be weirder for it to not be there one day, than to just accept it as having always been part of the classroom. Each morning, Isaac takes out an apple from the large pocket of his jacket, swipes at it with his sleeve, and places it there.

A reminder of the thing that changed the entire course of his life, once, centuries before. Sometimes the years blur past him, and Isaac is not entirely sure that he knows how to catch the differences between the centuries. Sure – there’s the French all around him, and the cut of one’s outfit is different as well, but when he seems so much alike the Isaac Newton of long ago, it’s hard to keep himself connected to the reality of now.

He still teaches, echoing hallways welcoming him every morning. He is still unsure that anything he says makes sense, or makes sense in a way that matters – even as both his best friend and his lover try to chip away at these stories he tells himself when stuck inside his head. He still tinkers at his machinations, he still writes and rewrites papers – tries to and solves the supposed equations of the universe. When he gets too much into it, even the hunger can get ignored, in that far-away part of his brain that won’t allow him to move or acknowledge anything until he’s finished with his focused purpose.

And the lines naturally blur. The apple, on his desk – a dash of red, as powerful as the sight of blood, is grounding. He’s in the future (his future, someone else’s past – he tries to remind himself, just to humble himself into not believing his perspective is the only one that matters). When he stands in front of his students, lecturing, he tries to focus on that object there, when the incoming panic attacks might overwhelm him.

She has explained to him; he needs to take a deep breath, refocus on the reality around him: the smell of chalk, the chattering of the students, the weight of his robes, the nibbling of the unnatural, just beneath the skin.

Sometimes though, he’s sure that’s exactly what he wants: to ignore this life for just a little bit. On carriage rides back home, on evenings when he’s supposed to map the movement of the stars, when he waits for her for the night – as she washes up after late evenings. He loses himself in past memories: the sting of refusal, the bitter taste of betrayal, the sight of her blood, the death of a friend. It’s a choice he has made, of course he is aware – he is the one who said yes at a second life, even as a vampire.

It doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to bear: the pain and the pleasure of it all, mingled together. He’s reached for so much, greedy after more (time, love, warmth). Of course that he is to be punished for it. What is hunger to a monster but his essence?

That’s the correlation that he always makes, whenever the Blanc or Rouge touch his tongue. If he is to want something, then he must always remember he’ll have to give something back. If he is ever euphoric, that’s because the fall follows next.

The fear follows like a shadow. Greed thrums at the back of his throat, a thirst that cannot be sated. Greed makes him now, and his breathing hours are an attempt to prove his own nature wrong. That’s why he works so hard, that’s why he pushes against the warm body, willingly at his lips. He understands he’s punished to be like this, to have his memories tinted in red, just so he can taste the happiness of this second life as well.

The red apple on his desk. To remember that he is what he is today through nothing but bad mistakes.

There is this book written during his times, “Paradise Lost”. Bitter and sour, Isaac sometimes wonders if he didn’t give up some kind of heavenly, wonderful end for a continuous, nightmare of a life. These kind of thoughts come rarer and rarer now, that he has her – but maybe that’s why when they do come, they’re all the more intense.

He has more to lose now. And he has decided to stay away, at the beginning of their uncomfortable stumbling together, temptation at bay. And she has glued herself at his side, had called him a friend, and then called him a lover – and oh, Isaac has fallen quite alright.

He has taken a bite out of her, his own personal forbidden fruit. And instead of being banished, punished – she has tugged her shirt lower, has offered him more. Isaac’s not sure a sin would entirely feel this right.

In the book, the hero is not God – Isaac wouldn’t have expected from a man of culture to actually believe in such unproven theories. Milton’s hero is Satan, because he chooses the fall. Milton’ hero is Adam, because he sins knowingly: choosing to fall right alongside his lover. The bigger sinner he is, but that doesn’t make him any less of a hero, any less of a lover.

Isaac wipes at the blood of his own lover’s neck, and thinks – she’s the heroine of his tale, isn’t she? She sins because she loves, because he has done it first and she is determined to not let him ever again suffer alone.

Isaac is not deluded enough to even play with the idea that he is anything else but a monster. But oh, if he’s not a monster that loves back. Oh, if he is not a monster that is trying to make up for the fact that the love will never be enough. But now that he has tasted her, not that he’s fallen, with the taste of her on his tongue, he wants so much more that it scares him a bit.

So, she is there: also a reminder. That the hunger doesn’t bring only suffering, but pleasure too, and not only for him – but for someone else to. That there’s someone by his side, now more than before, and that’s a win in itself.

That, maybe… there’s some safety in wanting the right things, wanting the right people. And although it’s hard to convince himself of it, all his precious people go through a hell lot of effort to convince him instead.

At the end of the day, Isaac picks up the apple from the desk and bites his fangs into it, taste sweet in his mouth – as he shuffles through papers, cleans the blackboard. Then –

“Isaac?”

Her voice, sweeter than sweet, and he turns around, already half grinning. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, monster in lover’s embrace.

The ribbon in her hair twinkles red in the sun. It matches the blood vial in her hand, but that’s not what he goes for first. He kisses her. His favourite treat.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #isaac week #isaac x mc #isaac/mc #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #isaac x reader #isaac/reader #i'm editing without my glasses bc ~ face mask and sorry if there are mistakes RIP

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autisticandroids · 4 years ago

Note

If you were to rank the spn seasons from favorite to least favorite how would you rank them?

disclaimer: i have not done a full watch since 2013 (1-8) or whenever the various seasons aired (8-15).

i’m not going to rank all of them, but i’ll give some preferences.

my favorite seasons are four and twelve. like, i could justify this with like, elements that they had?

four had all this great aesthetic, and it introduced the angel plotlines, and there was all this wonderful loyalty and betrayal and secret keeping, and it wanted to be a john le carre novel so BAD, and finally there was some serious ambiguity in the form of heaven (rather than just monster bad), and also institutions, in the form of heaven and hell, and you all know how i like a story that contains institutions, and dean’s hell trauma was like incredibly compelling, and sam was doing hot girl shit, and every single angel character ruled, etc. etc. etc. four is like the only season of supernatural that is entirely justified in taking itself seriously.

and twelve was like the complete opposite. it was a sitcom. incredibly lighthearted and fun, a show that was kind of a joke about supernatural, incredibly refreshing after the constant doom and gloom of the carver era. and like, the mary plotline was legitimately the smartest and most interesting piece of writing in all of supernatural and also i love mary, the cas-crowley stuff was wonderful and hilarious, rowena got to be like, a protagonist, the bmol were the most ridiculous antagonist spn ever had and i love them for it, the destiel was off the charts, etc. etc. etc.

so like, both of them had INCREDIBLY good elements. but the thing is that that’s not the reason i like them, really. i love themes, and i love character, and i love worldbuilding, and all that shit, but the greatest ruler i judge an episode, or season, of supernatural against is whether i was bored. and four and twelve are both just like. oops! all bangers!

my least favorite seasons will surprise no one, i’m not a huge fan of one, two, seven, nine, or ten.

ten i did not love because of the jeremy carver trademarked doom and gloom, like, that man is a hero and a heller but his seasons are both boring and depressing. he’s a bad showrunner, and many of the episodes produced under him were poorly written though i don’t know how much to blame him for this.

i have the problems with nine that everyone has with nine, along with my general dislike of carver’s seasons. i feel like i don’t have to explain this.

one and two’s intensely unironic trying-to-be-scary monster of the week shtick did NOT do it for me. i liked the character-focused episodes, and i liked their literally one funny episode each, but overall i found them boring and intensely incest-subtexty. they’re far too serious, without the good writing to back it up.

seven’s problem is essentially that sera gamble is a terrible showrunner. like, she is fucking GIFTED as an individual episode writer, she is a BARD, homophobia or no homophobia, but as a showrunner she fails, for two specific reasons:

first, she’s a bronly, and i just.... don’t think having a show with no side characters works lmao. like, honestly, whenever i rewrite the show in my head, one of my big axes to grind is i wish that supernatural had been an ensemble cast show. i hate that it’s constantly trying to be just about the brothers. hell, i hate that it’s constantly trying to be just about team free will! cas is not exempt, when the show is being run by people who want to include him! i’m a star trek fan, i demand a minimum of seven main characters in my dumb scifi.

second, she’s no good at plot. this is fine as an individual episode writer; you don’t have to put serious plot in a single episode if you don’t want to, you can just build character. those are the best kinds of episodes, imo, and sera gamble SHINES at them. but for a season you need plot and sera cannot deliver.

other than my top two and my bottom five, i’ll just go through some surprises:

season six is the only season that gets a pass on my “ranking supernatural should be done by entertainment value” rule. like, season six SUCKS ASS for all the same reasons as season seven, but even WORSE because at least seven managed the dick roman plotline halfway through, which improved things considerably. season six didn’t manage to grow a solid, fun plot until the LAST THREE EPISODES. but it gets a pass because oh! what episodes they were! i love godstiel arc. mommy sera PLEASE hatecrime me, you hatecrime me so GOOD! so season six is way higher on my ranking than it aught to be.

season three i LOVE, if it weren’t for the entire dabb era coming in with a steel chair and being like, the best spn has ever been, then season three would be my third favorite after four and twelve. like, spn FINALLY starting to take itself a little less seriously! lots of silly bullshit! also oops, all bangers! is easier when you only have sixteen episodes lol.

eleven would be on my shitlist for being too carvery, except that about halfway through it takes an upswing which is, i am PREEEETTY sure, a result of andrew dabb taking over, so they end up having a much more lighthearted second half of the season and solve the main plot via family therapy. so i guess eleven also gets a pass kind of like six except i do not like eleven as much as six so it gets upgraded from bad to mediocre instead of bad to great.

and then my last hot-n-spicy take is that i do not love eight as much as most people. like, was season eight of supernatural a win for the gays? yes. was purgatory iconic? yes. do i love benny lafitte with all of my heart? yes. do i miss kevin tran every day? yes. do i sometimes repeat the words “and they were all dean.” to my friends over and over on video calls? yes. but the thing is that banger elements do not a banger season make. eight was disorganized, the writing was often poor and boring, and that trademarked jeremy carver doom and gloom was already starting to set in. i do not love it. i do not hate it, but i do not love it.

#Anonymous #spn #asks

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carinyms · 4 years ago

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We're three days from the Loki finale and I’m back to spout more meta and theories about episodes 5 & 6! It’s a long one (again.)

I really enjoyed episode five. People have complained that they felt it didn't do much to move the show forward, but one of the things I've loved most about this show is the time it takes to sit with the characters and learn about their backstory, their feelings. (I'm always a little bugged when critics say that an episode hasn't done enough to move the plot forward, because without adequate character development, why should I care about the plot?) I thought the pacing of it was really well balanced.

….and I have never been so nervous for a finale in my entire life. There’s a lot of reasons.

The first is just the fact that I’ve been waiting for this show for a whole year, and the anticipation and excitement of it literally helped get me through the pandemic--so when those final end credits roll I’m going to be a whole mess no matter what happens. (I really hope the rumors floating around about season two are accurate) I also just feel like it’s somewhat inevitable that this is our final farewell to Tom’s Loki, and like—I’ll never be ready, but especially right now, amidst all the rampant controversy around this show, I’m just not ready to deal with that. I have a *small* modicum of hope that this won't be the case, but it feels unlikely. Anyway, guess I’ll die.

I really want this show to stick the landing, so to say. I loved the last episode, but a lot of the response has been that it felt like a lull in the plot. I want this show to end in a satisfying bang so it can get the credit it deserves.

Also I’m a whole hypocrite eating my words from last week—I’m fully on-board with Loki/Sylvie now (not that I was ever really against it)--I’m not sure why I’m surprised. They’re so adorable and wholesome, and I’m in love with seeing Loki in love. It’s so precious. (Just as a PSA, if you’re not into them that’s chill, and you’re allowed to dislike a ship without trying to justify your opinion by labeling shippers as morally problematic. Selfcest isn’t a real thing, therefore there isn’t a moral high ground to stand on here. Okay? Okay.) Wherever it ultimately leads, their relationship is still a really sweet exploration of them both growing and learning how to love themselves and trust others. Also, them cuddling under a tablecloth is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen with my two eyes.

MY THEORIES:

I love Sylvie so much, SO MUCH — and she is 100% going to stab Loki in the back by the end of the next episode. I don’t think the betrayal is going to stick, and by the end they’ll both be on the same page again, but the conversations on trust have been way too one-sided for my comfort. If nothing else she's going to seriously consider it. Here’s one way I can see that going. Spoiler alert: it hurts.

Sylvie betrays Loki at one point—and we see Loki’s growth and arc come full circle as, even after being betrayed by the person he hinged his entire development around, he still believes in doing the right thing, in saving her regardless. It ends in a heart-wrenching self-sacrifice of some kind, and his actions serve as the catalyst for her full development as well. We keep seeing different versions of Loki die for their ‘glorious purpose’, just like how Classic Loki shouts the phrase as he was consumed by Aloith (RIP King, I love you).

Loki has already called Sylvie his glorious purpose (or inferred it). There’s been backlash around him saying that, but the way I see it, it’s less “I’m obsessed with this girl she’s my purpose now” and more “I believe that she’s the best version of us and I’m going to make it my purpose to help her succeed and be what the rest of us aren’t”. That’s why seeing all the other variant Loki’s at their worst in the Loki clubhouse (? what do I call this lol) only fuels him more to find her. I think about what Mobius told him: “You exist to cause pain and suffering and death, all so others can achieve the best versions of themselves”. I don’t think Loki truly believes he can be the best version of Loki — I think he saw Sylvie and thought, "it's her". He’s decided he’s going to help her achieve the best version of herself, but he'll do it giving her love and trust and devotion, rather than through betrayal, pain and suffering. He’s re-writing his pre-determined role, in his own small way. I’m so proud of him.

So who’s behind it all and what’s truly going on here? (This isn’t really one theory, more like a string of possibilities and I don’t really know how they’d fit together.)

I still think it’s another version of Loki. And if it is, I can’t help but appreciate the connections between his position dictating the end of time in the show in relation to Loki’s role in the Norse myths, where he’s the catalyst for the destruction of all things. It feels relevant, considering the whole idea that ‘the end of time hasn’t been written yet’ has come up twice now. That would be a fascinating tie-in to the mythology. (Also—Alioth looks like a giant dog. And Fenrir’s role in Ragnarok was devouring the world—I realize this is a reach but am I the only person seeing this connection?) The thing I really can’t predict is the motivation. What would cause a Loki to want to prevent Loki’s from changing? Was there something that happened in the sacred timeline this Loki is trying to preserve? (I also like the idea of us maybe seeing another version of Sylvie behind it all, but I’m just going to leave that rabbit hole alone. )

But here’s the theory I can’t stop thinking about. There’s a theory floating around tik tok (by user twelvepercentcredit) saying the ‘castle’ we see beyond Alioth looks like a place called the House of Ideas, something that appeared in a (discontinued?) Loki comic. Here’s the wiki page on it. Just looking at the imagery of this compared to the location we’re seeing in the trailers, it’s too similar to be a coincidence. The huge bookshelves, the towering ceilings.

Here’s a description from the wiki:

“The House of Ideas is also home to a library which archives the exploits of every hero who has ever existed in the form of books, written unconsciously by the collective minds of their believers. This collection is curated by Now and Then, two of the children of Eternity. Now and Then routinely seek out heroes to bring into the House of Ideas to bargain with them and give their collections more pages, therefore more time for adventures and exploits. “

And later on the page on how Loki ties in:

“Heeding the desire in Loki's heart to do more with his life, Now and Then approached Loki and brought him to the House of Ideas,[5] where they struck up with him the deal to give more pages to his collection of exploits, rewriting the Books of Loki with a hero's stories in exchange for an eventual hero's death.”

Are they gonna play with the exact happenings of this? I don't know, but it sounds pretty cool!

It would be gutsy to go this route with the show given how meta it is, but I love the idea of it. Would they put characters that embody the abstract ideas of “Eternity” “Now & Then” into the show in the last episode? I’m not sure. Something I could see as a possibility though is an alternate version of Loki having overthrown whoever was previously guarding the timeline, and Loki and Sylvie will have to take them down in turn, thus ‘releasing’ the multiverse to its default, chaotic state.

What if our Loki’s ultimate destiny, ultimate Glorious Purpose, is to release the timelines--restoring all the variants back to their original timelines--and remain in this place for eternity, guarding the timeline and ensuring the multiverse is allowed to exist in its natural state? It seems a pretty fitting role for the God of Chaos. It would also explain why whoever’s behind the TVA would be so desperate to eliminate all variant Loki, if that was his ultimate destiny.

It would be an effective way to remove Hiddleston’s Loki from the movie-verse without killing him, AND place both Sylvie and any other Loki variants back in the the main timeline for use in future films—which we know has to happen somehow, because Young Avengers is definitely happening, and Kid Loki has got to get out of the void somehow.

And yea, this outcome would hurt like a bitch. Because even though that would truly be a lovely glorious purpose for our Loki, he’d be alone. And the whole point of this show is that he doesn’t have to be alone! It would be a very poetic sacrifice for him to take on the burden of watching over the timelines alone for all eternity so that his other variants could be the best versions of themselves, but I really just want him to be happy. I will be crying my eyes out if this happens. I’ll be proud but I won’t be okay.

And this all is probably speculative nonsense and could go off in an entirely different direction. Who knows. All in all, I just really want to see Loki fully believe in himself and his ability, to truly absorb what he said about being stronger than he realizes, and to take control of his destiny.

WHAT I WANT (NEED) FROM EPISODE 6:

Let Hunter B-15 and Mobius team up to burn the place to the ground. She was nerfed in the time-keeper fight, I want to see B-15 kick some ass.

I kind of want Ravonna to escape and be a character that carries over into the films for her tie-ins with Kang? I want to see more of her.

Give Loki a new badass costume. I’m begging. If he’s gonna go down, he deserves to go down in something other than khakis.

And then I want to see him and Sylvie fighting side by side in matching outfits.

I want a Mobius-level hug between them. Or a kiss. Or both. But I want the hug more. And you know what? I want her to initiate the hug or kiss or whatever it is because I want Loki to experience receiving love and affection from others as much as giving it. He deserves it ok??

I expect Mobius on a jet ski in the post credits and if I don’t get it I riot

@marvel these are my demands.

As always, if you've made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#these just keep getting longer and longer #next week you can expect a full novel #loki #loki show #loki series #loki meta #loki show meta #loki series meta #loki theories #loki show theories #loki show positive #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

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Nothing Can Hurt Me

CS one-shot that rewrites the ending of 4x23. This has the angst of a would-be goodbye and none of the follow through. if you do not like overly fluffy happy endings, this fic is not for you. If, however, you want a solid dose of hope and a much needed true love’s kiss, please enjoy! Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you are all well and surviving as best you can in this strange and stressful time. I know I personally have needed some hope and light and love, and writing has been one way for me to try and find it. That’s what motivated this little drabble, which is a rewrite of the end of season 4. I once shared a rewrite for the reunion in that episode (4x23), but this is the final scene where Emma sacrifices herself to the darkness. I know it has been AGES since I rewrote a scene of Once, but this song (’Nothing Can Hurt Me by Frida Sundemo) gave me the idea and… well, you can all be the judge of how I did. Anyway, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Running from Gold’s shop to the center of town, Emma felt the weight of all this chaos gripping her tighter and tighter.

So much had happened – so much was always freaking happening – and the crazy train in this town never showed any signs of stopping. Apparently, they needed Merlin (you know, like the magical wizard from the legends of Camelot) to be rid of this dark force, but there was no indication of how to go about finding him. They had nothing but yet another vague clue, and if Emma gave her thoughts any space to dwell on that, she’d probably go mad. Instead she channeled all the frustration and fear into running. They had no choice. They had to fight. It was the only way.

“Where is it?” she asked, sprinting towards the center of town with Killian hot on her heels.

“We don’t know,” her father answered, scanning her over, and seeing she was no worse for wear despite this latest upset.

“It just disappeared into the night,” her mother affirmed, gazing to the skyline for any trace of the magic that was hunting them all. Her archer’s instinct was on full display, and if anyone was going to see movement in the dark of the night it would be Snow White. Emma for her part looked out there and saw nothing but the inky black sky and the eerily quiet streets of Storybrooke.

“What’s going on?” Regina asked, appearing from down the way with Robin at her side. Killian explained to the best of his ability, allowing Emma to keep watch.

“The Dark One, it’s no longer tethered to the Crocodile.”

“What? Where the hell is it?”

The edge in Regina’s voice was reminiscent of tones Emma had heard from the Evil Queen, but Emma knew it was not just anger that made for the change in Regina. It was fear too. Still, they had to keep searching. Emma’s eyes traced over everything, hoping for a sign even while praying this was all just some kind of bad dream. Then it dawned on her, they couldn’t see it because it was everywhere. This force of nature was as smart as it was evil, a malicious magic intent on harming anything that wandered into its path or stood in its way. Right now it had no need to show itself, and instead it was spreading as far and wide as it could. The presence of it stopped the air from circulating. The darkness hung just out of sight, but it stifled everything. The only thing Emma could hear for a moment was the crackling of the electricity flowing through the powerlines and her own heart, thumping at a faster rate than normal, pumping adrenaline to every part of her.

Distracted by the silence, Emma missed the tentacled approach of the magic until she heard the breath leave Regina’s lungs. The Queen’s gasp was swift, but the magic was swifter, circling her, and strangling the very life out of her in seconds.

“Regina!” Robin yelled, but Emma barely heard him. Her instincts were crying out to her to help. Use magic! Do something! But she couldn’t. Her panic was winning over and she felt untethered to anything like hope. Moments passed where they all looked on helplessly, and only when Robin realized his efforts were futile did he look to Emma. “What’s it doing?”

“What darkness does,” Emma said, watching Regina grow dimmer and colder. “It’s snuffing out the light.”

“Well I’m not going to let it,” Robin said, running towards the woman he loved only to be thrust back full force to the ground. It was no use. They couldn’t break through. The Dark One’s magic was too powerful.

“That’s not going to work on this thing!” Emma said, wanting to keep Robin from hurting himself anymore. “The apprentice told me we have to do what the sorcerer did. We have to tether it to a person to contain it.”

And then it hit her, That person is me. It has to be. It’s the only way.

Finally, her body caught up with her mind. She walked towards the darkness, repellent as it was, as her parents cried out for her not to go. The only thing that stopped her, however, was Regina’s desperate plea.

“Emma, no!” she forced out, barely holding the darkness at bay but trying with all her might. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Emma said, the sick feeling of acceptance washing over her.

The truth was Regina simply wasn’t strong enough to resist the magic’s pull, and despite her attempts to change of late, she wasn’t good enough in her heart to stave something like this off. She had already shown how easy it was for evil to corrupt her, changed intentions or not. With the power of the Dark One… Emma shuddered to even imagine Regina. She’d be even more murderous and deranged than she had been years ago when she was trying to kill her parents and everyone who questioned her power. No, they couldn’t risk Regina being given this curse. They wouldn’t survive.

So this was the moment, then. The one where, after finally feeling like she had a real freaking chance at being happy, Emma was going to give it all up. She was going to trade in this life of promise and positive what-ifs and take instead a sickeningly scary magic that would likely eat her up from the inside out. But it was the only thing that would save them all. Her parents, Henry, Killian… when she looked at it that way, it was a simple choice.

Maybe I live, maybe I don’t, but my life for theirs… I’d make that deal with nothing like regret.

“Emma, no!” her father yelled as she moved towards the darkness. She looked to him and her mother, seeing Killian beside them. Her heart ached, but she shook her head at him. There was no debate in this. It had to be this way.

“You figured out how to take the darkness out of me once. You need to do it again. As heroes.”

“Emma! Emma, please!” Killian begged, running towards her and holding her hand, a final tether to the light. God, she loved this man. And here she was, breaking him apart in a million tiny pieces. “Don’t do this, love. Please.”

Looking in his ocean colored eyes, she saw a flash of everything they could have had if things were different. She knew, in her gut, that this was the only man for her, the only one who could tear down her walls and bolster her up in one fell swoop. He loved her unconditionally and without fail. He’d surrendered so much sooner to the feelings between them, showing her vulnerability that she needed to feel safe and sure, but they were both caught in the same blissful and scary as hell current. He was her soulmate, and this may be the last time she ever saw him.

“I love you,” she confessed, seeing the moment of recognition in his eyes. He’d already known her feelings even if the words never left her lips. They were impossible to hide even though she’d tried so desperately, but the words were coming at the most excruciating time, and even to her ears, they sounded an awful lot like a final goodbye.

Just one more kiss, she thought to herself, pulling him into her and letting the touch of his lips and his warm embrace breathe life into her. For a moment the darkness was nowhere in sight. It was just them. Just their love. Just the hope they shared together, and the dedication of two wills that would give anything to be together. Breaking away was the hardest thing she’d ever done, made all the worse by the fact that she had to take advantage of his distraction to push him back. When she did, she flung herself into the darkness and felt the magic swarm from Regina into her.

The feeling of it coiling around her made her blood run cold, as if she were submerged in ice water. She wanted to shiver from the chill, but could barely move. It was like being stuck in a vat of cement as the darkness descended. An anguished cry sounded out around her, and Emma realized that was her own pain emanating from her chest. The sharp sides of this magic were slicing into her, and unbiddenly she closed her eyes. A montage of the worst memories of her life flashed before her, ripping at old wounds that had never really healed.

It started with the slow crescendo of her childhood, a silent kind of torture where the defining part of every memory was the way she was always left behind. Families she was placed with, other kids in the system, teachers, case workers, all of them abandoned her in one way or another. None of them stayed, and in the end, it was always Emma left standing on her own, lost and forgotten and never ever chosen.

The memories flashed forward to Neal and the heartbreak of giving her love only to have it destroyed and tossed aside like it was nothing. The betrayal of his choices and the sting of losing yet another person, this time in a more malicious way made her as angry as it did sad. Still that was nothing at all to the realization that she was pregnant and the choice she knew she had to make to give Henry up for adoption when she was in jail. That sadness and that heartache was a bone deep one she was sure would never heal.

Only it did, in part, when she came back to Storybrooke. She was finally getting the chance to build a life, reconnecting with her son, but that was mired down by recent memories of Regina being a certifiable nightmare and the jarring moments she’d faced, like Graham’s sudden death. Emma had the comfort of Henry always, but even that had put so much pressure on her. She felt like a failure as a mother, always doubting she could be enough for her brilliant boy and torn between wanting him to have Regina in his life and knowing that Regina had also been deeply flawed in trying to raise her son. Oftentimes it felt like the only thing that got her through that initial time in Storybrooke was finding a true friend in Mary Margaret. She was the first real friend Emma had in her life.

Then she felt the moment that the truth was revealed. Of course, she was shocked with the news that Mary Margaret and David were really her parents, but along with the revelation that she had a family who loved and wanted her, there came a lot of pain, pain that they’d ever given her up in the first place, and pain that she had now lost that special friendship forever. It would never be the same for her and Mary Margaret when she was really Snow, and while she may love her parents dearly now, and had made more peace with their decision to make her a savior instead of a stable and securely loved little girl, it still inflicted so much pain on her and let a little more darkness creep into her heart.

When she’d made the choice to be back in Henry’s life again, she promised herself and her son that she would never do the same. She wouldn’t leave him, not when he deserved her love front and center in his life. But here she was going back on that promise. She didn’t want to leave, but she was barely even here anymore. The darkness had overtaken her. In one last show of strength, she opened her eyes and saw something that broke through the mind-numbing pain of this evil torture – Henry was out there, holding onto Killian and looking on in horror at her being consumed by this.

The tears rained down Henry’s face and she could see him yelling for her, but she couldn’t hear it. The whip of the magic’s winds was too strong. She realized he was actually trying to break through to get to her, but it was Killian holding him back. Looking to her pirate, Emma saw the pain in his gaze, as well as the determination. Determination to keep her son safe even though his own instincts must be screaming at him to try and help her too. God how she loved him. She only wished she’d been brave enough to tell him sooner.

Hold onto the love, Emma, a voice said to her, one that was vaguely familiar but certainly not hers. She did as it said, thinking of the possibilities for her and for Killian. In admitting her feelings, she had opened the door to wanting so much more. She could see things that she never imagined would ever come to pass – a real relationship with dating and affection, a marriage, a family. It was all so picturesque, and yes, it was what she would call a happily ever after, but at the heart of it all there would be one basic ingredient – true and everlasting love.

As if the thought alone sparked something, Emma felt the dark magic flinch. Curious, she continued her test. Finding strength from within, she spoke aloud, finding a command in her tone she never expected. “I love Killian and that love is true. Nothing this darkness does is ever going to change that.”

As if she’d whispered out a spell, magic burst forth, this time in her own familiar shade of bright golden white. It was small at first, but it created a barrier around her, letting her breathe in deeply and recenter herself. She was in awe at the display of power here, amazed that she was able to put up any kind of fight, so she kept going, knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try.

“I love my parents and my son so much more than I ever thought I could. I used to be afraid to care so much, but I’m not afraid anymore. Not with Henry. Not with my family.”

Again, the magic grew brighter and this time it began to merge with the darkness, touching the blackness that was trying to destroy her and neutralizing it. The color shifted from midnight to onyx, from cobalt to lighter gray, then the darkness was nothing more than a silvery shimmer. Slowly her lighter magic worked through the attacking succubus, and though there was a sound in the air crying out like a wounded animal, Emma knew it was the dying of darkness that was making that cry. The threat, miraculously, was fading, and it was love, and her, that made it possible.

“And most importantly, I can love and accept love because I learned to love myself. I didn’t know that was possible, but now I know that real love, true loves, require that. Because I love myself, I let love guide me. Because I love myself, nothing can hurt me.”

That was it, the last of the darkness was extinguished and the dark one’s dagger fell to the ground, no name etched in its blade any longer. Then they all watched as Emma’s light magic burst forward in a glorious gust, washing out over all of them and beyond. Emma felt it extending to the outer limits of Storybrooke. Her magic had created a layer of protection, a spell made to safeguard all the people she loved. She only had a few seconds to appreciate that, and then she felt Henry lurching towards her in a back breaking hug filled with relief.

“Mom, you did it! You destroyed the darkness, and you saved us all.”

“You think it’s really gone?” Snow asked and Regina and Emma replied at the same time with a resounding “Yes.”

“There’s nothing left of it,” Regina said, flicking her fingers towards the air and pushing her own magic out to test the waters. It’s just…gone.”

“But how?” Killian asked, still standing at somewhat of a distance, his shock so palpable it had frozen him in place.

Emma could see his resistance to believe that this had all concluded this way. He knew the moment she stepped forward the choice she was making in sacrificing herself. She was supposed to leave, supposed to be lost. They were going to be separated through time and space and whatever other fresh hell the Dark One had in store, but here she was, still alive and still very much in one piece. Instinctively she moved towards him, wrapping him up in a hug and loving the feeling when he held her close. They became each other’s anchors to this miraculous moment, and despite the exertion of what had just happened, she felt energized and ready.

“I don’t understand,” Killian murmured, looking into her eyes once more and shaking his head. His hook came to push a strand of her wayward hair back as he gazed at her in wonder. “Merlin was supposed to be the answer. The Apprentice was clear. How did you do it?”

“Love,” Emma said with a smile before rolling her eyes at herself and letting out a groan. God that sounded so freaking cheesy and even if she was eternally grateful for the magic in their love, it was still too much for her to really stomach. “Wow, that sounds corny, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think it sounds ‘corny’ at all,” her mother said with a bit of huffiness, defensive of the true love status she and David had.

“So in the end all it took was true love’s kiss?” Regina asked, shaking her head as Robin pulled her in his arms and whispered in her ear to be nice. She laughed and then softened her commentary. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be done with this, but we had plenty of that to spare. You think someone might have mentioned it.”

“I don’t think it was that simple,” Emma said, explaining what had happened to her inside that force field. She explained that Killian and Henry and the others were her tethers, but the magic was only complete when she believed in herself.

“You were right then, Swan,” Killian said, holding her hand tightly. “It had to be you. No one else could have handled that as you did.”

“Well except Merlin,” Henry said with a shrug. “But you know what, I bet it was never even about Merlin in the first place.”

“You think?” Emma asked, intrigued and Henry nodded.

“Yeah. I mean every time heroes get sent on a quest it’s about learning a lesson, right?” They all nodded. “And every time anything happens in Storybrooke it’s all of us who have to fix the problem starting with ourselves. The answers are in us the whole time. Especially you, Mom.”

“You know what, kid, I think you may be right.”

“Well you know what that means,” Henry said though no one hazarded a guess. “Since we saved the day we get to celebrate. Cocoa at Granny’s. I’m paying.” Emma looked at Henry quizzically, silently asking where he would have gotten that kind of money. Henry only laughed. “Okay, actually Grandpa’s paying.”

“Works for me,” her Dad agreed, clapping Henry on the shoulder affectionately. From there everyone headed towards the diner, but Emma and Killian lingered a moment more.

“So, it’s really behind us then?” Killian asked.

“Yes, it’s behind us. Can’t promise how long it’ll stay calm and collected here – we haven’t got a great track record in that department – but the Dark One is done. That much I know.”

“And what you said earlier…” Killian couldn’t bring himself to ask the words aloud so Emma moved in closer, running her hand against his jaw and offering him a smile.

“I meant it, Killian, and I am not taking it back. I love you. I really, truly do.”

“Thank the Gods for that, love.”

And with that the two of them kissed, sharing a moment of sheer pleasure and joy. They had averted a crisis and they still had the chance to make this thing between them work. This was a new day for the two of them, and the start of something Emma was eager and a little anxious to explore further.

At the corner of her mind she heard something. Like the sizzle of pancakes on a griddle, or the popping of air in a bubbly drink. She and Killian broke apart, and there it was – that rainbow tinted magic she’d only seen a few times before.

“True love’s kiss,” she whispered, and then the two of them watched as the dagger that once was deteriorated before their eyes. Soon it was nothing more than ash, and as it blew away in the breeze the magic of their embrace rid it from the world entirely.

“Finally,” Killian said, as if he’d been waiting for them to share such a moment forever.

“Been waiting on that have you?” she joked and he looked properly chastised before letting his boyish grin go free.

“Perhaps. Though can you really blame me, Swan? In this town it’s practically a right of passage. Your father and mother certainly talk of little else, and since there is no way anyone loves their partners more than I love you, I just thought –,”

Before he could ramble on about his competitive pirate nature, Emma pulled him by the collar down for another kiss. That successfully silenced him and distracted them both, grounding them in how lucky they were to have this and to have each other. And though they couldn’t steal more than a few more moments together before rejoining the others, Emma knew that they had so much more to live together. For in choosing love, she’d cemented their future, and that future was looking bright, and hopeful, and so much happier than she ever could have dreamed.

……………

Noises from the window Flashes from the street Tired in the backseat And nothing could hurt me Surrounded by the talking Swallowed by the rain Sleeping in the backseat I know that nothing could hurt me It was a long time ago I'm far away but feel like home We're all awake in stereo Keeping the moving ground aglow And nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I know that nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I can see you with my eyes shut It flickers past me now Listen to distant chatter I know that everything's alright It was a long time ago I'm far away but feel like home We're all awake in stereo Keeping the moving ground aglow And nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me I know that nothing can hurt me Yeah, nothing can hurt me Nothing that they'd ever do Could never dim any light from the view And any gravel that gets in my way Could never break me apart anyway

Post-Note: So there we have it. I know some of you may be wondering why I felt the need to rewrite this scene, when it brought us to all of the season 5 storylines, but to be honest, I had a very difficult time with this episode when it first aired for two reasons. The first was that yet again Emma was sacrificing herself for everyone, and she just couldn’t have a happy moment. I literally watched the show for Emma. Yes, also for CS, but mostly for Emma herself and as an Emma stan it was just brutal to watch her get the short end of the stick every damn time. But more than that, the written dialogue in the original scene has Emma sacrifice herself in Regina’s place because Regina, ‘worked too hard for her happy ending.’ I always thought that was kind of ridiculous, and I liked Regina as a character. It just wasn’t really true in my estimation. I felt like Emma had worked much harder and had been so much kinder to people, overcoming trauma that was really bad and which made her so guarded and always made her second guess her own worth. But she was still forced to just continuously sacrifice herself and to undermine her own growth for the sake of Regina’s getting some other-character endorsement. I don’t know, like I said, complicated, and many of you may not agree. But I hope you’ll all read this as what it is – an attempt to give EVERYONE a fluffier, nicer outcome. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and see you all next time!

The Captain Swan Mixtape oneshot series:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194

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thebluelemontree · 4 years ago

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Is it wrong to say that Sansa uses an out of sight out of mind coping mechanism? I noticed it because it's what I do a lot. I know some ppl say she rewrites traumatic memories to make the memories bearable but it doesn't make sense. If that was how she coped, wouldn't she have been telling herself lies about Joffrey still in acok? Or found a way to erase/rewrite Marillion's attempt to rape her?

Yes and no. She does that except all the times she doesn’t. ;) I think that characterization is extremely reductionist (and ignores character complexity and growth) when it’s applied that broadly to every situation Sansa has been in. You have to take these things instance by instance because they aren’t all the same. Sometimes that labeling doesn’t fit at all. In many cases, it feels more like the fandom pathologizing the act of romanticizing or trying to push aside or reframe something unpleasant or even traumatic when that’s just something most human beings do now and then. Some do it more than others, but its all within the realm of typical coping behavior and being older or more educated or more “logical” doesn’t make one immune to it. So I hope you don’t let those interpretations make you feel abnormal or more fallible for identifying with Sansa in that way. Romanticizing doesn’t even have to be about coping at all, but simply expressing desire through daydreams. People imagine being in idealized scenarios with crushes all the time.

You also hit the nail on the head. Sansa just doesn’t go around making up false narratives about every objectively awful thing that happens to her. In fact, her actual responses to those moments can be a useful basis for comparison when we’re analyzing the unkiss, for example. Misunderstanding the unkiss is usually where a lot of these assumptions stem from. That’s a whole other can of worms in itself. The unkiss is just too long of a discussion to put here, so I just recommend this post as to the reasons why it isn’t about trauma and take a browse through my unkiss tag. It does bear repeating that Sansa factually remembers every scary thing that happened during the Blackwater and why it happened, indicating she has processed it honestly and critically, before any incarnation of the unkiss happens. The unkiss is a mismemory added on to the facts, which began as her being the actor that kissed him first. It’s not a lie to deny the facts or to excuse his behavior. It’s regrettable to her that Sandor was not able to be the person she could rely on to get her out of KL at that time. Nonetheless, this repressed desire is just so strong in her that it manifested in a kiss so real she could remember how it felt after the reality of his leaving KL for good sank in.

Early AGOT Sansa tended to want to move past unpleasantness rather quickly. Just sweep those red flags under the rug so everything can go back to blissful harmony. Sansa is naturally averse to conflict and just wants her present with the royal family to be smooth sailing into a bright future. Ned had a very similar tendency when it came to concerns over Robert’s true character. He saw things that disturbed him, but he hoped and clung to his idea of Robert anyway. For Sansa, this resulted in some misplaced blame and rewriting events so she could deal with the aftermath. This is mostly seen in her processing the Mycah incident after Lady’s death and how her perception of all the characters involved shifted in varying ways. This is after she knew perfectly well what really happened, because Ned says Sansa had already told him the truth of what Joffrey did while Arya was still missing. However, it would also be unfair to completely chalk this up to Sansa’s idiosyncrasies. We have to put her flip-flopping in the context of the situation as well. She’s also experienced a gutting loss with Lady’s death and the fact that the first blow to her innocence was her father volunteering to put Lady down. She doesn’t have Catelyn to go to with her confusion and hurt, and Ned has largely been silent. She’s also still engaged to Joffrey through all this, this is still a patriarchy, there are political ramifications to speaking against a crown prince, and she doesn’t know how to deal with seeing such cruelty and vindictiveness in her future husband. Especially when he responded to her tender concern and wanting to help him with venom and hate.

I mean, jeez, she’s 11. I don’t expect an 11 year old to understand how to identify the signs of emotional manipulation or see how this situation can escalate into domestic violence. Just because Sansa can’t articulate what is happening within her relationship with Joffrey, doesn’t mean she has blocked out any notion that Joffrey can turn his anger on her. Part of the reason she misplaces blame on Arya (and rewrites what happened) is because Joffrey turns scornful of Sansa for being a witness to his emasculating shame. He punishes her with the cold shoulder because she didn’t immediately take his side and pretended not to see instead. He regains power through making Sansa feel small and fearful of his moods.

“He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him.” -- Sansa II, AGOT.

Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. -- Sansa II, AGOT.

This is coming from someone who is supposed to love her and someone she will spend the rest of her life with. To fix things, she must be unequivocally on Joffrey’s side going forward or suffer the consequences, which we can see happening as her story completely flips over breakfast sometime later. This is not saying Sansa is fully exonerated from not supporting her sister when she needed her, but that it’s understandable how she arrived at this point. Even when things start to get really bad after Ned’s arrest, Sansa still holds out some hope that she can appeal to Joffrey’s (and Cersei’s) love for her to get him to be merciful. Is it really her fault she believed a part of Joffrey really loved her (and thus was reachable by her pleas) if he also heavily love bombed her and treated her like she was the most special girl in the world? Love bombing is a classic feature of the seduction phase leading up to abuse.

So we can see Sansa does ignore truths and rewrite events sometimes and her personality is a factor; however, the context surrounding it matters a lot. Post Ned’s execution, Sansa does a full 180 regarding Joffrey and Cersei.

Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered. -- Sansa VI, AGOT.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. -- Sansa I, ACOK.

"A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." -- Sansa I, ASOS.

There’s also her conscious efforts to push away thoughts of her dead family and Jeyne Poole, but she states why she does that. It’s traumatic, the tears start flowing uncontrollably, and she is desperately trying to avoid falling into another suicidal depression. Her survival in KL depends on her holding it together and appearing loyal and obedient to Joffrey. Mourning her loved ones would imply to Joffrey she is plotting treason. Besides, she knows that even if she did ask Cersei or LF about Jeyne, she has no reason to believe they’d do anything but lie to her face in a patronizing way. There’s no point being plagued with wondering what the truth might be when she can’t do anything about it. Still, she prayed for Jeyne wherever she might be. She genuinely thought Arya had made it to WF on the ship and was safe at least until she got word of her brothers’ deaths and her home being sacked by the Iron Born, though there was initially a touch of projection and fantasizing about Arya being free while she remains captured. As of Feast, she believes she is the last Stark left alive and she has no one but Littlefinger to help her. So while she is suppressing her grief, it’s done with good reason, and it’s not being replaced with any false narratives to cope.

We also cannot ignore that her relationship to Sandor Clegane has instilled in her an appreciation for the un-sugarcoated truth now that she has experienced betrayal and injustice first hand. In his own way, he’s encouraged her to listen to her own inner bullshit detector. The rose-tinted glasses have become a lot more clear compared to where she started. This is a newly learned skill though, and her self-confidence has been wrecked by internalized verbal abuse. She’s also been left on her own to figure out people’s intentions by herself, which runs parallel to her mounting desperation to get out of KL as Joffrey’s violence escalates. Developing a touch more of a jaded, skeptical side does sometimes clash with her enduring idealism and faith in other people (like with the Tyrells). This struggle is not a bad thing. The goal isn’t to become as cynical as the Hound, but to arrive at an earned optimism that has been tempered by wisdom and practical experience.

Her situation with Littlefinger is much more challenging than anything she faced in KL. He moves her where he wants her to go with complex web of lies, manipulation, grooming, isolation, coercion, dependence, guilt and shame. Her safety and desire to go home are tightly bound to being complicit in his lies and criminal activities. She feels indebted to him for getting her out of KL, even though his methods push her past her boundaries and force her to compromise her moral integrity. The thing is, there are things Sansa does know about LF, but she doesn’t seem to be ready to try and put the puzzle pieces together. She’s not daring to ask probing questions about Lysa’s reference to the “tears” and Jon Arryn or about the possible dangers of Maester Colemon prescribing sweetsleep for Robert’s convulsions. While the subject of Jeyne’s fate is still one she doesn’t want to revisit, somewhere in her mind she does know LF took custody of her friend. If it feels like this is somewhat of a regression back to her early AGOT self, there’s probably some truth to that; however, it’s perfectly okay for positive character arcs to be an imperfect progress. There can be relapses, regressions, setbacks, missteps, and misguided actions. All that growth isn’t lost. Everything she knows is just stored in the back of her mind, not forgotten completely. The general trend line moves her toward successfully confronting Littlefinger with the truth when GRRM is ready to pull the trigger. She’s definitely aware of Littlefinger lying to her more than she lets on and she knows his help is not out of the kindness of his heart, but motivated by what he wants her to be to him. But it’s not like she has the option to go anywhere else, does she? She’s a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head and has no other friend or ally in the Vale she can trust with the truth of her identity. Confronting LF without any means of neutralizing his power over her isn’t the smartest thing to do when he’s shown her he can literally get away with multiple murders. Again, it’s not just her personality that makes her hesitant to pull back the veil and face the horrible truth head on. The outside forces pressuring her perceptions and behavior cannot be discounted either.

#valyrianscrolls #sansa stark meta #sansa stark #joffrey baratheon #sandor clegane #littlefinger #cersei #asoiaf characterization #the unkiss #character arcs #my meta #anonymous

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