#i know he's a terribly self-absorbed manipulative bastard

[starleska]

i simply had to upload this scene from The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause in which Jack Frost shamelessly flirts with a married woman. after he just tried hitting on her heavily pregnant, married daughter. oh, he's so desperate for affection it makes me sick 🙈❄️

[sirowsky]

The Lost Island

Chapter 8 - Unwanted

Summary: There's finally room to breathe, but trying to resolve everything that's happened is hard when both sides are hurting.

Author's Note: Well, this was unexpected. I don't remember the last time I posted two chapters of the same fic this close together. But I guess I've got some delays to make up for ;)

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of deaths and murders, shame, guilt, hurt, pining, a hint of jealousy. Angst. Word Count: 5729 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

Marcus watched you fall to the ground, but nothing made sense. How were you even there? How had you survived the landing? And had you swam all the way back? Surely not…

He watched the tribe tend to you, getting you to drink water and coconut-juice even though you weren’t awake, cooking a mixture of plants and soil into a thick cream that they smeared on your sunburns. And then the cut in your shoulder, that he’d witnessed, and had still abandoned you to deal with yourself, even though he'd known about the spores that were now making it damn near impossible to get it to stop bleeding again. It was so hard to think of himself as anything but a monster, when he remembered every fucking detail. It didn’t matter that he’d been influenced or manipulated, when the memories were real, when they looked and sounded and felt just like every other memory. It was so hard to think that he wasn’t responsible for every second of it, when he was standing right there in the consequences of his own actions. He was immeasurably glad that you were alive, for so many reasons, both selfish and not, but he was also forced to face himself when he looked at you, seeing his own reflection in every blemish that he’d inflicted or made possible. And it was just… really hard. Eventually he couldn’t bear it anymore, and left the campsite, although he didn’t go far. His new powers were all the defences the tribe had if the Kaiaka decided to try again, and he owed them way too much to ever leave them hanging. He just needed to breathe. He needed for his chest to let him breathe, just for a minute. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, braced his elbows against his knees and tried to slow his heart down.

“I won’t ask if you’re okay, because I know you’re not. But if you need to let something out, just say the word, I’m happy to listen.”

Nani. He hadn’t spoken much with her, but he’d seen you spend time with her, watched you become friends, wondering how she’d had it so easy, compared to him. Why had you not given her a hard time, questioning everything and doubting every answer? She was her father’s daughter, without question, that same inner harmony that seemed to spill into the very air around him, emanating just as clearly from her. She even had the same voice, and he wondered if she could yell like him. He hadn’t meant to take her up on it, hadn’t meant to reply at all. But for some reason he started talking, maybe in the hopes that she would yell. That she’d tell him what a cruel and self-absorbed idiotic bastard he was. But of course, if she was as much of her father as she appeared, that would never happen.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“About Mana? Or yourself?”

“Either. I’ve been so terrible to her, and I don’t just mean since we got here, I mean… always. And all that time she was just trying to test me, trying to make sure I wouldn’t hurt her. And then that’s exactly what I did.”

She sat down next to him, mirroring his pose and looking out over the darkened jungle.

“She forgave you for throwing her off a cliff. She’ll forgive you for this too.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t want her to forgive me. I wish she’d hate me, because at least I deserve that.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He turned his head to look at her with a raised brow.

“I thought you said you’d listen?”

She turned her head too, meeting his question with sympathy.

“I am. I’m also offering an observation, which you’re free to decline.”

He sighed and looked down on his own clasped hands in between his knees instead, fairly certain that whatever she told him would be painful to hear. But perhaps necessary.

“Fine. Why is it bullshit?”

“Because I think you know that you don’t deserve to be hated. I think what you want is for her to set you free. Caring about someone takes work. It takes commitment and loyalty and respect and devotion. It’s hard and not always fun, or even rewarding at times. But still, when someone cares about you, you feel compelled to care for them in return. Which is why I think that you want her to hate you so that you don’t have to care anymore.”

By the time she finished, he was in tears. She was right, but that didn’t make it a single ounce easier to carry. He wrung his hands so tightly that it hurt, but he barely even noticed.

“How am I supposed to live with this? It hurts so much…”

“Yes, it does, because it has to. Because otherwise, how would we know what it is to care? To love? Don’t be afraid of the pain, Kahele. Don’t be afraid to care, because then you really will become a monster.”

He cried harder than he ever had before, that evening, even harder than he had when his wife had died, and Nani held him the whole time, not saying another word. At some point, exhaustion took over and he fell into a restless sleep filled with nightmares about closed doors and shrinking rooms and roots snaring him and dragging him into hell.

<><><><><>

You were alone when you first woke up, blinking towards a bright but cloudy sky, partly warded off by some branches and leaves that had been stuck down in the soil next to you, and you were in no hurry to move yet. You’d been surprised not to feel too badly pummelled by your landing, while you’d ridden Whelma all those hours, but now you knew that it was because your own body had been masking it. An ache, not unlike training soreness, just ten times worse, was rippling through you with every heartbeat. Your shoulder seemed to be actively trying to kill you, and your skin was oversensitive and raw from the salt and sun. It hurt to breathe, to move your fingers, even to blink. But it wasn’t unbearable. After a few minutes you slowly started moving yourself up onto one elbow and over to the side to push yourself up to sitting, and just as you got up, Akela sat down next to you. There were no benches anymore, so you were sitting on the ground, on a dry bedding of cut grass and leaves, with a small fire burning a few feet away.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll indulge me if I ask you to lay down again?”

“Nope.”

Your throat was still painfully dry, leaving your voice a raspy whisper, and prompting the Chief to hand you a pot of water. Nothing had ever tasted better.

“What happened here? Where’s the village?”

“My guess is that the Kaiaka were enraged by the loss of their hold on Kahele and decided to take more direct action. We’ve never known the full scope of their abilities, but overall, we’ve only ever seen them do things on a relatively small scale. I think they must’ve combined their efforts somehow, but however they did it, they sent a fifteen-foot wave after us and as you can see, it reached all the way to the village and beyond.”

You looked around at the simple little camp, seeing no trace at all of what had once been a thriving society. But you did see pretty much all the faces you’d gotten used to seeing there.

“Did anyone die?”

“Not because of the wave, no.”

“But because of Marcus…”

He nodded solemnly.

“Two. Which I suppose he then attempted to make up for by saving all of us.”

“On my way back, I saw bodies in the water. That was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Has he said anything about what happened? Before, I mean.”

“He thought that he’d killed you. We all believed that he had.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Nani has been sitting with him all night, I’ll go ask if he’s ready to see you. It’s good to have you back, Mana.”

He smiled softly at you before he got up and walked out of the camp. While you waited, passing villagers came to offer their prayers for your speedy recovery, and you tried to smile in return, but it hurt your cheeks, so you settled for just nodding. The parts of your skin that had been exposed to the elements were covered in a dark mixture of some sort, which had dried overnight and was falling off in small crumbs. And where larger areas had been uncovered, you could see bad bruising underneath. You brushed it off your face as well as you could but let the rest of it stay on for now. Marcus would feel bad enough without also having to see the details of the damage he’d unintentionally caused. It took a good ten minutes before you looked up to see him approaching you, and he looked… awful.

“Wow. You look worse than me, and that’s quite a feat at the moment.”

“Please, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t make jokes. Not now.”

He’d reached you by then, and you could see the redness in his eyes and the tremors in his muscles, probably from having cried so hard that he’d cramped up.

“Okay. Sorry.”

He sat down, some six feet away from you, and scowled.

“Don’t apologise to me.”

He was staring at the fire, so he didn’t see your silent huff of frustration. But when you hadn’t said anything more for a minute, he got restless.

“You wanted to talk…”

“I still do. But thus far, every time I’ve opened my mouth you’ve told me off, so I’m just waiting to find out what I’m allowed to say.”

He twisted a little uncomfortably where he sat, trying not to look at you, but knowing that at some point he was gonna have to.

“I’m sorry. Say whatever you like.”

“How generous of you.”

In one fluid movement he got to his feet.

“I’m not gonna do this with you.”

“Do what, Marcus? Have an actual conversation with me? Try and make all this shit hurt a little less? Try and not be enemies, for once? Because that’s all I’m trying to do, but if you can’t deal with your own pain then none of that is ever gonna happen.”

He’d started to turn away from you, but suddenly swung back and took a step towards you, and there was heat and anger in his eyes when they finally met yours.

“I don’t want it to hurt less, and I don’t want to be your friend.”

You’d only recently begun to discern how deep your feelings for him went, but it was confirmed now by how much it hurt to hear those words from him. Enough that you completely forgot about your battered and bruised body.

“…Fine. Then let’s just leave all this unresolved, until it kills us both. Sound better?”

He scoffed, but it was more like a sigh, and then started turning away again.

“You’ve already tried to kill me twice, and I’m still here. Don’t you think it’s time to try something else?”

You saw him tense at your words, and you hated hurting him, but you wanted to be able to leave behind all the crap you’d gone through ever since you’d set foot on this island, and you couldn’t do that if he wouldn’t talk to you. He walked away without another word, and you stared after him until he disappeared back into the jungle. You wanted to cry so badly. Your insides were burning, and your heart was pounding against your ribs, but you held it back. Partly because your body was too frail not to break with that kind of cry right now, but also because you somehow felt like you weren’t ready to go there yet. It felt like you’d be giving up, and you weren’t gonna do that.

You were in worse shape than you’d first thought, which became apparent when all the dried goo had come off, and you could see the full extent of the bruising. It was a miracle no bones were broken. But you healed well under the diligent care of the tribe, to the point where even after just one more day, they had to stop you from assisting with the rebuild that had gotten underway the day before. They kept shooing you away with the admonishment that your shoulder would start bleeding again if you tried to work, since nothing else was a good enough argument to you for just sitting on your ass. To pass the time over the next few days, you asked some of the women to teach you to cook with what the island provided, so that you could at least keep yourself useful and occupy your mind, to keep it from going to dark places. There were plenty of edible plants and fruits around, and the women knew exactly which ones contained more protein or fibres or vitamins and helped you to learn to distinguish which were which. Everyone knew how to cook and had the same knowledge about the plants, but these women were the ones that truly enjoyed it, and would take any opportunity to show off their culinary skills. They were happy people, in spite of everything, and never failed to lift your spirits with their upbeat native songs and big smiles, and since you picked up melodies and lyrics easily, you were soon singing along with them, smiling just as widely. From your seat among them, you watched as the tribe went about their routines, in awe of their effectiveness and the speed with which they prepared materials and put them together. You watched the elderly contribute by braiding ropes faster than you could even move your fingers, how the children walked around with small troughs of water, making sure everyone working remembered to drink, and in just a few days, you saw two finished houses built. But you also saw Marcus, and no matter how hard you tried, seeing him always robbed you of your smile. He worked just as hard as everyone else, and then in the evenings, you’d noticed him taking to sitting with Nani by the fires, and that he talked to her. You were glad that he at least talked to someone, but every time you saw him with her, you wished that he could’ve talked to you too. You told yourself that it wasn’t jealousy, and that even if it was, he was free to do whatever he wanted. But that didn’t ease the sting in your chest at all. And it wasn’t just because of Marcus. You missed your own conversations with Nani too, but since she was the only one that he seemed comfortable enough to be around, you’d decided to let him hog as much of her time as he needed. If it helped him, then maybe one day he’d be ready to resolve things with you as well.

About two weeks after the wave, and a little more than three weeks on the island in total, you found yourself imbedded into the tribe’s routines and lives. They taught you anything you asked to learn, that your shoulder didn’t get in the way of, and you tried to keep busy as best you could. The Kaiaka seemed to be licking their wounds, for now, because there hadn’t been any sightings of them since that day, and there were always scouts by the beach now, so that you’d all know if they tried something again. But for all the rewarding work you managed to scrape together despite your current handicap, you still felt broken. And it was a feeling that somehow only got worse with time. So, every now and then you’d walk away for a while. Hike up the mountain or just walk along the beach, anywhere that you could be alone. Today, you’d woken up with an almost sick feeling to your stomach and had snuck away before anyone else was even awake. You’d trudged along all day and had ended up sitting under the same trees whose crowns had been the first things you’d seen when you’d woken up here. You were watching the sun set over a troubled sea, disturbed by strong currents and erratic winds, when Nani sat down next to you.

“Have you been here all day?”

“I walked around first. I’m just… uneasy. I don’t really know why.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No, my stomach’s unhappy.”

“That’s usually a sign that all of you is.”

You didn’t answer that, and she let the silence sit for a while. She was trying to coax you into talking to her, but you didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry, Mana. I haven’t been a very good friend lately.”

“You’re the only one he talks to. It’s okay. I’m glad he has you.”

She seemed to hear something in your voice that made her nervous, because she seemed to feel the need to explain herself.

“You know it’s not like that, right? We’re not… I mean, I’m happy to talk to him, but we’re not involved.”

“It’s none of my business regardless.”

“It is if it’s interfering with our friendship.”

“Nani…”

“It is if you love him.”

You closed your eyes and hated that tears fell from them. Hated that he could do that to you when he wasn’t even there. You couldn’t say those words, not out loud, and not to her, in case they did get involved at some point. Then it would just be a permanent dagger in her side.

“Please, be his friend.”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at her. Christ, she was a picture. The dramatic colours and light of the sunset had nothing on her golden-brown eyes and almost glowing skin.

“Because I never can be. He’s never gonna let me, because I’m nothing but pain to him. So, please, take care of him.”

She stared right back at you, her eyes filling with moisture as she listened, and took in the deeper meaning of your words. You turned your eyes back to the bleeding horizon, unable to take her compassion any longer.

“Don’t give up, Mana. That’s not who you are.”

The words were pained and full of sorrow, because she knew that that was exactly what you were doing.

“Spiritual power… that’s what it means, right?”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed hard against the painful knot that had made a home for itself somewhere between your collarbones, but what you were really fighting was the desire to just lay down and not get back up.

“I don’t have that anymore. I’m just… Pita.”

“No, you’re wrong. My father gave you that name, remember? And he doesn’t do that on a whim, he knows why that name belongs to you, and you need to trust that.”

There was an urgency to her tone now, a slight desperation for you to believe her, and even though a part of you wanted to, you were just too tired.

“Please go, Nani.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“I’m not suicidal, I just need to be alone. I’ll be back later.”

She paused, hearing the determination in your voice but also unwilling to go unless she knew you’d be alright.

“Promise me.”

You met her eyes once again.

“I promise.”

She didn’t want to go, you could see it in her eyes, but she got up anyway.

“I’ll save some dinner for you.”

You just nodded, already back to staring at the view, and having no idea what you’d even meant by ‘later’.

<><><><><>

Marcus was sitting in one of the newly finished houses, having dinner with the men and women he’d worked with all day, when Nani stepped in and beckoned for him to come outside with her. He put his plate down and followed, getting worried by how anxious she seemed, and by the fact that she was taking him away from all prying ears. That was generally a bad sign with anyone in the tribe, they were usually impressively un-secretive.

“What’s wrong?”

She’d stopped just outside of the village, but she kept treading on the spot and seemed to need to keep her hands busy with something.

“You’re not gonna like it… but it’s Mana.”

He felt his shoulders fall back down as the tension lessened and was replaced by the same unease that had become adjacent to even hearing that name.

“She’s falling apart, you have to talk to her.”

“I don’t know how… I can’t… How am I supposed to tell her that I want her to not care about me anymore?”

She wasn’t hearing that, apparently, because she threw her arms out to the sides and then came at him with a harshness to her tone that he’d never heard from her before.

“That wouldn’t make any difference! You’d still care about her, that’s who you are, you care about everyone, that’s what I love about you!”

Out of nowhere, he put his hands on either side of her neck and pulled her to him so he could kiss her. She made a surprised little sound in the back of her throat but didn’t push him away. He tried to tell himself that he did this out of love, but even though he liked Nani a lot, in his heart he knew that it was just an escape. A way to not have to deal with your feelings for him, or his for you, whatever they might be. In his head, a little devil was whispering that if you’d seen him do that, with a woman that could make most other women green with envy, either for her complexion, or her curves, or her confidence, you might’ve really hated him. As if that would’ve helped anything. She was right; he’d still care. Even so, the intimacy felt like such a balm after all the violence and pain and fear that had seemed to be his perpetual state since coming here, and he selfishly clung to it, hoping that she wouldn’t kick him in the groin for it. She let him finish, and then gently removed his hands from her neck and stepped back.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

He felt sheepish and embarrassed and suddenly couldn’t look at her, but he heard her draw a deep sigh.

“Please… go and talk to her. Nothing is gonna feel better until you do.”

He’d known that it would have to happen at some point, but like all painful things, he’d tried to put it off for as long as possible. But that kind of cowardice wasn’t part of his normal behaviour. He wasn’t the guy that ran away when things got tough, that was something that the Kaiaka had done to him, and he wasn’t sure if it was actual brain-damage from their supernatural manipulation, or just that he’d been that broken by it. Either way, she was right, he’d been hiding for long enough. He nodded, and she told him where to find you. That walk felt like the longest of his life, and a myriad of thoughts crawled around in his head as he wandered along, until the beach was suddenly already under his feet, and he stopped, feeling something heavy and uncomfortable settle into his frame. There was a full moon that night, but it hadn’t gotten very far up yet, so it wasn’t all that bright. It was enough that he could make out something underneath some trees, though, and he headed over there slowly.

<><><><><>

You didn’t hear him approach because the ocean was still too loud, so when he suddenly said hi, you flinched, and he automatically took a step back.

“Sorry.”

He seemed quite nervous, so you tried to wake your brain back up from the lethargy you’d been plummeting into just before he arrived, to find out what he wanted.

“Uh, I was just lost in thought… and I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Yeah. Nani asked me-… told me to talk to you. And I suppose it’s time I stopped being such an asshole.”

You didn’t answer him, because what you wanted to say was that you didn’t think he was, but you suspected that he’d only take offence if you said that. So, you just turned your head back to the water and tried to imagine where Whelma and her pod might be right now, to try and keep your emotions in check. He sat down next to you, only three feet away this time, which was some amount of progress at least.

“I don’t know how to be around you. That’s not your fault, and I have no blame to lay on you, it’s just how it is. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You could just keep ignoring it. Seems to be working for you, you look… better.”

In your periphery, you saw his head bow and a hand come up to scratch at his forehead.

“Yeah, except… that hurts you. And you were right; I’ve done enough of that.”

“I’ll be fine. I always find my way.”

“That’s usually true. I’m still wondering how the hell you got yourself back here after I… um… Nani says you haven’t told anyone what happened.”

“I don’t know what happened, or how I survived that landing. I shouldn’t have.”

“But how did you get back? You couldn’t have swum all that way, not with that shoulder.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’re not gonna tell me how?”

For some reason, you hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about the orcas. It was something so special and precious to you, and you wanted to keep it for yourself for as long as you could.

“I was saved, by someone that had no reason to help me. That’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Okay. Well, just in case it hasn’t come across, which I’m sure it hasn’t, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I know you are. You don’t even want to kill your worst enemies. Ordinarily.”

“Those fucked up fishes had it coming.”

“I’m not sorry they’re gone. I do wonder how you did it, though? Did your powers really manage to push all that water back?”

“Uh, no. I lost my powers when… I sent you away. When you saved me.”

“You saved yourself. I helped to get you there, but it was your doing, Marcus. God, the amount of power you must’ve used, to be able to force your ability out of your body, out of your cells…”

“That wasn’t my power.”

It took you a second to process that.

“What?”

“It turns out my ability to control electromagnetism was a biproduct of my actual powers, that were suppressed for some reason.”

You were coming back to life for real now, with a strong sense that this was important, a lot more important than his tone suggested.

“And what are those?”

“Not sure yet. Some sort of energy-field. But it comes from me, I don’t just wield it, I generate it, create it with my own body. I could never do that with the e.m.”

“That makes so much sense…”

Clearly, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, because his eyebrows climbed a few floors on his forehead.

“It does?”

“It really does. This is gonna sound strange, but I’ve always felt like there was something off about you. Something false or hidden. That’s why I’ve always been so peeved with you, and why I kept provoking you, even when it was dangerous. And after so long, I’d practically convinced myself that it was just my own relentless scepticism and persistent suspicion that made me feel that way. But it wasn’t, I just really did know that there was something wrong.”

“Does that mean you’re finally gonna stop being peeved with me?”

He realised the mistake of asking you that right after he’d said it, but he still let it sit there. Like a goalkeeper leaving the cage open. If only you’d known how to score. Or even what game you were playing.

“I don’t have an answer for that right now.”

The pain in your chest suddenly spiked again, making your eyes sting, as though there was a direct line between your heart and your tear-ducts.

“You threw me off a fucking mountain… and I’ll never know how much of that was you and how much was them. I thought I did. I thought I knew that you’d never do something like that, I was sure that it was them. Especially after what they made you do with the roots. But then these past two weeks… you’ve been so cruel and selfish, and I can’t say if you’re entitled to that or not, because I’ve never been mind-raped by an alien race before. So… I guess I don’t know anything anymore.”

You were sitting with your legs together and slightly bent in front of you, with your arms resting around your knees, and your tears had made a minor puddle in your lap by the time you’d gotten all that out.

“I’m so sorry, Pita. I wish I could tell you that I have those answers, but I don’t. Except for the last part. You’re right, I have been cruel, refusing to see you or talk to you, and it was for selfish reasons. Fear, mostly.”

“I’m in pain too. And it’s just as scary for me.”

“I know. But it’s also…”

He took a deep breath, as though he needed to strengthen himself to be able to say this.

“Akela told me that… He believed that the reason you always fought me, was because you wanted to trust me. Because you…… loved me. And it didn’t really matter if he was right or not, just the thought… This was when I thought I’d killed you, and it just tore at me like crocodiles at a carcass. I couldn’t bear it. And then you suddenly weren’t dead, and I didn’t know left from right or up from down. Because suddenly I could see everything I’d done, through you, and it was my hands… in all those memories, it’s my hands that hurt you. And if I’d done that to someone that loved me…”

“I don’t.”

Your voice was weak from the sorrow that was trying to hollow you out like a fucking pumpkin, but also because of the lie.

“What?”

“I don’t love you. Not like that.”

You managed to make it sound more confident the second time, but inside you were falling apart. You wanted to scream with the agony of having to deny it, now that it had somehow come up, now that you finally knew how you felt, made even clearer by the knowledge of his hidden powers. But it was also so much more complicated than that. Because he’d thrown you off a mountain. Because he’d shunned you rather than talk to you. Because he didn’t love you. He didn’t love you, which meant that there could be only reason he’d bring it up: to free himself of it. If you’d been able to say that you trusted him now, you would’ve told him the truth and allowed him to make the choice for himself. But you really didn’t know anything in that moment, except that you loved him enough to give him the exemption he needed. To set him free and hope that he’d at least be happier.

“Can we just decide that it’s over? Can we agree that neither of us are gonna blame the other for anything from these past three weeks anymore? Can we just try and be normal people again?”

A small sense of relief seemed to pass through him at your words, and he nodded once.

“I’d like that.”

“Thank you.”

You expected him to get up and leave now that you’d come to a conclusion, but he stayed there, idly playing with some sand, which meant that you couldn’t break down and finally have that cry you’d been denying yourself for weeks. So, you grasped for something to talk about before you lost your marbles.

“These trees were the first things I saw when I woke up here. And now they’re the only one’s still standing on this side of the beach. Do you know why that is?”

“I hadn’t even noticed, to be honest.”

“It’s because they’re living eternals. The tribe thinks that the Kaiaka took seeds from some plants in other parts of the world, so that humans would recognise something here. It would explain the palm-trees and coconuts and stuff. But these three are no ordinary trees, even to us. They grow roots that are miles long, burrowing so deep into the ground that they’re completely self-sufficient. They don’t need rain or nutritional soil or steady climates. Once their roots have taken, they can live anywhere. Even hurricanes can’t tear them up, and if you cut them down, the next morning, hundreds of new sprouts will have emerged along the paths of their roots. Some believe that that’s where the myths about some dragons growing more heads if you cut them off, comes from.”

“Okay. Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”

I’m trying not to fall to pieces, is that a good enough reason?

“Not really. I just like them. They’re surprisingly rare actually, because they have a complicated reproduction cycle that fails a lot of the time. And people don’t want them in gardens or around houses, because their roots are so strong, they’ll break into pipes and even the houses themselves.”

You craned your neck backwards to admire their thick crowns under the moonlight, but you felt only sadness.

“It’s always the unwanted that grow the strongest.”

You already knew that to be true, but you needed to remind yourself of it. To remind yourself that no matter how many times you’d had no choice but to be strong, you’d survived. You’d never given up before, and you weren’t going to start now.

“Are you still talking about the trees?”

“Not really.”

—————

Link to Chapter 9

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[dwellordream]

Could you give us little concepts of the main characters of your Rogers fic? I’m really excited, it sounds super fun and I’m curious about the characters.

Okay I can run down the POV characters (there may be others who get POVs later if I change my mind from what’s outlined).

Branda - Branda is the eldest daughter of Rodrik Stark, ‘The Wandering Wolf’ and his wife, Arya of Clan Flint. She grew up at Winterfell as part of the ‘secondary’ line of Starks along with her sister Lyarra. They are behind their cousin Rickard in the inheritance, as Rickard is the only son of Edwyle Stark, who is the nephew of Rodrik via his eldest brother Willam.

Branda winds up sort of on a whim betrothed way below her station to Osric Rogers, Lord of Amberly, after he saves her father’s life during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. However, Osric dies a year later in a jousting accident, so Branda weds his brother Harrold, called Hal, instead.

She goes into the match a bit apprehensive and disgruntled but ultimately is a pretty optimistic and lighthearted person unlike the more ‘sober’ Lyarra and Rickard and winds up being very happy at Amberly. With Hal, Branda eventually has five living children, and is a very involved mother.

Gareth - Gareth is the eldest son of Branda and Hal and the heir to Amberly. He is very proud of his family despite them not being a big power in the Stormlands and takes after both his parents in personality; he tries to be a dutiful son but also likes to enjoy himself and is very friendly and lighthearted.

Unfortunately he is often dismissed as a ‘big lout’ because he’s not the most witty or ‘clever’ and often puts his foot in his mouth and tends to get quite nervous in public. He makes up for this by being extremely tall and strong; he’s a great jouster and a natural knight. He winds up fostering at Storm’s End and becomes close friends with a young Stannis.

Julian - Called Jules by his family, Julian is the second son of the Rogers and can be a bit defensive, about that and everything else in his life. He is very prideful and unlike his more mellow brother has a very short temper and easily takes offense. He’s not the natural born warrior that Gareth is and feels he has to work much harder, though he is an excellent horseman.

Julian can be very self absorbed and often feels that it’s him against the world. He generally has good intentions but he’s a lot easier to manipulate than he’d like to believe, and he’s a terrible liar.

He doesn’t relate to his father as well as his older brother does and so tries to compensate by turning to his Northern ancestry. He frequently threatens to convert to the old gods and abandon the Faith entirely, which upsets Hal. He is thrilled to be able to foster at Winterfell, sure that his ‘destiny’ is in the North, his mother’s homeland.

Florence - Called Flora, Florence is the eldest daughter of the Rogers and frequently complains she is the ‘only’ girl in the family, ignoring her shy little sister Myra. Florence is quite haughty and impatient to grow up, always wanting to be treated as older than she is.

However her dream is not to marry a handsome lord but to be a singer, as she adores music and is naturally talented at it.

As this is obviously not a suitable career for a noblewoman, Flora is often frustrated with her family laughing at her lofty dreams, and insists she’s going to run away and be a famous courtesan in Braavos someday.

She adores her older brothers but likes teasing them more, especially Julian. As she approaches puberty she’s sent to Winterfell as a companion for her cousin Lyanna, which horrifies her, as everyone knows the North is not exactly the place to launch a music career.

Lucas - Lucas is the youngest Rogers son and frequently overlooked. Left out by his older brothers due to the age gap, Lucas feels he is the smartest of them all but gets no respect.

His parents have expressed a desire for him to become a septon or maester, as a third son, which infuriates him, as he feels it’s completely unfair that his older brothers get the family’s ‘best efforts’ while he gets ‘the scraps’.

Fortunately Lucas’ luck turns for him; while fostering at Griffin’s Roost with his aunt Fiona, who married a Connington cousin, he is offered the opportunity to go to court as a page. Lucas leaps at the chance, and comes to idolize his older cousin Jon, who is friendly with the charismatic and mysterious crown prince.

Leona Storm - Leona is the bastard daughter of the late Lord Osric Rogers, the product of an affair with a tavern keeper’s wife. From the age of six Leona was raised at Amberly, having never known her father.

While she loves her cousins and is grateful to her uncle and aunt, she is frequently frustrated by how society treats her as a bastard girl, subjected to harassment, rumors, and dirty looks.

She also cannot help but feel envy that while her cousins might still make quite good marriages because of their Stark mother, she will likely be relegated to being the wife of a landed knight or very petty lord, with no real influence or power beyond producing children.

Leona believes she is made for greater things, but keeps these dreams to herself.

[rosesisupposes]

also 114 + roceit?

Lover Prompts

114:  “I once believed love would be burning red, but it’s golden”

⁂

pairing: Roceit

tags: post-breakup, bartender/patron, bad ex, nobinary Deceit, Deceit is named Dante, this is a lot of projection and i won’t apologize

word count: 1,815

read on ao3

⁂

The day Roman met Dante was the worst day of his life.

Not because of them. The two events were unrelated. (Time’s just funny that way).

But the fact remains that Dante’s first words to him were “Well don’t you look like shit. What happened, did the Beast steal your Belle?”

To D’s credit, they had no idea what an effect their words would have. But that didn’t stop Roman from flipping them off as he started to cry all over their bar again.

And that left them with a choice. Ignore the crying man, as they’ve ignored so many bar patrons, passing him drinks in silence until he drinks himself into becoming a part of it. It would be a little different - most patrons aren’t in an outfit that looks straight out of a Disney coloring book. But they could do it. Or, instead, they could do this.

“Forgive me, Princey, that was uncalled for. Let me get you a drink, you tell me all about it, hmm?”

And the man dressed like a prince looked up, tears still leaking out of his eyes, and nodded. 

Dante was a professional. They prided themselves on the ability to match a drink to a mood - not always what their patrons wanted, but always what they needed. And what this face needed was maudlin, but not self-pitying. Something with some sweetness, but complexity.

“Un Vieux Carre pour le monsiuer,” they said with a smile, sliding the elegant cocktail to land in the man’s immediately open hand. 

“Merci beaucoup,” he responded, almost automatically. He took a sip, and paused, looked down into the glass, and carefully took a second, swirling it in his mouth.

“Like it? It’s a New Orleans classic,” Dante said, leaning on the bar. It was a quiet Tuesday night, they had time to chat. “Let me know what you think, or if you want, you can tell me why royalty is getting weepy in my bar tonight.”

Tears started leaking once more.

“Or we can start with your name?”

“Roman.”

“Good evening, Roman. I’m Dante. If you forgot about seeing the sign already, this is The Snake’s Den bar, and I’m the snake. Now that we’re all caught up, how’s that drink-”

“It’s my fucking boyfr- my fucking ex!” Roman cried out suddenly, interrupting the bartender’s calm voice. “That absolute- he just- and then he-!” and there were tears leaking down his face again, but hotter now, dripping with anger and not just despair. He swigged more of his drink, and kept talking, words tumbling out like a burst dam.

“We’d been together for years, and I thought it was perfect, ya know, we were both actors! We understood the struggle together! And he’d encourage me to try out for the big parts that I would have only dreamed of, but I actually got some of them! And then this- this fucking play, it’s only my childhood dream, and he says, “Oh, wouldn’t it be fun to be castmates?” and we both audition, me for the Beast and him for Gaston, but then it turns out, oh, actually, he went the FUCK behind my back and auditioned for the Beast too!”

Dante listened, nodding and humming in understanding, a perfect sounding board. “That must have been tense when he told you,” they offered sympathetically.

Roman slumped at that. “I wish. My friend texted me that the cast list had been posted and I wasn’t on it. I told him I was on the way to his place cause I needed to talk, and before I could get there, he… broke up with me. Via text message.”

In spite of themself, Dante gasped aloud. “He did not!”

“He did! Like, am I in some fuckin’ teenage melodrama?! Did I somehow date a cartoonishly terrible villain in a DCOM?!”

Dante nodded sagely. “Perhaps that’s why he didn’t go for Gaston - he wouldn’t have had to act at all.”

Roman leaned forward, eyes flashing. “And you know what’s even worse?! He’d been helping me prepare for my audition and listening to all the ideas I’ve had for how I would play the Beast, if I got the chance! But I didn’t want to make too bold a choice in the audition room, so I was holding out. And that piece of shit used my idea to get the part!”

“A scoundrel and a thief!”

“And you know the absolute worst part?”

“What?”

Roman seemed to freeze as his thought connected from brain to mouth and he processed it fully. His shoulders slumped. “I wish he’d take me back.”

Dante stood up straight. “My dear Roman emperor, let me be the first to tell you: bullshit. To quote a wise scholar: “He doesn’t deserve you! If he doesn’t treat you right by now, you’re gone.””

Roman smiled weakly. “But he- he pushed me, in my acting. He was my fire, the one who encouraged me to be ambitious and dream big and- without him… I don’t know that I’ll be able to.”

Dante nodded. They spoke softly, calmly. “Roman, I’m going to say something that might be hard to hear. His actions in these auditions? They showed that not only did he not respect this dream, but he never respected any of them. He only wanted you to succeed as far as it made him look good.”

Roman scowled. “He was an ass, but he wasn’t that, he wasn’t just a manipulative bastard, he believed in me-”

“He didn’t,” Dante interrupted. They were still calm, almost gentle. “He believed in his ability to keep pushing you to be an asset to him. Until it wasn’t beneficial anymore.”

“No-”

“And you knew this, deep down. And that part of you wasn’t taken by surprise.”

Roman stared, his face a mask of many emotions at once - confusion, heartbreak, denial, acceptance, but what won out was rage.

“You know what? Fuck you, I don’t need your psychoanalysis bullshit! Hasn’t my day been hard enough? See you fucking never!”

Dante watched him storm out, leaving the rest of his drink. A man in a prince costume, disappearing into the night. If it had been a decent narrative, it would have been raining.

But narratives aren’t often perfect.

Neither are promises made in anger.

Dante looked up to see Roman arriving back at The Snake’s Den only days later, looking a bit chagrined and only slightly less regal out of costume.

“Barkeep, I regretfully did not pay for my drink at our last encounter, and have come to rectify it.”

Dante nodded graciously. “While I appreciate your integrity, it was on the house.”

“Nevertheless, I insist that you accept payment.”

“Why don’t you have another, keep me company on slow evening?” they suggested.

Roman hesitated for all of a second before sitting down once more, the same stool as the last time.

Two months later, it was Roman’s Stool and no one dared occupy it even in his absence, unless it was truly and utterly packed.

In two months more, Roman had dragged friends to the Den too, but none became a fixture the way the actor was.

And one week after that, it was another quiet evening. A Tuesday, just as it had been before. (Time is rather funny that way).

And in one of the comfortable silences that patron and bartender often found themselves sliding into and out of with ease, Roman cleared his throat.

Dante looked up. “Yes, darling?” Their nicknames and pet names had escalated the day Roman realized he needed an honorific besides ‘sir’ or ‘madam’ and had chosen ‘dearest,’ but neither of them seemed to mind.

“My dear, I- remember what you said, that first night?”

Dante pursed their lips. “Of course I do. And I stand by it.”

Roman nodded. “I…  I know you do. I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I might lie to other people though,” they pointed out blandly. “Like the people who come in with a sob story when it’s all just their own choices. Because the boss said I can’t call people ‘sad sacks of pathos’ any more.”

“Your way with words will never fail to delight me, my Divine Comedian. I know you didn’t think it was a lie, but I didn’t fully believe you until recently.”

Dante put down their cleaning cloth and leaned in near their friend. “May I be so bold as to ask what changed?”

“So this will sound a little melodramatic-”

“You? Dramatic? Perish the thought.”

“Fuck you too, my sweet serpent.”

Dante blew a kiss and fluttered their eyelashes at him. “Pardon me, I interrupted you, you were saying?”

Roman shifted in his seat, adjusting without meeting Dante’s eyes. “I didn’t want to believe you, that that bastard was never cheering me on for my sake alone. Because- I said he was my fire, and I meant it. He was determined, and ambitious, and I thought that him urging me on meant that I was sharing in it. He was burning red, and that was what I wanted to be, and I thought I could be an equal flame where we burned stronger together.”

Dante nodded, humming quietly in understanding without interrupting. 

“But instead, I was just the candle that helped him burn brighter while slowly melting away. I was always so exhilarated with him, excited but then so exhausted. I always wanted to be more, or wanted to be what he wanted, at least. And he always wanted more. I tried and tried and I could never be enough because he just… he drained me.” A single tear leaked out and courses down Roman’s tan cheek. 

Dante reached over and wrapped their hand around his, and squeezed. “Love could look like that, could look like encouragement and ambition. But I don’t think that’s what you had, Ro.”

Roman blinked up at them. Both realized it was the first nickname based on their actual name that either had used. “So I wasn’t just a fool to think he really meant it?”

“Of course not, sweetheart. He was the fool, to not fully appreciate you.”

The lights of the bar shone through tawny bottles of liquor and glinted off the brass trappings, bathing them in a warm glow. Roman looked up at Dante, and he could have sworn they were absorbing the light and releasing it anew, their golden skin practically incandescent. And their smile, softening as they looked at Roman, focused on brushing away the dampness from his face, a careful and doting look that they never directed at their other friends.

Roman swallowed hard. “Dante, darling?”

They met his eyes, face lighting with a smile that rivaled the sun. “Yes, Roman?”

“I think I know what love looks like, now.”

“And what’s that?”

Roman rose up to Dante’s eye level, cupping their cheek in his hand. “It’s golden,” he breathed out, before their lips met.

[iatheia]

Der Tod Comparison, part 2

Continuation from the Part 1

These are just my own personal initial impressions of each actor playing this role and their interpretation.

At this point, it is almost all of them, no matter how obscure. Counting together with part 1, there are 48 in total. There are a few others that are missing from this list, but try as I might, I was unable find any recordings of them. If anyone knows of any footage with any other Tods, and would be willing to help me find it, I would be forever in your debt. Also, Toho, please release recording with Furukawa, this is killing me.

Masaaki Uchino - an eldritch abomination, somehow masquerading in a human form. Lots of poorly hidden tentacles. The angels are not merely creatures under his control, they are part of him.

Takeda Shinji - He is a pan who is just down to fuck. A magnificent and fabulous diva, and don’t you forget it. Life? Death? He doesn’t care about anything like that. He only cares about his (massive) dick. (Ok, no, he is very good, just, seriously, his posture in every scene he is in)

Tamaki Ryo - took me a while to get a hang of this Tod or to warm up to him, because the portrayal is fairly stoic (and the wig looks like like someone tripped and spilled radioactive paint on it, several times), but this is a collector of souls. Someone who may not necessarily care all that much about the person he is collecting in principle, but the need to have them is paramount, and for that precious second that is spent wanting and trying to acquire them, they are the most precious thing in the universe.

Thomas Borchert - video is of terrible quality, but I guess the closest thing would be a vampire. Mostly indifferent, but occasionally rather campy, with a peculiar oral fixation.

Paul Kribbe - The single least romantinc portrayal, not even a pretense of care, not even as a means to an end. This is a malicious scepter that is hanging over the imperial family specifically and nothing but.

Felix Martin - Another one of the more of the less personal Tods. Very few emotions, either positive or negative, just a minor annoyance. Nor is he quite as ephemeral as Uwe, for example. Keeps modulating the key, not sure I like that.

Jesper Tyden - So very gentle. Sincere in his offers of peace, of absolution to those who are his kindred souls, they are his precious companions and he wants only the best for them. So gentle.

Steven Seale - has rather angelic voice. Wants to be kind (to those that are worth his time), but because he is like a spring under tension, it is rather difficult for him to do.

Olegg Vynnyk - Manipulative bastard. He is pulling strings behind the scenes, every once in a while content with toying around with them in person, but this world is of his own design, everything unfolding exactly as he wishes.

Oliver Arno - He is tired, so very very tired. He loves humans, almost desperately, but how many times has he been through this? Unable to break this vicious cycle, he is in the hell of his own making, yearning, begging, but fundamentally knowing that all his efforts would be for naught.

Martin Markert - Master manipulator. Doesn’t care about anyone, moreso, holds them in contempt, they bore him, they are all just pawns to him. How overjoyed he is at setting them on the path of ruin that they cannot see yet - he is there only for the entertainment factor and nothing else.

Christoph Aphelbeck - Edward from Twilight, there watching you sleep. (Need to find a full version of this)

Mester Tamas - A natural showman. He is used to everyone hanging on his every word, on his every whim being satisfied by hordes of excited followers. Doesn’t quite get it why anyone wouldn’t want to be with him. Utterly uninvolved in anyone’s life, just passing by, but happy to get the credit and the blame. Constantly drunk.

Nemeth Attila - Um. Within 0.2 seconds of meeting Sisi, he imagined to himself an idyllic future with exactly 2.5 kids and a dog, and the moment reality started deviating from that perfect plan, he vowed vengeance onto her, setting out to systematically ruin her life and kill her kids. Creepiness factor is off the chart, and really makes me feel for Elisabeth in a way I haven’t really before. The most amazing thing about it is that somehow this portrayal is not more common.

Dolhai Attila - Terrifying. Grim reaper in the truest sense - just give him a scythe and a hood, and he is pretty much all the way there. Overdoing it a bit, though, there is nothing even remotely subtle about him.

Stanley Burleson - very tactile, the number of times he initiated physical contacts is rather on the high end for other Tods. Very quick to alternate between gentle and caring, and a controlling bastard. Kind of bad at his job.

Addo Kruinzinga - A spirit of death? No, this is a spirit of a cat. You are comfortable to lie on, so you’d best accept the full weight of this animal on your solar plexus, causing you excruciating pain. He’d bring you dead mice and dead leaves, looking at you incomprehensibly when you scold him, and pushes that vase on the floor without breaking the eye contact. 

Ryu Jung Han - Very terrible quality of the recording, so hard to say, but he didn’t seem to be particularly romantic or gentle to anyone. More like he wanted to use Elisabeth and Rudolf, but not sure for what.

Jeon Dong-seok - A lonely ghost that was was chained to the empire to do its bidding, and grows more and more vengeful over time. He gains strength to start breaking the chains, even though in order to do so, he has to do some things he wishes he didn’t have to. Unnecessarily pretty.

Aran Kei - One of a horde, one of many. She speaks for the angels, and acts on their behalf, their will, their connection to the world personified. 

Yumeki Noa - Gentle and caring, almost doting on those she set her sights upon. Very invested in their demise, but wants to make sure they are comfortable in the process, like smothering them with a pillow.

Ranju Tomu - he has Seen Things. Empires come and go, he had a personal hand in destroying many of them, and getting into gear to crumble another one. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to, but that’s his job, after all. The best he can do is to destroy it for Sisi, condemning everyone’s soul but hers.

Aoki Izumi - Some people just want to watch the world burn, assuming there are matches you can find to play with (I know the full video of this production exists somewhere, but it’s been years since anyone who has it that I came across has been active - send help)

Yuzuka Rei - A sadistic bastard who thinks he is owned the world. Not quite as completely self absorbed as a few others, but pretty high up there.

Rukaze Hikaru - A gentle giant, lurking in the shadows, afraid of everything, barely aware of his own strength. Wants to find someone to share his toys with, gets a big boost in self confidence once he realizes that he is not the most messed up person in this play.

Alexandra Mikhaylovskaya - A powerful, vengeful god. Fate incarnate. Not a very charismatic or seductive portrayal, but certainly one of the more breathtaking ones.

Elena Sivkova - The tiniest angel of the night who just inherited the keys to the underworld. Quite lovely, and could certainly grow to rule it with the iron fist later on, but so far she is just learning the ropes.

Shanghai Institute of Visual Arts student (cannot find her name) - A very benevolent entity, a perfect gentleman. Distantly reminds me of Saeko, just not quite as dramatic, more self-composed.

Chuhun drama club student (ditto) - Less of a supernatural entity and more of a pop idol. Not particularly interested in the affairs of those around them, but involved in everything primarily because it’d look good for their image, and out of misplaced sense of ownership.

[heedra]

have i asked you yet? i dont think i have. what are ur exalts fighting styles and techniques

YES YES YES YES YES very excited to answer thisIf Harv is fighting, it’s usually out of panic and self preservation. There’s a lot of flailing and firing off hexes willy-nilly. His primary goal in most combat is to get away from said combat and back into a hidey-hole, or at least to get some distance from the action so he can cast necromancy from afar. Don’t get too at ease tho, nervous flailing or not, he’s still a deathknight swinging around a gigantic cursed scythe and casting spells that can strip your flesh off. If you have the misfortune of fighting a Harv who has come prepared, on his own turf, you’re in deeper shit. A Harv who has come prepared is going to be throwing a horde of necrotech goons full of funny little traps at you while he sits cozily inside a conjured bonestrider.

The biggest weapon Avenging Phoenix wields on the battlefield is fear- a legacy of his Abyssal days that remains with him as as Solar. His actions are direct, telegraphed, and as scary as he can make them; every person he can scare off the battlefield is a person who gets to live to see another day- he doesn’t really care if they hate him for it. He tends to beeline for a chosen opponent like a fucking bowling ball, even if he’s leading a battlegroup. His actual attacks lack much style or grace; he swings his grimcleaver like a butchers knife, and favors a relentless onslaught over caring about his own defense. Despite this direct approach he’s nimbler than he might appear and he likes to leap around and let the heft of his weapon give him momentum.

As an archer and a sorcerer, Sachi prefers to keep her distance in a fight, preferably atop one of her agata, letting her allies, familiars and summons fight directly while she sprays the opposition with arrows or focuses on binding supernatural foes. However, she’s as much a meathead as she is an egghead and has inherited more than a little of her dad’s recklessness; she’s as likely to make shit up on the fly and see what happens as she is to fight strategically, especially if her friends or loved ones are in danger. Sachi is a fucking wildcard. She’s here to fuck around and find out. She also maddeningly never seems to take fights seriously until its too late.

Bucho exalted while punching her schoolyard bully in the face, and she’s carried that energy with her into every fight she’s had since. Her fighting style is undisciplined, desperate, and mainly consists of channeling all her anger into whaling on her opponent until they stop whaling on her. Offense is really her only defense; she doesn’t have the speed or the dexterity to avoid blows or escape from a fight, so she just trades blows and absorbs damage until either her or her opponent goes down. Don’t let her outrageous strength fool you; she’ll be the first to tell you she’s a doctor, not a warrior, dammit.

I Bite The Feet of Kings prefers to fight in hybrid form or beastman form, using Laughing Monster Style, though she’ll also pester her opponents aerially as a goose if necessary. She rarely aims to kill. For her, the satisfaction of victory comes not from killing her opponents but from showing them up. While her swarms of loyal ants harry the enemy from below, she does her best to be as irritating as she can manage, getting under her opponent’s skin with taunts, jibes, and quick jabs from her staff, then infuriating them further with the lazy ease at which she dodges blows and causes distractions. She wants it to feel as humiliating as possible when she finally knocks them out cold. If somebody can manage to land a hit on her, though, she quickly proves herself a paper tiger and practically goes flying off into the horizon team rocket style, because she has the constitution and hit points of an actual ant.

Do not fight Daia. You do not want to fight Daia. Daia takes pains to avoid direct confrontation when she can and takes even more pains to make sure any fight she does participate in is rigged, so if you are facing off against her in an actual showdown you have to hope that she’s been carried away by her hubris because the alternative is she’s planned this and that is terrible to consider. Is it  likely that, if you do hit her, she will die right then and there because her hit points are so few and she is built like tissue paper? Yes. But the woman knows SO MANY martial arts. And almost all of them are about subtlety, manipulation, or unpredictability. She’s both the angry nerd and the jock who listens to jazz. And she is a bastard, and she is so, SO bored. Don’t fight Daia. 

[jokin-around]

I know villain john is mostly igored because he's a bastard and that was telltale's (uncomfortably straight at times) bad end, but i love love love him so much, especially compared to almost any other iteration of a truly dangerous Joker. And narrativly almost, ALMOST more than the vigilante route.

Like, the game doesn't really imply that John himself is hell incarnate. They imply that he has impulses, anger issues, trouble controlling himself, trouble understanding empathy when it comes to people doesnt have a real connection with.

But mostly john is just a harmless husk of a man that lived in an asylum for criminals for as long as he can remember and only got a means of escape when harley pulled some strings.

And ever since his release, for the WHOLE game, harley KEPT pulling strings and bruce insisted on keeping his distance and letting that relationship continue (because it had to in order to stop their plan) despite having a soft spot for the man.

There are times when john seems to attempt to manipulate you, but it's easy to forget that both YOU and HARLEY have been doing the same thing to him the whole game

By the time the funhouse happens and you refuse to let all those dead bodies slide.

John chooses the person who he THINKS has his back the most. The person he believes is least likely to throw him under a bus.

And that person ends up being the woman who tells him to be his worst, most violent self because it benefits her. She guides him down a path that tells him not to care what other people think, which leads to him embracing parts of his personality, desires, ect. that were hidden. But unfortunately also unleashes all the terrible things he's learned under harley's guidance, the things he's absorbed from watching other people at arkham, and his impulses

It's really not a story about how psychotic people are inherently dangerous, it's about how a lack of support, honesty and understanding is incredibly fucking damaging to people who are vulnerable, how powerful negative guidance, manipulation and abuse can be

None of those things EXCUSE what he did, because he knows on some level, especially relating to bruce, that what was doing was wrong.

But that's 100% how things ended up getting that bad

[aion-rsa]

Loki Episode 2 Holds Out for a Hero and a Villain

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This review contains spoilers for the second episode of Loki

Loki Episode 2

“Up where the mountains meet the heavens above. Out where the lightning splits the sea. I could swear that there’s someone somewhere watching me.”

When Marvel’s Kevin Feige discussed Loki’s evolution recently, he noted that “putting Loki into his own procedural series became the Eureka moment for the show.” This became a talking point between fans because Loki was simultaneously hyped as another “six-hour movie” and the two concepts seemed to clash a little. Would Loki’s overarching story blend well with elements of a crime procedural?

The first episode of Marvel’s latest small screen project gave us a little good-cop/bad-cop stuff, with some interrogation room tactics weaved in as Owen Wilson’s Mobius M. Mobius went down the “get inside the mind of a killer” route, and the second episode of Loki continues to embrace the procedural vibe.

A fairly traditional teaser sets up episode 2 as C-20 (Sasha Lane from American Honey) and her squad of TVA Hunters arrive in Oshkosh, Wisconsin in the mid-80s to investigate a reported Variant on the loose at a renaissance fair. The team is ambushed by the Minutemen-murdering Loki Variant mentioned by Mobius at the end of the last episode, and Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out for a Hero” accompanies the rest of the scene in what may or may not be the most extremely online deep cut I’ve ever seen.

TERRIBLE MISS MINUTES IMPRESSION: Hi there! You may be asking yourself what a “teaser” or “cold open” is! Let me get you up to speed. A teaser is a narrative technique used at the start of a TV episode to intrigue the audience just enough to stay tuned. In crime procedurals it’s usually the first building block of that episode’s mystery. A good cold open makes us feel compelled to stick around and find out “whodunnit,” why, or how!

Back at the TVA, Loki is learning – or half-learning – about what happens when a Nexus Event passes the red line and they can’t reset it: the destruction of the Sacred Timeline. During the lesson Miss Minutes acts as a Gal Friday who Loki has little appreciation for despite her enthusiasm, and she ends up calling him a jerk. Which he absolutely is. Nevertheless, the scene is delightful. If there has to be a Who Framed Roger Rabbit? remake in our future, put Tom Hiddleston in there as Eddie Valiant and you could craft a sturdy bridge out of my suspension of disbelief.

Some specific temporal energy has informed the TVA that the Loki Variant was indeed responsible for the ambush on C-20’s team. The Hunters are used to dealing with Loki Variants – apparently they prune Lokis “almost more than any other Variant.” Slippery little bugger though he may be, this stands out as fairly important information. Are these Variants like raptors unwittingly testing the fences? Also, can we take a guess at who might be leading the pack when it comes to Variant numbers if Loki is in second place? Keep checking the background at the TVA! We’ve already seen a Skrull and Peggy Carter.

Our Loki is being teased with the possibility that he could snag an audience with the Time-Keepers if he’s useful enough, leaning into the tried and true cop show “you could get immunity or a reduced sentence if you cooperate” trope. Loki buys it, but it seems incredibly unlikely that this is anything other than manipulative bullshit on Mobius’ part. 

We also get to spend a little time alone with Mobius and Judge Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) in this episode. The pair have clearly known each other for a long time but Renslayer now has the unenviable task of riding the line between boss and pal. She’s steady and calm, but you can still envision her as Loki’s own police chief: laying down the law with Mobius, calling him a “loose cannon” for allowing Loki into the fold, and asking him to turn in his badge and gun – or whatever the TVA equivalent is. 

His interactions with Renslayer are perhaps supposed to be charming but they’re actually kinda unsettling, though I can’t quite put my finger on why just yet. 

Mobius emerges from the meeting even more determined to see Loki pick up the pace. He tries to out-manipulate the manipulator with his firm but soft-spoken psychology by telling him that the troublesome killer Variant is a “superior version” of Loki. Our Loki is just a “scared little boy”. I mean, why are you booing him? He’s right.

Loki is put to work in the bowels of the TVA on the research beat, poring through case files and having a fun interaction with a live-action Roz from Monsters, Inc. The stakes are high here. Loki’s life pretty much depends on him finding a breadcrumb or two, and luckily he manages it during an emotional montage during which he processes that Asgard, the home he grew up in and then abandoned, is gone. And he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

He digs deeper into the destruction of Asgard and finds that there was no variance energy detected at ground zero and has an epiphany (mmm, we’ll come back to that, no one here is ready for more of my Miss Minutes shtick yet, least of all me) that the show seems to be hoping you don’t ask too many hard questions about. 

Loki reasons that he’d hide in zero variance energy apocalypse events if he were evading the TVA, and is excited to prove himself right. Mobius is dubious, but they try out Loki’s winning theory in Pompeii just as the city is being destroyed. The buddy cop energy is strong in the scene, with Loki acting as the mischievous rookie who won’t play by the rules and Mobius as his older, weary partner. 

Hiddleston and Wilson’s banter remains effortless, and I can admit that it works a lot better than Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan’s in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Maybe it’s that Wilson’s “bird noises” bit truly feels like improv being done by someone who’s good at improv – the kind of thing you’d usually see end up in a Marvel gag reel. There’s a lot of fun stuff in this episode, but just passively watching Hiddleston and Wilson’s undeniable chemistry even when they’re having an existential chat about life, the universe, and jet skis has proved to be enough for me honestly.

Speaking of which, Loki uses said chat to plant a much-needed seed of doubt in Mobius’ mind about whether the Time-Keepers and the TVA are really the good guys. I’m on his side here: all that Variant killing and near-religious predetermination has left a whole lot of blood on their hands. ATCAB – All Time Cops Are Bastards! No, wait, that’s Jean-Claude Van Damme erasure. I won’t have it.

Anyway, ding-ding, maybe these two mismatched detectives have more in common than they thought, and it all leads to Mobius having his own Kablooie epiphany.

EVEN WORSE MISS MINUTES IMPRESSION SOMEHOW: A sudden epiphany during an episode is often called a “Eureka!” Moment. The protagonist has some good evidence and the case is almost cracked! All it will take is a little bit of inspiring information to help them cross the finish line. If you’ve ever seen an episode of House, you may already be familiar with these moments, and the look on Hugh Laurie’s face when he finally works out that it’s not lupus or sarcoidosis. Come back soon!

Mobius’ “Eureka moment” places the murderous Variant in 2050 Alabama, so Loki, Mobius, Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku), and a bunch of other Minutemen eventually find themselves inside a slightly futuristic shopping haven called Roxxcart. I love that this show could go anywhere and do anything but will just as happily cut to a file room or a barely-disguised Walmart as it will to apocalyptic fucken Pompeii. 

The Roxxcart mission indeed unveils the mystery Variant: it’s Sophia Di Martino! And the credits identify her as Sylvie aka Enchantress and not Lady Loki as we may have expected.

Depending on your grasp of Marvel lore, this reveal will be quite surprising, thrilling, and perhaps confusing. Pros: we didn’t have to wait as long for this unveiling as we did for WandaVision’s Agatha Harkness reveal. Cons: no catchy theme song. But the fact that this reveal has come so early on in the series is pretty exciting – it probably means bigger surprises lie ahead.

But it’s here that the episode subverts our procedural expectations somewhat. It’s not Sylvie who is revealing her grand plan upon being discovered, it’s Loki. And she’s way ahead of him. “This isn’t about you,” she tells Loki, somewhat echoing the Ancient One’s dying words to Doctor Strange. 

Again, this feels very significant. Ol’ Tilda spent a long time protecting our reality, and her successor is about to deal with a multiverse of madness in his upcoming sequel. And lest we forget how the Ancient One set that truth bomb up: “Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.” It feels like Sylvie knows something very important that we don’t, and her own “glorious purpose” goes beyond selfish aspirations. 

Loki might be a little closer to shrugging off his self-absorbed nature than Sylvie realizes. In my favorite part of the episode, he checks to make sure B-15 is okay when she’s left unconscious by her possession. This is a guy who just killed a bunch of people, just absolutely has nothing but contempt for people, and he’s concerned about the wellbeing of a Hunter who has shown him nought but derision. Loki isn’t holding out for a hero. He might just be on the path to becoming one.

Or maybe he was just lifting a weapon off her body and I’ll have to take it on the chin next week.

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[iatheia]

Der Tod comparison

I don’t want to count how many times I’ve seen Elisabeth at this point, over the years, and last three months specifically. Several dozens. And one thing that never keeps stopping amazing me is just how different most of them are from each other, not even just in terms of the score, but also the character interpretation.

Well, not all characters. Real historical characters are somewhat more confined to the canon. Poor FJ almost never has any room to grow in any way that doesn’t involve facial hair - he is the most static one of them all between the different performances. Dear old Sophie ranges on the scale from “less evil” to “more evil”. Rudolf could have more or less agency in his actions, more or less aware of the manipulation happening behind the scenes, more or less willing to go along with it. Lucheni could be more or less sane, more or less of a puppetmaster of this musical, more or less malicious in his treatment of the rest of the cast. Our titular character, Sisi, can be more or less childish, more or less of an active participant of her own misery, more or less welcoming of the affections that are bestowed upon her.

There are definitely more than a few standout performances among them, both individually and cast-wide, performances that forced me to pay attention to them, to make a double-take, to appreciate the complexities of the characters time and time again. But I never go into a production not knowing who these characters are, what is supposed to make them tick.

With Der Tod, all of it flies out of the window. Every time I find myself asking, “well, who are you supposed to be this time?” And after all, you are dealing with a personification of death here as a main character, how could anyone agree how that should be portrayed? Almost every actor does take this role into a different direction, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.

I’ve been itching to do a comparison between them for quite a while. This is not an exhaustive list. I still haven’t seen a few casts, few others to my disappointment I legitimately have nothing to say, because they are bland, unoriginal and inconsistent (and it is to my great regret that the only live performance I’ve seen has to fall into this category). This comparison is also largely reliant on the initial impressions of whatever recording I’ve seen these actors in first. In some cases, the portrayal can and does evolve, especially if they’ve been at a role for a while. Sometimes the things that catch the eye may not necessarily be what they were going for, so these are just my impressions of them. So, without further ado.

Uwe Kroger - The closest to being a concept, an idea of death, not a physical being, but omnipresent, touching every aspect of people's lives.

Ichiro Maki - Definitely heavily inspired by Uwe, but much more stilted, emotionless, not terribly suited for the romantic portrayal Takarazuka is aiming for. People die sooner or later, death doesn't particularly care about how you feel about it.

Asaji Saki - Very vocally challenged, this Tod. Some apparently like her voice, but it is definitely not for the weak of heart. But this is the most romantic portrayal of the character out of everyone. Der Tod who has just experienced the love for the first time before coming to terms with it in the middle of second act. Quite precious.

Shizuki Asato - the biggest Der Tod who ever todded, outtodding absolutely everyone in terms of the gravitas and the singing ability. Even more otherworldly than Ichiro's performance from two years ago, although with a much greater success. There isn't a shred of emotion, she is just, well, death, who will always get what is due to it.

Hanano Sumire - beautiful, powerful, and surprisingly... malicious. I don't think I felt that much malice from any other version. For the first time involvement of this character with the general populace and the revolutionaries made sense to me. This is not a death in an abstract sense, this is a spirit of crumbling empire, perfectly content to toy with those who will bring its destruction. She is in no hurry, and is just as happy with the chase itself.

Szabo Szilveszter - a fancy aristocrat. Despite somewhat alien looks (and sparkles worthy of any Takarazienne), a very humanistic portrayal of the character. Very passionate, but quite snarky.

Yuichiro Yamaguchi - he is a monument. Very powerful voice that is worthy of an opera singer that would be able to kill absolutely everyone, and a lot of physical presence, but absolutely no dynamical portrayal. He would stand there. Then he would walk. Then he would stand again. A few times he would attempt to rock his heart out during while there was absolutely zero singing, but only barely. Poor Rudolf had to turn under his own arm - there wasn't even an attempt to jerk him around. It was legitimately heart-wrenching.

Ayaki Nao - a beautiful and enchanting seductress who wanted nothing more than to be wanted by others. Everyone. Within a ten mile radius. Regardless of age, gender, sexual preference. Most do. She is willing to take the time to persuade the ones that do not to make them see that falling into her embrace is the right and proper thing to do. The seduction is the goal in itself, and the moment her conquest finally give in is something to be savored. Most feminine out of all the other Tods, even by Takarazuka standards.

Mate Kamaras - everything about this Tod is the toxic masculinity personified. Dragging others according to his whims, assaulting them physically. Very rough around the edges.

Christoph Goetten - we shall not talk about him. Him being shirtless singing Wenn Ich Tanzen Will horrified me beyond belief (admittedly, it was during a rehearsal? But they still felt compelled to include it on video. Those bastards.)

Mizu Natsuki - definitely can see the influence from Mate Kamaras. Very masculine Der Tod, or rather, he is a boy who doesn't understand what the word "no" means and refuses to learn.

Sena Jun - a very lonely Tod. She is seemingly moving from scene to scene asking anyone who would be willing to listen if they want to be her friend. With Tiny Rudolf it's not a promise, it's a plea, a cry for help.

Mark Seibert - very smooth. Take the Moon, shrink it down to the size of a billiard ball, that's how smooth we are taking about. Underneath it all, it's just a very (very) polished version of Mate until you achieve all that smoothness.

Kim Junsu - a self absorbed fop who accidentally wandered into the underworld, and declared himself the king of it. The angels decided to go along with it just for a laugh, everyone else are just confused.

Park Hyo Shin - No other Tod is as into their Elisabeth as this one is, and he doesn't quite know what to do about all this thirst. I want to see a full version of his portrayal to see if he does figure it out in the end, but so far, alas.

Asumi Rio - a Tod that doesn't doubt his own irresistibility, not for a second. Somewhat self-absorbed. She already knows the end result. She knows that she is wanted, even if her prey is too coy to say it, or they will sooner or later.

Asaka Manato - something of a mix of a doting parent and someone who didn't sign up for any of it, I suppose?

Yoshio Inoue - most ephemeral. The only Tod that made me convinced that he wasn't really there, that he doesn't exist. That he is all just a figment of Elisabeth's and Rudolf's imaginations. A shared fantasy, or rather, madness.

Shirota Yu - Alien, otherworldly, completely devoid devoid of any human values. He tries to imitate human behavior for his amusement, it turns into a caricature of humanity almost immediately. Instills terror with his mere presence. Natural at mind control. I need to write about this version in more details later on, but this is certainly the most original take on the character in a decade.

Continued in Part 2