#honestly that's a large part of why I wanted to be a martyr for so many years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jinmukangwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Wanted to challenge myself and write something under 500 words. Honestly just proud of myself that I managed to keep it below 1k. This is a win for me regardless. Sorry for the lack of writing from me lately, idk why I haven't been in the mindset to write. I've been doing nothing but rewatching Naruto lately, but idk I was in the mood to write something tonight so I chose a random prompt and challenged myself to keep it short. Enjoy!

Prompt: "i can't believe that you lied to me." w/ Legend and Hyrule.

Warnings: description of minor injury, fever, infection

-o-o-o-o-

They're trekking through the woods when it happens. It's sudden and unexpected, the sound of a body hitting the ground coming so much quicker than anyone can react. Fear shoots through Hyrule's veins as he spins around; his eyes immediately locking onto the very still and very limp-looking Legend.

"Vet!?" Warriors shouts out, but Hyrule is the first towards his body, skidding to his knees and grabbing his shoulders to push him onto his back—that way he's not breathing in lose dirt with his suddenly very quick and very short inhales.

"He's unconscious," Hyrule calls, his voice more shaky than he'd like. However, he can already feel worried tremors attacking his fingers as he desperately tries to figure out what's wrong.

The others urgently gather around one-by-one. Warriors pushes to the front of the others—and they willingly part as they know he has the most knowledge in field medicine. He presses the back of his palm against Legend's head and swears. "Fuck. He has a fever."

"What's wrong?" Wind asks in a small voice somewhere behind Hyrule, but his question goes unanswered as Warriors presses his fingers against Legend's neck to count his pulse.

However, the question doesn't go ignored. Not by Hyrule. His stomach tightens in a knot and he finds his bottom lip being worried between his teeth.

Legend told Hyrule not to tell the others... not to worry them with something trivial. But... there can't be any other reason he'd randomly pass out like this.

Hyrule shoots his shaking hands forward and grabs at Legend's belt. Warriors makes a shocked, inquiring shout as Hyrule unbuckles the belt and tugs the outer layer of his tunic up to expose his side. Warriors confusion quickly turns to intense concern as he sees what Hyrule has just exposed. In Legends side, near his hip, is a large cut in the fabric that reveals bandages underneath with stains of a sickening, unhealthy red.

Soon, at Warriors demand, Wild is cutting open the tear in the tunic even larger. Legend will be pissed at the loss of his tunic, but Warriors doesn't seem to want to jostle him around too much by removing the tunic normally. Once Legends chest is bare—covered in nothing other than a one-handed attempt at bandages—Warriors takes the dagger from Wild's fingers and carefully finishes the job himself by slicing open the white-stained strips of fabric.

What meets them under the fabric is festering, bloody, and bad.

"It's infected," Warriors snarls.

From there, it's Warriors commanding the others to get water and various ingredients for a makeshift wound cleaner as they're all out of red potions thanks to their last big ambush.

All Hyrule can do is sit there, unsure if the weight in his stomach is worry for his friend... or anger that he had been lied to.

It must be both, he decides.

-o-o-o-o-

Legend wakes up with a headache, feeling hot and cold all over. There's something wet on his forehead, but when he groggily reaches up to grab at whatever it is, a hand wraps around his wrist and pushes it back down. "You have a fever, dumbass."

Ah. Legend remembers now. He creeks his eyelids open and sure enough, a very unhappy Hyrule sits above him, his glare as sharp as daggers.

"You're an idiot," Hyrule says coldly. "You said you'd be fine. Next thing I know you're passing out in the middle of the trail. I can't believe you lied to me."

Legend sighs, and leans further back into the blankets spread under his body and rolled under his neck. He can only see Hyrule from where he weakly lays. He wonders where the others are... and if there's any chance they'll be able to save him from Hyrule's justified rage. Nah, they're all probably just as pissed.

"I didn't want to make anyone worry," Legend whispers, his voice scratchier than he expected. He supposes it's what he deserves—hiding his wound from everyone like that. It was by bad luck Hyrule caught him wrapping the wound after the ambush. He just... everyone else was much more wounded than he was, and he preferred the rest of their dwindled supplies be used on them. He's taken care of himself before.

He... just must have underestimated the state of the wound on his side. Perhaps the sword the moblin got on him wasn't as clean as it should have been?

"Well, looks like you royally failed, you shit-brain martyr," Hyrule hisses. "Now everyone is worried."

Legend desperately wants to sink into the ground and cease to exist. However, all he can do is try a weak "I'm sorry."

And bless Hylia for Hyrule being such a gentle soul. His eyes immediately soften. "Just... just don't do it again. We're... a team here. Your wounds are our wounds. We want to know when your hurt, no matter what. Warriors just barely managed to save your life this time."

Legend takes a shakey breath. "Okay. I promise."

Hyrule nods his head, all anger that had painted his body is now gone, replaced with companionable, smothering worry. "You should rest some more. It'll save you a little longer from the lecture Cap and the old man have for you. I heard Time practicing his, and it's not pretty."

Legend lets out a startled, exhausted laugh at that. It tugs on his side, but thankfully it's not as painful as what it was before he lost consciousness. Whatever Warriors had given him, it must be very good. Goddess above, his an idiot. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Something you need to learn how to start having," Hyrule teases, a twinkle in his eye.

Legend hums and closes his eyes, sleep already luring him in. "No promises there," Legend manages to mutter. He's completely overcome with unconsciousness before he can hear Hyrule's scolding.

#linked universe #hero of legend #hero of Hyrule #jin writes #fanfiction #ficlet #injury tw #blood tw

73 notes · View notes

longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

Text

Arkham Files: Pied Piper

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Hartley Rathaway, alias Henry Darrow; also known as the Pied Piper. The patient shows signs of depression and general emotional distress, but I have not yet been able to give him a full psychiatric evaluation. Session One. So, young man, your name is Hartley Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir.

Hugo Strange: Any connection to Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, the billionaire publishing magnates?

Pied Piper: They’re my parents, sir.

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) You mean to tell me that you’re that Hartley Rathaway? The boy who was set to inherit a fortune as large as the GDP of some small countries?

Pied Piper: I’m the only Hartley Rathaway! Ever! Nobody but my parents would stick a child with a name like that!

Hugo Strange: So if that is who you are, young man, why in the world would you have ever decided to put on a costume, call yourself the Pied Piper, and embark on a life of crime using weaponized musical instruments?

Pied Piper: Because someone had to even the score.

Hugo Strange: What do you mean, even the score? You had life handed to you on a silver platter. You grew up in a palatial mansion, with servants to tend to your every need. You had the best education money could buy, you traveled all around the world, and you were set to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the country. What injustice could a pampered prince like you possibly have faced?

Pied Piper: None, sir. I’m not evening the score for myself. I’m evening it for the poor, the downtrodden, the people who through no fault of their own are denied the opportunity to even know that they’ll have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. My parents and people like them live in scandalous luxury that they didn’t even earn, and they have the nerve to say that the poor are lazy and selfish! It’s unjust and unfair, and yet everyone turns a blind eye! I...I had to do something!

Hugo Strange: (A bit taken aback) I must admit, young man, I was not expecting to hear a manifesto from someone of your background. (Pause) I take it that you don’t simply steal for kicks in the way that your file seems to suggest?

Pied Piper: Not often. Usually, I take the money from people who won’t even notice it’s gone and give it to people who really need it.

Hugo Strange: So you think of yourself as some sort of Robin Hood, then? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?

Pied Piper: I wouldn’t have thought to put in those specific terms, but...I suppose I do, yes.

Hugo Strange: Why not just give away your own money, Mr. Rathaway? Certainly you have access to more than enough of it.

Pied Piper: (Laughs quietly) I tried that once. When my parents found out, it became part of the argument that got me disowned, disinherited, and thrown off of their estate without a dollar to my name.

Hugo Strange: Your parents disowned you?

Pied Piper: Yes. They even paid the FBI to give me the identity of Henry Darrow just so I could never be traced back to them. If the Flash and that brilliant young reporter hadn’t stumbled onto the connection between me and my parents somehow, Hartley Rathaway probably would have been effectively erased from existence.

Hugo Strange: That does at least explain why your file gives you two entirely separate names and histories. I admit that that had been puzzling me, Mr. Rathaway.

Pied Piper: Well, now you know. (Pause) How did I end up in Arkham Asylum, Doctor? Even if someone had become convinced that I was mentally ill, Breedmore Psychiatric Hospital would seem to be much more conveniently located.

Hugo Strange: It would be. In fact, there are any number of prisons and psychiatric facilities that would be more conveniently located to the area of the Twin Cities than Arkham Asylum...but through a series of judicial and political decisions to which I was not privy, somehow all of you “Rogues” were placed under my watch. (Pause) So, Mr. Rathaway, you went from being one of the wealthiest and most privileged people in the country to being homeless and penniless. I imagine that that was not an easy transition for you.

Pied Piper: No, it wasn’t. Although the panic didn’t kick in right away. It wasn’t until I used my sonic technology to steal forty thousand dollars from my parents’ company, and then gave the money away to people in need, that my anger subsided and it really hit me that I was impoverished. All I had left was my hypnotic flute and the silly costume I had made out of my mother’s nice shower curtains in order to disguise myself while I was stealing money from her company, and I was panicking. Which in hindsight is probably why I made the stupid decision to hypnotize a group of random crooks into becoming a sort of gang, told them that my name was the Pied Piper, and tried to become their leader. One of them probably would have ended up shooting me within a couple of days, but because my sonic abilities were quite unusual, the Flash showed up to arrest us before I got myself killed. They went to prison, but for some reason that was never adequately explained, I was released from the police station without even being booked.

Hugo Strange: How could that have happened, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: My parents’ money, of course. They hadn’t had the time to create a false identity for me yet, so I suspect that they simply bribed the police station into letting me go so that no one would know that the former heir to the Rathaway empire was now a common crook.

Hugo Strange: And what happened after that?

Pied Piper: I almost starved to death.

Hugo Strange: And what saved you?

Pied Piper: Well, I had sat down on a park bench and was sort of waiting to die when I suddenly came face-to-face with a pair of blue pixie shoes that were floating four feet off the ground. The pixie shoes were attached to a blonde kid in a garish leotard. He asked me if I was the kid with the magic flute, and when I said yes, he told me that he was the Trickster and invited me to stay with him in his apartment for a couple days. I agreed when he told me that he also had food. During the month I stayed with him, he gave me a crash course on how to survive on the streets...although most of the other Rogues insist that I must not have learned very much from it.

Hugo Strange: Why is that, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Because I still give away basically all the money that I steal. Most of it goes to the poor, and the rest of it goes to my parents, to pay them back for the money they spent on trying to mold me into someone I could never be. That way, they can stop complaining about all the money they wasted on me. (Pause) Captain Cold insists that if I had any sense, I would keep some of the money for myself, but why would I do that? I spent my early life in unimaginable luxury. It’s only fair that I go without to help the poor now.

Hugo Strange: So you’re martyring yourself for the sins of your parents?

Pied Piper: I’m not martyring myself. I’m just doing what needs to be done.

Hugo Strange: Sacrificing your own financial well-being for the sake of others is not healthy, Mr. Rathaway. With a philosophy like yours, I’m surprised that you’re even still alive. (Pause) Incidentally, how have you managed to survive multiple stints in prison? A skinny, sheltered ex-aristocrat like you would seem to be an obvious target.

Pied Piper: Which is why I don’t call attention to myself whilst incarcerated. You’d be surprised how effective keeping your head down and your mouth shut can be. (Pause) Well, that, and Captain Cold has made it pretty clear that if anyone messes with me, they’re also messing with him. And almost no one is willing to get on Captain Cold’s bad side.

Hugo Strange: So your status as one of the Rogues protects you?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir. (Pause) But if I really had to, I think I could survive without them. I may be a sheltered ex-aristocrat, but I’m also a master hypnotist. I didn’t take up the name Pied Piper for nothing, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your file does go into great detail about the effectiveness of your hypnotic instruments. When you first arrived on the scene, there were even some people who thought that you might be the Pied Piper of the folktales, due not only to your powers but also the fact you seemed to appear and disappear almost at will, without ever really getting caught (Pause) Of course, from what you’ve told me, I can guess that the explanation for your remarkably infrequent imprisonments was due to your parents’ wealth, rather than to any magical powers.

Pied Piper: Those rumors were actually quite helpful. When people thought I might be magical, they put considerably less effort into tracking me, and that gave me a lot more freedom to do things like volunteering at homeless shelters and food pantries.

Hugo Strange: But you are not magical, Mr. Rathaway. You are only a man.

Pied Piper: I know that, Dr. Strange. If I had magical powers, I’d be a lot farther along in my goal of helping uplift the downtrodden than I am.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, that was not what I was trying to tell you. Wanting to help others is an admirable goal, but the methods which you are taking to pursue it are decidedly unhealthy. You are a human being with human needs, and you are discounting them all in your desperation to prove that you are worth loving. While I believe that you honestly want to help others, I also believe that there is a part of you that is still trying to earn the love which it sounds like you were denied as a child. You’re hoping that if you sacrifice enough, you will finally be accepted as worthy...but you are giving too much.

Pied Piper: Too much?

Hugo Strange: Yes, Mr. Rathaway. Too much. (Pause) Think of it this way. If you starve to death because you have no money to pay for food, you will no longer be around to feed anyone else...and by giving away all of the money you bring in, illicitly or otherwise, that is effectively what you are risking. And it’s certainly what you’re doing to yourself on an emotional level.

Pied Piper: (Quietly) It’s what I was taught to do, Dr. Strange. What I wanted wasn’t important. What I needed wasn’t even important. The only thing that was important was upholding the family name. My parents have always made it quite clear that their love for me was conditional on whether I would sacrifice what I was to be their idea of the perfect heir, and I tried. For eighteen years, I tried, but it was never enough. Not after I’d been born deaf.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your files mention that. Your files also mention that your deafness was cured thanks to a pair of highly advanced hearing aids, which were created by Dr. William Magnus. The operation cost millions of dollars, and it granted you far more than the normal range of hearing.

Pied Piper: 14 hertz to 55,000 hertz. I hear more sounds than a dog. (Pause) And all the nasty things that people whisper behind my back when they think I can’t hear.

Hugo Strange: Are you glad that you were given these hearing aids, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Very much so. Without them, I’d never have known what music sounded like. (Pause) But to be honest? If I had to choose between being deaf and knowing that my parents loved me, and being able to hear and knowing that it was entirely because my parents didn’t want the social embarrassment of having a disabled son, I’d choose the world of silence. And I hate silence.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you have spent your entire life sacrificing your own needs, either for the needs of others or for your parent’s desire for a so-called ‘perfect’ heir. That is why the request I am going to make of you will be so difficult. (Pause) Between now and our next session, I want you to write down something that you really want to do. Not something you think you should want to do; something that you actually want to do.

Pied Piper: But-

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you will never be able to achieve healing until you recognize that your wants and needs are just as valid as anyone else’s. You will not be able to care for others in a healthy way until you learn to care for yourself.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #pied piper #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

27 notes · View notes

a-lil-perspective · 4 years ago

Text

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

#personal #lil rambles

40 notes · View notes

spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 3 years ago

Text

Honestly the Supernatural ending was fucked all along, because to have a strong ending, a work has to resolve whatever tensions and questions it set up in the opening – not necessarily in an uncomplicated way, but it has to offer a kind of answer to the fundamental story questions.

The premise set up in The Woman in White is: Sam has a good life, Sam is an up-and-coming guy on his way to happiness and success, but Sam's father is not doing well; Sam is angry at his father, who he remembers as, at best, a habitual drunkard who kept Sam's life in chaos and then disowned him. So question number one is, given that Sam is better and happier now that he's no longer entangled with his father, should he revisit any of that? Does he continue to owe his father anything, should he help look for him, should he even care at all that his father might be in trouble? That feels like a clear no, not really, let John solve his own problems – until Jessica dies in the same way Mary did, and that introduces a twist. Has Sam actually misunderstood who his father was? Does John know, has John all along known something that Sam needs to know about his own past, that he can't live his happy life until he understands? The search for John is now about not just “does Sam owe his family anything?” – it's about “does Sam need his family?” And there's a plot resonance, but also a thematic resonance there: do you need your family? Even if your family's pretty fucked up? Does going back to your unhappy childhood serve some necessary function on your road to a successful adulthood? Can you pretend forever that you don't come from the fucked-up place you come from, or do you actually have to go back and understand the truth about who your parents were because the past is never just the past?

So the early seasons are largely about answering that question, through the vehicles of Sam, who would prefer not to admit that his fucked-up past can't really be run away from, and Dean, who would prefer not to admit that there was anything fucked-up about his past at all. Both of them learn and change: Sam begins to understand where he really comes from and why he can't separate himself from the forces that made him, and Dean begins to understand that yeah, actually, he should separate himself a lot more from the forces that made him, that it's foolish to hold up his father as some kind of infallible god, because even God isn't that. All the stories that spin out in the early seasons about Earth as the cosmic battleground for the family strife between Michael and Lucifer are linked to the pilot by that question: is there any escaping the reach of your family and its history? And the show decides, yeah, we have free will, we shouldn't just lie down and die because that's our inheritance. We should change the script. We can be better than our parents were. Better than we were ordered or prophesied to be. And the clear mechanism for all of this is love: Sam falls to Lucifer's influence when he's rejected again (Dean following in John's footsteps), but Sam is able to shake off that demonic control long enough to thwart Lucifer because Dean loves him and accepts him and remains with him when it looks like it's too late to save him (the thing John never did, couldn't do). Dean changes the script by being more able to love Sam unconditionally than John could, and the basic question of the premise is answered: you do have to go back to your family – not to accept or replicate their mistakes, but to do better, to love them better this time. You have to heal from the root. As a viewer, you can accept or reject this resolution; I personally like it, but I'm from that same cultural background, I have a family history that vibes with the things the show is discussing, I'm primed to like and agree with the conclusion. Maybe you're not, and that's okay! The point is, it is a conclusion to something. The show asked questions and then provided answers.

The problem is...the show answered its own questions in 5 seasons, and in such a way that the naturally satisfying conclusion was – literally anything else except more hunting. You can't say the Big Answer is loving and forgiving your family in spite of their flaws, and then also say that what you want to do with your life is The Family Business just as your father practiced it. Once you say that the prescription is to heal at the root, something should change. And it doesn't, really, because the show can't change. It has a formula. It's about hunting. Dean can't give up violence and become a family man, even though that's been clearly established as something he'd be better and happier doing. Sam can't pursue any dreams that weren't the dreams his father had for him, even though that's been clearly established as the thing he's been willing to fight for all along. So if the show isn't going to be over, they both have to actively choose to go against their own self-interest. And season 6 is pretty clever, actually – soulless!Sam is a device that does get them back on the road in a way that makes sense; we know why Sam isn't doing what's right for Sam, and we know that Dean can be convinced to do what's wrong for him in order to save Sam. It tracks. But it can't last, and what takes over pretty soon from there is...inertia, basically. They keep doing this because this is what they do. It doesn't really make them happy. It just feels necessary, because Hunters is what they are; no Hunters retire, in the whole show. They are never allowed. It is not done. They may lapse into more of a part-time gig, but nobody actually leaves the business, because it would be – bad. People would die, we guess? A hero never would, we guess? It's not terribly clear, but the general sense is that it just has to happen this way because this is their story now. This is who they are.

And that's the opposite of what the initial story was about. Now the story about using your free will to transform and redeem the dysfunctions you inherited is a story about two guys just working in the family business while they die inside of loneliness and PTSD. There's no story question in the later seasons; there's just stimulus and response. Oops, Leviathans. Oops, Mark of Cain. Oops, Amara. Oops, Lucifer and Lucifer and more Lucifer. Oops, Michael again. We better deal with that, I guess. Some of the storylines are okay in later seasons; some individual episodes are fantastic. But the whole thing is mired in the fact that there can't be forward momentum in the story because there are opponents and antagonists galore, but there's no internal engine to the story, no fundamental problem to conquer or question to resolve. From outside the story, we can sit here and say, Hey, it's a problem for me that these dudes are fucking miserable, I'd like them to work on resolving that! But within the story, they're never allowed to admit that is a problem. Because it's an adventure show about brave guys doing good deeds, and it's undermined at the most basic level if we come out and admit that what would make these dudes less miserable is no more fucking adventures, no more martyring themselves to do good deeds, no more hunting at all.

When the show came to an end, it was epically fucked, because it had nothing to resolve. And to give the show credit, it did try to do something interesting that would refer back to and provide a commentary on the whole show – this meta business about “have we all been God's favorite tv show all along?” There's something there; it reminds me of the CS Lewis quote about how he never worried that God didn't exist, but he did often fear that God was actually a vivisectionist. What if the reason this show has been churning along in place forever in spite of the characters' vivid and unchanging dissatisfaction with their life is that some other force wanted them to keep going on adventures? Maybe it's God, who's a writer (that's ground we've gone over before), but not just a writer – he's his only fan, his only audience. He's the Fandom. He's the Audience. He's us. Sam and Dean have been on this hamster wheel of labor and loss with no endpoint in sight because that's what we tune in to see; if they both quit, we change the channel. We're the ones who demand they Always Keep Fighting, who call them heroes for suffering through this endless parade of baddies and funerals. I mean, that's pretty good, as a way to retcon the complete pointlessness of the last ten years! The point is: it was fun to watch. We liked the characters and the episodes and we wanted them to keep doing that for our entertainment, even though we knew it wasn't any fun for them. It's basically the network tv version of Cabin In the Woods, and there's a – I would say mildly interesting question to raise there about what's drama, what's catharsis, what do we get out of stories about other people's suffering and other people's heroism? In my opinion it's a mildly interesting route to open up, although I don't know that there's enough meat on the bone to really make it pay off. An effort was clearly made, though!

But to follow that through to its conclusion, you'd have to answer it, and the way it's set up, there is no satisfying answer possible from inside the universe. We can answer what we get out of stories, perhaps. But why would that be of any interest or comfort to the people in the stories? Their story can't resolve for Sam and Dean if we learn it was actually a story about us the whole time.

So what do you do to end that story? Well, you're a little bit stuck. You can have them resign or get free somehow, sure, and the show does that. But what then? You have two choices, really: either we loop back to s6 and they keep being hunters because It's a Show About Two Hunters – only this time they have True Free Will so you have to assert that they're really freely choosing it, and you have to somehow justify that they would really freely choose to keep doing this thing that's never made them happy, which is depressing as shit – or you have them quit and go pursue their own lives and their own desires – which pretty much goes ahead and admits that the last ten seasons have been us the audience benefitting from the Winchesters' unwilling participation in this Saw-like theme park that was set up for our entertainment (via our stand-in, Chuck). That's clearly the bolder option, but it's also like – super fucked up! And it denies both the audience and, more critically, the people who make the show from having any real victory lap, any way to present the show as a completed entity and say “here's a great story that we're proud of and excited about.” It's such a bleak corner that the show has painted itself into at that point – all of this only happened against our heroes' will, but enjoy it anyway! Of course that got pushback. Of course people wanted to end with something that portrayed the characters as the drivers of the show, protagonists whose choices mattered, whose lives mattered. But they weren't, and they didn't. That was the premise the writers went with in season 15, because they needed to do something about the fact that nowhere in the past ten seasons had the Winchesters done anything on their own behalf, because they'd never been given story goals. All they'd been allowed to do is play whack-a-mole with monsters.

It's a mess all the way around, and it's almost impossible to resolve this late in the game. Season 15 couldn't be about the Winchesters resolving any real Stuff, because the show had long since realized that its prime directive was making sure that the fundamental pattern of the show remained intact: the boys go on adventures, bad things happen somewhere and the boys show up to stop it. And if that fundamental pattern is not a problem – if we're supposed to be glad it's there – then you can't allow any storylines that would end in changing it. Everything that's introduced has to be resolvable by a reversion to that vision of What We Do Around Here, so we can keep doing it. The legitimacy of What We Do Around Here is never allowed to be in question, and an attempt to question it at the very end of the series winds up inherently muddled and out-of-place. Third-act problems are always first-act problems, and the problem with the finale is that the show had spent so long actively reifying the value of an endless, unchanging sequence of events and actively working to quash anything that started looking like a linear story that would end in a place other than where it began.

I like a lot of the plotlines and episodes and characters in the later season. Honestly, 12 is probably my favorite season, just on the weight of good episodes I enjoy watching. But the only part of Supernatural that ever had a coherent story at the heart of it was the original five seasons, where things were set up, explored, and resolved in Swan Song with admirable narrative focus and direction. Everything after that was just stuff that happened, which is not what a story is, and you can't come back from that in the series finale and somehow make it work.

#spn finale #apparently i give writing advice now?

26 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii I'm really new to the fandom, like I just discovered the show this month and I loved the end but I should say that even if the 3rd and 4th season weren't as good as the first two to me tfp was amazing, the only thing that I hated was how they portrayed Mary as a saviour and how in tld she was the one that told John to save Sherlock because John would've done that alone and honestly I would've never forgive her and I was just about to stop watching the show because I hated that part, to me is unrealistic how they forgot everything and were fine with her and I was glad when she d*ed tbh but they still used her and well but I thought that tfp was an amazing chapter and I was surprised to see that the fandom hated it :( why do they hate it so much?

Hey Nonny!

First off, welcome to the fandom!! We’re happy to have you here!

Secondly, I want to preface this with: it’s totally okay to have liked S4 / TFP, and it’s totally okay if you saw something there that I certainly haven’t. It’s not my place to gatekeep the fandom. You’re allowed to enjoy it, and as a heads up to my lovelies who want to reply to this ask too, to please be respectful to my Nonny and their enjoyment of S4.

That said, PLEASE know that this WILL get ranty and it is NOT an attack on you, Nonny. I really am not upset at you and I am very happy that you enjoy the series. I, on the other hand just get very emotional whenever I talk about S4 and what it could have been. Quite honestly, I envy you Nonny; I’ve been too deep into fandom and meta and learning about narrative storytelling for WAY too long to think of it as anything other than a terrible conclusion to what was once an amazing series all because Mofftiss wanted to “shock” people.

With that segue, I’ve essentially summed it all up in a few other asks here, so you can go down that rabbit hole if you like:

Why do most fans hate S4, especially TFP? (THIS POST HERE LISTS A LARGE CHUNK OF WHY I DON’T LIKE S4)

Why Do You Hate S4, I’m Just Curious (huge discussion post)

FOLLOWUP: Can I Tell You that I love you?

Why Does Everyone Seem to Hate S4 and Mary So Much?

How do I respond to people who say they liked S4

Controversial Opinion: S4 Sucked

S4 Didn’t Feel Like BBC Sherlock

The main TL;DR for me about why I dislike TFP: It didn’t feel like an episode of Sherlock AT ALL, the characters were ALL out of character, and it essentially erased 7 years’ of plot / character development:

Molly regressed to S1E1 Molly after establishing that she moved on from Sherlock

Moriarty was essentially a patsy and not a mastermind, and in turn leaving Carl Powers as a HUGE plot hole

who the FUCK is Mycroft in this episode??

Sherlock would NEVER ignore Vatican Cameos

Eurus’ whole character destroyed the world that these characters existed in for 12 episodes prior (ie. BASED IN REALITY). They made her essentially an X-Man. Her very role in the whole season was too fantastical. Why would you break out of this prison only to go back in so you can play a weird Escape room with Saw traps?

John’s entire character was destroyed

Sherlock’s entire purpose in the entire series was reduced to being a woobie because Mofftiss has a “hurting Ben” kink, it seems

Mary basically saying if it wasn’t for her, John and Sherlock could never be, even though they WERE before her stupid face ever was in the picture

They ruined Mary’s character; she could’ve been a badass villain but they made her a martyr through an unapologetic, undeserved, non-redemption. And her DVD’s were stupid and disgusting and just proves what a cruel character she was while trying to convince us that she wasn’t.

Anyway, I could keep going, but you get the idea. Check out the posts linked above for even more.

I think for me, it stems from being someone who wrote meta to help understand characters and narrative constructs, and the narrative took a complete 180 and did something completely different than what people assumed would happen all because I feel Mofftiss was spiteful that we guessed most of TAB, so they wanted to “subvert expectations” and did a piss-poor job of it. I don’t know. It’s not good writing when watching the entire show as a whole. S4 doesn’t feel like Sherlock, because the John-and-Sherlock relationship (regardless if you ship it or not) just ISN’T THERE. It turned into the “Mostly Mary, Occasionally Sherlock, and maybe John when we need someone’s character to destroy” show. I’ve a sneaking suspicion AA had a lot to do with that, but it’s all gossip and hearsay, so I’ll leave it there.

Anyway, Nonny, this whole thing isn’t meant to insult you. I’m GLAD you enjoyed S4 / TFP. I can’t even watch the series without cringing, and the only way I can sit through S4 is if I read it as John’s TAB. I’m envious that you can enjoy it on the surface. I want to say give it a few years and you’ll be one of us old jaded folks, but mreh, not my place. If anything, I hope that my reply and all the links posted above let you understand why the fandom and critics at large didn’t enjoy it. I genuinely can see why people do like it: Ben and Martin are fantastic with what they have to work with, and the first two episodes look really pretty. But I just... can’t be swayed. I made a genuine effort to like it, I really did, when it first came out. But I guess just examining it too closely and trying to understand why Mofftiss made such a decision to destroy their most profitable property, it’s just really bizarre to me.

Hope you have a good day, Nonny, and I do hope you’ll stick around! <3 I’ll understand if you hate me now, LOL. <3

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #writing meta instead of working #s4 shitposting #shitposting steph #my thoughts #inconsistencies #something's fucky #Anonymous

70 notes · View notes

orsuliya · 4 years ago

Note

I think Huai'en slowly falls in love with Awu after being with her all the time and she consistently depending on him; of course due to him being her bodyguard but Huai'en seems to imagine something else. After all in the beginning he did keep on saying how beautiful Awu was. Then just like any unrequited love, the plot either goes to obsession or moving on. Unfortunately the writers choose obsession coupled with him immediately being seduce by power. He definitely tries to be Xiao Qi

Oh. You are... very much not a Nonnie. Which is highly unusual, but no less welcome!

See, I am not so convinced about this obsession thing. That is, Song Huaien is definitely obsessing over somebody… but it’s not Awu, at least not after his transformation into Mr. Hyde Su Yi Bo is complete. But let us start from the very beginning. At the very beginning, when all was still (relatively) well in Cheng and Song Huaien’s luscious locks flowed freely, he indeed kept on saying how beautiful Awu was. His teasing, which at first could be mistaken for brotherly banter, soon started to look rather suspicious. Could be that he really found Awu irresistible even then… but what I am actually thinking is that back then Song Huaien was projecting and projecting hard. Baby had a crush on his older bro, awwww. No, really, it checks out.

And then he gets thrown into close quarters with the bravest, most beautiful Princess around. Not as her bodyguard, not really. Why, in Huizhou I would have called him a Xiao Qi substitute more than a mere bodyguard. Once they went through so much together there was no way for him to resist any longer. Personally? I don’t blame him. Awu in full badass mode is pretty much irresistible. Did he realize what was going on that early? No, I honestly think his love/crush/infatuation with Awu remained on sub-conscious level, perhaps pushed there on purpose… until Xiao Qi pointed it out.

What I really do like is that this choice put before Song Huaien - to move on or to marinate in this unrequited love forevermore - could have gone either way. What Xiao Qi did by basically leaving the matter solely to Song Huaien’s conscience is not as foolish as one might think. For some reason I’m getting serious Alexei Karenin vibes here, what the heck. After all, Song Huaien had proven himself ten times over with his loyal service… and with his sincere appeal for Awu’s return in episode 33. The latter, especially, tells me that this his crush on Awu was largely innocent at that point. Or that, at least, he had no intention of ever going after Awu himself.

Once he realizes there is a problem, it immediately becomes much more acute… and so Song Huaien goes through this marriage idea as a form of… penitence for breaking bro-code? It sure looks as if he’s martyring himself when he carries Yuxiu in his arms, ugh. At least he doesn’t call out Awu’s name during their wedding night, I guess��

But we know that part, so let’s skip to Su Yi Bo and his first brainwashing courtesy of Daddy Wang (via hijacked Turnip). What got my attention is how little emotion Song Huaien shows when it comes to Awu when compared to his baseline for this conversation. Well, he is all for finding and protecting her, but it really doesn’t look like he’s planning to demand her as his next reward or press his suit in any other way. True, he could be conscious about Turnip being Awu’s brother, but this conversation had torn away pretty much every one of his emotional brakes, so why not this one? And yet it really looks like he’s seeing Awu more as Xiao Qi’s wife than as an object of his own desire.

Baby… might have some trouble with object permanence. Because once Awu is out of sight, she’s relegated to being Xiao Qi’s wife and not much more. There is no sign of Song Huaien ever reminiscing about Awu during that time. Not a single word comparing Yuxiu to Awu in any way, not that we know of; Yuxiu would have mentioned it to Awu later on, if it was an outstanding issue in their household. It’s all Xiao Qi this, Xiao Qi that, even after Mr. and Mrs. Yuzhang come back to the capital. Song Huaien’s contribution to Zitan’s magnificent campaign against Hulan doesn’t count; he recounts what he knows about Awu and her probable opinion, that’s all. Daddy Wang zeroes onto something, since he refers to Xiao Qi as Awu’s husband while egging Song Huaien on to murder Auntie Xu, but that’s Daddy Wang for you. So where’s that obsession with Awu...?

Well, Song Huaien is totally obsessed... with becoming better than Xiao Qi. And this, I believe, not any misapplied love or overwhelming lust, is his main motivation for wanting Awu as his Empress in episode 68. By that time he must be experiencing a full-blown mental breakdown, since his proposal is absolutely untenable from a practical point of view, but that’s not the main problem. The problem is that his proposal is preceded not by some fiery (or teary) confession, but by a rather telling declaration that Song Huaien shall have everything that Xiao Qi has – or hasn’t – had. So who’s the real object of his obsession again? Even that blasted symbolic hairpin means nothing. It could serve as a reminder of Awu’s unprecedented ability to put SHE on his knees beauty, but coupled with that quote about responsibility and being a real man? It turns straight back to Song Huaien’s little rivalry with Xiao Qi. Good luck with being the better man, dearie!

So in my humble opinion TRP writers did dodge the bullet of unrequited love turning to cliché obsession… by making it all about the lady’s husband.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #and all could have been well if Xiao Qi stopped walking around SHE in 38 #and put him on his knees instead #SHE seems to like it well enough #sorry for unrepentant horniness #not much I can do #once you see XQ/SHE you can never unsee it #just ignore me

9 notes · View notes

iturbide · 4 years ago

Note

Oof sounds like a rough week, hope this helps <3 War Crimes - So the Exalt is hosting Naga’s power? How did that happen? And did he not care when Chrom was kidnapped? Spite Project - I adore the idea of Dimitri sitting in on chaotic Alliance Meetings, giving Claude alternate perspectives and maybe filling in some cultural gaps? Plus the thought of Dimitri bamboozling Faerghus Lords with political tactics he learned in the Alliance makes me laugh. Does anyone else know he’s safe in Derdriu? 1/2

I have no idea why this week has been going so badly what did I do

But yes in War Crimes the Exalt is housing Naga’s power, and doing so willingly no less. War Crimes is interesting because it draws a lot on Jugdral-era history, rather than just the history from Shadow Dragon on. Chrom’s father, who has always been a very religious man (just judging by the fact that he called his incursion into Plegia a “crusade”), and while Chrom was around 9 years old, he went around to various holy sites associated with Naga to curry her favor for his planned war. That included a very old church on the far side of the Longfort: Ferox itself isn’t a particularly religious nation, but there are a few pockets where people are, and in particular there’s an old site dedicated to Naga that particularly devoted Naga-worshippers make pilgrimage to.

And that’s where he found the Book of Naga. You know, the one Julia used in Genealogy to put a stop to Loptyr. Seeing this as a highly auspicious sign, the Exalt took the book back and had it authenticated by the priests in Ylisstol that yeah, this is the real thing. Elated by this fortune and considering it her ultimate show of approval for his cause, he has it enshrined in the halidom’s capital for all to see.

Now the Book of Naga, much like the Loptous Tome, contains a fragment of Naga’s will as much as it contains her power. And she starts exerting her influence over Chrom’s dad pretty quickly, such that she has a strong hold over him by the time Chrom’s 11. Naga and the Exalt, as it happens, have very similar feelings when it comes to Plegia and its population of Grima-worshiping heathens; after a bit of practice exerting control over his body (which he allows without hesitation), he demonstrates Naga’s power before the council and declares his intention to invade Plegia, which...well, they literally just saw proof of their divine in the man, how can they really oppose?

As for Chrom’s kidnapping...not really, honestly. The kidnapping itself was an act of desperation from the Plegians: the war is, by that point, in a deadly stalemate, and the only thing changing is the death toll. Their hope was that, in taking one of the Ylissean royals, they would be able to force a ceasefire and open discussions (they’d intended to grab Emmeryn, but since she was out, they went for the spare instead -- at 14 Chrom’s not too much of a threat yet, especially since they caught him sleeping); unfortunately, Naga sees this as an opportunity and turns the propaganda machine in her favor, announcing the Plegians’ cowardice and treachery before the halidom at large to goad her own soldiers into fighting harder. If they can rescue him, they get a morale boost and she ends up with an extra spare from her bloodline to utilize should something happen to the present Exalt; if he dies at Plegian hands, he becomes a martyr she can use to rally her troops further. It was basically a lose-lose for Plegia from the beginning, even if they didn’t know it at the time.

For Spite Project, Dimitri actually has a really interesting time at the round tables, watching Claude work his magic and listening to the different arguments and rationales from the various leaders. Privately after those meetings he and Claude end up talking a lot about the different styles of governance between the Kingdom and the Alliance, and Dimitri starts bouncing ideas off Claude in hopes of developing a new system for the Kingdom once he eventually goes back; Claude, personally, is delighted by this thought experiment and goes all in when it comes to offering advice and critique.

Since the Alliance is mostly trying to keep its neutrality, most of Dimitri’s discussions about Kingdom culture are to satisfy Claude’s personal curiosity; they’re not actively looking to make connections because that would very likely turn the Empire’s attention on them, and Claude can’t risk getting pulled into this war when their allegiances are so fractured. Understandably, since he’s still supposed to be dead, Dimitri tries to keep his head down when he sits in on those round tables...though there is one key point where he actually publicly berates the Great Lords of the Leicester Alliance to their faces and it’s great.

(Also, “what would Claude do?” becomes a bit of a mantra for Dimitri once the War Phase starts, and he definitely pulls some tactical stunts -- political and otherwise -- that not only flummox Gilbert and Rodrigue but make Claude very proud.)

But as it happens, the only person from the Kingdom who ends up finding out about Dimitri’s whereabouts before the War Phase begins is Dedue -- and he finds out because Claude and Judith work together to find him and bring him over. Within within the first year of Dimitri limping his way over to the Alliance, and likely within six months of him coming to Derdriu, Claude offers to help him get back to the Kingdom, reconnect him with Gilbert and Rodrigue so that he can start rallying the holdouts that remain within Faerghus...and Dimitri tells him, honestly, that he’s scared to go back. He’d already had a terrible night and kind of fell apart before Claude even made the offer, and when his friend voices it Dimitri confesses that he’s afraid to return -- not because it means he’ll be fighting against Edelgard, because fighting doesn’t scare him anymore, but because of what he’ll face from the people of Faerghus, how he’ll have all their hopes and expectations riding on him as soon as he reveals himself again, and he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to bear it all, and the thought of yet another failure is more than he can take.

So Claude tells him to stay in the Alliance, instead. As he explains, there are two key aspects to a kingdom: there’s the leader and the people. The ruler benefits from the support of the people, and the people benefit from the leadership of their ruler -- but those two aspects need to be in balance for the system to survive, because if the ruler demands too much of the people, they’re likely to rise up in rebellion and overthrow their leader; but if the people demand too much of their ruler, that leader will crumble and fail from everything forced upon them. From everything Dimitri’s told him by that point, Claude says that it sounds like the balance in Faerghus has been off for a long time, because this isn’t the first time Dimitri’s brought up the weight of expectations people put on him, seeing only the king-to-be and forgetting that their prince was a person who needed care. So Claude tells him, in no uncertain terms, that if Dimitri at any point wants to reconnect with the people in Faerghus, he’ll help -- but if Dimitri wants to stay in the Alliance and try to take care of the needs he’s been neglecting, he’s more than welcome to. Whatever he does, Claude will support him...so long as it’s Dimitri’s decision, for himself, rather than what he thinks other people want him to do.

This is the whole reason why Dimitri stays in the Alliance. Rodrigue, for all that he clearly cares for Dimitri, didn’t exactly help the poor kid with any of his trauma related to the Tragedy at Duscur -- he didn’t even help his own kid with that. He’s a good man, but his priority does seem to have been preparing Dimitri to take over as King of Faerghus, rather than caring for a traumatized child. Dimitri has a lot of trauma to deal with, and Claude gives him a chance to do just that, free of the pressures of expectation and future leadership, and it’s why he’s so much more stable and grounded by the time the War Phase starts: he’s actually had an opportunity to deal with things in a healthy way that doesn’t involve crushing and ignoring his problems.

And for Pokemon: I appreciate the input! I’m actually leaning more toward Water for Seteth at this point, because he does have strong connections to it: not only is he a frequent fisherman who formerly made his home near the Rhodos Coast (such that his wife is buried there), he’s far more adaptable and changeable than Rhea, recognizing the issues with the current system of Crest priority that Rhea ignores in favor of doing everything the way it’s always been done. Part of the reason why I’m so torn on Flayn being Grass or Fairy is because both types have a high incidence of healing moves: lots of fairies learn Aromatherapy, plus they have a very high instance of learning Wish to help their teammates. And technically Flayn‘s primary partner wouldn’t be a true legendary! Much like Phione, who you get by breeding Manaphy, Flayn and all the others that come from Sothis would be pseudo-legendaries: powerful, yes, but not on the scale of a true legendary and nowhere near as limited. It means they also wouldn’t get the off-the-wall crazy moves, though their stats alone would certainly contribute to some incredible power for use in both attack and healing.

I’m also very much on board with Dedue having lots of Grass types. He needs lots of them for all different things, and you just know that wherever you find a berry bush growing randomly in a place you’ve never been, he’s probably the one who planted it. (Also, him having a skittish apple in his pocket? Adorable.)

As for Ace Attorney, it depends on what you consider fun! I have a ton of old crazy stuff, but I’ve mostly pared it down into the Crime of Passion continuity (though I definitely still have thoughts about the bridge from AA3 to AA4, they’re just not as solid as my magnum opus). At some point even there I would love to bring Trucy in, though not in the same dire way she appeared in the flashback case: Phoenix wouldn’t be the one that got that case, and therefore wouldn’t be the one getting disbarred -- but he might happen across her while there’s a recess, and he would help her find the courtroom she’s looking for since she would quite clearly be lost when he stumbles across her.

Cut to a few days later and he sees the same girl sitting in the courthouse looking miserable, and finds out that her dad disappeared (and he would certainly be able to put together her being at the courthouse with the news that a defendant declared guilty vanished into thin air). Of course he offers to help and takes her to the station, but...well, it’s not fair to her to just leave her there. So he calls Miles up and asks him to swing by to pick them up.

This does become a rather comedic pseudo-argument about how Phoenix can’t just bring a stray child home (”she’s not a lost puppy, Miles, and also her name’s Trucy”), there are procedures to follow (”we can’t leave her at the station all night”), certainly she must have some family who can take her in (”she doesn’t have anybody she can call, not after the whole trial fiasco”), until finally Miles relents and agrees that she can stay one night.

(He also remarks that he doesn’t have a car seat, and Phoenix scoffs because she doesn’t need a car seat! ... ... ... only to look at Trucy and ask her “do you need a car seat?” to which she shrugs because she doesn’t know.)

Obviously she ends up staying more than one night and Pearl gets a little sister which she is thrilled about.

#answered #fallingfruitfish #fire emblem: awakening #fire emblem: three houses #pokemon #ace attorney #war crimes #spite project #pokemon: three houses #crime of passion #i love spite project so much #i hope i can do it justice when i finally start digging into it #also war crimes is gonna be a blast #thank you anankos for pulling this thing together with me #i hope it does you proud #re: the pokemon though i really like holst with ground #and i really don't want to double up on types #but please imagine holst with a marowak and a gliscor #which he thinks is the cutest thing aside from his sister

12 notes · View notes

jewishhgirl · 3 years ago

Text

Written by a friend:

I'm not asking anyone to take my side, or the side of Israel, but I am asking you to think critically about the news you get from CNN and the BBC and AlJazeera or whatever station you watch

If we were colonizers, we would be actively planning wars, and TAKING land, not giving it away for PEACE. ( SINAI, Lebanon, Gaza strip...all relinquished, after being won, fairly, in a war, which we did not start. And yet still given away, in the promise of PEACE, which we have not gotten in return)

If we were committing genocide, then the population of Gaza and the West Bank would not have GROWN since 1967, but rather gotten smaller..no? Arabs in Gaza and the West Bank 1967: less than 1 million. Arabs in those areas today: 5 million)

That is not GENOCIDE! You cannot have 500% population growth in a genocide.

The definition of genocide is:

" The deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group"

Does it look like we've destroyed anyone or are aiming to?

Point of fact, we do not engage unless engaged with. And even then, our engagements are military, warnings in advance to clear the area and no civilian engagement whenever possible.

Which brings me to the next part:

War Crimes. Do you see in Israel rocket launchers on residential streets, missiles hidden under hospitals and schools (yes, even UNWRA schools got in on the deal)!! Do you see 5 year Israeli old martyrs with hand grenades, and children trained with automatic weapons, or calls to behead all Arabs from the pulpits of our synagogues, wherever we can find the "enemy"? No, you do not.

That is what our army faces against daily. And our CIVILIAN population is faced with daily, hourly....the WAR CRIMES of HAMAS and the Palestinian Authority.

If we wanted to flatten all of Gaza and turn it into a parking lot, we have the weapon power to do it in 3 minutes. Why in the world do you think we haven't? After 10,000's of rockets and missiles have been fired indiscriminately at our cities and schools and homes, after Israelies have been killed and maimed and attacked....the reason is because we value HUMAN LIFE. Because we are trying to save the lives of the people of Gaza and the West Bank. We introduced water and power infrastructure to their villages. Before Israel, they had none.

Next, the claims that Gaza is an open air prison, or a death camp etc. Ask yourself, how poor Gaza, that the BBC and NYT likes to claim is cut off from the world, and has no access to supplies...can import or import the materials to make thousands of rockets and missiles and rocket launchers --but can't import food, or medicine? Ask yourself where all of the cement and supplies to build schools and hospitals went...when instead there are hundreds of miles of cement and steel reinforced underground terror tunnels built every year.

Finally, ask yourself how the leaders and government of poor Gaza have enough money to have a Billionaires Gaza Yacht Club with multi-million dollar yachts, and facilities, luxurious 5 star hotels, shopping malls filled with Gucci and Chanel and Polo shirts -- while their people literally starve and beg for help.

And that is the main point. Israel does not govern GAZA. Israel is not in GAZA. Israel does not control GAZA. Gaza controls GAZA. So whatever the War Crime is for shelling your own population (430 rockets fired from Gaza at Israel have actually fallen within Gaza hurting and killing their own people) , for putting rockets and missiles under their homes, for stealing their food and international aid -- you should know who to blame. The same Gazan leadership the Free Palestine movement funds and supports.

And now, think again critically about this situation. Do you honestly think that "Free-ing Palestine", and turning Israel over to these same folks that currently run GAZA or Ramallah so well is the solution to anything? Will provide more food or medicine or opportunity or freedom to ANYONE? Free Palestine hangs gay men from the tops of buildings and drags their bodies through the streets. Free Palestine supports honor killings of young women who have been raped or abused or shamed. Free Palestine calls for the elimination of all Jews. Free Palestine is in reality, nothing more than a thuggish, brutal, facist military regime, dressed up like a woke, liberal western project with nice slogans and catchy protest tunes.

Like with most things, just follow the money and see what Free Palestine is really all about before lending your voice or your funds or support.

Again, you don't have to wave an Israeli flag from your flagpole, but if you care about justice, real justice, and peace, freedom and security, think critically about the information you receive and then ask yourself what rings true.

Israel has been attacked by more than 1400 rockets and missiles in the last 48 hours alone. What country would allow that, what population should have to suffer that before saying to their leaders...ENOUGH... just turn Gaza into a parking lot and let's be done with this.

You want restraint? We show it every single time a rocket or missile is fired at our homes.

2 notes · View notes

skinsharpenedteeth · 4 years ago

Text

Trope: Stuck Together

Ship: Malex

3kish, uhm... PG with a butt load of adult feels.

“Honestly, I’m beginning to get tired of secret, underground lairs. I mean, everyone we know has an underground bunker but not one fuckin’ swimming pool? Waste of funds if you ask me,” Michael grumped as he slowly descended into the room under Alex’s cabin. Alex, who was already waiting below rolled his eyes at him as soon as he saw Michael looking over his shoulder for a reaction.

“Get down here, brat,” Alex responded, sighing heavily through his nose as he waited for Michael to finish climbing.

Jumping off the ladder a few feet from the bottom, Michael turned and clapped his arms to his side.

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

Shaking his head, Alex grinned and rolled his eyes again.

“Come on, show me the big surprise. With all the lights off, I’m beginning to think you’ve just lured me down here with hopes to chain me up and make me your sex slave.”

“Like I’d have to force you for that,” Alex responded, turning and walking to the side of the ladder to begin turning on lights. He felt Michael come to stand behind him, so close he could feel the heat from his body pushing against his back.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? Maybe it’s my chance to chain you up instead…” Michael’s voice trailed off. Alex could feel the brush of Michael’s curls against his ear and his entire body tensed in anticipation of Michael’s hands or mouth touching him. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he felt Michael pull back from him. Slowly letting his breath out, he tried to quell the buzzing under his skin.

“Right,” Alex said to know one in particular, his voice catching in his throat. Clearing his throat, he threw on the light switches and turned around to watch Michael’s reaction.

“Oh, wow!” Michael exclaimed on a breath, drawing out the word ‘wow’ as he let his eyes trace over the rooms transformation. He turned after letting his eyes scan over it twice and grinned back at Alex, “Well, it’s no sex dungeon, but I could call it home.”

“Jesus, Michael...” Alex chuckled, hand coming up and covering his face in affectionate embarrassment.

The underground room which has once been set up to be a detox bedroom for Rosa had transformed under Alex’s vision. He’d gotten rid of most of the furniture except for the bed. He had no idea how Mr. Valenti had gotten it down into the bunker and had no good way of getting it back out. He’d created a studio for himself. He’d added strings of lights around the room and brought down his guitars and keyboards. He’d set himself up a desk for his computer and mixing equipment. He’d even improvised a sound booth for vocals. The middle of the room held a couple of chairs on thick rugs to help with sound absorption. The aforementioned bed had been shoved into a neglected corner of the room and set up almost like a large daybed with pillows against the walls to create the feeling of a couch. He’d kept all the colors muted to browns, blacks, and reds and if he was honest with himself, he felt like the room was a tribute to his Emo/Goth high school self. The way Michael was staring around in fascination made him feel like he’d almost gotten away with it.

“I see you kept the bed down here. Planning on bringing home loads of groupies?” Michael jested, though as with every mention of Alex loving or fucking anyone else, there was a bitter bite at the end of it.

“I mean, I guess I could, but honestly I just couldn’t figure out how to get that giant mattress out of that little opening,” quickly holding up a hand, Alex interjected at the quick inhale from Michael, “no innuendo! Besides, between the two of us, you’re the one more likely to bring home casuals than I am. I just wanted a place to get away and play music without anyone interrupting me. I wanted an escape like what the shed was before…my dad ruined it.”

Alex watched Michael swallow and obstinately not look at him. Alex knew he’d hit a nerve and cringed inwardly as he went back over what he’d said to take bets on which nerve it was.

“Maybe…” Michael started, still not looking at him, but not really seeming to see the room anymore either. “Maybe I wouldn’t need ‘casuals’ if the person I loved would quit treating me like a dirty secret?”

Alex flinched inwardly. He deserved that. He deserved it because he knew there was some truth in it and he still wasn’t sure how to change the parts of him that were broken by his father into feeling like his love was ugly and dirty and to be hidden. That wasn’t fair to Michael though.

“So why did you bring me down here, Alex? Wanna ‘jam’?” he asked, turning to finally look at Alex with a wry, self-deprecating smile on his lips.

“No I…” Alex started, but faltered. Why had he shown this to Michael? Did he want this to be their new shed? Their new secret room where they could finally be themselves? Breaking his gaze from Guerin’s, he finished, “… I don’t know. I just wanted you to see it.”

“Well, I’ve seen it,” Michael responded brusquely. He started to shoulder his way past Michael to the ladder when two things happen.

The first thing to happen was all the lights went out in the room. What they didn’t know is that all the lights went out in Roswell too. The second was that the emergency generator kicked on and with a deafening clang, the trap door at the ceiling slammed shut and locked itself. The emergency back up power kicked on, leaving the room brighter than pitch black but nowhere near where it had been. Both of them stood still in shock, waiting to see if another shoe would drop before they reacted. After a moment of silence, Michael looked over his shoulder down at Alex.

“I’m going to fucking kill Max. What the actual fuck?” Michael grumbled, starting back up the ladder. When he got to the top, Alex watched as he groped for a handle that wasn’t there. Then he watched what he assumed was Michael trying to use his telekinesis to open the lock mechanism. Growling in frustration, Alex watched him try three more times before he swayed on the ladder and half hazardly lowered himself to the ground.

“Why isn’t it opening for me, Alex?” Michael asked, his eyes glaring accusingly. Alex, for his part, was dumbstruck.

“I have no idea, Michael. I didn’t even know it had an emergency shut down.” Alex was staring upward thinking, trying to figure out why Jim Valenti would have installed the door with an emergency lock. Oh right, aliens.

“It probably won’t work for you. It probably won’t work for me. I bet it has to be opened from the outside,” Alex said calmly. He knew he was supposed to feel freaked out and trapped, but instead he just felt resigned. “Let me see if I get any cell service down here. I haven’t really tried to call anyone from down here before.”

Michael rushed over, looking over Alex’s shoulder as he pulled out his phone and opened the home screen. One bar.

“I’m going to send Kyle a text. He’s got the spare key to down here. He’ll come get us,” Alex assured Michael, trying once again to ignore the heat and magnetism of having Michael’s body so close to his.

“Sure, okay…” Michael stalked away, obviously still irritated. “Guess we can still have that jam session while he wait for Dr. Douchebag to come rescue us.”

Alex ignored him while he typed out his text to Kyle. Pocketing his phone he turned and walked further into the room and picked up his guitar from it’s stand next to one of the chairs. Sitting down, he cradled the guitar on his lap and let his fingers strum and listened to see if it needed any tuning.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m getting ready to play some music. If you want to join, there’s another guitar and chair. If you don’t, you can take a nap or something,” Alex replied, not looking up from the guitar as he slowly plucked and tuned an out of key string. He heard Michael groan and all but stomp over to the other chair to pick up the second guitar.

“What are we playing?” asked Michael, beginning to check and tune his own guitar.

“I dunno. What are you feeling?” Alex asked, finally looking over. He tried and failed to keep his heart from cracking open a little at how perfect Michael looked holding his guitar in the low lighting of the studio.

“This is your show,” Michael replied, still an edge to his voice.

“How about we dive into a guilty pleasure and do an old Dashboard Confessional song? You know ‘The Good Fight’?” Alex asked, grinning as he watched Michael remember the old emo tune and start shaking his head while laughing quietly.

“Yeah, I remember it, Manes. Jesus, next you wanna do some Damien Rice and then go to separate corners to masturbate and cry?” Alex laughed loudly at the jest, catching Michael’s eye.

“They don’t have to be separate corners,” he flirted, starting the song to cut off any reply Michael might’ve given.

“Consider the odds

Consider the obvious

The martyr is meaningless

The campaign has died

In the planning stages

And the fallen faces

Are the singular proof

That it was ever alive

This purchased rebellion

Has been outbidded

Denounced and rescinded

And left to die championless

Championless, championless

I begged you not to go

I begged you, I pleaded

Claimed you as my only hope

And watched the floor as you retreated

Hope has sprung a perfect dive

A perfect day, a perfect lie

A slowly crafted monologue

Conceding your defeat

This purchased rebellion

Has been outbidded

Denounced and rescinded

And left to die championless

Championless, championless

I begged you not to go

I begged you, I pleaded

Claimed you as my only hope

And watched the floor as you retreated

Does it comfort you to know you fought the good fight?

Basking in your victory, hollow and alone

To boast your bitter bragging rights to anyone who'll listen

While you're left with nothing tangible to gain”

The men’s voices merged as they hammered out the chords and sang. Alex couldn’t stop the smile that stayed on his face when they’d reached the end of the song. Michael immediately suggested doing some more Dashboard Confessional to which Alex agreed. Three songs later they were practically parched from the singing and dancing around they’d begun to do with their guitars.

“Oh man, it’s been awhile since I’ve played like that,” Michael commented, setting down the guitar and looking around the room, “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Yeah, over by the sound booth there’s a mini fridge. Grab me a water?” Alex croaked, clearing his throat and setting his own guitar to the side. He dug his phone from his pocket to see that Kyle had texted him back.

“What did Kyle have to say?” Michael asked, sitting back across from Alex.

“Ugh, apparently Max blew out all the power in town and Kyle’s stuck at the hospital for awhile until they get the power back. He said it might be awhile. Want me to get him to see if he can get Isobel or Liz or someone to come up here?” Alex asked, looking up from his phone to see Michael smiling at him softly.

“Nah, I think we’re alright, don’t you? I mean,” Michael smiled wider, leaning forward and bringing the bottle of tequila that Alex had put in the back of the fridge out in front of him, “there’s plenty to drink down here.”

“Jesus, Michael,” Alex laughed, blushing at the look in Michael’s eyes as he opened the bottle and took a quick swig of the clear liquor. It was a good, moderately expensive brand meant to be savored, but he needed a little liquid courage if Michael was going to continue looking at him like a surprise meal. He handed the bottle back over to Michael who took his own swig from the bottle, watching Alex as he licked his lips. Alex was starting to feel drunk and he knew that one swig of tequila didn’t have anything to do with the way he could almost feel himself swooning towards Michael as he recapped the bottle.

“Come on,” Michael said, standing suddenly and breaking Alex out of his trance. Alex’s eyes darted up towards Michael’s eyes and then down to the hand he was offering him. Alex knew it was dangerous to touch Guerin. It always felt like he’d die if he let go everytime their skin pressed together. Swallowing thickly, Alex stood up without taking Michael’s hand. Michael shrugged it off and walked over to the bed, turning and throwing himself across the mattress onto his back. Furrowing his brow, Alex watched as Michael arranged himself up against the pillows and then toed off his boots onto the floor. When he finally turned to look back at Alex, who hadn’t moved, he grinned cheekily. “Don’t worry, Manes. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I’m all about enthusiastic consent. But this is way more comfortable than the chairs and if we’re going to drink we might as well do it where we can sleep it off.”

“Why does this feel like a bad idea?” Alex asked rhetorically as he climbed onto the bed next to Michael.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I promise to stay on my side of the bed, though,” Michael answered, passing the bottle back over to where Alex was laying on his side, propping his head up to stare down at Michael’s supine form. They shared a couple swigs apiece, watching each other in silence.

“So is this all we’re going to do? Drink and watch each other?” Alex asked, hoping to break some of the tension that was building between them.

“No, I mean… building on the high school nastolgia theme we could play truth or date, never have I ever, spin the bottle… seven minutes in heaven?” Michael waggled his eyebrows at Alex comically as Alex choked on his swig of tequila at the suggestion.

“Jesus, Michael,” he complained, coughing once the liquid was safely in his stomach. He was beginning to feel the velvet edges of a buzz from drinking the tequila so fast so he shook his head when Michael offered the bottle to him again. Sitting up, Michael placed the bottle on the floor next to the bed and then rolled to his side to mirror Alex’s position. The roll brought his body closer and while there was a safe almost two feet between them, Alex felt the tequila urging him to swoon forward and close the gap.

“Truth or Dare, Alex,” Michael started, eyes intently trained on Alex’s.

“Uh… truth,” Alex replied.

“Chicken,” Michael teased, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling while he thought of a good ‘truth’ for Alex to tell. Alex watched as the cords in his neck stood out against his tan skin and felt like Michael was intentionally setting a thirst trap for him.

“Where do you see this thing with Forrest going?” Michael asked finally, quietly. Alex’s gut clenched and he rolled onto his back while his brain scrambled for an answer. Of course Michael would go from light to heavy in the space of a breath.

“I don’t know,” Alex replied, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to stop, but his mouth kept moving. Tequila was showing his secrets. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere. But I’ve got to try? You can’t be the only person I’ve ever been in love with. I have to know I’m capable of caring for someone besides you and he… he doesn’t feel like if I fail at loving him, it will break me.”

Alex was conscious of Michael scooting closer, the ever present pull of his body thrumming a little brighter with every inch that closed between them. Alex shut his eyes, waiting to see what the next move was.

“Okay,” was all Michael said from where he lay next to Alex on the bed. “Your turn.”

“Truth or Dare” Alex asked on reflex, not sure if he wanted to face coming up with a task or question for either of them. His heart felt like a lead weight pinning him to bed while he waited for Michael to choose. He kept his eyes closed and counted the breaths between them, his nose starting to pick up the spice, dust, and soap smell of Michael’s skin. He smelled like all of good memories Alex had.

Michael waited a beat to answer. His fingers tapping between them on the bedspread in his nervous rhythm that said he was nervous. Alex took a small comfort in knowing that he wasn’t the only one left unsteady. The tequila in his cut was sending warming tendrils through his veins, but his head wasn’t ready to shut down yet. He started to shift restlessly on the bed, tired of the waiting for Michael to answer. He opened his eyes and looked over, catching Michael staring at his mouth while his fingers continued to move. Michael’s eyes flinched away, a guilty flush tinging his cheeks as he hastily chose his task.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me,” Alex said before his brain screamed at him. Michael looked over at him, shocked, and Alex knew he was mirroring his own expression.

“Are you sure?” Michael asked even as he moved his body even closer, his hand moving from the bedspread to Alex’s chest to finally stay still over his heart.

“Yeah, that’s your dare,” Alex whispered, sounding hoarse and hopeful. Michael stared at him another minute before slowly propping himself up on his hand so he could look down into Alex’s eyes. His other hand that had been resting on Alex’s chest smoothed upwards over his collar and around to the back of his neck where it cradled his head. Lowering himself slowly, Michael tilted his head and pressed the barest kiss on Alex’s lips. It was almost like they were sharing breath by how gentle the press of skin was between them. Alex tried to stay still, tried to enjoy that Michael hadn’t pinned him down and taken all that Alex was offering, but he couldn’t. His limbs were starting to shake with the toll of denial and all he wanted was for Michael to close to last centimeter between them so he wouldn’t have to.

“You okay?” Michael asked, pulling away to look into Alex’s eyes as his hand roamed from his neck to his arm and then hand, pulling it and holding it between them. Alex felt bereft from the safety of having Michael hold him.

“Do it again,” he said, eyes starting to feel tight with incipient tears. Michael swooped down to kiss him again, this time crushing their hands between their chests while he pushed and pulled Alex’s lips between his. Alex wanted to bury his hands in Michael’s hair and keep pulling him closer until they dissolved into a single entity, but Michael had both his hands trapped so all he could do was whimper and try to match Michael’s fervor with his lips alone. After a few minutes, Michael pulled back with a gasp and laid his forehead against Alex’s, eyes shut as he panted softly. Alex tried to calm his thundering heart and ignore the almost swollen feeling of his lips. Michael had kissed the bloody hell out of him.

“Truth or dare”, Michael whispered, breathing still elevated and eyes still closed.

“Truth,” Alex chose again, needing the time to get his body under control. He pulled his hand out of Michael’s to finally run his finger through Michael’s curls. Michael canted his head towards the pressure of Alex’s fingers and then turned to kiss Alex’s wrist softly.

“Why did you want me to kiss you?” Michael asked softly, lips still whisper soft against the skin of Alex’s wrist.

“I always want you to kiss me. I always want to drown in you. My very soul feels misshapen and empty when you’re not touching me,” he answered, moving his hand to run his fingers through Michael’s hair again.

“Then why do you want to love someone else?”

It wasn’t an accusation, but it sort of felt like one. Alex let his hand drop and his eyes look away from the dips and planes of Michael’s face. He didn’t know if he could put into words why he wanted to stray.

“It’s too much pressure, loving you. I keep waiting for you to realize that I’m not worth all this love that you keep throwing at me. I keep waiting for you to see an easier option and run towards it. I keep wondering I’m being saved or smothered with the weight of these feelings we have for one another. You’re worth my entire being, Michael, but I’m not sure I measure up. And maybe that’s just my father in my head telling me I’m worthless despite all the things I’ve done and seen to prove him wrong, but that’s what I’m running from. I live in mortal terror of disappointing you by being nothing but myself,” Alex sighed. He felt like he’d said the entire thing on a sigh. He felt like every inhalation cracked open the armor he used to protect himself with. Every long, slow exhale pushed more and more of his fears out into the open. Tequila really was a better truth serum than anything Caulfield had made in their labs.

“Okay,” Michael said again, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Alex’s lips. “You’ve got to work on yourself. I understand that. But that feeling you were talking about? The one where your soul feels misshapen? I feel that too. I feel like every odd angle with a piece missing is just another part of you that fits with me. I can’t shut your dad up in your head, though, and I can’t fix the parts of you that you’re responsible for. But I can give you all the time you need because you’re it for me. You’ll always be it for me.”

“Michael, I l--“ Alex cut off abruptly as a grinding creak came from the trap door.

“You losers have pants on?” Kyle’s voice floated down the shaft into the room. Alex sighed through his nose and Michael shifted to stand up.

“Yes, Kyle. We’re perfectly respectable… and a little drunk, shit” Michael called out as he tilted a little upon standing straight. Alex sat up and found that he too was feeling a little spinny.

“And clothed, right?” Kyle asked again.

“For fucks’ sake, yes!” Alex shouted in exasperation. Standing up, he let the fluidity of his inebriation roll his feet forward towards the ladder. He wanted to get out of here before he did something stupid like agree to marry Michael at the courthouse as soon as they opened for the next business day.

Michael followed him as they climbed back up into the living room of the cabin. Kyle waited expectantly with his hands on his hips.

“So what did I miss? And how the hell did you end up locked down there?” Kyle’s gaze switched between Michael and Alex as he waited for a response.

“I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I need something to eat,” Alex deflected, moving towards the kitchen.

“Yeah and I better get out of here. Max may need some help fixing EVERYTHING, as usual. I’ll see you later, Alex,” Michael called, walking out of the cabin and to his truck. Alex didn’t turn to watch him go. He didn’t want to chance that he’d run after him.

“Uhhh…. No thank you for the big rescue?” Kyle asked and Alex turned to see him looking incredulously between him and the door where Michael had disappeared. Alex smiled and came over to pat Kyle on the shoulder.

“Thank you, man. You came just in time. We were about to finish all the tequila.”

Fin

#malexweek20 #malex20 #malex #roswell nm #unedited #sorry about that #so many feels #right here #le sigh #personal #malex fic by me

27 notes · View notes

yenslilac · 5 years ago

Text

Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge.

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It)

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3 and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything.

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #daenerys death tw #ophelia #shakespeare #anti d and d #anti got

113 notes · View notes

crossdressingdeath · 4 years ago

Note

Ah, the WWX's mistakes that 10 message anon was speaking about that JC fans are accusing people of glossing over is not the pledge conference stuff at all, but more personality points that are actually entirely dependent on people's interpretation of the characters. Like iirc WWX is accused of being arrogant because he doesn't obey JC and it's bad because doing things on his own even to save people is actually giving JC anxiety (as it should honestly while JC is busy ignoring a genocide)1/6

about his capacity to be a leader and makes him feel infantilized, so WWX really should stop doing that and displaying any non pre-approved initiative around JC, though at the same time they also recognize that JC is an inept leader, or that WWX tries to do things without anyone's help, as if there were many people offering him help at any time in the story, (when offered in a way that isn't conflicting with his other previous commitments, like LWJ wanting to bring him to Gusu, WWX accepts2/6

help readily, WN at LP frex?) or that WWX thinks he's more competent that others, which he really is sometimes, it's not a sin to recognize that and act in consequence or should he pretend he's not and make sure no one is feeling left out? Basically digs at WWX for not asking JC's help or input while it was always 100% crystal clear that JC will never do anything about the Wen refugees because he doesn't want to and is generally anti-helping people while WWX actually avoids asking JC directly3/6

to prevent JC from having to refuse and maybe feeling bad about it for 10 minutes. Some parts of the fandom actually believe that if WWX only found the correct way to ask without triggering one of JC's 100 complexes, JC would do it and there is a belief, often at the same time that WWX is too skilled and autonomous, that WWX is a hard-to-love disaster child and JC, in his great generosity, is moping over his disasters. I'll let them have that WWX is not trusting JC as a leader and more4/6

especially not trusting him to take decisions that are not morally bankrupt as it's the starting point of their riff and why they would never have worked as a leader/subordinate in the first place, but having morals unlike the rest of the cultivation world is not a mistake that WWX has to fix. And of course, the good usual dis-core-se (a crime then WWX repeatedly lied about, not a sacrifice on WWX's part) or that WWX has a martyr complex that hurts others more that he helps them (he made JC5/6

worry for him and stuff, so who cares about people he really saved the lives of) but I really don't think that WWX sets up himself to die but neither the world nor his debt to the Jiang family that at least 3 members of said family rubbed in his face left him any choice in that. So yeah, it's a parallel world with a parallel WWX that is in heavy need of being redeemed, but a very nice JC that sometimes just says mean words but who only needs to be understood and appreciated and deferred to. 6/6

Sorry for putting that in your askbox haha, but I really did try to understand the other side's opinion, and I'll got in the end was pithy comments about it. 7/6

Yeah, there is this huge thing with a lot of pro-JC meta where it feels like they’re saying “If WWX just did what JC wanted and never went against his wishes like a good little servant everything would’ve been fine!” and... that’s not how it works. WWX shouldn’t have had to bow and scrape and walk on eggshells to convince JC that these innocent civilians (including a child) didn’t deserve to die! JC could have offered to help, if he only refused because WWX asked in the wrong way! It’s this thing where they’re acting like WWX should’ve just... let JC tell him what to do and never argue even when that meant letting people die, when let’s be honest here, that would have destroyed WWX. JC’s feelings aren’t the only thing that matters!

And the whole thing where it’s like “WWX is a disaster child and JC is a saint for putting up with that!” is like... WWX isn’t a disaster child. I mean, he kind of is? But not the way it’s frequently portrayed. He messes around, pulls pranks, jokes, but when it actually matters he is deadly serious. Name a single time when WWX messes around and actually gets people hurt or causes serious problems. Meanwhile JC’s “funny jokes” around WWX are frequently things like threatening to send dogs after him, which... yeah, no, not funny. There’s a reason why pretty much all their peers are at least on friendly terms with WWX, while no one seems to speak to JC if they can avoid it!

And yeah, WWX doesn’t seem to trust JC as a leader... but why would he? What has JC done that wasn’t largely handled by WWX or actually got people killed? JC is a terrible leader and WWX recognizing that and trying to avoid involving him in anything involving planning or leading is... perfectly understandable.

#mdzs #cql #grapehate #anon #asks

14 notes · View notes