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delimeful · 4 years ago

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my virtues uncounted (4)

winner of august’s second monthly fic poll! hope you enjoy!

warnings: antagonist/villain remus, panic, injury, blood, cliffhanger

previous chapters

In the time it took for everyone else to get worked into a panic, Logan had come up with a few theories on why, exactly, their connection with Thomas would be so suddenly muted.

Of course, many of those theories were only useful if they could be proven, and seeing as they had a limited amount of time and space to work with, he could set them aside to figure out the direct, exact cause another time.

For now, the priority was finding their way back home. Once they were able to reconnect with their part of the mindscape, their connection with Thomas would also hopefully repair itself.

“Think of our current status as dealing with some temporary interference,” he told the others. “Once we leave the subconscious, our metaphorical signals should reach Thomas again.”

“‘Should?’” Anxiety asked, looking dubious.

“And how are we to leave when this shadowy scourge is thwarting our every escape attempt?” Roman added, glaring balefully up at Anxiety.

“Hey, you technically haven’t made any escapes yet, so I technically haven’t thwarted anything yet.” Anxiety ignored Roman’s exasperated expression with ease, shrugging. “Schrodinger’s Thwarting.”

“Anxiety, kiddo,” Patton stepped a little closer, pulling them all back on track, “I don’t think we should stay down here for too much longer. It’s not good for us to be disconnected from our rooms like this.”

“And that’s not even mentioning the fact that we don’t know how Thomas is functioning without his core sides connected to him,” Logan added, hoping that the other Side was in a reasonable mood.

Anxiety kept his face neutral, but Logan could see the little crease between his eyebrows and the way he went slightly paler. “It’s still too dangerous to risk without a plan.”

“And with a plan?” Logan pressed.

Anxiety’s shoulders bunched up even further, and for a moment he was worried he’d gone too far, but then the other Side let out an irritated sigh.

“If it’s actually that concerning, and I can more than imagine how it could be, then. I guess. We could try. With a plan,” he emphasized as Patton perked up excitedly. “One that I agree to.”

“That’ll only take us a lifetime,” Roman grumbled, but even he seemed revitalized now that they were getting somewhere.

Logan found himself getting excited as well. “In that case, I need all the information you have on routes to neutral territory and the weather cycles here.”

Anxiety materialized the data into files on a touchscreen phone, which would work quite efficiently as a display considering their size. “Good luck figuring anything out. This end of the mindscape is way more… chaotic. Stuff’s always changing.”

“I don’t mind a challenge,” Logan reassured him, and then set to work making spreadsheets and comparing trends. It was almost soothing.

In the background, he could hear Patton asking about who they were most likely to encounter if they attempted to beeline for the neutral zone, and Roman bartering for possession of his sword back. (The trade seemed to be settling on Anxiety handing over the sword in exchange for no stabbing and no nicknames for a week. Roman was perhaps more reluctant to stop generating witty quips than necessary.)

As Logan suspected, when Anxiety didn’t feel implicitly threatened by them, he was much more open. Though, that might have also been the exposure to Patton’s determined friendliness, which Anxiety seemed to eye with the wariness of a stray cat. He’d have to bring this up the next time they had a debate about the effectiveness of so many of Thomas’s Sides being hidden away.

Now wasn't the time for that, however. Now was the time for action, as Roman liked to proclaim.

“I’ve found the best path for us to take,” he announced, drawing all eyes to him.

Probably no time for an illustrative powerpoint to demonstrate how he’d come to this conclusion. Perhaps later. A summary of the plan would do fine.

Roman and Patton glanced up at the large side frequently, but Anxiety listened with a critical attentiveness that Logan found himself appreciating. At the end, his brow was furrowed, but he didn’t seem fully decided one way or the other.

“This plan will only work in our current time frame,” Logan cautioned. “As you said, the landscape of this place is always shifting, so we need to take advantage of the patterns that we can. I expect getting lost would not end well.”

Anxiety nodded, and then seemed to come to a decision.

“If you’re certain that it’s the best time… Fine, I’ll believe you.” Anxiety grumped, his body language already displaying several signs that he was growing nervous at the idea.

Logan blinked once, genuinely surprised that he had convinced the other Side, before regaining his composure. No time to be touched by Anxiety’s apparent faith in him. “All the data I reviewed points to this being the best opportunity.”

“One condition,” Anxiety said, holding up a finger. “If it seems like the plan has failed and things get dangerous, our backup plan is giving me access so I can rise up.”

Roman raised a sharp eyebrow, his sword once again sheathed at his side. “I seem to distinctly recall you freaking out about that idea?”

Anxiety made a face at him. “Yeah, and I’ll continue to not like it, but if it keeps you losers from getting discorporated, I’ll deal. Do you guys agree or not?”

Logan traded looks with the other two, and then nodded. “It’s a reasonable backup plan.”

“Sure,” Anxiety snorted, and then hesitated for a moment before reaching out and placing his uninjured hand palm up on the table next to them.

Patton plopped himself down immediately, but Roman wasn’t as eager.

“I am not going back in your pocket,” Roman told him, unimpressed. “Lint on my outfit is a no-no, let alone giant lint.”

“Your outfit is already ruined,” Anxiety snapped back, rolling his eyes. The blood on the white outfit somewhat resembled a candy cane.

Logan raised a hand to interject before it could become an argument. “If I may suggest, your hood seems like it would both give us more space and allow for a vantage point to watch your back.”

“I can watch my own back,” Anxiety growled, and then sighed. “Just don’t fall out.”

He was exceedingly careful as he reached behind him to the hood of his jacket, and the three of them had no problem getting in, though they did end up knocking a few limbs against each other in the process.

As Logan expected, it was much easier to grip the folds of the hoodie fabric and looking over the edge of it gave them a vertigo-inducing view.

“Okay,” Anxiety said, sounding as though he was speaking more to himself than them. “Let’s do this. It’s probably going to crash and burn horribly, but whatever.”

“Remind me to speak with you about cognitive distortions later,” Logan mused.

From where he was peeking over Virgil’s shoulder, Patton cheered. “Woohoo, you can do it!”

“With our talents to help, we can’t fail,” Roman added, making some sort of dramatic flourish that Anxiety couldn't even see. “Onwards!”

“What am I, a horse?” Anxiety shot back, and then firmed his shoulders slightly and stepped to his door. “Remember, low in the hoodie so you aren’t seen.”

After receiving a chorus of agreements, he took an audible breath and stepped through the door.

The hoodie bounced slightly against his back with every step, but nothing too jarring. Logan resisted the completely illogical urge to hold his breath as they descended the creaking stairs.

After a long moment, Anxiety’s shoulders lowered slightly. “Nobody’s down here.”

He picked his way carefully through the living area, until they were back where they started, at that huge, weathered front door. It seemed much less insurmountable from Anxiety’s eye level. The other Side grabbed the knob and pushed it open, stepping over the threshold.

They all let out a breath of relief.

From there, Logan’s attention was consumed with providing directions in a low mutter, carefully navigating their way through the shifting, fog-covered landscape. Patton occasionally pointed out a distant landmark he maybe recognized, mostly unhelpfully.

Still, all factors considered, they made it a fair distance before things went wrong.

Anxiety had just taken the first step over a wooden bridge when the hair-raising cackle split the air behind them. At Logan’s side, Roman latched onto his wrist with an iron grip.

Anxiety held still for a moment longer before turning around, his hands tucked into his pockets in a faux gesture of casualness. “Remus. I thought silently stalking people in the dead of night was too subtle for you?”

There was an unpleasant crack of bone that made Logan glad he couldn’t see Remus. “Wouldn’t want to scare the little emo and his little uninvited stowaways off, would I?”

The three of them exchanged panicked looks. He knew?

Anxiety took a step back, hissing in frustration. “Are you the reason they’re like this? Or Dee?”

Another cackle. “The enchantment was all me! Double D would ruin my fun if he knew. But you’re no spoilsport! I can already feel all the exciting new additions to this game you’re thinking up in that squishy grey matter of yours. We can have a little fun together! Whaddya say?”

Anxiety took another step back, his back twitching with the urge to turn and flee. “Remus. C’mon. Think about Thomas.”

The atmosphere suddenly darkened, sending a chill down Logan’s spine.

“Maybe he’s the one who should be thinking about us,” Remus said, the grin in his voice suddenly much more menacing. “I know you’re tired of being ignored, Anxiety. You’re just as sick of our snakey friend’s interference as I am. Without them, there will be space for us!”

“Thomas needs them,” Anxiety urged, his rough voice a sharp contrast to Remus’s singsong encouragement.

“Puh-lease, we’re not taking them away forever! The Core Bores are like cockroaches; you just can’t get rid of ‘em, even when you crush their little heads.” A thoughtful pause. “They’re just about cockroach-sized now, too!”

Roman’s grip grew painfully tight.

Anxiety shook his head, jostling them slightly, and then began to slowly back across the bridge. The tension in him seemed to scream that he wanted to turn tail and flee, give into his flight instinct. But he couldn’t turn without putting them directly in Remus’s line of sight.

“Don’t be so antsy! I know you want to be noticed as bad as I do,” Remus advanced with slow, predatory steps.

Anxiety was too far from the other end of the bridge. He’d be caught.

Logan made pointed eye contact with the others, and held his free hand out, palm down.

“What I want doesn’t matter here. It’s too risky! It’s. Not. Happening.” They were stepping faster now, the noise overlapping.

Patton nodded once, placing his own hand on top. They both looked to Roman.

“Aw, that’s what I never got about you, emo. You’re always too scared to jump in and grab the bull by the horns! A little goring can be its own kind of fun, y’know.”

Roman’s expression finally turned certain, and he slammed his own hand down, completing the stack.

All of them felt it when the balance shifted, and there was a heartbeat of stillness before everything erupted.

Anxiety turned on his heel and bolted, seconds before a manic, ear-splitting scream split the air from behind them.

“YOU’RE LEAVING US!”

“Rise up!” Roman screeched, clinging to the hood’s fabric for dear life. “Rise up!”

“I don’t know how!” Anxiety yelled back, ducking and weaving through the fog-filled forest that had formed around them. “I’m trying to— it’s not the same as just appearing!”

“You have to stay in one spot and focus,” Patton said, trying hard to keep his voice calm. “You can do this!”

Anxiety came to a standstill, and for a few breathless seconds, they waited.

“It’s… it’s not working!”

“Try and focus on where you want to appear. Let yourself rise, don’t try to control it—“ Logan caught a flicker of movement behind them. “Watch out!”

Anxiety twisted out of the way, a double headed axe thunking into the trunk of a nearby tree. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly, and Logan finally felt the familiar sensation of their part of the mindscape dropping into place around them.

He caught one last glimpse of Remus, body twisted into a throwing gesture and gaze almost shocked, before the scene changed to their living room.

Anxiety staggered, face pale, and the lot of them ended up sprawled over the length of the staircase, ungraceful but undoubtedly home and the right size once more.

A moment spent catching their breath, and then.

“We made it!” Patton yelled, voice cracking in relief as he threw his arms out, laid out on his back.

From the carpeted landing he was still facedown on, Roman grunted an exhausted affirmation.

“It was a close call,” Logan said, pushing himself up and dusting his tie off. “We’ll need to take precautions for the future.”

“Good thing we have Anxiety!” Patton said brightly. “He’s an expert at precautionary measures!”

“As long as he doesn’t precaution Thomas into never going outside again,” Roman muttered, with no real aggression to his tone. He seemed just as glad that Anxiety had gotten them all out of there, if not more.

Anxiety didn’t rise to the bait. Logan turned to thank the other Side properly, and was met with the sight of him curled in over himself, a hunched over ball of hoodie. “... Anxiety?”

With a hoarse cry of pain, the Side yanked something from his side. A comically oversized throwing knife, drenched in a slick coating—

“Oh,” Anxiety said in a small voice, struggling to stem the bloodflow from the stab wound in his torso. “Shit.”

Within seconds, a dark stain began to spread, and Logan immediately lurched forwards, trying to seal the wound, erase it, even just put enough pressure on it to clot the bleeding—

Anxiety inhaled sharply. Nothing about the nature of the wound changed. It wasn’t healing. Logan’s hands were covered in warm-wet-red and nothing was healing.

Past the ringing in his ears, he could hear the others yelling behind him, trying to accelerate Anxiety’s integration into the conscious mind.

All he could focus on was Anxiety’s face, tight with pain and resignation.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, the hitch in his voice betraying him. “We can’t die. It’s fine. Can you— Can you feel Thomas?”

Logan nodded stitedly. The connection was faint, but growing stronger.

Anxiety nodded once, sharply. “Good. That’s— That’s all that matters.”

Then, like the question had been all that was keeping him awake, he went limp like a puppet with strings cut.

#sanders sides #tss #g/t #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts remus #villain remus #not unsympth though #writing #my writing #mvu #my virtues uncounted #angst #this might count as whump #mind the warnings

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autisticsupervillain · 3 years ago

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Queen of the House

Theme: The House Always Wins ~ The Stupendium

Oh my, how I've been looking forward to this. Vriska Serket is basically a rorschach test applied to an entire fandom in mass. Between all the potential character flaws, interpretations, and sympathetic qualities I could use to make her evil, I almost had too much to work with. Well, make her evil-er at any rate. Or, at least, make her the main antagonist. Because, with the way this is going, I might just make a few sympathizers out of you guys.

So, how does Vriska Serket, fandom darling and author's pet extraordinaire, become the big bad of the story she insisted that she was the hero of? Well, crank up Megalovania, ladies and gents, because you're about to find out~

When the story ended, Vriska had everything she ever wanted.

She had mended her relationship with Terezi and gotten to pursue a proper friendship with her. She had gotten the praise she always thought she deserved, as a savior and a Goddess to Earth C and it's people. And, she'd finally gotten a taste of that little paradise planet that John had given her a glimpse of.

And Vriska found that she really wasn't enjoying it.

There was the part of her that missed the old rivalry that she had with Terezi. The endless cycle of revenge, as destructive as it was, was one of the things the kept her motivated and happy, in a strange way. There was the part of her that felt she didn't deserve all the praise she'd gotten, the part she'd revealed to John after she murdered Tavros. The guilty, humane part of her. And, there was the part of her that didn't enjoy Earth. That didn't want to live a subdued peaceful life. Not when there was adventure to be had and treasures to be won. The bored, bloodthirsty side of her.

Vriska wasn't the other side of Terezi's coin anymore. Vriska's recklessness and selfishness weren't being counterbalanced by Terezi's brilliance and sense of ethics because the two just weren't the same people they were back then. The dynamic was just... off now. Now, Vriska was the coin. Two conflicting sides of pride and guilt that she didn't really know how to address.

See, the Gods put some rules in place to keep themselves from interfering to much with the lives of consorts and carapacians. They're more like celebrities than rulers, the citizens of Earth C are mostly just left to rule themselves. So, whenever a war picks up or politics get divisive, the Gods stay out of it.

Vriska really wants to get involved though. She feels like these opportunities are the best chances that she'll get to work out all of her conflicted emotions she has about her new life. It satisfies that growing itch for adventure and conflict that she has, that bloodthirsty boredom that misses her life on Alternia and her life in the game. And, it also appeals to that lingering guilty side of her. If she really wants to be a hero, really feels guilty about what she did, shouldn't she prove? Shouldn't she step in and earn all the praise she'd been getting? Actually become a hero?

Of course, every time she does bring up getting involved, she gets shot down.

The reasoning given is that, well, they're gods. If they step in to solve tge people's problems, the people will become reliant on them, which is a bad thing when they're arguably not qualified to do. They're not professionals, they're just traumatized teenagers with no real adult guidance. Winning a war is one thing, but solving poverty? Getting involved in politics? Preventing those wars to begin with? That's not something they have the life experience to do, and, if they get involved and start solving people's problems for them, it's what they'd be expected to do, which is a bad combo.

Dirk, Rose, Karkat, even Vriska herself. They're all people who thought they could handle the weight of the world on the shoulders and, when they couldn't, it had disastrous consequences.

Vriska always grumbles, but she concedes the point. Instead, she tries to find other ways to scratch that itch. She tries to go hunting and adventuring with Jake, but finds she can't stand him. He's far to cheerful, chatty, and oblivious, but, worst of all, there are those things about him that remind her just a bit of John and Tavros. Things that she can't quite put her finger on about him but make her uncomfortable none the less. She quickly stops attending these little hunting trips with him.

Vriska then tries to go to Aradia. She wants in on those little multiverse adventures that Aradia had been going on with Sollux, but Aradia slams the door in her face before Vriska can get three words out. Vriska makes a scene and pounds on the door for half an hour before Aradia opens up again.

Aradia explains that, no, she doesn't hold a grudge against Vriska for what she did. Sollux does.

"iit wa2 2uch a 2pur of the moment thiing for you, wa2n't iit? makiing me kiill her. iit wa2 a petty, iimpul2iive act of 2piite, ju2t liike everythiing el2e you do. ii don't thiink you even thought twiice about kiilliing aradiia untiil 2he beat the 2hiit out of you. but me?"

"ii heard her voiice. and ii heard iit on repeat iin the back of my thiinkpan every niight after ii kiilled her. every niight... untiil 2he came back..."

"2o, no, vrii2ka, ii don't forgiive you, and ii don't know or want two know about whatever bull2hiit you hammered on our front door for. now get out of our hiive."

As Vriska sulks her way out of their hive, she again feels those two conflicting responses coming from her pride and guilt. One part of her is indignant. Because it had been just another night for her. It had been just another shitty thing she'd done to someone who pissed her off. Who was Sollux to complain? She was the hero, she saved the day, it should be water under the bridge. She didn't save everyone by being nice, now did she?

But, then her guilty side speaks up. No. She hadn't saved the day like that. But Tavros sure did.

That thought just leaves her feeling more conflicted, bitter, and guilty than she ever did before. In a huff, she storms over to John's house.

Vriska had been expecting, partially even hoping, for his house to be in ruins. In her mind, John's life before the game had been the ideal human life. She thought a lot harder about how John's life turned out compared to how her life did than she'd like to admit. John was one of the few people who could break through her stubborn egotism, after all. So, she'd assume he'd be pretty tired of this new life too, seeing how it effectively stole his old "perfect" life from him.

But, she doesn't find that. Instead, she finds John... perfectly content with his new lidmfe and completely uninterested in finding new adventures.

John had friends. Close friends who knew what he was going through and understood how hard on him everything was. Jade, Dave, and Rose always took time out of their days to check on him, talk to him, be there for him. Even Karkat did his part to help John take the enormous weight of the world off his shoulders, help him settle down and start over so he could be happy again.

Yes, John was nice enough to take Vriska to some dark part of the multiverse if she asked, but she didn't want that. That ugly, prideful part of her was upset that he wouldn't have to rely on her, yes, but mostly, she just didn't want to be pitied. For John, who'd found happiness, family, and love in this new 'boring' world of theirs to tear himself away from all of that to just give her an adventure, would be nothing more than an act of pity. And, in Vriska's eyes, she just couldn't use him like that.

So, Vriska collapses onto her bed that night, and dreams of a way she could easily fix these weird, conflicted feelings she has. Vriska never knew who she was, that's why she was so bad at confronting herself.

But, she knew who she wanted to be, and that person was Marquise Spinneret Mindfang.

And that's who Vriska saw standing before her as she woke up in the dreambubbles.

Vriska fangirls at the sight of her and Mindfang basks in all the attention. Vriska even lists off exact feats Mindfang performed in her journal, leading her Ancestor to boast that she's preparing for an even grander adventure. One that could decide the fate of Paradox Space itself.... and she wants Vriska to join her.

This is everything that Vriska could dream of. At this exact moment, all that inner conflict melts away. Mindfang, the Dreaded Spider of the Sea herself, the person who Vriska centered her entire life around, is offering Vriska the chance to join her. In that moment, both sides of the coin are satisfied.

Vriska gleefully accepts the offer.

Mindfang explains the problem, stating that the battle against Lord English had left a tear in Paradox Space, a wound that threaten to grow until it ripped Paradox Space apart. In order to combat it, she needs to find some Rogues of Life to heal the wound and seal it back together. Without any way to control where she's going in the dreambubbles, Mindfang wouldn't be able to find any without a lot of luck... which is where Vriska comes in. Mindfang never got the chance to unlock her aspect like Aranea and Vriska did, she never got a copy of Sgrub, so she needs her descendant.

Vriska is both ecstatic to be so important and disappointed about not being called on to battle some powerful supervillain or something. Mindfang reassures her that she'd be more than happy to take her to fight a few dangerous villains after the important quest was taken care of, all while heaping on the praise. I wouldn't waste your time with some 8ooooooooring healing quest. I've seen what you can do. I know my descendant deserves 8etter than that."

So, Vriska uses her luck powers to lead Mindfang to several Rogues of Life, whom Mindfang mind controls each time. Vriska questions this, but Mindfang insists it's more practical to just ensnare them and apologize later than try to convince them to tag along. Vriska accepts this, even as the guilty part of her points out how that Tavros did a much better job at getting people to join him just by talking to them.

After Mindfang decides they've gathered up enough Rogues of Life, Mindfang uses the Rogues to reassurect herself and them back on Earth C, allowing Vriska to wake up and meet up with them. Once that's done, Mindfang takes Vriska aside and thanks her for being so helpful.

Before decapitating her, stating that Vriska wasn't needed anymore.

While Vriska is resurrecting, Mindfang orders the Rogues to drain the life out of Earth C and funnel it into her, killing countless thousands before Vriska recovers and attacks her. Mindfang is amped enough for Vriska to be forced to use her Ancestral Awakening form to defeat her, all while she tearfully demands to know why Mindfang has done this. As Mindfang glares up at her descendant with a look of bloodparched rage, she spitefully spits out her motivation for her actions.

What you need to remember is that Mindfang was just a version of Aranea who grew up in a more hostile, deadly environment, where all her character flaws could fester. In effect, she has Aranea's ego dialed up past ten.

While Mindfang was content to be dreaded, terrifying pirate in life, it wasn't until her death that she saw the true nature of the multiverse.

She saw Vriska's adventure, watched her life from beginning to end, and realized how insignificant her own role was. Vriska was saving the multiverse, traveling between timelines, battling demons. Vriska became a God, one who was worshipped by an entire planet. All while Mindfang held no real relevance. She wasn't even a background character, she was a backstory character. A means of giving Vriska motivation and nothing more.

Mindfang was a dreaded pitate, but only on one planet in one timeline. Which is hardly as speck in the vastness of the multiverse. And Mindfang felt entitled to more.

The problem is, she's effectively Aranea, but worse. While Aranea tried to make a story that didn't involve her all about her, Mindfang decided that a story that didn't involve her shouldn't exist at all.

Mindfang was going to suck all the life force out of Earth C, before using the absorbed energy to destroy the Alpha Timeline. With no Alpha Timeline to hold it together, Paradox Space would fall apart, erasing everything that ever was. It would be the most important act ever committed. No one could be more important than Mindfang if no one else existed.

In that moment, Vriska Serket died.

Vriska Serket, the one who paralyzed Tavros. Who blinded Terezi. Who murdered Aradia. Who created Bec Noir. Vriska Serket, the egotist, the murderer, the manipulator, and the abuser, died.

Every reason that Vriska had to exist was glaring right up at her, wallowing in a defeated pile of spite, pride, and ego.

Vriska stared blankly as Mindfang died, completely lost. Vriska didn't know who she was or who she wanted to be anymore.

Vriska walks the desolate Earth, the lost Rogues trailing behind her now that they had no where else to go. With so much of their energy wasted on amping Mindfang, there's little they can do to repair the damage done to Earth C.

Vriska searches desperately for her friends, to no avail. Most of them, she can't even find the bodies of. In some cases, such as with Sollux and Aradia, that gives her hope. Maybe they weren't on Earth C during the attack, maybe they're alive. Most of the time, though, it just serves to make her feel more hopeless.

Vriska never finds out if Terezi survived or not.

Vriska does find John's body however. Several months into her search, she found John, Dave, Jade, Rose, Jane, even Karkat inside a run down home. Vriska remembered being surprised at how lively it was once.

The bodies are to rotten for the Rogues to heal in their current state, but at least Vriska knew John died happy. The rotting birthday cake on the table was proof enough of that.

Vriska would never find any surviving Gods. But she would find survivors.

Eventually, after several years of searching, Vriska and the Rogues would stumble across a small town of consorts, slaving away at all hours of the day in mines and farms. They were being exploited by raiders, forced to provide for their ever growing gang or be killed. So Vriska decides to confront them.

The raiders are awed to see one of the "Old Gods" still alive and kicking, but they do not back down and bow in reverence as Vriska would partially expect. The world has turned into an empty, rotting place, so everyone is operating under the idea of kill or be killed. While the raiders are clearly intimidated, they're not going to give up without a fight and they make it clear that they will fight Vriska and her group to maintain control of what little resources they've managed to seize.

Vriska could crush these raiders easily. In the past, she happily would have. But now? She just doesn't want to kill what little life is left on Earth C, especially seeing how they'll likely need every hand on deck if Earth C is ever going to be habitable again. She wants to better now. She wants to do good.

So, Vriska challenges them to game. She makes up a card game on the spot and challenges them to it. If the raiders win, Vriska and the Rogues leave, allowing the Raiders to go on as normal. If Vriska wins, she gets control of the settlement, with the Raiders becoming her muscle. The Raiders agree, seeing it as a better alternative to a fight they knew they couldn't win, and they inevitably lose when Vriska rigs the game in her favor with her luck powers.

Vriska spots an opportunity to rebuild Earth C and, using the raiders as her enforcers, sends her forces out in search of more resources and settlements. Her goal is to unite Earth C under one banner so that everyone can pool their resources into making the world habitable again. As such, all settlements found are immediately "persuaded" to join and those that resist are dealt with by Vriska herself, using that same card game scam.

It takes several decades, but Vriska gradually unites the world and makes it livable again. However, she has no interest in returning Earth C to the way it was, as a bunch of different countries with their own worldviews and opinions. She remembers how often wars broke out and how she wanted to get involved but couldn't, so she decides to sude step that problem entirely.

She creates a new world order, centered around the card game scam she used to conquer the world to begin with.

How it works is that, when people get out of school, they immediately go into the work force in order to get enough money to participate in the Gambler's Den. Those who win big in the Den get House Dollars, which is the currancy that allows people to buy their way up into the world. But better homes in nicer neighborhoods, where food is cheaper and taxes are more lax.

Those who manage to get to the top of the Gambler's Den have to challenge Vriska to the game. If they win, they get let into the House. A paradise eerily similar in aesthetic to John's old neighborhood, wherin the citizens have Vriska's ear, meaning they get some say in how Earth C is governed and run. If they lose, they go right back to the bottom again.

Naturally, the whole system is rigged. Not only can Vriska simply decide wether or not she loses with her luck powers, she has the game's rigged. If someone gets far enough to catch Vriska's attention, she had them spied on and looked into. If Vriska likes them, she has the automatic game machines rig the games in their favor and send them straight to her so she can decide whether they go in the House or not. As "Queen of the House", the Housr and the Gambler's Den are rigged in her favor on every level.

Thing is, Vriska isn't trying to be an evil dictator here. She genuinely thinks this is a step up, as it's what the people themselves seem to want. Of course, the people aren't going to argue against anything she does because she's literally their only remaining God and she rebuilt civilization, so it's not like she's a good judge of that. Basically, her two halves are finally working in tandem. She's soothing her conscience by finally giving the people what they "want" and she's appeasing her ego by rigging everything in her favor and convincing herself and the world that she's doing what's best for everyone. Her compassionate side is leading the dance for once, sure, but that's still leading her down the same path.

The two sides of the coin are identical. It's a rigged coin. And both sides lead to Vriska justifying her own despotism.

Of course, she's not stopping there. Vriska wants to protect her people from all threats, just as she did when she was rebuilding Earth C. By rigging the Gambler's Den so that her most ideal subjects are forced to join the military, Vriska is able to create an army that she uses the conquer the universe. Meanwhile, the Rogues are sent into the dreambubbles to try and find the ghosts of her dead friends so they can revive them or, failing that, find other God-Tiers who can join their cause.

It's a few years after Vriska discovers a way to cross into other timelines and decides to start preemptively conquering the multiverse that she finds her friends again. The Rogues immediately bring John back to life and Vriska enthusiastically hugs him. The two embrace for a solid minute before Vriska decides to bring him up to speed.

John is... horrified.

After he finally managed to reunite with most of his friends in the dreambubbles, they'd heard tell of an evil empire born out of the main timeline that had begun subjugating the multiverse. John and friends joined the resistance against it... but they never thought Vriska was the one who created it.

Vriska tries to justify herself, but it just leads to an ugly, tearjerking arguement.

"I'm doing this for you! 8ecause I want to 8e like you! 8ecause I want to live in a world like yours. You showed me that I could 8e happy, good even, in a more caring world. It's not my fault the things I have to do to protect this stupid paradise planet! I want to 8e a good person, John! ....8ut... I have to 8e a hero...."

John teleports back to the dreambubbles, distraught that Vriska won't see reason. Vriska, meanwhile, readies her armies for war.

They'll see reason. They all will. Then... they can be friends again. They can be happy... in way Vriska was never allowed to be. But, until then, she had duties to attend as Queen of the House.

#villainstuck #vriska serket #queen of the house #john egbert #terezi pyrope #aradia megido #sollux captor #marquise spinneret mindfang

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anticatradoraofficial · 4 years ago

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Anti-Catra/Catradora

This series has always felt like the Catra Show, and so much so that even Hordak never felt like the main villain. And nothing drove that point home more than season five proving once and for all that this series moral line(or lack there of) is REALLY about a Villain Protagonist when the character that increasingly became a MONSTER for FOUR SEASONS still got everything she wanted in the end.

Catra is the poster child for the moral bankruptcy of this series.

I can’t buy her “redemption,” or her relationship with Adora, because she WENT TO FAR.

Therefore nor can I buy the HYPOCRITICAL mental gymnastics that arise when she is a topic of discussion in the fandom.

For four seasons I watched this character WILLINGLY and GLEEFULLY jump rope with the moral event horizon. Then she finally broke it to the pieces when she genocides the planet, and everyone on it, because of her sick,evil obsession with being better than Adora.

Loved all this time my behind.

Catra was a vile person from her introduction, and just got increasingly more poisonous as the show went on.

The story seems to want us to treat Catra like a bad friend that said a few mean words here and there, and therefore all she has to do is sincerely apologize then friendship can begin again.

Here’s the thing Catra wasn’t just a bad friend, but also an ABUSER and a FASCIST.

She had multiple opportunities to leave the horde, had no reason to stay in the first place, gleefully attacks the resistance, is pretty much the direct reason Angela died, tried straight up multiple times to end Adora’s and her friends lives, and was just an abomination to even the ones on her side etc..

On the flip side we have Adora who doesn’t give a damn about Catra for four seasons. She’s too busy enjoying life with her REAL friends. Try and recall, was there ever a moment where Adora was…concerned for Catra’s safety? Pining for her in any way romantically? Ever? Even once during the first four? Because I don’t. Honestly Catra wasn’t important to Adora until Catra showed up on screen. And then they both wanted to kill each other. Any moments of Adora thinking about Catra it was in the context of Catra being her ENEMY.

But I’m supposed to believe in their romance based on what?

Catra’s toxicity? Adora’s nonexistent romantic feelings for pretty much the entire series?

In season 5 all Catra had to do was one act of atonement and out of nowhere, like Adora has been possessed by the ghost of Queer Rep, she suddenly can’t get Catra out of her head. Also note Catra didn’t save Glimmer because she realized her past actions were evil, no it was all for Adora’s sake; the person she is toxically obsessed with.

Back to Catra, her redemption is handled with the most condescending of kid gloves.She seems like she was replaced by a clone for season five. She’s just accepted. It’s like seasons 1-4 didn’t happen.

The forgiveness was excessive, and therefore forced, so we could be okay with this ABUSER/WAR CRIMINAL being chummy and romantic with her victims.

For example Glimmer cries over her, kisses her cheek etc… Yet Catra is responsible for her mothers death, the world ending once before, trying to kill her, war crimes against Bright Moon etc.

Then Entrapta also forgives Catra like it’s nothing even though she sent HER TO DIE, and apparently she was in this hell space for a YEAR.

Same with Scorpia who forgives Catra’s toxicity in five seconds.

But everything is suppose to be wonderful because an abuser ends the series romantically involved with her victim?

When Adora said you made your choice now live with it THAT should have been the end of any reconciliation either platonic of romantic.

Even her flashbacks are her being abusive. You see her in one of them( in her so called redemption season at that) SCRATCHING Adora’s FACE to the point it left BLOOD,and JUMPING ON HER STOMACH just because Adora DARED to be friends with other people.

This was pretty much every childhood flashback they showed. She would emotionally and physically abuse Adora, and then Adora would take her back. This would continue even as near adults. It was a PATTERN(red flag) that Adora unfortunately didn’t escape.

But…..I always loved you,says Catra.

For ADORA’S own mental health/closure she could forgive,but only if she also makes it clear that she doesn’t want her abuser/war criminal ex friend back in her life.

I could have tolerated that ending instead of Adora becoming a COUPLE with her ABUSER.

Basically this villain sue ends the show getting everything she wants even after evil manipulation of several characters, genocide, war crimes against her own people, physical and mental abuse(especially toward Adora), repeated attempts at murder toward again especially Adora( bares repeating loved all this time my behind) as well as anyone else within spitting distance of her toxicity.

She gets to be pretty much a abusive scum bucket for four seasons, on top of ACTUALLY DOING THE SAME THING PRIME WANTED TO DO, yet whiplash forgiveness and Lesbians 4 Evah is her ending.

“So we’re all just okay with this?”, says Mermista incredulously of the war criminal Hordak. Good question,but then I remember you all seem to be okay with war criminal Catra who is pretty much Hordak’s parallel soo ….

Her mirror Hordak, according to the showrunner, is sentenced to beast island for his war crimes. However, my question then becomes where is Catra’s sentence?

Oh, that’s right if you’re Catra you get to be a war criminal in peace.

It’s also convenient that Mermista’s was chipped,and therefore didn’t get to say anything to the girl who helped bring down her kingdom with a smile on her face.

Funny how that worked out.

It’s even more convenient that her victims gave their lighting fast forgiveness.

Can’t have icky things like abuse and war crimes get in the way of that ending smooch you know.

I suppose we also just need to look at Angella as collateral damage while we smile at her daughter hug and kiss her killer I guess.

I also find it odd(since were loving abusers and war criminals) that Shadow Weaver point blank doesn’t get forgiveness from Adora, and she even ends the series dead. However, she defected to the good side in season two(regardless of any impure motivation), and stayed there and helped the protagonists until her season five death. But Catra who not only stayed with the conquering organization the Horde for almost the entire series,and even became their LEADER, was not only forgiven but also given a romance with her victim. Curious.

I’m tired of this abominable trope invading every piece of media.

An antagonist crosses the moral event horizon, and some even break it to pieces, but somehow the story gets selective amnesia and thus they are free to join the protagonists with their numerous sick crimes ignored or a sob story is bsed into a justification onto why we should ignore physical and emotional abuse and/or the numerous bodies piled up.

When you don’t have a moral LINE in your narrative then that means you have already made a mockery out of morality and numerous victims.

The only way I can stomach her season five ‘redemption’, and lighting quick forgiveness, is if I forget the monster of four seasons didn’t exist. Problem is I can’t do that.

Why should I get any catharsis that the protagonists prevailed over Horde Prime when you have two characters in particular(Hordak,Catra) that are pretty much him with a sob story attached. If THEY get to kumbaya with the hero’s then Prime should to because that’s honestly where the morals are at in this story.

I had to stop watching two shows(Vampire Diaries and Once Upon a Time) because I got tired of this sick trope. There were SEASONS worth of whitewashing and selective amnesia for two sick and evil characters(Damien Savatore and Regina), to the point their VICTIMS became their BIGGEST CHEERLEADERS and LOVE INTERESTS.

There is no justice when this vile trope is in play.

The moral event horizon exists for a reason. It means once a character has jumped over it then there should be no moral way they can come back from it.

Humanizing them is a good narrative choice,but that humanization doesn’t and SHOULDN’T erase their heinous crimes.

Thus the only true ending that moral event horizon characters should get are redemption equals death or thanks for growing a conscious and helping us out, but you’re STILL going to prison for life afterwards kay. They don’t get to kumbaya with their victims while the other one’s, THE DEAD BODIES, stay cold.

But you know if I HAD to I COULD have TOLERATED Catra and Hordak going on an atonement journey so they could help the people still living that they made homeless/ lives they ruined. Also they can do this while they both get the therapy they badly need.

I needed CONSEQUENCES that STUCK.

Instead Catra (ADORA’S ABUSER) gets to make out with Adora(HER VICTIM), and also become her girlfriend as well as best friends of her other victims.

So it seems this show’s message is no matter how much emotional and physical pain a person does to you it’s okay to not only let them back in your life(damn your mental health I guess),but also enter a romantic relationship with them to.

Yes, that’s what children need to see.

I did my research on the show runner, and the creators pet/villain sue bias became clearer when I did so. Catra is HER pretty much, and Adora is her wife.

That explains EVERYTHING, and not in a good way.

What the show’s title should actually be called: She-Ra: The Show Where The Villain Sue Antagonist,War Criminal Abuser, Gets a Happily Ever After With Her Victim; Whom She Emotionally and Physically Abused for Four Seasons. Another alternate: She-Ra: The Story of Lesbian Reylo.

Thank you for sharing this submission with us.

#submission #anti c//a #anti catra #(not my post)

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

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Speak No Evil (Part 25)

“I am going to focus on one fanfiction at a time.” I vowed before not doing that.

She can feel it in her throat, it is an itch like she had swallowed a living fly. Now apprehension takes the place of longing. And it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense to have yearned so relentlessly to speak, only to find herself completely tongue tied for the first time in her life. For all of the words that she wants to speak, she can’t seem to grasp onto any of them.

What if her voice no longer sounds lovely when it comes from her own body. The spirit could tweak and shape her voice in the most pleasant ways, work it into a crystalline smoothness that she isn’t sure she can manage anymore.

“Go on, say something.” Zuko urges.

She sifts in her mind for something worthwhile to say. Perhaps it would do her well to thank the spirit for giving her, her voice back. Maybe she should take the easy route and ask him what she should say. But she isn’t sure that she wants to speak anything more than a single word.

She reaches for her waterskin and has a generous sip, the water is pleasant on her throat. “Seicho…” She finally manages. Her voice is softer than she remembers, significantly breathiter.

She isn’t sure how she feel about it. Isn’t sure that she wants to hear it a second time. But Seicho beams at her. She presses her fingers to her throat, feeling faint vibrations run up and down it as she repeats the woman’s name.

“You have a pretty voice.” Seicho notes. “It’s really...relaxing.”

She clears her throat, “thank you.” But her voice is still rather husky. She absently brushes her fingers over the parchment, they are shaking slightly and she can’t say why. She should be elated rather than apprehensive. She looks towards the spirit.

It regards her silently, coldly. She really ought to thank it if she knows what is good for her. She reaches for the parchment and her brushes and writes a quick thank you. She is growing increasingly uncomfortable under the gazes of all of the smaller spirits. She feels as though they are poised to attack her at any minute.

“Why are you still using the parchment?” Mai quirks a brow.

Azula offers only a shrug as she moves to stand closer to Seicho and Zhang-Zin. The spirit closes the distance just as quickly. She supposes that it wouldn’t be a spirit encounter if she wasn’t left with some lesson or warning. She thinks that her last visit had been the lesson, and she is fairly certain that she has learned it well enough. At the very least, she is decently afraid to speak malevolently. She wonders if she should speak at all, lest she lose her voice again. And so she finds herself a new paradox.

She decides that she will speak minimally; her vocal cords feel so taut that she isn’t sure she has a choice regardless…

The spirit lowers itself to eye level. With hers no longer shimmering upon the base of its throat, the voice that takes dominance over the others is thundering and feminine. Wrapped around it are lighter voices like ocean waves and rustling leaves. It’s warning is quite simple, efficiently so. “Speak carefully.”

Azula supposes that, that shouldn’t be a problem, she has always cultivated her words choice with tedious thinking. As though every sentence could be her last. As though every word could be her ruin. With Ozai’s sharp ear, any wrong word could have been her downfall.

Perhaps she ought to live her life in silence afterall, it is easier knowing that the choice is hers.

Seicho takes her hand as she gives the spirit a nod. She holds out her arm, the one that Seicho is holding and gestures to the bitemarks. She suppose that now is as good a time as any to test out new tones and inflections. “Tell them to stop?” But she falls short--the pitch isn’t right. Her lower lip trembles.

Agni, it has been so long since she has put laryngeal muscles to use that they seem to have gone useless. She has missed her chance to speak with feeling. She has been forced into tonelessness when she could most benefit from expression.

The spirit doesn’t humor her with an answer. Its wisps break apart and disperse like scintalling flutterbats back into the canopy and under the rocks. The smaller spirits swoop down and close in. “Let’s get out of here, they’re starting to freak me out.” Zhang-Zin shudders.

.oOo.

Every now and then a spirit tugs at Azula’s hair and Seicho finds herself swatting it away. Perhaps the misdeed will come back and catch up with her, but she can sense that the princess is sinking again. Anxiousness and anger have given way to weariness and confliction, she can see it in the woman’s tired eyes. And with those tired eyes, Azula watches another spirit hiss and flit away. At least a small flicker of relief appears in them.

They have been trekking for almost half of the day and thus far, “tell them to stop” has been the last of her vocalization.

“I can have Katara try to heal your vocal cords.” Zuko offers.

Azula returns his offer with only a nod, albeit an affirmative one.

Healing… It dawns upon her, a reason for the reluctance, “does it hurt to talk?”

And Azula finally speaks again, “I--no...I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Mai asks.

“Do you not like how your voice sounds?” Seicho guesses. “It’s a little hoarse, but it’s still nice to listen to.” She promises. And that is an understatement, really she thinks that she could listen to that voice for hours.

.oOo.

It isn’t that so much as it is that there is too much to say and too many people to say things to. Really, she should have settled for that one I love you. She rubs her hands over her face, she hates herself for even thinking so weak mindedly. What she should do is speak until her voice finds its strength again. What she should do is speak regardless.

And yet she finds herself as mute as ever and, suddenly, with less to say than ever. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ She writes upon the parchment.

Her whole body feels heavy with self manifested helplessness. It shouldn’t be so hard to just talk. She finds herself touching her tongue, cringing at the earthly mossy taste that taints her fingers. She doesn’t think that the scarring on her tongue is so obstructive as to impede her speech. The blockage comes from her mind, her mind and her underused vocal cords.

“You just have to get used to talking again. That’s all.” Seicho smiles.

She wants to believe her, she wishes that she could. But it grows harder to do so as the days wear on without being able to muster up a word. She knows that she is only making her condition worse by leaving her laryngeal muscle to rust.

She decides that she will make a habit of saying at least one thing a night. She doesn’t know what that thing will be. Not until they bring their hiking to a halt for the night. Like clockwork, Zuko asks if she is still feeling okay. And like clockwork she nods her head. She supposes that she is feeling as well as she can.

At least now she can take comfort in that healing is an option should she work up the courage to take it. At least now, with every time he asks, she can find herself reassured that she doesn’t have to work through her barriers alone.

She helps Mai cook their hunt over a flame that pleasantly warms her face. “I don’t have a problem with you talking.” The woman sighs. “If that’s the problem.”

And on the parchment she writes, “it isn’t.” Though a small pang of relief has her thinking otherwise. At the very least it takes some pressure away to know that her voice isn’t unwelcomed.

She passes a strip of meat to Zhan-Zin and then busies herself with her own. She makes her way back to her sleeping bag and bundles herself up as tightly as possible, leaving as little room for the spirits as she can--though they haven’t been bothering her as much lately. She thinks that they are finally growing to accept that she isn’t a particularly antagonistic force.

“Mind if I join you?” Seicho asks.

She looks about the camp and makes a vague gesture towards Zuko and Zhang-Zin. Seicho laughs, “they’ll get over it.”

Azula unzips the sleeping bag and lets Seicho crawl in. The woman wiggles in close and presses her forehead to Azula’s. She closes her eyes and she feels a small kiss upon her nose. “Good night, Azula.” Azula puts her arm around the woman.

If she can only manage to say one thing a night, she knows what it will be. And Seicho beams from ear to ear when she says it, “good night, Seicho. I love you.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Azucho #Fanfiction

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fantasyraindrps · 4 years ago

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Anti Catra/Catradora

Catra is the poster child for the moral bankruptcy of this series.

I can't buy her ''redemption,'' or her relationship with Adora, because she WENT TO FAR.

Therefore nor can I buy the HYPOCRITICAL mental gymnastics that arise when she is a topic of discussion in the fandom.

For four seasons I watched this character WILLINGLY and GLEEFULLY jump rope with the moral event horizon. She eventually finally broke it to the pieces when she deliberately GENOCIDES everyone on the PLANET, because of her sick,evil obsession with being better than Adora.

Loved all this time my behind.

Catra was a vile person from her introduction, and just got increasingly more poisonous as the show went on.

Season Five wants us to treat Catra like a bad friend that said a few mean words here and there, and therefore all she has to do is sincerely apologize then friendship can begin again.

Here's the thing Catra wasn't just a bad friend, but also an ABUSER and a FASCIST.

She had multiple opportunities to leave the horde,and had no reason to stay in the first place, gleefully attacks the resistance, is the reason Angela died, tried straight up multiple times to end Adora’s and her friends lives, and was just an abomination to even the ones on her side....

On the flip side we have Adora who doesn’t give a damn about Catra for four seasons. She’s too busy enjoying life with her REAL friends. Try and recall, was there ever a moment where Adora was...concerned for Catra’s safety? Pining for her in any way romantically? Ever? Even once during the first four? Because I don’t. Honestly Catra wasn’t important to Adora until Catra showed up on screen. And then they both wanted to kill each other. Any moments of Adora thinking about Catra it was in the context of Catra being her ENEMY.

But I'm supposed to believe in their romance based on what?

Catra's toxicity? Adora's nonexistent romantic feelings for pretty much the entire series?

In season 5 all Catra had to do was one act of atonement and out of nowhere, like Adora has been possessed by the ghost of Queer Rep, she suddenly can’t get Catra out of her head. Also note Catra didn't save Glimmer because she realized her past actions were evil; no it was all for Adora's sake i.e. the person she is toxically obsessed with.

Back to Catra, her redemption is handled with the most condescending of kid gloves. It’s like she was replaced by a clone for season five. She’s just accepted. It's like seasons 1-4 didn't happen. The forgiveness was excessive and forced so we could be okay with this ABUSER / WAR CRIMINAL being chummy and romantic with her victims.

For example Glimmer cries over her, hugs her, kisses her cheek etc... Yet Catra is responsible for her MOTHER’S DEATH, the WORLD ENDING once before, trying to KILL her, war crimes against Bright Moon/HER KINGDOM...

Then Entrapta also forgives Catra like it’s nothing even though she sent HER TO DIE, and apparently she was in this hell space for a YEAR.

Same with Scorpia who forgives Catra's toxicity in five seconds.

But everything is suppose to be wonderful because an ABUSER ends the series ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH HER VICTIM?

When Adora said you made your choice now live with it THAT should have been the end of any reconciliation either platonic of romantic.

Even her flashbacks are her being abusive. You see her in one of them( in her so called redemption season at that) SCRATCHING Adora's FACE to the point it left BLOOD,and JUMPING ON HER STOMACH just because Adora DARED to be friends with other people.

This was pretty much every childhood flashback they showed.

She would emotionally and physically abuse Adora, and then Adora would take her back.

This would continue even as near adults. It was a PATTERN(red flag) that Adora unfortunately didn't escape.

But.....I always loved you,says Catra.

For ADORA'S own mental health/closure she could forgive,but only if she also makes it clear that she doesn't want her abuser/war criminal ex friend back in her life.

I could have tolerated that ending instead of Adora becoming a COUPLE with her ABUSER.

Basically this villain sue ends the show getting everything she wants even after evil manipulation of several characters, genocide, war crimes against her own people, repeated attempts at murder,physical and mental abuse(especially toward Adora), and just being a complete psychopath to anyone within spitting distance of her toxicity.

She gets to be pretty much a abusive scum bucket for four seasons, on top of ACTUALLY DOING THE SAME THING PRIME WANTED TO DO, yet whiplash forgiveness and Lesbians 4 Evah is her ending.

"So we're all just okay with this?", says Mermista incredulously of the war criminal Hordak.

Good question,but then I remember you all seem to be okay with war criminal Catra who is pretty much Hordak's parallel soo ....

Her mirror Hordak, according to the showrunner, is sentenced to beast island for his war crimes. However, my question then becomes where is Catra's sentence? Oh, that's right if you're the creator’s pet you get to be a war criminal in peace.

It's also convenient that Mermista was chipped,and therefore didn't get to say anything to the girl who helped bring down her kingdom with a smile on her face.

Funny how that worked out.

It's even more convenient that her victims gave their lighting fast forgiveness.

Can't have icky things like abuse and war crimes get in the way of that ending smooch you know.

I suppose we also just need to look at Angella as collateral damage while we smile as her daughter hugs and kisses her killer I guess.

I also find it odd(since were loving abusers and war criminals) that Shadow Weaver point blank doesn't get forgiveness from Adora, and she even ends the series dead. However, she defected to the hero’s side in season two(regardless of any impure motivation), and stayed there and helped the protagonists until her season five death. But Catra, who not only stayed with the conquering organization the Horde for almost the entire series as well as eventually becoming their LEADER, was not only forgiven but also rewarded a romance with her victim. Curious.

I'm tired of this abominable trope invading every piece of media. An antagonist crosses the moral event horizon, and some even break it to pieces, but somehow the story gets selective amnesia and thus they are free to join the protagonists with their numerous sick crimes ignored or a sob story is bsed into a justification onto why we should ignore physical and emotional abuse and/or the numerous bodies piled up.

When you don't have a moral LINE in your narrative then that means you have already made a mockery out of morality and numerous victims.

The only way I can stomach her season five ‘’redemption’’, and lighting quick forgiveness, is if I forget the monster of four seasons didn't exist.

Problem is I can't do that.

Why should I get any catharsis that the protagonists prevailed over Horde Prime when you have two characters in particular(Hordak,Catra) that are pretty much him with a sob story attached. If THEY get to kumbaya with the hero's then Prime should to because that's honestly where the morals are at in this story.

There is no justice when this vile trope is in play.

The moral event horizon exists for a reason. It means once a character has jumped over it then there should be no moral way they can come back from it. Humanizing them is a good narrative choice,but that humanization doesn't and SHOULDN'T erase their heinous crimes.

Thus the only true ending that moral event horizon characters should get are redemption equals death or thanks for growing a conscious and helping us out, but you're STILL going to prison for life afterwards kay. They don't get to kumbaya with their victims while the other one's, THE DEAD BODIES, stay cold.

I needed CONSEQUENCES that STUCK.

Instead Catra (ADORA'S ABUSER) gets to make out with Adora(HER VICTIM), and also become her girlfriend. She also becomes the best friend of her other victims.

So it seems this show's message is no matter how much emotional and physical pain a person does to you it's okay to not only let them back in your life(damn your mental health I guess),but it’s also fine to enter a romantic relationship with them as well.

Yes, that's what children need to see.

It's also hilarious that some of her fans say she's Zuko.

No.

She's what would happen if Azula and Kylo Ren were made into one character.

I did my research on the show runner, and the creators pet/villain sue bias became clearer.

Catra is HER, and Adora is her wife.

That explains EVERYTHING, and not in a good way.

What the show's title should actually be called:

She-Ra:The Story of a Villain Sue Antagonist,War Criminal Abuser,That Gets a Happily Ever After With Her Victim; Whom She Emotionally and Physically Abused for Four Seasons.

Another alternate:

She-Ra: The Story of Lesbian Reylo.

#catradora #anti catradora #catra #anti catra #spop season five #spop #shera confessions #spop critical #anti c//a #western magical girl confessions #adora deserved better than to end up in a romantic relationship with her abuser

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

(1/2) Personally, I could never get into Geralt's relationship with Yennefer when I started reading the books. The first thing we learn about their relationship in The Last Wish, is that he broke up with her because he couldn't stand her possessiveness and the way she treated him. That was massive red flag on it's own already, but then I got to the scene in The Bounds of Reason where Geralt tells her that he doesn't care anymore if she forgives him for breaking up with her. And he's

I’ve finished up my work for the day so I’m going to break this down to pass the time lol. My journey with Yennefer of Vengerberg has basically been:

Hearing about her prior to getting into Witcher stuff and being legitimately excited to meet this sexy, badass sorceress that everyone is head over heels for.

Meeting her in The Witcher 3 and hating nearly every moment we spent together (with a few exceptions) because she is rude, self-centered, cares little for the boundaries of others (like frequently invading Geralt’s mind), and will destroy everyone and everything necessary to get what she wants. The fact that what she currently wants is Ciri’s safety doesn’t change how horrible her actions are.

Getting reassurance that CDPR butchered her characterization and believing it because when has an adaptation not messed something up? God knows that’s happened to many of my faves.

Reading The Last Wish for myself and going, “She’s not better here. She worse.”

Coming to the Realization™ that Sapkowski, as an author very interested in undermining fantasy tropes, must be deconstructing the concept of True Love/Love At First Sight. After all, we’re not actually supposed to believe that a woman who treats Geralt like Yen does, a man who is canonically so lonely he’s picking up bards on the side of the road, and the both of them being bound together by highly suspect magic is supposed to be representative of real, healthy, destined love. These two are incredibly dysfunctional together and the point is for them not to stay as a couple, demonstrating that neither the characters nor the reader can bank on tired structures (like Hot Male Protagonist meeting Hot Female Protagonist) as evidence of “true love.” Sexual attraction and a djinn wish does not a healthy relationship make.

The further, disappointing realization that this is not, in fact, the point Sapkowski is trying to make. Or if it somehow is he hasn’t done a good job of writing it.

Struggling with other aspects of the series, notably how many of the women are written/treated. Finding it difficult to get into the main story-line. Coming to the conclusion that, like Doyle, I massively prefer Sapkowski’s style in a short-story format.

Deciding to put the books on hold for a while and check out some other material. Maybe I’ll like Yen in the comics!

I do not like Yen in the comics. Neither does Vesemir.

I post a few times about this dislike and marvel at how often events are twisted to paint Yen as a victim. One moment stands out regarding Yen dumping you in the lake in Witcher 3. When I expressed discomfort that she would do this to Geralt and then “jokingly” threaten to kill him next, someone basically asked me, “Well, did you pick the dialogue option where you’re an asshole to her?” It was asked with such confidence that for a moment I floundered. Had I chosen something that justified such treatment? Yet this is the exchange:

“Yen... Told you already. I lost my memory.”

“And I’ve lost my patience.”

(Side note: Yen is fully aware of how much Geralt despises portals.)

I begin to realize that a lot of the fandom truly believes that “Expressing a fact” equals “Being an asshole” to Yen. That any disagreement is automatically asshole behavior. Which is how Yen herself views the world. As fans have pointed out – myself included – she has a habit of rejecting responsibility and convincing others she’s the victim in most situations (with the one exception I can think of being her admitting that she destroyed the sacred site in Skellige), whether we’re talking about her condemning Geralt for sexualizing her (ignoring that she orchestrated that situation) or likewise condemning him for leaving her (ignoring that her behavior is what drove him away). I find myself re-emphasizing to others that my issue is not with flawed characters, but rather how Sapkowski’s story and the fandom insist that Yen isn’t actually flawed in these ways.

Watching the Netflix adaptation and promising myself that I’m going to give Yen a clean slate. Let’s start over. I connect with her for the first few episodes and then everything falls apart once she starts blaming others for her own decisions, getting obsessed with a biological child in a world filled with adoptions, abandoning a woman to die because she dared to insult her, having to re-watch her taking over Geralt’s mind only this time with an orgy that’s super iffy in regards to consent… There’s a lot going on there.

My friend – who knew I disliked a character but didn’t know who/why because I didn’t want to bias her ahead of time – slams into my texts talking about how much she hates Yen too.

I make a few more posts expressing my personal discomfort with their relationship + how the fandom tends to erase her behavior for endless praise, rather than just acknowledging that they love the ship and Yen has done horrible things. I get a couple of anons (which I delete) about how I’m just a misogynistic – and now racist – asshole who can’t understand how badass she is.

I grapple with the fact that my primary ships are indeed Geralt/Jaskier and Geralt/Regis. Maybe I am drawn only to Hot White Guys and have internalized misogyny to work through? Then I remember the hundreds of other het/femslash ships I adore, the thousands of other badass women in media – including the Witcher – that I love and conclude that no, I just really don’t like relationships where parties are cruel/disrespectful/borderline abusive to one another. Hence why I criticized Netflix for taking an already wonderful relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and making Geralt insult him all the time/punch him.

More and more I find myself uncomfortable with fans taking scenes where Yen verbally accosts someone, assaults them, or otherwise does them dirty and talk seriously about how they aspire to be her. I experience an intense need to remind everyone that being a badass and standing up for yourself does not mean treating people the way Yen frequently treats others.

I read a lot about how many fans can’t get behind a Geralt/Triss pairing because of how Triss treated him in the past, even if she’s now improved. I completely agree. I wonder though why the same doesn’t seem to apply to Yen. I’m told I just need to read more of the books (which I’m honestly not eager to do) because she gets so much better later on. Don’t you care about character growth? When I respond, “Yes, but even if she does grow I’m not comfortable with that relationship because of all she’s done in the past – to say nothing of what she does in the future if we take the games as canon too.” That response does not go over well. So Triss’ past actions justify a reader’s discomfort with the relationship, but Yen’s past actions have to be forgiven? Witcher and RWBY are the only fandoms I’ve come across where women can commit truly heinous acts and the response is “Yas queen!” rather than, “Huh, that’s a cool antagonist.”

As I work through these differing opinions I’m constantly reminded that Yen is an excellent mother to Ciri and each time I wonder what bearing that has on how she treats Geralt.

I’m likewise reminded of all the Big and Important sacrifices Yen has made for her family. Those deserve acknowledgment! But it doesn’t change her everyday behavior. Even if Yen stopped pulling shit like mind control, torture necromancy, and scaring people to the point where they assume she’ll rain fire down on them if they disagree, she just doesn’t extend basic kindness/respect on a day-to-day basis. Some people love that in a character. I personally don’t. I find Yen to be a vain person who puts her own self-comfort over others’ lives just as often as she deigns to save them. Dandelion is just going to have to wait until she’s had a bath before his curse is lifted. Margarita will have to do without her help because Yen doesn’t want to get her clothes dirty:

“Mucking through ruins and sewers, hmm. I’d rather leave it to the expert.”

“Meaning you’d rather waltz in once the hard work’s done.”

I finally finish The Witcher 3 and find Yen tolerable from the boat onward, mostly because we don’t have to do much with her.

I start the first Witcher game, wondering how I’ll find her in the first two installments. Frankly, at this point I’m not terribly optimistic.

And every once in a blue moon, in a sea of post-Netflix Yen adoration, I see a post going, “Hey, ship what you ship but can we just acknowledge that this relationship isn’t the happy-go-lucky, super healthy, #goals pairing that most of the fandom wants to paint it as?” and I’m compelled to reblog :D

#hauntedcollectorapple #witcher #mymetas

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shadowtarot · 4 years ago

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Persona Character Deep Dive: Takuto Maruki

Time to talk about one of the best written characters in recent Persona history. This will contain Royal spoilers.

Maruki has to be my absolute favorite antagonist in Persona and in JRPGS in general. Now granted, I do say “antagonist” and not “villain” as there it a distinct difference.

Maruki has a goal not unlike our rag tag group of Phantom Thieves. He desires to make a better world by helping those who are suffering. And, much like Akechi, Maruki got his Persona pre-maturely. Though he never “awakened” to it until Yaldaboth fused Mementos with reality.

What happened instaid was Maruki slowly distorted. The root of it all being his failure to protect his Fiance and her parents during a deadly break in. Rumi lost her parents in that instance, and suffered through PTSD as a result of it all. Maruki had alredy been studying Cognitive Psiance at that point but, Rumi’s mental truama as well as his own failure as a partner is what pushed him to keep going.

He gained Azadoth’s power of Actualization at that point when he visited Rumi in the hospital, and was able to “cure her” of her mental trauma by cognitively altering the events that played out in her mind. Though this ended up writing himself out of her life...

Because of how it affects others, Maruki decided to only take those drastic measures when normal treatment can’t do anything. But he used that instance to further his research.. But this was halted when Shido ordered a shutdown on Maruki’s studies and in-turn forced his Odiaba Lab, which was planned to be built for him using the funding he gained, to be turned into a Stadium instaid.

This event crushed Maruki. Yet despite it all, he pushes forward and takes a counseling position so he can still earn money as he works on his paper in private. This is where he’d gain Sumire Yoshizawa as a patent, who came to him for private Grief Counseling. Noting how depressed she had become, Maruki finds out that she desires to be her deceased sister Kasumi, as she was “the more loved one”. So Maruki actualizes her, and Sumire becomes Kasumi.

Though of course, as this timeline goes through Persona 5′s main plot..Maruki learns about the Phantom Thieves. Even seeing them leave Kamoshida’s Palace after Ann’s awakening. So Maruki approaches the Phantom Thieves to offer counseling, when he actually wishes to figure out how they were able to enter the Cognitive Realm. And over the course of the game, he learns everyone’s dream. Their desires.

But again, he has no ill intent this whole time, even if as he talks to Ren through his Confidant he slowly distorts more. Maruki’s just desperate to solve the one issue that could completely save people. Save Rumi.

And when Shido confesses his crimes? Maruki figures out the whole dealings that Shido went through. That he abused Cognitive Psiance for his own gain, and ruined his own chance to save people for it. Enraged and with a finished paper finally proving his theory...he goes to the professor that rejected his claims.

And then Yaldaboth appears, and the sky turns red. Maruki can see it, due to having a connection to Ren...and he ends up awakening to Azadoth. But due to the corruption of the God of Control...Maruki’s good intentioned dream turns into a Savior complex.

And the fact that the Phantom Thieves unconsciously made him the new God of Control doesn’t help matters.

As the Third Semester goes on, you learn just how much Rumi’s incident hurt and scared Maruki. He wants to make others happy, since he feels he can no longer be happy himself. So he desires to shoulder the pain others face and in turn, grant them the life they want.

Yet when you reach the Twilight Corridor, near the apex of the Lab of Happiness...you see all the statues of Rumi. When you enter his Willseed Rooms, Rumi is all he speaks about.

The woman that he was set to marry, the most important thing in his life...suffered because he couldn’t do anything to protect her family. Because he didn’t do anything.

And it’s more showing in the fact that Maruki never actively tries to fight you himself. Not until his Treasure is threatened at least. He doesn't like conflict. A relic of the cowardice he still has.

Yet he desperately clings to his desires in his fight. He tires to persuade the Phantom Thieves to re-accept his reality and cease the fight during Phase 1, yet at this point his words and even his actualization fail.

Beginning with Phase 3, Maruki stops holding back. He doesn’t want to fight...and said in “Throw Away Your Mask”’s lyrics. He just wants to make people happy, but that happiness comes at a cost...freedom.

And this right there is why I love his character. Persona 5′s main theme is Freedom vs. Peace. Every Palace ruler oppresses that freedom that the PT fight for, but starting with Shido an argument is presented “People just want choices made for themselves due to how lazy they are.” Shido attempts to “grant” that wish with his huge gambit in the Conspiracy.

Yet it doesn’t really challange the ideals of the team. Yaldaboth expands on it, and it gets closer to being a good argument yet in the bad ending where you accept his deal, Ren is only acting for his own benefit. Humanity isn’t free...but a false peace was gained.

And Maruki is the embodiment for that bad end. His actions activly make the team question what they’re doing...and if it’s truly right for them to change his heart. Maruki isn’t evil...so they shouldn’t need to.

Yet, this push is ultimately the catalyst to developing the Phantom Thieves more. By giving all of the characters a glimpse of a world where they have what they most wanted, they learn that they can achieve those dreams...under their own power. Instaid of resigning to their ‘fate’ and doing nothing to improve their own lives.

And Maruki’s change of heart is the first one to truly make the target turn over a new leaf. Though I’ll still argue that him becoming a Taxi Driver was just an excuse to see him in the final cutscene, like seriously he could still study cognitive psiance!

All in all, Maruki is a great character and one I hope to see in spin offs.

#persona 5 royal #takuto maruki

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captain-aralias · 4 years ago

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Trivia Tuesday!!! (The Sweet Fruit of a Palm Tree)

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

tagging some people who might want to share trivia: @sharkmartini @krisrix @annabellelux @llamapyjamas @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire @ninemagicks @milo-fanarts @carryonvisinata @f-ing-ruthless-baz

(yes, i am on leave from work this week with nothing to do - why do you ask?)

i have almost 2,000 words of cut scenes from my 3,000 word @goldendayszine zine fic - and those are only the scenes that I saved. there was also an ending from simon’s POV but i think it must have been very similar with different names because it’s not in any of the versions i emailed to people, or my cut scenes doc.

i have never cut so much.

some scenes and lines i cut for space; most i cut and re-wrote because they were ruining the mood. in almost all cases the fic is much better without them.

please enjoy if this is the sort of thing you enjoy. i think there are genuinely some interesting choices here!

cut-cut-cut:

original title was ‘The British Museum Job’ - which is objectively a better title, but the more the fic was about baz’s mother and how he wanted to date simon, and the less it was about a heist, the less that title fit. so i changed it.

in approximate chronological order. bits in bold made it into the original. italics are comments from me.

Snow keeps yawning as I try and show him my favourite parts of London without explaining what I’m doing. He’s not even tired. (We slept in the same room again last night. I know he slept most of the night – I heard him snoring). I’ve already offered to buy him a coffee.

“Thanks, but I still don’t trust you not to poison it,” he said. Which was hardly romantic.

We walked along Regent Street because I thought he might enjoy the lights. (He didn’t even look at them.) Down through Piccadilly Circus and up Shaftesbury Avenue. I thought about suggesting a show – it would have filled the time perfectly – but that really would have felt like a date. And anyway, he told me he hated musicals before I could buy the tickets.

“If you’re going to do something, you should just do it. Not just sing about it for five minutes.”

reason for cut:

space. although it’s also unnecessary.

I might even tell him I was kidnapped.

That I was alone underground for weeks. That thinking of him was the only thing that got me through it.

It could be our first really intimate moment.

But before I can do it (not that I was going to do it), Snow strides off. He’s actually weaving through the crowd in the direction of one of the exhibits, his expression purposeful – and I have to grab his hand and pull him back into me.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Snow scowls at me, as though I’m the one being unreasonable. “There’s a vampire here.” I raise my eyebrow. He frowns. “I mean another one. Obviously.”

My gaze follows Snow’s pointing finger towards a man with long dark hair and a well-tailored winter coat. He’s with a brunette woman, leaning against her as they peer into a case of shabtis.

Even from several feet away, I can tell he’s human. They both are. He smells like coffee and steak; she smells like cream.

And next to me Simon Snow smells, as always, like the thing I want to eat most in the world, which at the moment seems to be a bacon sandwich warm enough to melt the butter.

I should have fed before trying to spend the evening with him. Or perhaps I shouldn’t be trying to spend the evening with him at all. I could have done this on my own.

“That’s not a vampire,” I tell Snow, trying to sound bored. “He just looks like me.”

“He was biting that woman’s neck,” Snow insists.

I roll my eyes. (It helps distract me from thinking about how much I’d like to bite his neck).

“I think he was kissing her, Snow.”

Snow looks dubious. “On the neck?”

“For Crowley’s sake.”

We’ve barely started the Egyptian section, but I don’t want to be here anymore. In the place my mother brought me. Not now that both Snow and I are thinking about how (unlike the poor man Snow was about to assault) I actually am a vampire. One of the creatures who caused my mother’s death.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

Mercifully he follows me. He must believe I can identify vampires. Which I think I can, even though I’ve just never tried it before (I can definitely identify people who aren’t vampires). Although he’s still grumbling as we take the stairs back down to the ground floor.

“I don’t think that bloke did look like you.”

“Fine, Snow.”

“He wasn’t even that good looking.”

I don’t react. (Not visibly anyway.)

He says things like this sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything. Objectively, I am good looking and Snow isn’t blind. Of course he noticed. He noticed in the same bored, completely dispassionate way that I’ve noticed that his ex-girlfriend is good looking. She’s gorgeous. Objectively. It doesn’t mean I want to date her.

Snow turning up at my house for Christmas doesn’t mean he wants to spend more time with me.

And this isn’t a date.

But somehow – even though I know that absolutely that none of this means anything – it feels good to hear him give me a compliment. I want him to think I look good – it’s why I wore this suit in the first place. (Yes, all right – it’s for him, not the vampires. I know I’m delusional, but at least I look fucking incredible.)

A moment ago, I was ready to give up. I was ready to go and sit in a coffee shop or an alley somewhere and glare at Snow until I was sure the vampires were done feeding.

But now Snow’s lit another pathetic flame of hope inside me. This might not actually be a date, but I want it to be one.

reason for cut:

space. but when i went back to re-write it, i also though the mood was wrong. this is quite an antagonistic scene between the two of them. it’s about how simon wants to get on with the job at hand (killing vampires) and it’s about how baz is a vampire, but in a way that baz quite rightly tells us makes him sad. nobody wants that!! so you see i kept simon complimenting baz, but made it into a much more straightforwardly lulzy compliment. i also do not have time to introduce random secondary characters who have no lines. they’re gone.

here’s a slightly different version of the above:

We’ve barely started the Egyptian section, but I don’t want to be here anymore. On this … whatever-it-is with Snow. I don’t want to be in the place my mother brought me. Not now he has so eagerly reminded me of what I am. A dark creature. One of the monsters who caused my mother’s death.

“Let’s go,” I say. “You’re clearly bored.”

“I’m not bored,” Snow says, although he is at least following me. “I’m concentrating on the mission. I’ve never seen another vampire before. Do you think they’re all fit like the goblins?”

reason for cut:

as above. but it’s getting closer.

originally the shakespeare exhibition was an exhibition on aztecs, because of all the GOLD, you see, and because there was an exhibition about aztecs in the museum at some point. i thought the exhibition could be called - get it - ‘golden days’. i don’t think i ever told milo this idea, but it would have made it into the fic if this had been a movie and no one had to draw attention to the idea.

remember - bold is what i kept in the published draft.

All I need to do is remember a single thing that Snow likes doing and then find a way we can do it together. It can’t be too difficult. We’ve lived together for seven years and I’m obsessed with him. You’d think I’d have a list.

I don’t – but I could make one.

Things I know Simon Snow enjoys, a list:

Food. Which is fine – going to a restaurant is actually a perfectly good date activity, even though I don’t eat in front of other people. We can do it later, but at this point we still have five hours to kill. I don’t think even Snow wants to eat for the next five hours. (Does he?)

Following me around.

Making my life miserable.

Fighting dark creatures.

Going on ridiculous quests for the Mage to retrieve magickal objects and/or fight dark creatures. I don’t get it – Snow seems to almost die every time – but he does seem to enjoy them

Playing football.

Watching football. And other sports. I’ve seen him at a few lacrosse games, but I don’t know whether he actually enjoyed them. It’s possible he felt like he had to watch Wellbelove play

Talking to Bunce and Wellbelove about whatever ridiculous quest they’re currently on. Although, now they’ve broken up (again), perhaps Wellbelove is off the list. But I’m not exactly going to summon Bunce here either. That wouldn’t be a good date.

Video games?

As I’m thinking, we get to the bottom of the stairs and enter the Great Court. I don’t usually spend much time here when I’m visiting the museum – too much sun streaming in through the glass panels in the ceiling – but it’s dark now and artificial light doesn’t bother me.

There’s an exhibition on Aztecs on in the Reading Room space. It’s being advertised on long banners hanging down across the expanse of white space. I’d like to see it – another time.

“What now, then?” Snow says.

I still haven’t worked that out. (The list wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped.)

reason for cut:

space. this was one of the first things to go. it doesn’t say anything that we don’t already know. i liked the idea of writing a list to be more like rainbow - but like baz i couldn’t think of anything simon liked ... and that was the point!

“What the fuck?” Snow hisses at me as we get in line to pay for tickets. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s research.”

“It’s treason.”

If he asks, I’ll tell him that Shakespeare wrote about vampires in Timon of Athens. (He didn’t - obviously. But the odds of Snow having read that particular play are non-existent) (even I haven’t read it – it’s obscure. Terrible for spellcasting.) I’d tell him that there’s a crucial spell I need to understand before we go and deal with the creatures who killed my mother.

But Snow hasn’t asked. (He probably never asks the Mage why he needed to find the Third Gate or what was so important about all the white hares he was looking for in sixth year. For Snow it’s enough that there’s a job to do and that he can do it – I shouldn’t like that about him, but I do.)

He also isn’t objecting. Well, no – he is objecting, but he isn’t stopping me. He isn’t asking me any questions I can’t answer. He’s going along with it – letting me buy us both tickets for the exhibition and following me into the slightly darker interior of the Reading Room.

“Which one even is the First Folio?” he asks once we’re inside.

“I don’t know. Perhaps the one under the sign that says First Folio?” I say witheringly, although I’m actually delighted. (He’s helping. He’s part of it. This is going to work.)

“Right,” Snow says. “You mean, the one in a massive alarmed case, surrounded by people?”

We’re about three metres away from it. My heart speeds up as I look at the display. I’ve never stolen anything before – there’s a good chance this will go wrong. This is an idiotic idea. But it’s getting me closer to Snow.

Also, although I wouldn’t have chosen to do it this way, I do love the idea of owning a copy of the First Folio. It won’t be useful tonight, but I’m sure I’ll be able to work out something to use it for later.

“So, what’s your brilliant plan?” Snow says. “Hide in a cupboard until everyone’s gone home?”

He’s not being serious, but that probably is the most sensible thing we could do. And we’ve got the time.

But I don’t think I can handle being trapped in a confined space with Simon Snow for minutes, let alone for hours. Even if I hadn’t recently been trapped in a coffin for weeks.

He smells far too good for that.

“We’re magicians,” I tell him, remembering to sneer. “One of us is, anyway. I can do this in broad daylight without anyone noticing. All I need is a distraction – that’s your job.”

“What kind of distraction?” Snow asks.

“Collapse,” I suggest. “Start shouting about colonial theft, whatever appeals to you. Just as long as everyone turns to look at you. I’ll even cast, Your attention please. Then I’ll take the book while everyone’s looking at you. I can cast a silencing spell on the alarm.”

“What about the cameras?” Snow asks.

I don’t want to tell him I’d forgotten the cameras.

“And I’ll cast Nothing to see here on myself,” I say smoothly – although I have no idea whether the spell works on technology. It’s not something we covered at Watford, a school where technology is banned. (I really hope my attempt to bond with Snow isn’t going to result in me being arrested. Think what my father would say when I had to explain myself.)

“Penny usually uses Through a glass darkly,” Snow says. I shrug – I don’t know that spell.

“What’re you’re going to do when they find the book’s missing?” Snow prompts.

“Walk quickly. The attention spell won’t wear off before we leave the Museum.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that,” Snow says.

“What do you suggest then?”

“Spelling something to look like the book we’re nicking and leaving it in the case.”

He’s right – spells last longer if they have something physical to catch hold of. The attention spell will eventually wear off, but a transfiguration spell could last years without anyone noticing.

I’m grudgingly impressed. (And also increasingly alarmed about the kinds of things that Snow and Bunce have been up to. How many of our national treasures are carefully spelled replicas?)

reason for cut:

this isn’t really cut - it’s just re-written. again, the mood is wrong in this version. simon is angry not flirty. the timon of athens bit is cut for space - it’s the kind of pointless baz ramble about magic that i’d include if time wasn’t an issue.

you can see the seeds of what was eventually printed here - baz has never stolen anything, simon’s stolen lots of things and is competent at it. there’s the idea of the distraction - although i like it better when simon comes up with that one too.

the real thing is much better though, right? i think i cracked it when i realised i didn’t have to play ‘you cant do that’ straight - because baz is right: simon enjoys this shit.

these are bits and pieces of the above that don’t fit into a wider narrative:

There are tourists surrounding the case right now. And at least one security guard. My Nothing to see here is good, but it seems foolhardy to rely on it entirely. It works best when the person being distracted doesn’t want to see what’s happening. (It only sometimes works on Snow, for example.) It might not work on the security guards.

and another one:

I try not to smirk too broadly. “Right, then. Do something distracting. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I cast Nothing to see here on myself and take a few steps towards the case. My heart is beating wildly. The tourists surrounding it are definitely not looking at me. manage to take a few steps before Snow catches up with me. Taking my shoulders and steering me off towards a completely different case full of Tudor props.

“What is it, Snow? Couldn’t think of anything?”

His arm is still around my shoulders, drawing me in. Frankly I’m struggling to

“Sorry, was that really your entire plan?”

“Perhaps I’ll think about bringing them back after the British return the artefacts they stole from the rest the world.” I nod towards the nearest case. “My great-great grandfather hasn’t been back in Egyptian soil for hundreds of years. They wouldn’t even let us take him back to be buried in Pitch Manor.”

“Your––” Simon starts, and then he stops, frowning, as he presumably remembers that I am of Egyptian descent. “That’s not your grandfather,” he says – but he isn’t certain.

“Didn’t I tell you I’m descended from royalty?” I say archly, which is enough to make Simon laugh. He presses his face into my neck, which I love.

“It was definitely implied.”

“That’s what my mother told me anyway,” I concede.

“I think she might have been having you on.”

(missing some thoughts here)

“It’s one of my clearest memories of her

“I’ll bring the books back,” I tell him. “I only took them in the first place to get your attention.”

Simon smiles at me in the reflection in the glass cabinet, his face superimposed over the golden burial mask below. I can see his chin hooked over my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my waist.

“Well. It worked,” he points out.

reason for cut:

again - space! i was right at the end and i knew i was running out of words. but i also think that being forced to cut the royalty joke which i hung onto for some time through several drafts was good for the fic. we dont need baz talking about the sarcophagus - we were there, we already read it at the beginning.

the thing with the eyebrows that simon says in the published draft doesn’t quite work still, but what it does is kick us back to the memory (are they related? yes - we know they aren’t) in the same way that baz is doing actively in this draft.

and what you see in the published version is that the point of the fic is (as we see here) that simon and baz are happy in the future, but also it’s that baz can talk to simon about his mother and... about the british museum. so the emphasis isn’t quite right if we end with ‘well it worked’.

the emphasis should be on baz’s mother. i’m trying to get at it in this draft, but it’s in the middle rather than the end - shift the mother stuff/museum stuff to the final line, and bob’s your uncle.

here’s the real thing: The sweet fruit of a palm tree

#carry on #my deleted scenes #my content

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shaonsim · 5 years ago

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Your take on grey characters 😈

An excellent question, and let me preface it with the fact that although I believe that every person is morally grey, I am also of the opinion that there is a difference between a grey person and a grey character. Fiction is always a little on-your-nose with everything, and a character with grey shades will have their complexities highlighted quite strongly, more often than not, as a direct contrast to a 'pure' white, positive character. And by doing that, fiction downplays the grey shades of the character standing on the moral high ground and that's really interesting and totally irrelevant to the answer, but I wrote it in anyway, because it fascinates me and kind of ties in with the stuff I hope to explore in the later parts of this answer, so, just hold on, I guess.

Let me also just point out, that fiction, as it says, is, and always will be, a little detached from reality. While it is true that fiction does not exist in a vacuum, it is a way for us to escape our worldly troubles and perhaps that's why sometimes serious issues get brushed under the carpet to give everyone a happy ending. It's an utopian world. And I bring this up because grey characters receive a lot of acceptance that they might not receive had they been real, flesh and bones, human beings. They also receive a lot of flak for not fitting into the 'good box', because more often than not, grey characters are show leaning towards the good side, as in, their actions directly or indirectly support the protagonists, or, in some cases, they go against the antagonist, thus leaving them on shaky ground. People would cry that they are being whitewashed (which, although it pains me to admit it, they are, but again, fiction is an utopia, even if we are talking about a zombie apocalypse).

Anyway, this too is confusing and I am terribly sorry for this disorganised mess of an answer you have to read through.

Forgive moi?

Okay, let's get back to the topic of grey characters. In the recent few years, I have come to sort 'grey characters' into different categories. So I'll just quickly (ha!) go over that.

GREY CHARACTER™

The characters who are introduced with the grey tag, by the creators themselves (or, in case of literary works, are addressed as grey by the writer(s) once the book is published and people have read it). Their moral ambiguity is their core feature, their whole personality is shaped up around that little nugget of information. The narrative gives them a layered, intriguing character traits (and a lot of snark - like, a lot of it), intricate backstories (and past trauma!!!) that remain hidden behind a facade of casual disinterest in everything that exists on our beautiful Earth, and we get snippets where they are being genuinely affectionate with their people, or where other, minor characters share a cordial, if not a little personal, relationship with them.

^ Another great way is to show them being polite to the staff, drivers and/or salespeople, that makes them likeable.

And it is extremely necessary that they are likeable, because these characters do plenty of questionable things. Some of their actions might even fall under the 'bad' category, where they commit crimes and plan to destroy lives (most of the time the plan fails, or they actively do something to redeem themselves with respect to that particular event, because they are grey characters, not the devil incarnate trope they go for when it comes to the villains and vamps).

Also, this type of a grey character is usually written in with a host of other characters, for whom the character will cross every limit, and a group of characters, with whom our grey character crosses all boundaries. The second group is the intended target, and the creative outlet for writing the morally questionable things that make a character grey™.

Usually, this type of a grey character gets one out of the three kinds of endings outlined below ⬇️

Grey™ but softer

Where they continue to do questionable things, but less frequently, or with less intensity. Nice trope. Moi likey.

Platinum grey, but grey™ if necessary

The go-to if they are the protagonist. I will explain about the 'platinum grey' bit later on, but this is essentially, this character has fulfilled (or abandoned) his course of doing questionable things, but if push came to shove, will not hesitate to destroy some lives. My favourite (♥️)

And the worst kind of ending - whitewashing

There is a difference between accepting the consequences of your actions, repenting for it (or not, both can work, but you have to acknowledge what you did), and justifying it because 'hey, look! I did one good thing in my life, I am pure™, love me!! ' This is my least favourite trope.

((can you guess which ending I have planned for Dhruba?))

TEAM GREY

This type of grey is usually reserved for influential side characters. Influential, in the sense that they contribute to the plot, and have relationship ties that leave a heavy impact on the story. My favourite people. These characters are not given the tag of 'grey', but they move from one camp to another, with their actions and thoughts that move the story forward. They don't switch sides, that's another type. These characters don't change teams because they want to support one side against the other. No, their actions are fueled by their own motivations, and that's what makes them special. They are often overlooked because of Grey ™ characters, but I love them so much.

THE FAKE GREY (AKA DAL BADLUS)

The narrative tries to make us perceive these characters as grey, and in their haste, they make these characters change teams every now and then, and the characters lose all credibility. They differ from 'team grey' in the sense that the reasoning behind them choosing sides is flimsy at best, non-existent at worst. They are inconsistent and ugh, how I hate inconsistencies. What irks me the most is that the narrative doesn't even try to establish them as complex characters (which isn't that hard, humans are complex!!!)

SUPPOSEDLY WHITE BUT OOPS I AM GREY NOW, PLEASE KEEP LOVING ME

I love these characters, if they are executed properly. Tons of potential. The story always reminds us that these characters are supposedly white, but their actions (or reactive action because of the circumstances/events brought on by the grey™) and I love to see them spiral out of control and become complex, layered characters. And if they have comic potential, then I am squealing with joy. Love these people.

((spoiler alert: this is my Agni))

GREY BECAUSE I STAND IN THE NO MAN'S LAND BETWEEN BLACK AND WHITE

Love, love, love them! Love characters who are not inherently evil and who do not engage in criminal activity, but also, they are not pure and white and good™ and they have their fair share of character flaws. They do lots of wrong things, but nothing destructive. All the love ❤️

((spoiler alert: this is my plan with Chandni))

I HAVE TRAVELLED FAR FROM THE GREY ZONE BUT I AM NOT TOTALLY BLACK, BELIEVE ME

Negative characters with plenty of redeeming traits, and a strong (and emotionally manipulative) reason behind their wrongdoings, with their motivation exploited by the antagonists. Can be very interesting if done well, and even the simplest of tracks is better than the plain old everyone is evil unless they are the protagonist (and their supporters).

((spoiler alert: My rendition of Manju))

GREY BECAUSE I HAVE FALLEN FROM MY PEDESTAL FOR GREATNESS AND I AM NO LONGER WHITE ™

Another favourite. Genuinely good characters who do that one wrong thing, but it's pretty big and affects the plot in a bad way and that kind of behavior cannot go unchecked because we need to prove a point. Tons of potential.

((spoiler alert: My rendition of Kakai))

<< are you tired of me screaming about my plans for the Fic Which Must Not Be Named? Sorry, not sorry 😈 >>

THE WORLD COULD NOT HANDLE MY GREATNESS, I AM GREY NOW

Pure, sweet, soft characters who see the world for what and now they are either a very soft grey (as in their negative side comes out quite often, but it doesn't affect the story all that much) or a very manipulative person. Love this trope!

((Deepti is a soft grey character, but that's more because she is bitter and she points that bitterness towards herself. Meghna, on the other hand, flits in and out of this trope))

TOO COOL TO BE WHITE, TOO SANE TO BE DARK

All the snark! Brutally honest, mature, logical people who are cool™ and who do lovely, manipulative stuff. We stan!

(( Ranja from my ff, not Ranjabati the warrior princess))

PLATINUM GREY (AKA SELF-DESTRUCTIVE ™)

The protagonist, often used as narrative foil to the Grey™ or vice versa. They are portrayed as good and pure™ but have plenty of grey character traits that either get glossed over or are shoved into the cupboard to highlight the differences between the grey character and the protagonist. They also have serious self destructive tendencies where they ruin their lives on purpose and this is often complemented by a generous helping of saviour complex. Like, all the love for these characters. They are supposed to be white, but aren't, but they do shine bright, even if their flaws are sharp and in your face, like a cloudy sky that is a terribly cold, sharp white. I choose to use the word platinum because that's what comes to my mind when I try to visualise their place in the shade card of life, the color of a platinum band. This is my favourite trope when it comes to protagonists. Love them. ♥️

((Tara, Prabha, and Meghna - PLATINUM BABES))

Now that we have covered the type of grey characters in fiction (my brain is fried and I might have missed some, sorry! Feel free to reblog with your additions!!), let me tell you how much I love grey characters. I would choose them every time, as opposed to characters who can be neatly sorted into the black and white categories.

Every. Time.

We need more grey characters in fiction, especially the soft greys and the team grey ones. And we need to appreciate grey characters for how amazing they are!!!

In conclusion, I love grey characters (but you already know that, don't you? Come on Babe, you have known me long enough, you know how crazily excited I get about grey characters) and I need more of them ♥️♥️♥️

[ stuff for my 100th celebration ]

#please leave a message || asks #tw:100games #thank you so much babe 😘#enjoy!!#tw:longpost

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medea10 · 5 years ago

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My Review of One Punch Man 2

#one punch man #one punch man 2 #Saitama #genos #garou #fubuki #bang #king

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monkey-network · 5 years ago

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Good Stuff ~ Stray Thoughts: Steven Universe’s Movie

It’s high time I finally looked at this film. 100%, Monkey Style. Let’s roll...

Ah, a curtain raise. Fancy Schmancy.

Chance the Rapper! Good seeing him have a hand in the music, cause I doubt it’ll sound any different.

I wish the tale was more than just about Steven

Lucky she got planet earth, I guess.

*Holds onto the laugh* She latched onto Greg’s seed. HEHEEE KEK!

That’s one way of putting it

You know, I would’ve preferred he was 18 instead of 16. It makes sense that he’s still a teen, but that is me

I guess this film wouldn’t have gone the way it did if Steven didn’t dox himself like that.

“Saving.“ That reminds me. What of the Cluster? “They’ll never mention it.“ I know. *sigh*

I’m so glad this time skip makes me ask more than accept, trying to make me compelled for season 6 to know what happened in between that time. You’re not slick here, movie.

“The White Power Hour will be right back“

Am I the only one finding this scene with the Diamonds creepy?

“Come on, Steven. You’re all that stands between me and doing the racism.“

Connie! Glad you look spry and well in your 65% of screen time.

Cheek peck! Lovely!!!

Shoot, they could make a whole episode about him being a guest at the space camp. I mean I’m saying this cuz I doubt they are.

Ah, the “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” song.

Zach is quite the singer when he can sing more naturally

Come on Pearl, don’t make me believe Rose was a character

Oh the chest is open. Neat. Wish I cared.

Unconsenting head warp

1st Born Amethyst is adorable.

*sigh* Wonderful. It’s a shame I’m gonna forget this song.

Ah, the best character in the series has arrived

Real Talk tho: How did our antagonist get to Earth with that craft so quickly? Like, let’s say it took 10 real minutes at best between Steven giving his Homeworld speech to resting on that hill. She just had that injector, roaring to go, and knew exactly where Steven might’ve been all in that short amount of time? “You know logic is not this show’s strong suit.” Let me dream, damn it!

Again, none of this would’ve happened if Steven didn’t out himself

Ruining other people’s happiness. I love her already.

Why did Steven getting his face kicked feel satisfying?

“Pink Diamond“ Ah, the secret word.

While “Other Friends” is such a bop, one of the only good songs so far, I knew this movie would have it’s musicals take place every.... less than five minutes.

Wait. The villain has stretchy powers, so there's an in-Universe reason to be off-model all the time? Oooooh, they’re fucked.

It was at that moment the villain knew, he fucked up.

Again, Steven getting kicked feels so satisfying.

Reaper? Awwwww ye!

I’m telling you. She let him slice her.

What? How can he not control his powers while he’s aware of- ugh.

Surprised he didn’t revert back to no neck Steven

Ok, that quick censor joke got a laugh outta me.

Two for two laughs, Greg is on a roll

How would gems know what seashells are?

Three minutes apart. Not bad.

Whaaat was that zoom?

Ah, the “For the Newbies/clueless” song

We’re doing the amnesia plot, Pearl, keep up a bit.

I’m somehow giddy and uncomfortable at Spinel’s presence.

Beautiful song. Sad I won’t remember this one.

Wonderful lip sync there.

Oh no, chekov’s scythe.

Heheheheheheh, Spinel’s dead eye stare

Ah Lapis, if only the show treated you better

That’s some morbid logic. I can dig it.

Seriously, if you are aware of your powers, then why can’t yo- ugh.

Ye, get the Diamonds. They could punt the injector out, everything could go as planned. Only problem would be having to listen to them.

I doubt Garnet would know what to do, honestly.

Spinel’s VA must’ve had a blast with the role

About five minutes apart. Doing better.

Song is better too. Not memorable, but it’s a fist pump worthy tune.

Dang it, Spinel, you’re precious!

I’m with Steven, I’m getting Cupcakes vibes with that pizza slicer

Ye, just let her pick up that weapon. It’ll conveniently advance the plot.

Oh a lovely constitutional for those two.

Rise of the Shield Hero!

Four minutes apart. Slightly better.

Weakest song by far, but the visuals were amazing.

Subtle moment here. I’ll express later.

Is Onion teleporting?

So sad Ronaldo.

Okay, that was a wholesome moment. “That’s why Amethyst and Steven ARE the best.“ You know it. *fist bump*

Ye, I think it’s best to get out of there?!

I doubt it’s gonna kill everything on Earth

Oh wait, what about the Clu- “It’s not gonna be mentioned.” The Cluster deserves better, man.

I honestly would’ve loved to see Steven lift that entire thing

Great, you made it worse.

But forget the end of the world. We got music to make.

A little over five minutes. Pretty good.

Why am I getting Pat Benatar vibes from this tune?

'Disobedient�� is bad btw

The look Steven and Greg gave before rocking out? I felt that. Now....

There comes a time in all forms of media consumption where you are so utterly bewildered by an event taking place that there are so many things wrong with it that you don’t have words and you simply laugh.....

When I saw this sequence for the first time I wish I recorded it. I burst out laughing, struggling to compose myself, and I was fundamentally blown away at what in the world I was seeing. And the kicker? I wasn’t even entirely sure of why.....

It’s like so many issues cascade on your brain at once, you are overwhelmed and you couldn’t possibly pass it out in the amount of time you have left before something utterly ridiculous happens on top of what you just saw....

So that is why posts like this exist, to collect and come up with a sensible way to exhibit one’s feelings about the sequence because.... what. the. fuck. Let’s roll back.

Chad Gem? Chad motherfucking gem.

Got a pompadour, super-sized mullet, potentially 8-pack, and a clean shave which surprised me the most. They just... *MWAH* pulled no punches with Multiverse’s design.

The powers however confuse me. Can he just fly now and make anyone fly?

I get where people were coming from with their discomfort, but honestly this is the funniest thing in this entire movie. Nothing about this feels right and that just makes it hilarious.

I’m just gonna say it.... *DEEP BREATH IN* RULE 34 MUST HAD A FIE- *snap* Sorry, low hanging fruit.

Did Pearl just literally sploosh?

It’s Always Sunny honestly did this better.

Opal, you’re back for a minute! I forgot she could talk.

We All Float.

Damn Steven, you look like shit.

Steve-o, you’re not helping her situation. Comfort her, fool.

Oof, this is gonna be a painful number isn’t it?

Such a dear jester

A nice detail is that Spinel’s voice feels slowly exhausted and empty the more she shares of her memories. It makes that scene where she snapped at Steven make a lot more sense.

I also like that it isn’t clear if Steven sees what she’s envisioning but can understand what she might’ve remembered.

*taps the mic* Pink is a CUNT. That will be all.

'Drift Away’ was.. beautiful. Ugh, not gonna remember it though, which sucks.

That brings up a question. Was there never a message saying that Pink was “shattered”? Like you’d think news like that would’ve reached any and everywhere, Spinel especially. That certainly would’ve changed a few things.

Okay, ‘Found‘ was a great AND memorable song. That’s two out of.... ten. Not bad.

Greg is honestly the best in this movie.

Uh, Steven? You’re just leaving her there.

“Just Forget.“ How to make someone on edge feel worse in two words or less.

Welp, there’s Chekov’s scythe.

Pretty convenient he kept that around to further the plot.

I would say Spinel’s gone off the deep end, but.... uh, ugh I can’t help but side with her? I really just wanna give her a hug before the end of the world happens.

Garnet, are you gonna do anything? Were you this stagnant?

Ah, it’s the “Marketed like Let it Go” song.

I love that we got chill music in the midst of the apocalypse. It’s a good way to die.

Guess they saved the animation budget for the violence? Lovely.

Wait, that’s it? All that fluid and it doesn’t even look like it’ll destroy the world? Just Beach City? That kinda... kills the tension.

And why was everyone just standing there? Jesus, this feels messy.

It’s the final bout!

Tch, Get Dekt, Steven.

Shield hero’s back!

Spinel I love ya, and I don’t blame ya, but singing’s all they’ve done this entire movie.

Dead.

I got Mob Psycho vibes from that nuke. Don’t know why.

That reminds me. WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE MILITARY?! “Cause and Effect is not a stro-” Shut up!

Then stay with him, Spinel. Travel the world, be more than a single one’s friend and... oh, the Diamonds are here.

That’s a fate worse than death, dictators moving in with you.

It’s only been one night, White.... Seriously, this all happened in a day. It feels weird.

I’m with Yellow. That is sickeningly funny.

Seriously, their song is creepy. I don’t trust them like that.

I got a problem with Spinel’s ending deep down. Then again, if she can be happy... then I’m happy that she’s happy. That’s something, I guess.

Okay, I’m tired of the singing.

But when I think about it, I feel bad for Steven. All he just wanted was some time to himself where he didn’t have to deal with any bullshit. Had to teach whole dictators and remodel a whole empire. Yeah, he’s gonna change as he grows, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having “me time” so to speak. Can’t the kid have a chance to not have to worry about anything, actually live a life? No? Jerks?

Well that was a bit of fun. While the musicals and most of the characters felt like an afterthought, save for Greg, Spinel, and Steven, there were a few moments that honestly made the watch worth it, intentionally or not. I really have no interest in seeing this again, but I’m satisfied with the events that transpired and I’m glad the crew got to make this film. “What about the moral of the story?”

Eh, it’s Steven Universe, morals are whatever.

#su the movie #su critical #thoughts #cartoons #Good Stuff #dumb #long post

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chaniters · 6 years ago

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Burdens of the Red

(Fallen Hero, Super Sentai AU, part 4)

Steel’s leadership is challenged by the surge of a new, cunning antagonist!

I have edited this part so many times it’s not even funny. Had to split it into two episodes too. I’ll go on finish editing the second part, should be up in a day or two.

Enjoy!

(Spoilers for Fallen Hero ahead)

____________________________________

(Apocalypse Force’s HQ)

He stumbled through the control room, like a blind bull in a china shop, operators either staying clear of his way or actively pushing him away from the sensitive equipment as he stumbled forward.

No one helped him. No one wanted anything to do with the walking failure that was Dr. Blitz.

His scorched armor was still smoking with burnt circuits that and the unquestionable stench of defeat. The mask bore the fresh traces of lady Argent's claws.

"Ahh.. how kind of you to visit us, Dr. Blitz. We have been all been observing your miserable and humiliating defeat. It did have some entertainment value to all things considered... But go on, by all means, share your report, perhaps you can yet redeem yourself before the Apocalypse Force." Regis spoke on an amused tone that betrayed her murderous anger.

"They... they had new technology! Combat suits! New weapons!"

"Technology? Combat suits? Weapons?" She asked mocking his broken tone. "We have plenty of those as well. How is that an excuse?"

"They were very advanced... I believe it was Nanite-based..."

"NANItes???!" she asked standing up "Nonsense! No one has used such since the Nanoswarm incident!"

"I was right about their teleportation technology! And I saw the nanites! I recorded it!"

"Then show me!" She said slowly.

Blitz took of his derelict helm and offered it to one of the operators. Expert hands cracked what was left of it open in a matter of seconds, and the inner hardware was plugged it in. Soon enough video of the battle streamed through the screens.

Regis narrowed her gaze as she saw the colorful nanites swirl in a cloud and converge, rapidly forming the Titan. The regenes watched in awe as well.

"It seems we're up against a new formidable opponent in this ranger team" she let on speaking confidently, regaining control over the situation. "Which brings us back to the fact that twice you have proven useless against them"

"Give me another chance! I will have my revenge on that pink bitch! I have been working on other mutants! I can deal with them!" he cried.

"Why should I? You haven't learned a single thing about how to defeat them...! Take him away… we’ll deal with him later" she started turning back her attention to the screens

"No…” he coughed and spat some blood over the floor, falling on his knee. He still held his head high “... WAIT! I know something! One of them... one of them is a regene!"

"A turncoat soldier?" she said stopping her motion, suddenly interested once more

"A cuckoo! That's how he infiltrated our operation!"

"A rebel... hmr.. we have dealt with such in the past… too bad the archives were lost during the rise of the Apocalypse Force"

"If you just give me a chance I can..."

"No!" she said, shutting him up immediately. "I believe this will take a more... indirect approach. One of your creations will be taking over, but not your mutants… Dr. Terror, approach us" she called

"What? You can’t have the child replace me!" He cried

“My life for the Regis” A teenage girl wearing a simple dress walked over, taking a fist to her heart and bowing deeply, regene tattoos clearly visible on her arms and legs. She had a butterfly pin on her hair.

“Dr. Terror” Regis smiled, “You say the nicest things… Did you overhear everything?”

“Of course My Regis”

“Excellent. You will take over where Dr. Blitz failed. One of the rangers is a regene and we’re dealing with nanite technology. Do you think you can use this information to our advantage?”

"Indeed Regis. I have already devised a plan to finish them all. I will make the necessary arrangements."

"Excellent Dr. Terror. Your enhanced intellect has never failed us so far. Do not let this be the first time" she said turning her attention back to her workers.

Dr. Terror walked out, with Blitz following closely.

“You miserable girl! How dare you steal my place? It can’t be helped now… I suppose I’ll have to keep control of this operation and you’ll just report to the Regis. You will stay out of my way!”

Dr. Terror turned to him with an angelical smile “I will do no such thing”

Blitz looked at her fully enraged. “What?”

“Are you surprised? You’re the one who thought me my lifespan would be determined by how useful I was to the Special Directive. You burned that lesson in my flesh a long time ago, after you made me… and you made sure I could not forget. I’ve made myself very useful since. To the directive. To the Regis, and to the apocalypse force. I have conquered city after city. You, on the other hand, are not looking very useful to anyone right now, are you?”

Blitz extended a palm at her, his damaged armor struggling to generate an energy blast… one that never came, as he was struck down by a creature emerging from the very wall. The thing placed a hoof over his neck, pinning him down.

“Pathetic” Terror smiled as looked down on the creature’s prey. The apparition seemed ready to finish Blitz on her command. “You can barely stand Dr. Blitz. I suggest you lay down and let me take care of this. It will be fun! I will soon take everything that ever belonged to you. This is just the beginning. And I’m going to enjoy every moment of it” her cruel words stinging her maker more than her minion’s attack.

She walked past him, followed by the shadowy mutant, leaving him alone as he tried to crawl behind them.

_____________________

(Mortum’s lab facility)

“So, what do you think about these modifications?” Mortum asked handing him a tablet.

“Oh.. erm… I’ll review them and get back to you Doctor?”

“Of course! The sooner you do, the sooner I can get back to work”

“Indeed” Steel kept walking through the corridor.

“You have a call from above!” one of the numerous workers told him.

“Very well, I’ll get it in my office!” Steel said without stopping.

Mortum’s underground lair had turned into the focal point for their resistance movement. And he was in charge of it all.

He entered the office and picked up the phone.

Oh damn. San Diego’s Mayor again.

He kept demanding they take down the Apocalypse force occupying the city before anything else.

It was his duty to make him understand that they were doing the best they could but they couldn’t quite take action there yet. Not with so many Apocalypse armies in between them. The mayor wasn’t shy of name-calling when furious, he had learned.

As he hung up, Herald appeared to ask for an assignment. Apparently, no one had given him one. He wasn’t experienced in this kind of situation enough to know where to be. (And who was, he wondered) He obviously had to make something up on the spot or the kid would feel useless. He ended up sending him to help in the hospital ward. He wasn’t a medic but his presence alone inspired morale.

As he closed the door there were a bunch of workers coming in to report their supplies were delayed. Fantastic. He redistributed what they had for the sixth time of the day on the spot.

Crap! When had this job become so tiring? He knew his responsibilities had increased with the current situation but this was getting ridiculous.

He looked through the window. There was a small park next to Mortum’s hideout. And sure there was Cyrus sitting on a bench featuring his trademark “why me?” expression that had never left his face since he came back to the world of the living. One would think he would feel better now that all his lies had come to an end, but it was even worse. Because Ortega wasn’t talking to him. Cyrus could be here with him, finding out what people needed by reading their minds before they came up to him and instead he was just staring at pigeons.

And of course, Ortega, who had been the Marshall before him and could be his much needed second in command was probably being depressed somewhere else out of sight as well, because his closest friend turned out not to be human. It was like he had died a second time.

Nerve-racking.

He took a seat … And the chair bent and broke under his weight, his coffee mug spilling over the table.

“Not again!!”

He tried to stand quickly, but it was too late… Mortum’s tablets were ruined with coffee all over. And he fell on his side, still stuck on the bent chair.

“Shit!” he cried. “Shit shit shit shi…”

“Need a hand?”

He looked up startled. Argent was standing next to him, the door wide open.

“I hear your job can be stressing” she smiled offering a hand.

“It can be challenging at times” he smiled taking the offered hand as she lifted him up.

“Well... If you’re serious about helping, there’s one thing you could do for me”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Cyrus and Ricardo. I need them back on the game. Yesterday if possible.”

“That’s a tall order,” she said looking at Cyrus through the window.

“I know. But they both listen to you”

“That they do…” She said turning.

“Thanks. You know, this was never the deal I accepted”

“What do you mean?”

“Charge was going to be the leader. I had enough of that during the war… I was just going to be a soldier using overpowered equipment to deal with local villains.”

“I see how that turned sideways.”

“You got that right. Everything went overboard with Heartbreak. He had basically adopted Sidestep. and when he died, he went back with him. And now he returns, but he’s a depressed villain? And now it turns out he’s not even a villain but a government lab experiment and torture victim… And Charge’s lost once more”

They kept talking. Not noticing the teenage girl with the butterfly pin calmly walking through the park in a straight line towards Cyrus’s seat.

___________________________________

Cyrus turned rapidly.

“Who are you?”

“Oh. Me? I’m like you, cousin! Just coming to visit!” she offered him a beautiful smile”

“If you’re here to kill me, it won’t be half as easy as you’re expecting…”

“It won’t? We have a list of all the traitors like you… And given your closeness to the Rangers, I was pretty sure It would be you. Aren’t you going to try to control me? I would totally not expect that!”

“Why are you still helping them? You can be free!”

“Oh poor Cyrus… that’s your name, right? Cyrus? Well, there are things you don’t know… Or maybe you know them too well. There’s no stopping the Apocalypse force. It’s is going to conquer this whole planet one way or the other. And I’ve made myself useful, so i’ll be at the top when that happens!”

“You can’t possibly believe a bureaucrat scientist like Regina will…”

She chortled with clear laughter.

“Regis Regina, you mean? Oh no no no… I mean she’s kind of smart and powerful and all but… The Apocalypse Force is alive cousin! It’s alive and it’s coming to bite all the humans in the ass! You know, if you turned to our side, then it would all be much easier...”

“I’m never going back to the farm!”

“So you’re staying here, waiting to see if Charge’s going to come back and smooch you? That’s your plan? Because he abandoned you there, you know? I always do my homework, I studied him. Do you want to know what he did when you were being tortured? He got drunk and fucked around the whole town!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Awww that’s too dramatic cousin… This isn’t the farm!” she grinned. “Didn’t you see how we changed the whole theme?. We even got matching outfits!” It was true… even her dress had the dark colors he had come to expect. “You would have a great time! And I’d love to have a handsome cousin like you helping me out! Must say I love what you did with your hair. If you came with me… I’d show you everything! You can be my assistant!”

“No. Fucking. Way. Get lost!” he said standing up.

She sighed, putting her hands in jars “Tsk tsk. You should be nice to your little cousin Cyrus. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be punished” she said taking a small electronic device from her pocket.

His mind was pressing against hers in an instant… only…

It wasn’t a regular mind. It was huge… like a labyrinth…

“Don’t feel bad cousin! I’m sure you could probably do what you’re trying to do If I gave you enough time. But you know, you were nasty to me so...” she said flipping the switch

___________________________________

“How did this happen?!” Ortega's voice was almost panicking. He had only just arrived and the reality of the situation was still sinking in.

They had to strap Cyrus to the medical bed to stop him from harming himself. He was now sedated but several people needed to restrain him to bring him in.

“Surveillance video shows a young woman approaching him and activating some kind of small electronic device… He must have sensed something because he tried to stand, but ended up convulsing over the floor” Steel told him.

“No trace of her” Herald added. “I looked everywhere. Must have teleported out. She had to be with the enemy”

“Shit… Cyrus!” Ortega tried to hold his hand but was shushed away by Dr. Mortum.

“Loving gestures from a static-charged people aren’t going to help right now. You could fry all the equipment Charge! Let me do my job and stay back!” he said placing some scanner devices over his head.

“This can’t be fucking happening!” He was clearly losing it. “I’m going to kill them… I’m going to …”

“HEY!” Argent said shaking him forcefully “Ricardo, I know what you’re going through but Either keep it together or go take a walk to cool down and come back!”

“I …”

“You’re not helping!”

He said nothing else but just stood silent, his fists trembling visibly. He finally sat down, his mind going through the ugly cocktail of terror, fury, and impotence.

It took a good quarter hour before Mortum looked at them again.

“His brain implant was deactivated” he finally sentenced.

“What does that mean?” Steel asked trying to keep a neutral tone.

“Well, Regene brains are not exactly human… That implant plays a vital role in regulating it’s … chemistry so to speak. The intruder... Whomever she was… she must have activated some sort of kill-switch.”

His words echoed through the room, as Ortega covered his face with his hands as if he had just pronounced him dead.

“Is… there something you can do for him, Doctor?” Herald asked finally as Mortum kept checking the results from the scanners.

“As a matter of fact… THere’s a lot I could do… It’s been a pet project of mind to work in restoring comatose brains…” he said casually “... just a side project of course…”

“So you can fix him?” Ortega asked looking back at him

“Not exactly… as I said, it’s a regene brain… if his implant’s not reactivated there’s not much I can do for him. But I can restore him to wakefulness with some medical nanites”

“How do we reactivate his implant?” Steel asked.

“We can’t Not without the proper codes… But… I’m guessing he can probably help us with that question once I wake him” Mortum spoke as he loaded a syringe with a crystalline liquid substance oozing with nanite sludge.

“What, right now?” Argent looked at him bewildered

“Yes? I mean the sooner I stabilize him the more time he has to live. Or do you have a better idea mademoiselle?”

“Do it” Steel sentenced.

Mortum slid the syringe directly into the medical tubing connector, and the nanites slowly flowed into his bloodstream.

“Miracle workers… let’s see if you can live up to your promises” he cheered them

The nanites went through and nothing happened for a few minutes.

Until the alarms began sounding over the medical devices, Cyrus’ vitals changing rapidly, and his whole body convulsing again.

Steel and Herald helped hold him down as Argent made sure Ortega didn’t approach.

“This is all normal! His body is just responding to stimuli!” Mortum tried to calm them down, a bit too late.

Cyrus eventually stopped moving, his vitals becoming stable once more. And he opened his eyes wide.

“It hurts! It hurts so much! Make it stop!” he started screaming. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

Steel and Argent looked at Mortum. He was adjusting the nanites settings on a console…

“... and… there! Any better?”

Cyrus’ screaming ceased, and he just lay there breathing heavily.

“What’s … happening?” he asked confused.

“That’s a very good question mon amie. I’m afraid It will take a few more minutes of scans before I can provide you with an answer”

Steel approached Cyrus’ beadhead and tried to explain it to him in a hushed voice. It took several attempts before Cyrus finally nodded in understanding.

“Do you know where can we find activation codes? Manuals? Anything that can help Mortum figure out farm technology?”

Cyrus smiled back at him as if it was a very obvious question.

“M… map,” he said finally. “Write… Write down… Coordinates… in Nevada” Steel did as he said.

“Thank you, Cyrus”

As he turned to the others, Cyrus' hand pulled him”

“Take.. me with .. you”

“You’re out of it Cyrus!”

“I know that... Hell hole… please...” and then he passed out again.

“Well… I’d say we have both good news and bad news” Mortum said finally.

“Start with the good news” Steel said looking at Ortega, who seemed about to throw up.

“Well, the good news is the nanites are doing an excellent job replacing his implant. I think he should be … decently coherent for a few hours. He could even be on the field himself, which should prove quite useful to go to this mystery location…”

“And the bad news?”

“Medical nanites are dangerous. I’ve designed these with a limited lifespan. They will start dying off in about 8 hours and I only have enough to fill two more doses. They are not easy to produce either. We will run out within a day.”

Steel took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes as hard as he could before turning to the others.

“We’re going to have to put an x on a map using these coordinates… and we need to make some calls around the government on the east, see what we can find out about their pet project. Charge, Herald, I need you both with me.”

Ortega lifted his gaze to Steel. “I’m staying with him! I’m not losing him again!”

“Well I don’t plan to do that either! You’re have contacts that we need right now Ortega! People are more likely to answer if it’s Charge asking. And Herald, everyone knows your voice. I have no idea who will or won’t be willing to tell us anything but if we can convince at least someone it could mean…”

“Alright alright, I get it!” Herald said

Charge reluctantly walked with them.

“Good. Argent… stay with Mortum and learn EVERYTHING you can about brain implants he can teach to you in the next hour”

“Done” she nodded slowly.

“And Mortum… , make sure to do whatever you can to have Cyrus in the best walking and thinking conditions you can within the hour”

Mortum nodded as well. He did love a challenge.

__________________________________

(The Farm exterior, Nevada desert)

“No! No no! Please don’t take me back! Please! Don’t!”

“Cyrus, please! It’s me! We’re just trying to help you!” Ortega, in his blue nanoranger suit tried to comfort him as he and Argent who was also wearing her nanoranger armor dragged him onwards.

“I won’t go back! Please don’t make me go back, Ricardo! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything but please...”

It was painful. The teleportation had not been the best since they didn’t know the exact spot where the entrance was located. Still, they made quite good progress.

Cyrus had been acutely coherent most of the way. He even understood the mission and asked to go along -again-. He shared a lot of insight about the farm, but once they came upon a certain distance he just fixated on the building’s facade going blank for a split second before turning batshit crazy, hallucinating about the farm having captured him again. And with the way they were forced to drag him, it certainly looked that way.

Mortum told them it would pass momentarily, that the nanites would correct the imbalance eventually, but It was breaking mettle Ortega’s by the second.

“Do we have to bring him?” he asked.

“We need him. We have no idea what security systems there’ll be down there. And he escaped the place twice!” Argent spoke as they kept marching on.

“But… it’s hurting him”

“I know, but if we can’t find what we’re looking for…” she didn’t finish the sentence as they walked towards the building, following Steel and Herald close by.

Eventually, Cyrus quieted down as promised regaining some resemblance of normality and started walking of his own accord.

“I’m sorry… it’s just… “ he apologized

“I know… I know” Ortega said “We’re about to enter… can you use your Henshin bracer?”

He looked clueless for a second before remembering what he meant.

“Yes… I think so?”

“Use it… armor will keep you safer.”

The others kept going forward as Ortega helped him change into the black ranger.

“What’s that?” Herald asked about a strange mound in the sand. Steel squinted his eyes at it… then engaged his enhanced sight modes. He instantly froze, going over similar mounds all around them”

“What is it?” Argent asked as they finally caught up.

The red ranger kicked one of them, revealing a corpse, buried under the sand. USA military gear, wearing the Special Directive’s logo.

“I guess this answers why there’s no one to meet us...” he said grimmly, as they reached the stairs that led to the first gate. Or what was left of it.

___________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #Super Sentai Au #Fanfic #fallen hero spoilers

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morningsound15 · 6 years ago

Text

they’re bad at parenting (but they try their best)

Root has this annoying habit of nearly getting herself killed on every other job. After her most recent mission, the Machine orders her to take at least a month off, in order to fully recover. Because she’s a wandering vagrant on the best of days and a borderline-psychotic flake on the worst, she doesn’t exactly have very many options for places to crash. Shaw (reluctantly) agrees to let her stay in her apartment. At the very least, she figures, they haven’t seen each other properly in a while and the sex marathon Shaw has been planning for going on a month and a half now is sure to be a good one (once Root is healed enough, that is.)

So imagine her surprise when a precocious fourteen-year-old shows up outside her front door with a suitcase in tow and a curious expression on her face.

OR: The one where Gen has to live with Shaw for a few weeks and everyone is uncomfortable about it.

Read they’re bad at parenting but they try their best on AO3

Rating: Teen + Up

Word Count: 7772

There’s a knock on the door. Root pauses where she stands in the bedroom, her fingers stilling on the buttons of her shirt. She quirks her head in the silence that follows, wondering for half a moment if she just imagined the sound. Maybe she’s just hearing things. Not exactly an impossibility, given the fact that she only has one good ear and the other one has the voice of an artificial superintelligence constantly whispering instructions to her.

It’s not exactly common practice for people to be knocking on the front door this early in the morning. Or at all, really. Both of the usual inhabitants of this apartment are legally dead, after all. Officially speaking. So it’s not like they’re in the habit of receiving visitors.

If someone did just knock — and if she hadn’t been imagining things, which seems increasingly likely the more she thinks about it — she wonders who it could possibly be. Root figures it can’t be Harry or John, since they always call her for help with a new number — and they’re not exactly the type to stop by unannounced for a quick morning coffee, either. And it can’t be Lionel, since Shaw would rather cut off her own ear than tell him where she lives. And since She isn’t providing Root with a half-dozen exit strategies out of here, then it can’t be any kind of threat, either.

The knocking sounds again — louder this time, and a little more urgent.

So she hadn’t been imagining it.

It could be Shaw, Root thinks as she makes her way across the empty apartment and towards the door. If she forgot her keys, maybe. But that doesn’t feel like something she would do. And either way, Sameen is more than capable of breaking into her own apartment, if need be.

Root grins as she approaches the door. It’s probably a solicitor, or someone who came to the wrong door looking to call on one of Shaw’s many neighbors. Root runs a hand through her hair, and starts to swing her hips with a little more saunter. No harm in having a little bit of fun and putting on a show for whatever poor unsuspecting sap has had the misfortune of trying their front door. He’s lucky she’s the one around to answer it, and not Sameen. With her, he’ll get a very-pleasant-but-very-uncomfortable interaction; but at least he’ll make it out alive and unharmed. The same can’t always be said for Shaw.

She’s wearing very little, as far as these things go: just one of Sameen’s button-down shirts (so of course it’s inches too short on her), a pair of boy short underwear, and a suggestive smirk. She pulls the door open, her smirk turning more lascivious as she practically purrs, “Sweetie, did you forget your keys ag—” She stops immediately, blinking in bemusement at the figure who greets her.

The teenager looks young, with a wild head of unruly hair and a disgruntled frown on her face. “You’re not Shaw,” she says, bluntly.

Root blinks at her. “I’m… what?” She suddenly recognizes her state of undress and immediately pulls her shirt lower, desperately hoping she can cover at least some of her exposed legs. As much as she enjoys putting on a show for consenting adults, she draws the line at standing half-naked in front of minors.

The girl is eyeing her warily. “Who are you?” she asks suspiciously.

“I’m…” Root tries again, spluttering a little and feeling off-balance. “Who are you?”

The girl looks like she isn’t about to answer. “Where’s Shaw?” she asks instead.

Root glances up and down the hall, like maybe if she looks long enough someone will jump out from around the corner and yell: Surprise, we got you! But there’s no one around. “She’s not…” she glances down at the girl again— “here, right now.”

The girl huffs. “Fine,” she says, elbowing past Root, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, dragging a suitcase that’s at least as big as she is through the door behind her. “I can wait.”

Root’s never had much going for her in the way of physical strength and muscle, but she’s still a little rattled by the fact that this literal child is able to push past her without even a second thought. Although, that could also be attributed to how the girl surprised her, and caught her off-guard. Or the fact that she has two cracked ribs, a bum knee, and muscles in her legs that feel like they’re screaming at her, even as she stands still.

Root scrambles after the girl as best she can. “Wait, Kid, hold on,” she tries to say, but the girl doesn’t listen to her. Instead she dumps her bags unceremoniously outside the kitchen and stomps over to the couch. “Who are you?” Root tries again, following after her.

“What are you doing here? And how do you know Shaw?”

The girl shrugs and grabs an apple from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the dining room table (a touch of detail Root had added to the apartment — just to be antagonistic, really, because she knows how much Shaw hates things that don’t have a purpose — but she thinks Sameen might secretly like the decorative flair to that little bowl because someone keeps replenishing its fruit supply and it sure as hell isn’t Root). She flops down onto the couch and kicks her feet up onto the table, her legs crossed at the ankle. “It’s winter break,” she says, taking a large bite from the fruit in her hand. “I appreciate that Mr. Finch is paying for me to go to school, but I got tired of sitting around in that stupid prison while everyone else got to go home for Christmas. And since Mr. Finch is my legal guardian and none of the addresses he has listed on file are actually real, I came here.” She glares at Root and says, defensively, “Shaw said I could come by if I ever needed anything.”

“Um… Okay,” Root says slowly, shaking her head and trying to wrap her mind around all of the information that had just been presented to her. The Machine, for Her part, is being annoyingly silent on the matter. (It feels weird, to not know things.) “I still don’t know who you are. And usually I know everything about everyone. I have a… friend who likes to give me information. But She’s not telling me anything about you.”

The girl squints at her. “Are you a crazy person?” she asks bluntly. “Do you hear voices? Can I record them to see if I can hear them, too?”

“Yes, yes, and no. And I’m not answering any more questions until you tell me who you are.”

“Fine.” The girl crosses her arms over her chest. “I can wait.”

The second Shaw’s key slips into the lock of her front door, it’s pulled open and away from her. She brings her head up quickly in surprise, but immediately glowers at the sight that greets her.

She knew it was a mistake, allowing Root to spend her recovery time with her, in her apartment. What had she even been thinking when she offered? That Root didn’t have a full-time place of her own in which to spend a few weeks of recovery? That without Shaw forcing her to rest she would be off on the next plane to who-the-fuck-knows-where on another life-or-death suicide mission for the Machine? That Root needed a medical professional on-hand 24/7 to make sure she didn’t do something stupid, like tear her stitches or get herself shot again? (Yes. Yes, to all of the above.) If she had known that this was how it was going to be, though…

This whole business with Samaritan has really made her soft. The Shaw of a few years ago — Newly Self-Diagnosed Axis II Personality Disorder Shaw, ISA Government Operative Shaw, U.S. Marine Shaw — would never have pulled this kind of sentimental shit. And she probably would have been a lot more well-rested. As fun as Root can be, she has this exhausting habit of being right up in Shaw’s personal space every minute of every goddamn day.

She’ll never have any peace and quiet for as long as she lives, at this rate.

“Sameen,” Root says, pulling the door open to greet her, “so glad you’re home.” She has a sweet smile on her face — which Shaw knows can only mean trouble. “We have a visitor.”

“What are you talking about, Root?” Shaw asks gruffly, side-stepping the other woman and making her way into her own apartment. All she wants is a nice long shower after the work-out she just had, but Root seems hell-bent on ruining that for her. (She knew it was a mistake to invite her to stay.) “Who—?” Shaw pauses as she catches sight of the girl perched awkwardly on her couch. “Gen?” she asks quickly, her hostile demeanor immediately (unconsciously) melting. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh good, you do know her,” Root says from somewhere near the kitchen. “I was worried.”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “She’s a kid, Root. What did you have to worry about? That you couldn’t take her in a fight?”

“It’s not about could, Sweetie; it’s about would.”

Gen huffs from her spot on the couch and crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “Your girlfriend is weird, Shaw.”

Shaw shakes her head. “Not my girlfriend.”

“I’m her wife,” Root supplies, unhelpfully.

Shaw growls. “She is not my wife.”

“Domestic partner.”

“No.”

“Common-law married.”

“No, Root. Stop it.”

“Well,” Gen cuts in from the other side of the room, “if she isn’t your girlfriend, then why does she live here?”

“She’s…” Shaw shoots Root an unhappy glare, “more like a roommate. Or an outdoor cat you let inside when it rains.”

“She was naked when I got here.”

Shaw whips her head around, her glare only intensifying. Root holds up her hands in self-defense. “Not naked. Just not wearing pants. It’s different.”

“Root,” Shaw hisses.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you were babysitting this week.”

“I’m not a baby,” Gen supplies unhappily. “I’m just too young to rent a hotel room. This was my next-best option.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Shaw holds up a hand, shaking her head. Her eyes narrow at the guilty look that’s slowly taking over Gen’s face. “Your next-best option for what, exactly?”

Gen swallows a little thickly, and Shaw feels a little glimmer of triumph at her undeniable ability to intimidate without even breaking a sweat. That triumph, however, lasts only up until Gen’s next slow, timid sentence: “For… winter break?”

Shaw stands regarding the young girl, a contemplative frown on her face. She taps a finger against her lips with an even rhythm as she thinks.

It’s been quiet in the apartment for a good four minutes, now. Root, loitering in the kitchen with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hands, watches the silent stand-off taking place in front of her with barely-contained amusement.

“Okay,” Shaw finally says, and Gen perks up on the couch, straightening in her seat. “Okay, you can stay here.” At the bright smile that immediately bursts onto the girl’s face, Shaw holds up a finger, stilling her instantly. “But it’s only for your winter break, you got that? No longer. And you can’t use me as an excuse to ditch school, anymore. Not without telling me first. Deal?”

Gen nods enthusiastically. “Deal!”

Shaw nods curtly. “Good.” Gen moves to get up from the couch, her hand reaching to grab the bags deposited at her feet, but Shaw holds out a hand to stop her. “Not so fast, Kid. We need ground rules.”

Gen pulls a face. “I’m not a kid, Shaw.”

“If you can’t rent your own hotel room, you’re a kid, Kid.”

Gen pouts and sinks back onto the couch she had only just vacated. “I’m still not a kid,” she mutters despondently.

Shaw glances around the apartment for a few seconds, her eyes flicking over to where Root lounges lazily against the kitchen counter. Her jaw clenches, like she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and Root’s smile only widens. She waggles her fingers just a little bit, and the huff of air that Shaw lets out through her nose is more than a little pointed.

“Okay,” Shaw says without preamble, turning her attention back to the girl in front of her. “Rule number one: no guns. No guns, no knives, no grenades, no throwing stars… no weapons of any kind. If you see any around here, you do not touch them. Understood?”

Gen sighs dramatically, but acquiesces, “Fine.”

“Rule number two: no recording equipment inside the apartment.” From her spot in the kitchen, Root clears her throat loudly. Shaw’s jaw clenches again, and she growls slightly. When she speaks, her voice is low and murderous, and she doesn’t even dare turn her attention to Root, lest she end up doing something violent that she’s sure to regret. “I told you to get rid of that stuff, Root.”

“She needs eyes and ears at all times, Sameen. I don’t make the rules.”

Shaw mutters heatedly under her breath for a few more moments before she stops and inhales deeply. “Okay. Fine. Rule number two: no new recording equipment inside the apartment. And I mean that, Kid. No cameras, no tape recorders, nothing.”

“Shaw,” Gen moans slightly, but Shaw shakes her head.

“Non-negotiable. Can’t risk it. No recording.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Okay, rule number three: no going into our—” She pauses, and if Root believed it was at all possible, she might have thought Shaw was blushing. “No going into my bedroom,” she corrects quickly. “That one’s for your own good; believe me.”

“Okay,” Gen nods. “No weapons, no recording, no bedroom. That all?”

“Um…” Shaw blinks, looking suddenly at a loss for words. “I… guess?”

“No drugs, no alcohol,” Root calls from the kitchen.

Shaw nods along with her. “Yes. Right. No drugs, no alcohol.”

“That one’s easy. I’m fourteen. And not an idiot.”

“Idiot or not, you still have to agree to all the rules. Do you agree?” Gen nods once. “Nope, need a verbal confirmation. Do you agree to all the rules?”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Alright, then.” She nods curtly. “There’s a spare bedroom that way,” she says, pointing down the hall. “Let me know if you need—” she pauses and frowns, like her own hesitance is a particular annoyance— “food, or… something.”

Gen pulls a face at her even as she stands from the couch, shouldering her bag. “I’ve been cooking for myself since I was nine, Shaw. I think I’ll be fine.”

As she disappears into the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, Root sidles up behind Shaw and says, “I think that went well.” Shaw mumbles something noncommittally and turns to stalk back into their — her, her mind corrects — bedroom. “Should I tell her we only have grenades in our fridge, or should you?” Root calls out to her.

Shaw slams the door behind her.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She absolutely, 100%, does not know what the hell she’s doing.

What was she thinking, agreeing to let Gen stay with her for two weeks? How psychotic was that? Root’s one thing. She’s almost a teenager herself, in some ways: computer-obsessed, moody, and prone to sleeping all through the morning, with a tendency to eat Shaw damn near out of house and home. But for all of her childish tendencies, at least Root can fucking drive. At least she can make grocery runs, can communicate with an all-powerful super computer that likely (probably) wants to keep her alive. Gen is… another matter entirely. Root, at least, is a grown ass woman. She can come and go as she pleases; she knows how to shoot and fight; she can buy her own booze; Shaw doesn’t have to worry about her burning down the apartment if she wants to make some eggs.

But Gen…

She doesn’t act like a teenager. Not the way she should. Not the way Shaw thinks teenagers are supposed to act, anyway. For one thing, she’s smart. Probably too smart to be anything but trouble. And she doesn’t talk the way teenagers talk. She’s pretty consistently glued to her cellphone, but the one time Shaw manages to catch a peek at what she’s looking at, she sees that it’s not a social media app (she’s pretty clueless in the ways of the internet but she’s not that clueless) but rather some weird Russian-language news site. Probably on the Dark Web, if Shaw knows anything about precocious, too-smart-for-their-own-good teenagers (which, having at one point been one herself, and currently almost-cohabitating with another, she thinks she has some authority on the matter). Shaw can’t forget that the first time they met, it was because she had to save Gen from mobsters who were trying to kill her for spying on them. (She also can’t forget that Gen, at 10 years-old, was able to spot her on her tail — and the list of people who hold that accolade is, generously speaking, infinitesimal.)

Shaw doesn’t exactly trust her. (Then again, she doesn’t exactly trust anybody.) She’s a teenager; that’s more than enough to make Shaw suspicious. But after a few hours of carefully (and suspiciously) watching her, Shaw comes to the conclusion that, maybe, Gen isn’t going to be the handful she anticipated. She’s quiet, and spends most of the afternoon curled on the couch with her head buried in a book. Shaw keeps a close eye on her just to make sure she isn’t snooping into anything she shouldn’t be snooping into, but Gen truly looks like she couldn’t care less that there’s an arsenal of weaponry hidden in her general vicinity.

Gen goes to sleep about about 11 that night (is that too late for a teenager? Shaw has no idea, but doesn’t really care enough to question it), and Shaw goes to sleep thinking that… well, maybe the next few weeks aren’t going to be as bad as she thought.

She probably has to get a Christmas tree now, though.

Maybe she’ll just make Root do it.

On the very first morning, Shaw wakes up to an empty apartment. This is usually the kind of thing that would fill her with… not joy, exactly — she doesn’t really do joy — but it would usually make her relaxed. Not angry, at least (her usual default state-of-being). Which is about as close to ‘joy’ as she ever gets (except for: drinking a good Scotch; eating a great steak; having better-than-average sex; seeing Bear after a long time away from him; and, though she would never admit it out loud, whenever Root comes back from a mission alive and mostly-well).

And the thing is, waking up to an empty apartment is nice. It’s very nice. She’s able to get in her morning strength training, make a ton of bacon and eggs and share none of them with anyone else, and drink her coffee in peace.

At least, until Finch knocks on her door.

“Miss Shaw?” he calls out from her hallway, and Shaw growls under her breath. He should know better than to announce her name like that where so many people could hear it. Her neighbors might think it’s okay to talk to her, if they know her name.

She rips the door open with a glower prominent on her face. “Finch.” She holds the door open for him, gesturing sharply with her head.

He walks inside slowly, his limp pronounced. “I’m sorry to call on you so early, Miss Shaw,” he says, leaning heavily on his cane, “but I received a call from Miss Zhirova’s school this morning. Apparently, she left for her Christmas break, yesterday, and they wanted to make sure she arrived safely.” He adjusts his glasses quickly. “I’m afraid that something may be amiss, and knowing your relationship with Miss Zhirova—”

“It’s alright, Finch,” she cuts him off. “Gen’s here.”

He blinks at her, his eyes owlish behind his glasses. ��She what?”

“She’s here. She’s staying with me for her winter break. She was tired of school and didn’t have your address, so… she came here.” She shrugs. “No big deal. I have a spare room.”

“But… but…” Harold splutters for a moment. “She’s here?”

Shaw nods. “Yes. Well, not right now; she wasn’t here when I woke up. But she’s staying—”

“Are you saying you don’t know where she is?” His voice sounds a little too high, his lips pulled tight.

Shaw frowns. “I guess not. Why?”

“You took on the role of her guardian, Miss Shaw! You cannot just let a child wander around the-the streets of New York City unaccompanied! What if she encounters one of her former attackers? What if she’s in trouble?”

“She’s fourteen, Finch. I really don’t think she can get into that much trouble.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows they’re bullshit. This is a kid who almost got herself killed by the Russian mob when she was barely 10 years-old. Of course she’ll find some way to get herself into trouble.

Finch is shaking his head at her like he’s disappointed in her, and somehow that makes it all worse.

“Just…” she makes a sound like she wants to argue, but finally just huffs in annoyance. “Fine,” she grumbles. “I’ll get my coat.”

Finch nods. “You do that. I’ll call Mr. Reese and Detective Fusco and see if they’ve had any unusual reports.” Shaw sighs, already bemoaning the loss of her quiet morning alone. But she grabs her jacket from its place on the wall and pulls one of her spare guns out from under the table. “We should start at her old apartment,” Finch says from his spot by the door, leaning heavily on his cane, “she might have gone there. I’ll send Mr. Reese—” But just then the door is pushed open, and Gen and Root come tumbling inside. A little wind-ruffled and red from the cold air, but otherwise completely unharmed.

They’re actually laughing together, which is almost as disturbing as one of them coming back injured. Root looks up when she notices Finch by the door, and she immediately brightens. “Harry!” she exclaims. “This is a surprise. Did you come by for breakfast?”

Finch doesn’t say anything. Root turns her attention to Shaw, her brow quirked in question, but she’s only met with a glare.

“Gen, go to your room.”

“What?!” Gen splutters. “But Shaw, I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t go out on my own, I didn’t get into trouble. I was with Root the whole time!”

“You also left school without telling Finch. So room. Now.” When Gen doesn’t move for a few more seconds, Shaw points down the hallway. Her face is set in stone, to prove that she means business.

Gen huffs but finally turns on her heel and stomps away.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Miss Zhirova,” Finch calls down the hall after her. Gen doesn’t turn around or answer back, which is pretty much to be expected. Her door slams shut, and Finch winces at the resulting sound and the way it seems to shake the very walls.

Shaw has turned her focus on Root. She stands with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring. To the untrained eye, it would appear that her disapproval has no effect on Root, who continues to shed her many layers of winter wear by the door without flinching. But Shaw knows how to read Root better than just about anyone. She can see the way Root is moving stiffly, the way her ears are pulled back like she’s listening intently. Shaw knows she’s rattled. Good, Shaw thinks. Serves her right.

Finch, too, has seemed to clue-in to the tension simmering between them. He clears his throat, though neither woman turns to acknowledge him. “Well, I… suppose I’d better be off. My deepest apologies for interrupting your morning, Miss Shaw. I see now that everything is alright. Do let me know if you would like to send Miss Zhirova over to me, for the holiday. I’d be more than willing to place her in one of our safe houses, for—”

Shaw cuts him off abruptly. “She’s fine here.”

Finch nods. “Very well. Enjoy your time off. If I receive any new numbers, I will let you know.” He disappears out the door without another word. Neither woman turns to watch him leave.

Shaw takes a deep, steadying breath before she turns on Root. Her words, when she speaks, come out low, as an almost-growl. “What the hell were you thinking, Root?”

“Relax, Sweetie,” Root says easily as she makes her way into the kitchen. “I was just taking Gen out for the morning. Showing her around. Getting to know her a bit.”

Shaw squints at her. There’s something off about Root, the way she’s looking at Shaw with that air of pure innocence. Shaw’s eyes scan her body, looking for any signs of— there. She’s favoring her ribs, like she put unnecessary strain on them at some point this morning. And her left arm looks stiff, like she went shooting without a proper warm-up. Shaw glowers. “Did you take her to a shooting range?”

Something in Root’s eye twinkles mischievously. “A lady never tells.”

“Root,” Shaw growls in warning, “we talked about this. I said no guns.”

“Technically you said no guns in the house. We weren’t in the house. It was perfectly legal.”

If Root’s trying to get back in her good graces by proving she’s clever enough to find a loophole in Shaw’s very practical, very simple rules, she’s chosen entirely the wrong tactic. Shaw doesn’t like being out-smarted. But, not wanting to admit that she’s disgruntled by the disobedience (or maybe the fact that they didn’t invite her to the shooting range with them, despite the fact that Root knows how much she loves a shooting range), Shaw settles on the next best route: guilt. “I don’t want her getting exposed to this, Root,” she says quietly, hoping her voice won’t carry down the hall. “It’s… she’s gonna start thinking she can handle herself in situations she shouldn’t be in. She’s already too smart for her own good. We don’t need to teach her how to kill people, too.”

“I thought you liked killing people?”

Shaw clenches her teeth. “I don’t kill people anymore. You know that.”

Root rolls her eyes. “Fine. Shooting them, then.”

And yeah, okay, fair. Shaw does love to shoot people. But even she’s not so out of touch that she doesn’t understand the fact that exposing children to firearms is almost never a good idea. See: everyone on goddamn Team Machine.

But this is probably an aspect of their argument that they don’t need to continue. Shaw already knows she’s won the is-it-morally-okay-to-take-a-teenager-to-shoot-guns argument (though Root would never admit defeat) because Root lied to her about going. She kept it a secret. And she only does that when she thinks it’s a matter of national security, or when she feels guilty about something.

But it doesn’t make sense why Root would take Gen anywhere. In the very minimal interactions they had yesterday, they didn’t seem to particularly get along. Not sworn enemies or anything, but also not exactly the kind of bosom buddies who wanted to take day trips together. “Why did you even take her out, today?” Shaw asks, because she can’t come up with any even moderately-decent explanation in her own head. The only thing she can figure is that, whatever Root’s intentions with Gen, they almost certainly aren’t good. “What’s your angle here?”

Root scoffs and leans her back against the counter. “What, I can’t spend time with kids, now? I have to have an angle?”

Shaw looks unimpressed. “You hate kids.”

“I hate dumb kids. She’s not dumb.”

“Root,” Shaw says again, flatly. “Seriously. Why.”

Root pauses for a moment, and for that moment Shaw thinks she’s going to dodge the question again. Come up with some lame excuse, or try to change the subject, or flirt and hope that Shaw will change her mind about wanting to know the answer. Hell, she’s half-expecting Root to come onto her, just as a distraction, which is partly why she’s so surprised when she answers truthfully. “I didn’t know about her,” Root says with a shrug.

Shaw frowns. “What?” Of all the answers she had been anticipating (and there had been more than a few), this was definitely not one of them.

“I didn’t know about her. You care about maybe three people in the entire world. Four if you count Bear. Five if you count Lionel.”

“I don’t count Fusco.”

“Right, so… four people. In the entire world. At least that’s what I thought. But… you care about her. Enough where she knows your phone number and your address and feels like she can stop by without telling you first. And she cares about you, too. Enough to visit, at least. Enough to think about you when she needs help. And I didn’t know about her.”

Shaw feels almost… guilty is the wrong word. She doesn’t really do guilt. But she feels something. Something in her stomach that rolls a little uncomfortably, a little uncertainly. She doesn’t like it. It also, absurdly, makes her want to defend herself. “I met her before I knew you.”

Root nods. “I know. But you still never told me about her.”

Shaw huffs, the defensiveness still not wavering. “We don’t generally do a lot of talking, Root. I don’t… share things. You know that.”

Root smiles, but there’s something a little off about it; something maybe a little sad. “Right. I know.” But her voice makes it sound like she doesn’t know, not really; her voice makes it sound like Shaw’s said something wrong, like she’s done something wrong, like she’s pushed against some part of Root she didn’t know was fragile, and now she’s broken it.

Shaw’s frown deepens. “Root…” she starts to say, but Root waves her off and disappears into her — their, her mind weakly supplies — bedroom.

Shaw stares at the closed door and feels, suddenly, very lost. She doesn’t like it.

It’s awkward for about a day. That’s how long Gen continues to sulk in her room, only coming out when she needs food of when she wants to drag her feet around the apartment, trying to make Shaw feel bad for her behavior. It doesn’t work, and she realizes that pretty early on, but still she tries.

Shaw gets Thai takeout as a sort of peace-offering. It’s from Root’s favorite place, but she pretends like that isn’t a factor when she chooses it.

The smell of noodles and peanut sauce eventually draws Gen out of her room, and by the time they finish their meal everyone is in slightly-better spirits. Shaw gets sauce all down her chin and Root even laughs and uses her own napkin to wipe it off, and Shaw feels relieved at the action, though she tries not to dwell on why.

And when they go to sleep that night, Root turns on her side so her back is facing Shaw, but when Shaw kicks her feet out to brush the back of Root’s legs (she doesn’t do cuddling, alright? but a little physical contact with Root during the night does do a lot to settle the nerves she doesn’t admit to having), Root doesn’t pull away from her.

So. A win, she thinks.

Shaw puts Root firmly on bed-rest the next day. (“Bed-rest, Sameen?” she asks with a teasing smirk. “If you wanted to spend the day in bed with me, you just had to ask.” Shaw pointedly ignores her.) After her shooting excursion (so stupid, so foolish, and why doesn’t Root ever think about the fact that she’s injured and shouldn’t do these things?) she wound up with a few torn stitches that Shaw had to sew up last night. And her ribs are hurting her, too, and he knee is still fucked up, no matter what she tries to say.

So. Bed-rest.

The only thing is, that leaves Shaw and Gen alone in the apartment together for most of the day. And she’s a good kid, generally speaking. She’s quiet when Shaw wants to be quiet, for the most part.

But she’s observant, and too smart for her own good. So, sometimes, she asks questions Shaw doesn’t particularly want to answer.

Like now, for instance.

“Shaw?”

“Yeah, Kid?”

“Is Root your girlfriend?”

The no is on the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out, when something makes her pause. She stops for a moment, tilts her head to the side, and seriously considers her words. “She’s…” She pauses. “It’s complicated.”

“How come?” Gen asks, barely looking up from her reading. Shaw’s not sure if she actually isn’t interested in their conversation or if she’s just putting on a show to make Shaw more comfortable expressing herself. Knowing Gen, it’s probably the latter. The thought almost makes Shaw want to smile.

But she doesn’t smile. Instead, she says, “I don’t really do relationships. I’m not good with feelings.”

“But Root lives with you.” She says it like it’s simple, but it doesn’t feel simple.

“She’s not around a lot, Gen,” Shaw says, her voice remarkably quiet. Which is odd, because she doesn’t really do quiet. Not unless it’s of the quietly fierce, intimidating an enemy through unexpected and unwavering composure variety. “Not enough to be living with me. She… travels, a lot.”

“Doing super secret spy stuff?”

Shaw, in spite of herself, smiles a little. “Something like that.”

“But when she’s here, you live together? And you are together? And you don’t date other people?”

“In our line of work, it’s sort of tricky to meet people who aren’t either about to kill or about to be killed.”

“But even if you could meet other people,” Gen says, finally looking up from her book, as if she’s almost desperate for Shaw to stop beating around the damn bush and actually answer her, already, “if you could see other people… would you want to?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions; you know that?”

Gen smiles. “My teachers call me precocious.” Shaw hums, but otherwise doesn’t answer. Gen sighs heavily and keeps prodding. The kid definitely doesn’t know when to quit. “So, do you love her?” she asks loudly (a little too loudly for Shaw’s liking), and Shaw winces.

“I told you, Kid,” she says as she shakes her head, “I don’t really do feelings.”

“But?”

Shaw sighs. Gen’s not going to give up on this, and Shaw knows it. Might as well give her something to shut her up. (And if what she says is more than a little truthful, then… well, it’s not like Shaw is really in the habit of lying to kids, anyway.) “But…” she finally says, slowly “I suppose… Root’s not too bad.”

Gen grins up at her. “Good,” she says.

Shaw can’t help but feel like she’s just missed something.

She figures out what she missed the next day.

“I found this under our bedroom door, today,” Root says as she emerges from the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. She’s holding something out in her hand. Shaw is so curious, so confused about what it is Root might be trying to show her, that she doesn’t correct her on the use of ‘our’ instead of ‘your’. Two months ago, that pronoun choice would have made her clench her jaw so tightly her teeth would have been in danger of shattering. As it is, now she barely even notices it.

“What is that?” Shaw asks, taking a step forward. She’s still dressed in her sweats, the ones she likes to sleep in, because it’s still pretty early in the morning; too early for Root to be finding mysterious things in their bedroom, certainly. Her bare feet pad along the hardwood floors as she finally gets close enough to see what Root’s holding. In Root’s outstretched palm sits a tape; a small one, the kind that fits inside a portable tape recorder. Shaw takes one look at it and rolls her eyes. “I told her no recording in the apartment. What did she do, catch us having sex?”

Root chuckles and shakes her head. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Then why should I care about it?”

“It’s a recording of one of your conversations. The one where you talk about me.”

Shaw freezes momentarily. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before clenching her hands into fists. “I knew she was up to no good.” She growls and stomps toward their bedroom door, already on a tear, ready to give Gen a piece of her mind and remind her about the fact that she’s only allowed to stay here because Shaw had an unlikely and ill-advised moment of mercy. “I swear to God, that kid is dead fucking mea—”

“Did you mean it?”

Shaw stops, her hand already outstretched on the doorknob. “Did I mean what?”

“What you said about me?”

“Wh—” The question is unexpected, and it pulls her up short. She pauses with her arm out for a few more moments before she lets it fall limply back to her side. She runs the conversation over in her head, tries to think if she said anything during it that might have been untrue (or that she might not want Root knowing), but she already knows the answer. She’s just buying herself some time. Finally, she takes a breath and answers. “I… yeah, Root. I guess I meant it.”

Root swallows thickly, and some emotion Shaw can’t quite recognize slips over her eyes. Shaw shifts where she stands, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “That’s…” Root starts to say, but she trails off, her voice thick with something unnamed.

Shaw shifts again. “I just said you weren’t bad, Root. No need to cry about it.”

Root laughs and shakes her head. Her eyes are still wet, her throat still a little clogged. “Right. My mistake.”

Shaw frowns and shifts on her feet and feels… something. Nothing she recognizes, but nothing necessarily bad. “You done?” she asks gruffly, for something to do. “I need to eat something.”

Root gestures to their door, her hand moving in a big sweeping motion that makes Shaw want to roll her eyes. “After you, Sweetie.”

In the end, Shaw buys a stupid Christmas tree. Her abhorrence of plants in her apartment is firm and unwavering, and she absolutely will not budge on that. But after a few days of the combined pouts/puppy dog eyes courtesy of Root and Gen (who Root must be teaching, because Shaw’s never known the girl to be the kind to beg before now), Shaw figures she can bend the rules just this once. So, she buys the dumb tree. But she absolutely refuses to decorate it.

She comes home from a run one day and finds it strung up with lights and strings of popcorn. Root and Gen both adamantly deny that they were the ones to decorate it, but Shaw catches Root winking at Gen later that night, when Shaw kicks her feet up onto the coffee table and starts to read by the light of the tree (it’s kind of nice in a shitty, kitschy, atmospheric sort of way; so sue her), so she’s pretty sure they’re in cahoots.

Christmas morning rolls around and Shaw, of course, finds herself completely out-matched.

Root gets Gen a new computer, one of those fancy PCs that Root likes to use for gaming (and hacking), the kind that have insane memory cores and fucking out-of-control processing power.

Shaw gets her a hat.

After they’ve made breakfast and cleared away the dirty dishes, after Gen has already disappeared into her bedroom to play with her new computer (and probably do something highly illegal, like try to hack into the CIA, or something), Shaw goes digging in her closet for the other gift she purchased a few days before.

When she gets back into the kitchen she shoves it into Root’s hands unceremoniously. It’s not even giftwrapped, really. There’s just a bow on the top of the box. And she didn’t even do that, the store did, so… whatever. It’s not a big deal, or anything.

Root looks up at her in surprise. Shaw refuses to look at her, instead making herself busy with loading up the dishwasher.

She hears Root pull the box open behind her. (She’s moving slowly, a little too slowly, and it’s not like there’s any wrapping paper standing in her way, or anything, so what does she think she’s doing? Doesn’t she know that it’s making Shaw feel nervous and uncomfortable, setting her teeth on edge?) There’s the sound of crinkling tissue paper, and then a little quiet inhale of breath, and Shaw feels something between her heart and her stomach clench tightly. “Sameen…” Root says in that soft, quiet way of hers. That way she gets when she’s brimming with some emotion that Shaw can’t understand nor fathom. That way she gets when she’s about to say something that’s going to make Shaw supremely uncomfortable.

“Whatever,” Shaw grumbles, sparing the quickest of glances over her shoulder. “I know your hands get cold.”

Root looks at her, all wide, doe-eyes and quivering lip, and Shaw almost wants to yank the box back from her, almost wants to pull it away and say, No, sorry, you missed your chance; you fucked it up, so now you get nothing.

But Root doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t start crying, or confessing some deep-seated emotions. She just leans over and kisses Shaw on the mouth, quick and sure and nowhere near the intense, bruising force that she usually likes to kiss Shaw with.

“Thank you,” she says when she pulls away. “I needed new gloves.”

And if there’s something like pride in Shaw’s chest, something like satisfaction… well. It is Christmas, after all. She’s bound to be in a better mood on Christmas.

When the two weeks draw to a close, on the second day of the New Year, Shaw is almost sorry to see Gen go. (Almost; key word there is almost.)

In the end, it wasn’t all that terrible to have her there. It was maybe even kind of nice, sometimes. Their dinners were a lot livelier. And when she finally did manage to hack Amazon’s website and screw up all of the deliveries for a day, that had been pretty entertaining.

But now, it’s time for Gen to go back to school. And Shaw hadn’t particularly liked having a kid around, hadn’t particularly liked having to watch how often she cursed, or where she stashed her weapons. She hadn’t exactly liked that she and Root had to keep their fucking contained to their bedroom, at night. She hadn’t loved the fact that she had to keep reminding Root to keep quiet, to keep her voice down while Shaw was three fingers deep inside her, lest she wake the kid (but watching Root struggle to keep her noises under control had been a little satisfying, gratifying in its own way). Having another mouth to feed and a minor she was technically responsible for hadn’t exactly been how she planned to spend her Christmas.

But it really hadn’t been so bad.

Shaw thinks she might even almost miss her.

Now, they’re standing by the front door, Gen’s suitcase packed and her backpack slung over her shoulder. Shaw’s called a car for her, some private, discreet service — that cost absolutely way too much — to drive her back to school. The driver should be pulling up any minute, now. Which is why she and Gen are loitering in the entranceway, awkwardly stumbling through a goodbye.

“Well,” Shaw says as she rubs her hands against her legs, “uh… don’t get into too much trouble, alright?” she ventures, which is about as close to admitting she cares as she ever gets.

Gen seems to understand that. She’s always just sort of innately understood Shaw in a way so few people do. “Don’t kill Root if she annoys you too much,” she shoots back with a grin.

Shaw has to chuckle. “No promises.”

“Well, me either, then.”

“Alright. How about I agree not to kill Root, and you agree to stay out of trouble with any and all government entities, domestic or foreign.” At the look Gen shoots her, Shaw rolls her eyes. “At least until you’re eighteen,” she acquiesces. Shaw holds out her hand. “Deal?”

Gen cocks her head, like she’s seriously considering the bargain. “Alright,” she finally says, gripping Shaw’s hand tightly with her own. The kid has a good handshake. Shaw is pleased by that. “It’s a deal.”

Shaw’s phone buzzes with a text, indicating that the driver is outside their building, and Shaw looks at Gen one more time. “Well… bye, then,” she says lamely.

“Bye, Shaw. Bye, Root!” she calls into the kitchen.

Root comes striding out. “Bye, Gen. Stay safe. Get good grades. And email me if you ever have any questions about…” she glances at Shaw before whispering, conspiratorially, with a mischievous wink, “you-know-what.”

Gen laughs and steps forward, pulling Root into a brief but tight hug that seems to surprise her as much as it surprises Shaw. “Thanks for Christmas,” she says when she pulls back. “I’ll call you when I’m back at school.” And with one last wave, she’s out the door.

“How come you got a hug?” Shaw grumbles when the door closes behind her.

“Aw, Sweetie,” Root coos as she walks past. She presses a wet, sloppy kiss to Shaw’s cheek, something Shaw should object to, something she should want to dodge away from, or glower in response to. But, if anything, she leans into the kiss. Which is not something she should do. Like, at all. God, maybe she is getting too soft. Maybe this has all been— “You can hug me anytime you like,” Root purrs into her ear, and Shaw’s mind goes blank.

Maybe she should stop thinking so much. After all, it’s just Root. And, most of the time, Shaw doesn’t even think that Root is half-bad.

She can handle a few cheek kisses, she thinks.

She’s undergone worse tortures.

#shoot #root x shaw #fanfiction #person of interest fanfiction #person of interest #fanfic #mine

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