#i took a bit of inspiration for the conflict from their supports because it fit really well in the au

[good-beans]

Summary: Lucina and Inigo are cast as Clara and the Nutcracker in an emergency production of the show. With opening night approaching, tensions arise.

Happy holidays to @ nymphlings on twitter, I was your secret santa for @nagamas ! I always love a good ballet au, this was so much fun to write 😊🩰

[lokitvsource]

You came into the show with the idea of Loki clashing with the TVA already in place. How exactly does this kind of arrangement work at Marvel? Michael Waldron: There was a creative brief that was 20 pages or so that basically said: “We want to do something about Loki running up against the TVA. Here’s some different avenues that might be cool to explore.” It was really serving it up for writers as a jumping off point for us to put together our pitches. Then I went off and really worked on the idea of Loki being brought in to hunt another Loki, and that becoming the heart of the show, and the Loki/Sylvie relationship. The big thing that I did in my pitch — even as early as pitching it to Kevin [Feige] — I really walked through the six episodes, kind of similar to what they were. I knew I wanted Episode 3, for instance, to be a little bit of a Before Sunrise, with Loki and this character walking across this apocalyptic moon. But Marvel had the initial, probably the most important spark of genius, which was just Loki and the TVA.

Where did the idea of the variant being a female Loki come from? That was one of my ideas, that we then confirmed in the writers room. Yeah, we knew from the get-go that it was going to be Loki falling for another version of himself.

Why was that appealing to you? I love writing any romance; it’s fun. Especially, it hasn’t been done a ton in the MCU. There’s an obviously self-reflective quality to it. And a show that’s quite literally about self-love; it is Loki getting to see parts of himself. At the start of the show, he kind of hates himself. He assesses himself to Mobius as a villain. And then he meets Sylvie, and he sees her as someone on a heroic crusade. He sees the good in her, and is able to see the good in himself.

Mobius suggests that, of course, Loki fell in love with his own variant, because he’s a narcissist. Do you think he’d be capable of falling in love with someone who is not a version of himself? [Laughs] I don’t know if he didn’t fall in love with himself first. Maybe after that, but the first time he falls, maybe this is what it had to be.

What’s the key to telling a time travel story that takes advantage of the concept without confusing the audience? I think it’s doing a lot of work that the audience never sees. It’s really understanding the logic of this thing, building out the TVA as a real organization that actually exists in our minds. Our writers room, we had a TVA handbook, encyclopedia, what they do and why they do it, a glossary of terms. And then you want to only give the audience the absolute bare minimum to understand the story, and to just get swept up in the emotional stakes of everything. If the sci-fi of it all, if the time travel logic of this show did not hold up week to week, then that would have distracted from the emotional journeys of the characters. So I’m glad that even though everyone had to take their medicine a little bit, along with Loki, in episode one, I’m glad it didn’t distract from the story we were telling. And we had the benefit of Loki being the audience’s eyes in. The audience is learning as he is.

There’s a funny scene in Avengers: Endgame where the Avengers start arguing about exactly how time travel works in the MCU. How much did you have to study what other Marvel movies had done with the idea to make sure your rules were consistent? Fortunately, Endgame was the main one, and that’s how they understand it. The TVA is an organization that understands time travel on a deeper level, probably more comprehensively than the Avengers do in Endgame. We wanted to make sure we were staying true to any rules that they laid out, but sort of establishing our own rules. It’s a time travel show. What was I thinking? A movie’s one thing, but a show is hard.

How many Loki variants did you have on the writers room whiteboard at various points? Hundreds. So many different Lokis. There was one Loki, actually maybe it was a version of Mobius that took off his glasses, and he just had really tiny eagle eyes, like he could see everything. There was stuff like that all over the white board. Tom Kauffman, who wrote that fifth episode, he’s an amazing comedy writer, and was on the first three seasons of Rick and Morty. His first draft of that episode was just bananas.

Was there a variant, or a crazy idea in general, that you really loved but couldn’t ultimately do? There was so much different stuff that we wanted to do in the Void. But the truth is, I don’t want to say any of it, because you never know. The ideas that I want to do the most may pop up elsewhere.

Okay, so let’s stick with a variant we did see. Was Alligator Loki actually a Loki, or just an alligator that happened to be wearing a Loki’s crown? A magician can’t reveal his tricks, man. That’s the great debate. Let it rage.

What was Alligator Loki‘s origin story on your side of things? Who pitched him and how was that initially received? That was maybe my very first meeting with the producers at Marvel, Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, talking about the show, and me saying, “When we’re doing this, you can encounter lots of different Lokis. You could have an alligator Loki. Why? Cause he’s green.” And us all laughing about how stupid that was. I think I made the point that it’s that energy of what we can do with the show. We can have something like that, but let’s play it straight. Alligator Loki, you get a laugh out of it, but by and large you try and play it straight. That was the fun tonal balance that we tried to strike in the show.

There’s been some conflicting information out there about whether the big bad was originally just going to be He Who Remains, who’s a different comics character altogether from Kang, and whether the casting of Jonathan Majors changed the plan. From your point of view, what happened? The character was always written as a version of Kang, as early as the first draft of the script, we knew in the writers room, relatively early on. He Who Remains, that’s the guy behind the curtain with the TVA, and we saw an opportunity to fuse that mythology with the Immortus mythology. And that was just really compelling. It was a way to elevate, it just felt right for Loki, because Loki was there in the first Avengers, he’s the one who brought the Avengers together, and here is directly related to the exploding of the multiverse, this event that will drive the events of Phase Four. Certainly, when Jonathan came in, it allowed us to step on the gas of just how eccentric and charismatic this character could be. I was inspired in the writing of He Who Remains by Tom Cruise’s character in Magnolia, trying to give it that Frank TJ Mackey energy a little bit. He captures that and then elevates it to something else that’s different and weird.

You just said how important the multiverse is going to be to Phase Four of the MCU. How challenging is it to have to set up this big thing for the larger Marvel endeavor while also serving the needs of the particular story you’re telling on this show? It’s a challenge in the sense that it’s all a relay race, and you’ve got the baton on this thing, and you want to do a great job. The name of the game over at Marvel is with each movie or TV show, make it the best it can possibly be. And they’re really supportive of that, and trust that it will organically fit into the larger blueprint of everything. We were excited about introducing a version of Kang, because yeah, to introduce this new big bad was cool for our show. I was aware, and cautious, of the thing I read in your review, that it might not be the most sound storytelling to introduce a new character at the very end that we’ve never seen before as the big bad of this thing. Obviously, we had the benefit that people know who Kang is, and there’s a meta thing where a portion of the audience knows Jonathan Majors is going to be playing Kang in Phase Four. But the finale was only ever going to work if He Who Remains, in a compelling way, serviced the Loki and Sylvie emotional story. That was the most important job that that character did in the finale: he laid out a very compelling conflict that ultimately drove the two of them apart.

There has also been some confusion as to exactly when you knew that there would be a second season, as opposed to you just making a limited series. Initially, in the writers room, we were not operating as though there would be a second season. And the whole way through was, this should be a story that should stand on its own. I referenced The Leftovers and Mad Men all the time. I think about those seasons, they pushed the overall stories forward, but you can pull any one of those seasons and look at it on its own as an individual story. I wanted that to be the case here, whether we did a second season or not. I think we always felt that we would want to propel Loki forward into the MCU after the conclusion of our season. The only question was, would that be in an appearance in a movie, or would that be in a second season. And it was only over the course of development that the stars aligned to make a second season.

But that end scene, where Mobius no longer recognizes Loki and the TVA is filled with Kang statues, wouldn’t have been a satisfying conclusion to a limited series. That is an ending that only works if there’s going to be a second season. So there is another conclusion to the story that I wrote that exists out there, that I guess is just for me. My own little play, that I perform with my action figures.

What was Sylvie’s original plan, before Loki hijacked her to that dying moon? It was to empty out the TVA. The entire bombing of the Sacred Timeline was to create a diversion. She’s not going to be able to create a multiverse from doing that. Ultimately, the TVA has the manpower to get out and take care of these events, but they’re going to have to scramble a lot of their minutemen teams, and it leaves the Time-Keepers significantly less guarded than they would have been otherwise. That was her plan.

You didn’t come into this as a big comic book nerd. So was there someone on staff who could tell you, “Well, there’s this giant cloud called Alioth that eats time,” or, “Well, one time Thanos had a helicopter,” or maybe someone assigned to you by Marvel? I’m constantly reading the comics but trying to not be so beholden to the and do our own thing. I charged our writers assistant, Ryan Kohler, with, “You’ve got to become the authority on all things TVA, all things Kang, and all that.” So he and my assistant, Sophie Miller, became a support staff who read a ton of these comics and became a wealth of knowledge for the writers to turn to. And then the Marvel producers, obviously are very well versed in the comics. It was Kevin Wright who came in one day and was like somebody throwing down a blueprint in an asteroid movie, going, “Alioth! Look at this!” And we were like, “Ohmigod, this is perfect!” The best thing about working on these comic book shows is that if it’s from the comics, it doesn’t matter how much of a deus ex machina it is, it’s just cool, like, “I can’t believe you pulled that from the comics.” Alioth, that was a big breakthrough that unlocked the last two episodes for us.

That is not a famous comic book that introduces Alioth. It’s an obscure Nineties miniseries, with really ugly art. But you look at it and see what it could be. You say, “If we do this, and it feels like Twister, it’s going to be really cool.”

Was Mobius’ love of jet skis there simply to illustrate his character, or did you have a grander idea in mind? I will come clean: I’m a jet ski guy. I’ve spent a good amount of time on jet skis in my day. I used to tow a jet ski to a lake and ride it in college. So it probably was me. Loki, I was just becoming a steward of that character. Mobius was a character I really felt I got to create from nothing. There’s not really anything to that character in the comics. So bits and pieces of me found their way in. I just think there’s something so poignant — here Mobius is, a guy who is literally fighting to preserve all of time in the multiverse, and yet his interests are maybe the most humble, human, terrestrial, unremarkable thing you can think of. Just a jet ski. And when you’ve got Owen Wilson playing him and it’s just that much better.

Will you be back in some capacity for Season Two? [long pause] Time will tell.

‘Loki’ Head Writer Michael Waldron — and ‘Rick and Morty’ Alum — on MCU, ‘Heels’ and More

[ckneal]

There’s a midam AU idea that’s been living in the back of my mind for months now, but it’s been slow going. Mainly because I suspect that doing the idea justice is going to mean doing more research than I’m used to, and maybe even rewatching the series proper to help me fill in some of the weak spots, and I have so many other story ideas that are frankly just easier to work on, two of which are already slated to be multi-chapter works. . . But I’m in the mood to type up something longwinded, so here we go. Keep reading if you’d like to see a rough outline of the first few chapters of this story I really hope to write out properly sometime.

(Warning, this is a long one.)

So, this story is loosely based on the Hundred Years War that took place between England and France from 1337-1453. But it’s only very loosely inspired. Very, very loosely. As in, I was reading a book, I read about one thing that happened, it germinated in my head, and then suddenly I had a plot developing that featured my current favorite ship. Additional sources of inspiration include one of my favorite fantasy series, and a personally beloved trashy romance novel. Because it’s fanfiction, folks. There are no rules here.

Of course, in this AU, the entire world is going to be made up, with neither side of the war distinctly being assigned the role of England or France—or Flanders or Burgundy, for that matter. I barrowed an inciting incident, and few smaller details from history to help things along here and there, but with no regard for keeping all the French things assigned to one group and the English ones to another.

That said, the inciting incident took its inspiration from the Battle of Poiters, a conflict during which England not only won against the French, but also took their king hostage. King Jean II was later ransomed back to his people, but at a sum that was so high, France could not afford to pay it all at once. England still returned France’s king, but new hostages were provided to serve as collateral during the interim, including the King’s son.

So. . .crown Prince Michael Shurley completely decimates King John Winchester on the battlefield, and sends his demands to John’s queen, Mary Winchester. The two kingdoms have been locked in a territory dispute for several decades, and this is one of the more humiliating events to befall the smaller kingdom yet, especially since they are unable to meet all of Michael’s demands. When the Winchesters begrudgingly admit this to the Shurley representatives, they’re caught off guard when they’re offered a trade: John Winchester will be returned, so long Dean Winchester takes his place as collateral.

Things are less than stable in the Winchester kingdom however, with more than a few factions quietly scheming for power. John and Mary were an arranged marriage that was originally held up like a fairytale when the two seemingly fell madly in love during their mandated courtship, but the years afterward had changed them. Civil unrest sparked by the war had brought out a lot of disagreements between the Winchesters and the Campbells and their approaches to governing.

John’s supporters are the ones to step forward with a plan, and convince Mary that it’s vitally important the people are not alarmed by their king’s capture. Mary initially finds it distasteful, but it’s talked around and adjusted and reframed, as John’s people ferret out more and more information about the vital party involved, until she finally agrees.

Because John Winchester just happened to have a bastard son. The resemblance to Dean might not be particularly remarkable, but no one at the Shurley court has ever seen the Winchester heir before. Plus, Adam Milligan has spent the entirety of his teen years studying to become a physician, of all things. He’s perfect for their purposes. 

Ten years prior, the Shurley court had had to deal with its own bout of civil unrest, when King Chuck Shurley’s second eldest son had attempted to overthrow him with the support of several nobles from one the kingdom’s richest providences. Lucifer had allegedly been driven into exile following his defeat, and Chuck had been said to have contracted some sort of mysterious illness. According to rumors, the king had shut himself up in his private chambers and refused to admit anyone apart from his remaining children. Even servants were barred from tending him directly.

They snatch Adam away from his studies and force him into compliance by dusting off an archaic law left over from before the start of the war, when the kingdom relied on a conscription military force rather than a standing army full of career military professionals—this law empowering the crown to call on any of its citizens for a minimum forty days of military service per year. They tell Adam that his mission seems more dangerous than it is—really, all he has to do is pretend to be Dean, and use his medical knowledge to figure out exactly what mysterious illness has bedridden the enemy monarch.

Sam and Dean—the proverbial heir and spare of the kingdom—are not at court to meet their younger brother, when he’s hastily fitted for a royal wardrobe and put through a crash course on court etiquette. Sam is very publicly put on display at a holiday festival in another part of the kingdom, while Dean is sent orders to quietly stay behind at a country estate while his valet, Kevin Tran, is sent on to court. Neither of the princes is told about the plan until after Adam has already been shipped out, with Kevin in toe to help Adam along with the impersonation.

No one involved is in anyway comfortable with the mission. But it was only supposed to be for forty days. Adam was assured that the necessary funds to pay off the ransom would either be raised by the end of the minimum mandated service, or they would make contact to extract him. The Campbells and the Winchesters both allegedly had spies in the Shurley court, and they would make themselves known when the time was right.

Adam is given the impression that the latter had been told to him with the intention of making him feel safer. It did not work.

He’s terrified when he arrives—almost would have preferred being promptly thrown into a dungeon upon arrival, instead of a room full of foreign nobility who one and all give off the impression that if cut they’d bleed straight silver, and look at “Dean,” the hostage prince and purported military genius from the tiny, vicious country across the channel, as a curiosity to be studied. He’s assigned two guards (who I decided will be Anael and Samandriel, based entirely on the tags I threw together at then end of this post, during which I decided that I love these three together), who follow him around relentlessly, but beyond that, he’s. . .pretty much treated like a guest. If a stiflingly monitored one. There are limitations on where he can go and what he can do, but for the most part he’s just sort of. . .there.

Most unnerving of all, however, is the small package that Adam finds in his room when he first settles in. Kevin swears he has no idea who left it. It has the Campbell’s insignia clearly worked into the pattern of the paper it’s wrapped in, and inside he finds a knife small enough to conceal on his person, and a number of different herbs and powders that he recognizes from his studies—though of course, he’s more familiar with remedies to counteract their effects.

In other words, he finds an assassin’s-first-kill-job kit, and instructions on how and when to use it, if opportunity arises. This had not been part of the deal when Adam reluctantly signed on.

Unbeknownst to Adam however—though suspected by some parties in the Winchester court—Adam cannot assassinate Chuck Shurley, because Chuck is not there. Shortly after Lucifer’s insurrection, Chuck had quietly disappeared. Michael had only been a teenager at the time. He invented the story about Chuck being ill on impulse, certain that Chuck would be back sooner than later, and Raphael had gone along with it because, being twelve years old, Raphael was not yet old enough to question Michael’s judgement. It is now an awkward point between them.

Adam soon becomes another.

Michael regularly checks in to see how Adam’s getting on, in a way that Kevin assures Adam is entirely appropriate, since Michael is under the impression that Adam is going to be a fellow monarch someday, and is likely trying to be courteous. Adam inherently feels somewhat flustered around Michael though, which is not helped by the fact that Michael is somehow always present whenever Adam puts his foot in his mouth socially. On more than one occasion, he’s thankful that almost no one has actually been to his homeland, allowing Adam to blame an astonishing number of fuck ups on cultural differences.

Michael and Adam’s early one on one interaction are intensely awkward. Adam will forget to wear gloves, and then Michael will comment that Adam’s hands are oddly devoid of callouses for someone who’d practically been raised with a sword in his hand, leaving Adam to scramble for some flimsy excuse about hand cream. Adam will inquisitively ask questions about what sort of illness would be severe enough to leave someone bedridden for a decade but not kill them in that time (Kevin frantically motioning over Michael’s shoulder to convey that that is NOT the right way to fish for details on such a sensitive subject), and Michael will struggle to find an excuse around the quietly bubbling panic, because he hasn’t had to try to explain anything about his father since that first year, and he is not a particularly gifted liar.  

And then there’s Raphael.

Unlike Michael, Raphael is suspicious of “Dean” right from the start, pulling Michael aside to point out things that don’t seem quite right according to what their informants have told them about Dean Winchester.

“Doesn’t he look a bit young?”

“Some people look younger than they are, Raphael.”

“I was told Dean Winchester had dark hair.”

“Dark blond is dark.”

“Aren’t his eyes supposed to be green?”

“They’re obviously blue.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

The forty days come and go with Adam and Kevin nervously waiting for some sort of sign from home. Roughly two weeks later, a messenger arrives with unexpected news for Michael’s court: the Campbells have officially broken ties with the Winchesters in a violent bid for power that has left the kingdom at war with itself.

According to Kevin, the civil war has probably slowed things down a bit, if it’s as bad as the rumors say. . .

Adam and Kevin are stranded.

“Don’t worry though—I know Dean, and he knows our necks are on the line. He’ll keep out of sight until they manage to get us out of here.”

Adam finds it difficult to put faith in the virtues of a brother he’s never met, but doesn’t have it in him to question Kevin’s faith. He worries about his mother, who might have been safe in the countryside, but also might have made the trek to the capitol when it came out that Adam had been abducted for the sake of persevering the royal family's throne. He can’t be sure.

And to top it off, Michael takes to stopping by Adam’s room every couple of days to privately talk about the movements of the various factions—who has been sighted where and in what condition, where they’re rumored to be headed. Adam interprets it as an attempt to shake out inside information. One day, Adam finally tries to set him straight by saying it doesn’t matter how many ugly details Michael throws at him, Adam can’t help him because he doesn’t know anything��and is promptly put to shame when Michael looks at him in surprise and says, “You misunderstand. I assumed that you would want to know these things, because they are your family.”

Michael leaves, and Adam’s guards exchange a look. When asked, Samandriel awkwardly tells Adam that the royal family used to have a fourth child. Gabriel. He was lost during Lucifer’s insurrection. Pirates overtook his ship. They’d never received a ransom. Michael had purportedly offered a standing reward for any news of Gabriel, and put an unwise amount of resources into searching for him until it threatened the war effort.

Adam and Michael start talking more frequently from there, starting with an apology on Adam’s part. It’s tricky at first, because Michael starts out asking questions about Dean Winchester's military exploits—it is the most likely common ground between them, after all—and Adam has to hastily change the subject every time. By the two month mark, they’re talking affably, and rumors start to circulate through the courts as Michael's routine check ins on Adam start getting less formal and more frequent.

On the four month mark, rumors get even worse. Raphael finally sits Michael down and really gets into all of the things about “Dean” that don’t add up, item by item. If he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know anything about his country’s military exploits, he’s far too convincing given his reported record, and Raphael has it on good authority that more than half of those “cultural differences” in etiquette that keep cropping up are completely unfounded—and look here, three different informants have sent lists of Dean Winchester’s physical characteristics, and the foreign prince DOES NOT MATCH.

“Michael, something is not right here.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him about it now.”

And Michael storms off to address “Dean,” while Raphael calls after him that he should wait until morning. Because it is the middle of the night.

Adam just happens to be up reading. Michael’s familiar with the book. Michael gets distracted, and they talk all night. The sun’s coming up when Michael finally leaves, and a servant happens to see him slipping out of Adam’s room. Suggestive conjectures promptly follow, and Raphael exasperatedly admits they only have themself to blame.

And this only gets worse, because now Adam and Michael have transitioned into being friends. No more guarded conversations where one is convinced the other is about to catch them in some sort of lie. When Raphael mentions that some of the lesser nobles are starting to think Michael and Adam are courting, Michael’s fidgeting is not at all lost on them, as Michael assures them that of course that isn't the case. He and Dean are merely establishing friendly relations that will serve them well down the road politically—

“After the war is over?”

“Of course, after the war is over.”

Adam’s been stranded in the Shurley court for almost a year by the time that he finally slips into his room and sees a sealed message set out on his bed. Adam doesn’t recognize the insignia as belonging to either the Winchesters or the Campbells, but it’s signed with the initials “SW” at the bottom. It mostly contains a lot of vague phrases that make Adam wonder if he was supposed to be versed in some sort of code. As far as he’s concerned, the only important information comes at the end: Kate Milligan has been safely relocated for the duration of the civil war.

Relieved, Adam goes down to dinner, where some sort of seasonal holiday is being celebrated, and has a bit more wine than he normally would. The Shurley court is one of those stuffy courts where seating is stiffly dictated by tradition. As a foreign prince, Adam’s assigned seat is at the same table as Michael, although, according to Kevin, his placement's much further down due to his being a hostage. After a few drinks, and after most of the nobles have cleared off from the table to talk and celebrate elsewhere in the hall, Adam sees no reason not to get up and relocate down the line of chairs to sit closer to Michael. It was against the rules, but Adam was aware enough not to sit in Raphael’s empty seat, and he’d been seen with Michael so often that Anael and Samandriel barely even blinked, because Adam obviously wasn’t about to attack their prince or anything.

However, it is worth noting that while talking to Adam, Michael consumes a decent amount more wine than he would normally have as well.

Later that night, Michael’s walking Adam back to his room, and he starts to comment that Adam seems happier than usual. But even when sober, Michael would struggle to say something like that—if he’d even attempt it while sober—and Adam winds up biting his lip as he watches Michael’s mounting embarrassment, as a simple compliment inexplicably morphs—words seemingly forcing their way out as Michael tries and utterly fails to stop them—into a compliment about how Adam is beautiful—that is, he’s always beautiful—that is, Michael can’t help noticing Adam most days—that is. . .

. . .Michael is adorable. And in a moment of pure, thoughtless impulse, Adam leans in and kisses Michael right there in the corridor.

Michael is profoundly shocked, and his reaction delayed. Adam had only gone in intending to briefly press his lips against Michael’s, but as he’s pulling away Michael abruptly leans in and reseals the kiss, and Adam in turn takes that as an invitation to pull Michael closer. And a few minutes later, Raphael happens to walk down the hallway and find the two of them enthusiastically kissing against the wall.

And Raphael promptly turns around and goes back the way they came, only stopping at one point to flag down a servant and order them not to let anyone else walk down that particular corridor for at least an hour, hoping that Michael and Adam’s “friendly relations” wouldn’t result in anything too inappropriate.

As it happens, nothing particularly inappropriate happens. Nonetheless, Michael still wakes up the next morning, fully clothed in his own bed, in panic because the first thought to distinctly make its way through the ungodly pain in his head is that he’d taken liberties with a guest the night before. The heir to a foreign power at that, a peer, a hostage! Michael never thought he was capable of something so dishonorable--he’d had Dean pressed up against the wall as if they were a couple of ill-bred urchins, and how does one even go about apologizing for something like that?

(Of course, if Michael were thinking clearly, he might have remembered that Adam had actually been the one to back himself up against the wall, with Michael obligingly following along, quite malleable to whatever positioning Adam wanted so long as Adam kept kissing him.)

Michael’s behavior was beyond unacceptable. If his father hadn’t already abandoned them, he’d likely disown Michael out of pure shame. There was no telling what kind of damage he’d done to the relationship between their kingdoms. At best, Michael’s uncouth actions would be a dirty secret between them in the years to come, after Dean married, and Michael was left barely able to look Dean’s spouse in the eye. If Michael were a lesser noble, his parents might demand he married Dean outright.

And suddenly Michael sat up in bed, realizing he could marry Dean. His mind begins racing, because of course he could marry Dean! It made perfect sense. They enjoyed each other’s company, and with both of them being heir to their respective kingdoms, their union would effectively end the war. It might be complicated—especially given some of the odd customs Dean had introduced to Michael’s court—but marriages had been used to cemented alliances often enough, and the thought of marrying Dean elicited a curiously hot feeling in Michael’s stomach, remembering the way Adam had pulled him close the night before.

(Fun fact, England and France actually did try to do this with the Treaty of Troyes in 1420; it did not go as planned.)

Michael goes through the rest of his day in an uncharacteristically upbeat mindset, because now it all seems to just be a matter of organizing things, and he is good at organizing. He would have to write to either John or Mary Winchester as soon as the situation in their kingdom settled, and formally ask for Dean’s hand, and he and Dean should have a chaperone present at all times moving forward to avoid scandal--though there would be no way to sidestep scandal altogether, of course. Adam was still technically Michael’s prisoner. 

More than likely, the Winchesters or Campbells would demand Michael relinquish his claim to at least half of the territories that they’d spent the last few decades fighting over, but that would be fine. It’s traditional in Michael’s country to give gifts to one’s in-laws, and Dean is a future monarch. Anything too little would be insulting, and all would be consolidated eventually when Dean and Michael assumed their respective thrones. . .

Michael is still walking around delightfully living in his own head when Raphael pulls him into an empty room to discuss what they witnessed the night before. While not the most shocking scenario they could have imagined, they were not expecting to hear their brother announce that he and Dean Winchester would be getting married.

“And how are we to explain away our father’s absence during the proceedings, Michael?”

Michael’s good mood promptly withers. Because of course Chuck would be expected to play some part in arranging his son’s wedding. Ill or not, at the very least, he would be expected to make an appearance at the wedding. To have no part in it at all would be suspicious, not to mention rude.

While Raphael intended to snap Michael back to his senses, they had not meant to shake Michael into an immediate depression. They try for a gentler tone.

“You know, Michael. Our father has been gone for over a decade. He left no formal plans, he's sent no word. By any standard, he's abdicated. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to introduce a political marriage. Perhaps we should consider your assuming the kingship, and then come back around to formalizing your relationship with Dean—”

Michael, of course, is against this. Because their father is alive, and he will come back, and it will not be to find that another one of his sons had greedily tried to usurp the throne.

Seeing Michael about to fall back onto a familiar tangent, Raphael chooses the lesser of two evils and takes the conversation back to “Dean.” They ask which out of the two of them proposed to the other.

Michael abruptly realizes that he's forgotten something.

Meanwhile, Adam starts his morning on a much happier note. His headache is less punishing than Michael’s, and while feeling the normal amount of embarrassment that comes with drinking a little too much, the feeling does not extend to kissing Michael. His mother’s safe, he’s nailing his Dean impression, and Michael apparently likes him. Things could not be better. Until Adam remembers how the latter two items on that list are linked.

Michael is not like a classmate back home, who he could chat up, get a drink with, and maybe start seeing regularly if all things went well. Michael is, in fact, the acting ruler of one of the most powerful countries in the world, which just so happens to be at war with Adam’s, and under the explicit impression that Adam is similarly situated in the world.

Adam promptly begins freaking out.

And then Michael finds him.

Adam’s in the library at the time. Michael walks in and quietly dismisses Adam’s guards, and Kevin, leaving the two of them completely alone. Adam doesn’t realize what Michael’s doing right away, though he’s spent enough time with Michael to recognize how nervous he is as he starts talking about a proposal to end the war—selling the idea, as if Michael wouldn’t be enough on his own—and then sheepishly tapering into the idea that both he and Adam seem to have feelings for one another. And if Adam were able to go back in time and strangle his tipsy past self, he would, because then he wouldn’t have to see the look on Michael’s face when he says no.

And no, Michael does not understand.

Adam can hear years of living in the public eye at work in Michael voice, as he just manages to keep his voice level in asking, “Even if it would mean peace?”

"I'm sorry, I just—I can't."

". . .I see."

Michael excuses himself, and Adam collapses onto a couch, assuring himself that no was the only right answer, and he shouldn’t feel terrible—which, of course, since Adam’s spent the last couple of months flirting with Michael while posing as someone else, is not an easy idea to buy into.

Michael and Adam avoid eye contact at dinner, even as Raphael—who has zero doubts as to who initiated what the night before—practically burns holes into Adam’s skin with the looks they shoot down the table.

And then a messenger comes in. One of the wealthiest duchies in the kingdom (the same one that had once supported Lucifer, and of course would be populated with demon characters in the narrative) has declared its independence, having formed an alliance with the Campbells, and has launched an attack not far from the castle. Several villages have already been attacked along the way. Michael accompanies the armed forces he sends out to quash the uprising.

Raphael is left behind to fortify the castle and take in the refugees, who the messenger assured them are not far behind. Unlike Michael, Raphael rarely saw combat. Officially, it was because Raphael had adamantly insisted on training as a healer rather than a warrior, which was true enough. Unofficially though, Michael and Raphael are both fully aware that if anything happened to Michael, Raphael is the only one left to inherent the crown.

Samandirel and Anael escort Adam back to his room. Samandriel assures Adam that no one thinks he had anything to do with the duchy double crossing them, but it would probably just be safer for Adam to stay out of sight until things calm down. Anael is more closed-lipped about the situation.

From his window, Adam watches the first of the villagers come trickling in, and even from his vantage point he can make out burn wounds, makeshift bandages and hastily thrown together tourniquets, and he’s in hell, because it seems the only two options in front of him are to worry about Michael, or feel absolutely sick with guilt because he’s a trained physician and he should be down there helping.

Finally he pokes his head out into the corridor and asks if someone can find Kevin for him. Anael raises an eyebrow that “Dean,” who’s usually inordinately self-suffice for a prince, is suddenly insisting that he needs to see his manservant, but Samandriel is already helpfully heading down the hall. A few minutes later, Kevin is in Adam’s room, confused, as Adam asks him to take off his clothes.

“You can have mine, just switch with me, okay?”

“Uuh. . . Don’t you think mine will be a little tight on you—”

“Less talk! Strip!”

Michael had probably errored in assigning the same two guards to watch over Adam. After a year, the three of them had gotten to be on fairly familiar terms. Adam waited until Samandriel started to get chatty, and slipped quietly out of his room when Anael was distracted—neither of them having had any reason to think Adam would try to escape, because he had been nothing but compliant since the day he arrived.

From there, he goes straight to the infirmary.

Raphael had set up tents in the courtyard to accommodate the high number of people in need of care. Adam was a year out of practice, but the atmosphere was still familiar to him, and he slipped into the chaos unnoticed. Raphael doesn’t notice him until they are well into the thick of things, and Adam’s as covered in grime and gore as anyone else present. Adam had just gone for more bandages and the two of them nearly ran into each other, and for a split second Adam thinks Raphael just might not recognize him until hand closes around his arm like a vice.

“What exactly are YOU doing here?”

Then Raphael notices the stitches Adam had just finished putting in for his latest patient—and Adam’s stitchwork is immaculate, not the clumsy, half-hazard work of a solider who picked up the mechanics of it over the course of their career.

"YOU did that?"

Adam starts to fumble out an answer, but they are interrupted because then Michael is being brought in. The fighting is over. Raphael and Adam promptly drop everything.

Michael has a concussion. He’s also been lightly stabbed. You know, just lightly. Needs stitches though. Raphael is adamant that Adam leave immediately, but Michael, who is delirious, sees Adam and absolutely refuses to let Raphael send him away. Raphael winds up patching Michael together while Adam—annoyingly, to Raphael—is sat next to him, holding Michael’s hand. Adam winds up sitting next to Michael all night, because it’s the only way to keep Michael from getting up and tearing his stitches like a feverish moron.

Initially, Raphael refuses to leave too, not trusting their brother’s suspiciously competent love interest, whose family was purportedly allied with the traitors who’d just attacked their people. There are still more wounded to tend to, however, and Raphael begrudgingly has to step away—making sure to leave orders that a guard be present in the room the entire time that Raphael is gone.

Little does Raphael know, Adam would have lowkey given a limb to have Raphael stay. Michael’s demeanor is a lot less closed off when he’s feverish and concussed. Shortly after Raphael leaves, Michael starts apologizing for proposing earlier, and Adam feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut. And as he’s lying there, looking at Adam’s hand in his, Michael starts saying things he would not normally blurt out—like that ending the war was not the main reason he wanted to marry Adam, because the last year has been the best he can remember, and it is entirely due to spending time with Adam—even if Adam was only there by obligation—and he would do anything to make Adam happy, even if they weren’t together—and Adam is just stuck there, highkey dying on the inside.

Then Michael sees his face.

"I apologize, you’ve already said you do not want to marry me, I should not have brought this up—”

Michael starts to get out of bed completely unconcerned about his stab wounds, and as Adam’s pushing him back down, the words “That’s not true!” just sort of. . .fly out.

Then Michael’s suddenly looking at Adam, and his face is suddenly very sober, and Adam can feel his own face turning red.

"That is, I. . ." Adam realizes, suddenly, that he’s fucked. Telling Michael the truth is somehow both the right and wrong thing to do at the same time, and Michael is definitely in no condition to hear it either way. “How about, if you still want to marry me when all this is over, then I’ll say yes?”

The next morning is a string of stressful events for Adam. Raphael shooed him out of Michael room at dawn, and Adam went straight back to his own. Kevin, Samandriel, and Anael had all been reprimanded for Adam’s escape, with the latter two being replaced as Adam’s guard under Raphael’s orders. His first interaction with Ishim and Maribel does not bode well for them becoming friends.

When Adam tells Kevin that he’s thinking about coming clean to Michael, Kevin panics. News from the Winchesters had dried up weeks ago, even for Michael and Raphael’s sources. Kevin argues that they’d be better off attempting to escape on their own if the charade was getting to be too much for Adam, especially after last night—but even then, they should wait awhile longer. Why take any chances right now? And Adam doesn’t know how to go about explaining the why. . .

And it gets taken out of his hands anyway, when they step out of the room and find that it’s somehow leaked that Adam and Michael—who had completely misunderstood what Adam meant by “when all this is over”—are engaged.

Kevin doesn’t get another moment alone with Adam to discuss how stupidly dangerous this whole situation is, and Adam, no matter how hard he tries—can’t seem to get a moment alone with his fiancé to try to explain that the situation is not what he thinks it is. Everyone had vastly underestimated how far the rumors about Michael and Adam secretly courting had gone, and Adam can barely take three steps without a noble or courtier or someone pulling him aside to offer their congratulations, and as Adam gets closer to Michael’s chambers, there’s Raphael, circling like a shark and Adam does not want to make his confession to Raphael before he sees Michael.

Come dinner time, Adam finds that his seat had been reassigned. He now sits directly to Michael’s left. He keeps trying to convince Michael to step out into the hall with him for a second, while Raphael, seated in their normal place to Michael’s right, continuously circumvents him, firmly believing that Adam has done more than enough in private.

Then there’s a scream. A servant comes running out into the dining hall, carrying a bloody knife. They run up to Michael—up until the guards step forward to stop her, but she’s not attacking. Instead she hands over the knife and says that she found in the corridor outside the king’s chambers. She had been worried, so she broke protocol and went in. The king’s bed was drenched in blood.

Adam looks over and feels a chill when he recognizes the same knife that had been included in the murder kit he found in his room on day one.

If Raphael had looked up, Adam had no doubt that Raphael would have read something in his face, but they didn’t get the chance to. Michael and Raphael are busy staring at each, the only ones in the room who know beyond any doubt that the implication could not be true, because there had not been anyone in that bed to assassinate in over ten years. Neither of them is given the chance to try to spin the knife’s implications in any direction, however. While the court is still reeling in shocked silence, a guard walks in—completely oblivious—and announces that a messenger has arrived with urgent news.

Adam looks up, and finds he has room to panic more, when he sees Anna Milton walk in, a serving maid in the Winchester court, and as she drops a curtsey to Michael, she identifies herself as one of Raphael’s spies. She had held her place in the Winchester court for as long as she could, but when her real identity had been uncovered she’d had no choice but to flee, and she’s come with monumental news. The civil war across the channel has ended, the Campbells having been forced to seek asylum with their allies outside the kingdom, John Winchester deposed, and Dean Winchester installed on the throne in his place. She had witnessed his coronation herself the very day they identified her.

And Adam feels very cold, as if his blood had actually managed to turn into ice, which would have explained why he couldn’t seem to move, as every eye in the room immediately turns to him.

 And that would be the end of part one.

[relatablegenzwriter]

How to write erotic moments or short stories without making it convoluted, cheesy or tacky? I grew up very religious and although i no longer believe have lots of trouble with sexuality in general. I'd like to try writing stuff as exploration cause i find p*rn too exploitive and iffy and dont wanna support that industry. but i'm not really sure what to do to do it "right" instead of dull or cringy. I just sit for hours with a blank paper till i give up

Writing Non-Tacky Sex and Romance

I'll start right off the bat by saying that this is definitely not my writing area of expertise, and I don't know how much I can tell you that you don't already know. So I'm gonna offer a couple of tips and then send you to a lot of posts that might answer your question better than I can! (P.S. I know your question was about sex specifically, but as you can see from the title, all of this can be applied to romantic scenes as well, which I got similar questions about.)

1. Be careful with metaphors. Of course, no writing style is "right" or "wrong", but flowery language can often make or break any scene, especially romantic ones. Many times, the overuse of dramatic, romantic metaphors can overload a scene and make it feel cheesy and cliche. And let's face it, millions of tiny stars aren't bursting around a couple every time they kiss, and we all know that sex is not magical in the slightest. I think the biggest problem with these kinds of descriptors, though, is not that they make you groan with how sappy the writing is, but because they often feel impersonal to your characters. So instead of your character "hearing a symphony swell around them", maybe "for a moment all their worries about [plot conflict/subplot conflict] seemed to move toward the back of their head". (not my best descriptor i could come up with on the spot but you get it) Although, while this will remove the cliche aspect of your scenes, it can still go overboard. Bringing me to my next point…

2. Be realistic. Like I said before, not every romantic or sexual interaction your characters have is going to feel like a Nicholas Sparks movie. There are lots and lots of awkward, ordinary moments. Include these! Of course, you probably won't want to make every moment of every sex scene say "yeah it wasn't that special" (unless of course this is the direction you want your story to take). If your character enjoys kissing or sleeping with someone, say that. But there are very few people whose worldview has shifted after one night together, and I doubt this is true for your characters, either.

3. Be careful about your source information. It's okay to take inspiration from everywhere, but it's important to take everything with a grain of salt. Particularly with sex scenes, writers tend to take inspiration from two major places: porn and WattPad (you know, THOSE fics). Keep in mind that porn is not meant to be realistic in the slightest, and I could go on a whole other tangent about the horrible expectations it sets for sex in real life. And don't get me wrong about wattpad: there are great writers on there and it's a great option to share and read fiction (for free, too!). But a lot of the ridiculously smutty fics, while entertaining and well-written, depict fun-sounding but sometimes unrealistic sex, that may not fit into the fantasy novel you're writing, @sjmaas. (Disregard that last bit if you are writing something akin to wattpad smut) Also, just a little side note that you should never be treating porn or wattpad as legitimate sex ed for real life!

4. Try building your scene from the ground up. I did a post on this a while back, but I used to really struggle to write romantic scenes until I figured out a method that works for me. Basically, you picture your scene as a building that you first need to lay the framework for, then fill in the cement/bricks/whatever, then furnish and decorate. First, I go through and write all the dialogue that will be taking place and mark crucial events. (example: "Hey, can I tell you something?" "What?" "I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." [kiss]) Next, I rewrite the scene almost monotonously, in the plainest way actions can be written. ("They held hands." "She took her jacket off." "He walked across the room.") Once I have my "building", then I can go in and add all the emotions and little details. I do this so that I don't have to stare at a blank page, since I already know how my scene is going to go. Then all I have to do is fill in some little details that make the scene more personal to my characters. I highly recommend this to you, since you talked about how you know what you want to write but can get scared of a blank page (hey, me too!).

5. Extra Resources! Here's some people that can probably help better than I can with specifics:

Including Consent In Writing (SUPER IMPORTANT)

Non-Explicit Scenes

Explicit Scenes

Romance In General (with a section containing tons of nsfw writing advice)

Good luck with your story!

[emachinescat]

Mama Bear

A Tales of Arcadia Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat @whumptober2021 day 3 - Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... ("who did this to you?")

Summary: After Jim’s fight with Draal, his mom sees his bruises, and Mama Bear is unleashed. Post-Win, Lose, or Draal.

Whumpee: Jim

Words: 2,603

Note: This fic was inspired by what Barbara said in 1x13 about Jim coming home from school covered in bruises. As is my way, I took the idea and ran with it.

TW: none

Barbara Lake had always considered herself incredibly lucky that her son turned out as well as he did. It wasn’t her own doing, she was sure of that – she always did the best she could, but being a single mom meant she’d had to work extra shifts to support her small family and never felt like she was there enough.

No, Jim was just a really good kid.

Not many moms could boast that their sixteen-year-old son could cook better than they could, let alone that they made gourmet lunches and dinners (and breakfasts, on most weekends), not just willingly, but happily. And not many moms could brag that their sixteen-year-old son did the dishes or kept the house clean or put aside his own wants and dreams to take care of his overworked mother. Who got up early to leave flowers on their bedside table after a long night at work, or who tucked them in after they fell asleep on top of the covers, still in their scrubs, because they’d been too exhausted to do anything else.

Barbara tried not to brag too much about Jim. She knew that he did have a social life of his own, and as far as she could tell, he was fairly well liked at school and she didn’t want to embarrass him if any of his friends found out just how much he doted on his mother. But sometimes she couldn’t help it, and she’d find herself rambling to her beautician or the nurses at the hospital or sometimes even a long-suffering patient about how her son was one-of-a-kind. He didn’t get into trouble at school, didn’t fight, didn’t skip school, and almost never missed curfew.

Until one day, he did.

It wasn’t even like it was a gradual change. There was no slow fade. She didn’t watch him slowly descend into bad grades or late nights or midnight calls about museum break-ins. There were no signs. He went to bed one day, the same as ever, and then suddenly he was getting into trouble at school, getting into fist fights, missing curfew, breaking into museums in the dead of night. Not only that but his grades – which had always been slightly higher than average – had plummeted, and he’d developed dark circles under his eyes like he never slept and sometimes he moved around like he was an eighty-year-old man and though his good nature and kind heart remained, it seemed strained at times. He still did sweet things for her, but not as often.

At first, she’d thought he was burning the proverbial candle at both ends and his lack of sleep was taking a toll on his mental and physical health. As a doctor, she’d seen firsthand what lack of sleep could do to a person. Their entire personality would change, or fizzle out, and their judgment would be severely impaired.

But then she’d seen the bruises and her sleep-loss theory flew out of the window.

***

Two weeks ago

Barbara thought boundaries and independence were a valuable part of a child’s development, so she always knocked before she entered Jim’s room. Of course, if he were gone, she wouldn’t bother.

On this particular day – one of her rare days off – she was sure he wasn’t home. She hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t seen his bike propped up against the side of the house or in the garage. The container of store-bought chocolate chip cookies (she had neither the time nor skill to bake them herself) she’d left out for him hadn’t been touched. For all appearances, Jim hadn’t gotten home from school yet.

And so, she didn’t knock as she approached his bedroom door with a laundry basket propped on her hip. Jim always did his own laundry, but she’d seen how tired and overworked he’d been lately and wanted to ease his burden however she could.

The sight that greeted her when she nudged open the door and flipped on the light was one that would stick with her, tattooed onto her mind’s eye, for the rest of her life.

Jim was asleep on top of his unmade bed. It looked like he’d gotten halfway undressed and then decided to forgo comfort for sleep, and lay on his stomach in only his jeans. One shoe was on, the other halfway under the bed. But what arrested her attention so violently was the great rainbow of bruises arching across his back and stretched around his side, disappearing beneath his stomach where he lay on the bed.

She couldn’t help herself. A horrified shriek escaped her, and Jim sprung up so quickly it made her head spin. The panicked look in his eyes did not escape her notice, nor did the way he made a desperate reach for his pocket, like he was trying to grab something – trying to defend himself? When he saw who was in his room, and that they were alone, and that there was no danger, the raw fear faded, though a hint of panic remained.

“Mom!” he squawked, crossing his arms across his chest like that would be enough to hide the dizzying array of green, purple, yellow, and black that blanketed his chest. She noticed with surprise the lean muscles of his arms. Jim had always been fit, but never strong. He’d never said anything about a gym and he’d never been serious about sports, but she filed this information away for later and focused on the problem at hand.

Her stomach twisted as her doctor’s eyes traveled slowly, deliberately down her son’s bare torso. The bruises were worse on his stomach and chest, something she hadn’t thought possible, and she realized with horror that some of them were days, maybe weeks, older than others. This – whatever this was – was not an isolated incident.

Rage like she’d never felt before, like the protective energy of all mothers who had come before her collected into one finely-honed sword, pierced her soul as she came to the only conclusion that made any logical sense: Someone had done this to her son.

When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, cold as the furthest depth of the ocean, shaking with unmitigated fury.

“Who did this to you?”

Jim’s answer didn’t surprise her, but she also didn’t believe it for a second. “No one. It… was an accident.” She watched, lips crammed together in an impossibly thin line, teeth grinding against one another, her hands trembling with a righteous anger she had no outlet for, as Jim slowly reached out for the shirt he’d left in a heap at the end of the bed, the other arm still wrapped protectively around his torso. She didn’t stop him. She would absolutely be examining his injuries fully before the evening was done, but for now, she’d seen enough. The sight of her son’s bruised flesh would burn in her memory forever, more clearly than when she saw it right in front of her.

Skittishly, like a cat caught sniffing around back alley garbage cans, he snatched up the shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head. He couldn’t hide the flinch as he raised his arms to pull the fabric over his head. As he did so, she got the full view of his torso, and the wild, impossible thought flitted through her mind that it almost looked like some giant hand had wrapped around his body and squeezed. The image, however nonsensical, sent waves of nausea crashing through her. Her anger swelled again, and the crest of it burst forth, no longer containable, and the only person she could release it on was the one who was actively lying to her.

“James Lake, Jr. – do you think I’m an idiot?!”

Jim froze, his hands stilling completely as he adjusted the neck of his tee. He had never heard his mother direct such cold fury at anyone, let alone himself. “W-what? Of course not, Mom. I just–”

“You expect me to believe that you accidentally hurt yourself this badly? That you woke up one morning and you were covered in bruises? Jim, I’m a doctor. I see people come in for less than this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have fractured ribs.” Now the anger was giving way to panic. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that some bruises are newer than others. This isn’t something that just ‘happened’ and it’s not an accident. So tell me. Who – the – hell – did this to my son?”

A small, ridiculous surge of satisfaction bubbled up inside of her as she watched Jim’s mouth fall open. He’d never heard his mother utter a word stronger than darn before. She’d always been very careful about the language she used in front of him. But his condition released something feral inside of her, and it was honestly a bit of a shock that nothing stronger came out.

She watched his face, saw the conflict in his eyes, knew with even more surety that he was hiding something big from her and trying to decide if he was going to answer truthfully. Well, tough luck. He wasn’t leaving his bedroom until he answered her question.

He must have seen this in her eyes, for after a moment, he dropped his gaze. Heavily, he sat down on the foot of his bed and stared down at his hands. “Mom, I… can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

At this, the fear took center stage again, and Barbara fell to her knees in front of her son, cupping his face in her hands. The tears she’d been holding back with such determination threatened to fall at the way he unconsciously leaned into her touch. His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment he was a child again, sniffling from a scraped knee and being comforted by his mother. That moment ended all too quickly, because his scraped knee was actually a bruised and battered torso, and he wasn’t a child anymore, and he was in trouble.

“Jim. Whatever is going on, I promise, I won’t be angry. But someone is hurting you. You can’t deny that. What is happening to my son?” She tried not to speculate – dared not speculate – but so many possibilities chased themselves through her head, each one worse than the last. Bullies? Abusive teacher? Drugs?

He sat for a moment, a slumped, defeated statue with too much weight on his young shoulders – Young Atlas, Walter’s voice echoed in her mind. She saw the exact moment when he made his decision. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and met her eyes once more. Something brewed within those beautiful blue depths, but what it was she couldn’t say. Was it regret? Guilt? Fear?

“It really was an accident,” he finally said, voice slow and measured.

“Jim, really–!”

“I’m telling the truth, Mom!” he insisted so fervently that she was tempted to believe him. Almost.

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she demanded. “What kind of ‘accident’–”

“A Vespa one,” Jim blurted, and his eyes flickered down to his hands in shame. “I… a friend gave me a ride on his Vespa. I was on the back and got thrown off and rolled halfway down the embankment before a tree caught me right in the ribs.”

Fresh panic wormed its way into Barbara’s mind at Jim’s confession. As horrible as it was, part of her desperately wanted to believe him. If he had been in a vehicle accident, then no one had been deliberately hurting her child. It was just his own irresponsibility and stupidity.

“When did this happen?”

A beat. Then, sheepishly, “... yesterday.”

But – “What about the older bruises, Jim? Did you get into two Vespa accidents?”

“Paintball,” Jim answered without missing a beat. “We had a whole thing a few months back. Guys versus girls. And I got hit. A lot.”

Barbara recalled clearly the size and location of the older bruises that had peeked out from underneath the fresh, reaching ones. They could have easily been from punches or kicks, but it was feasible that the bruises could have come from being shot at close-range by a paintball gun.

Deep down, something still nagged at her. But Jim’s explanation was a siren’s call and she was so tired of swimming.

“Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?” The gaze she fixed on him one would have withered a succulent.

Without hesitation, Jim answered, his voice clear, strong, and insistent. “Yes.”

Relief flooded through her, and she squashed the last remaining doubts, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “In that case, you are grounded.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “What, really? You promised you wouldn’t be angry!?”

“I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. Let’s see, you know how I feel about both paintball and those Vespas and yet you went behind my back and nearly got yourself killed. You’ve been lying to me, Jim, keeping secrets. Is this why you’ve not been sleeping? Why you’ve been so distant?” It didn’t explain why he’d been getting into more trouble than usual, but right now she would take what she could get.

The slightest of hesitations. “Yeah.”

She considered, eyes burning into him, for a long moment, then she sighed, the sound of every evil thing escaping Pandora’s box, and she clapped her hands together briskly. “Okay, come on.”

Jim cocked his head to the side. “Where are we going?”

“The hospital.”

Jim groaned. “Mom, I’m okay. I’m just bruised.”

“I’m not taking any chances, mister. You could have fractured ribs. You should have been rushed to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. Who is this friend, anyway? Why didn’t he take you to the E.R.?”

Jim scratched the side of his neck. “You wouldn’t know him,” he evaded, and Barbara made a promise to herself to revisit this point later. “And we were afraid we’d get into trouble…”

“Well, you did, kiddo. Now, get up. We’re going to the hospital, you’re getting x-rays, and then we’re getting ice cream.”

Jim blinked up at her. She wondered if he realized his arm was curled protectively around his ribs as he slowly eased himself off the bed. “Ice cream? I thought I was grounded.”

“You’re hurt, Jim, and I’m your mother. I’m not a monster.” A soft smile pulled at the corners of Jim’s mouth at her words, and not wanting him to get too comfortable, she added, “You are grounded, though. Absolutely. You’re not going anywhere after school for at least two weeks. And depending on the x-rays, you might not be leaving your bed for a while, either.”

“Mooom.”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Now, put your other shoe on. Let’s hussle. I want you looked at as soon as possible.”

What she didn’t see as she turned to leave the room was the heavy curtain of guilt being drawn over Jim’s face.

Later, she’d drive him home with a diagnosis of two cracked ribs and deep bruising across 80 percent of his torso and a bottle of muscle relaxers for the pain. They’d get ice cream and he would mope about bedrest and she would try to cheer him up (but not too much; he was still grounded, after all). But behind the pain of his injuries lurked a deeper, fierer ache that no balm could soothe, no medication could ease.

With every lie, he could feel the chasm widen between him and his mother, and it hurt more than a few broken ribs and bruises ever could.

[mybg3notebook]

Astarion and Power - Part 1

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

Before talking about Power, Cazador, and other details, I would like to quickly gather what little we have about Astarion’s past. 

Backstory: Mortal Astarion.

About his past we have little information, mostly given by Swen in interviews with game magazines or via his on-live demonstrations of the game early in 2020 before the release of EA. All this information is subjected to changes, of course, so we should take it with a pinch of salt. 

As a mortal, Astarion was a corrupt magistrate who judged criminals he later sent to the local vampire coven of the Szarr family as food. After a while, his greed got the best of him and started to sell those criminals into slavery as well, having a double profit from this. This movement brought the fury of the Szarr family upon him. 

From this short story we can infer that there was a high probability that his judgements were unfair, condemning criminals who needed a death sentence to lighter ones (this is related to his strange comment of “death is a harsh sentence” in Arabella’s scene, see the post Astarion's Standards and Manipulation) while condemning innocent ones; all with the goal of having a decent amount of living creatures to offer to the local vampire or to the slave traders.

We also know, by his own words in game, that when he was turned into a vampire, he had been the victim of an attack of thugs/Gurs (he says this information in different moments of the game, changing details. I don't know if this is on purpose to show Astarion’s manipulative nature depending on your reaction to Gandrel, or it’s a consequence of unpolished details during EA). What we know for sure is that these Gurs/thugs were angry because of a judgement he had previously made. It’s easy for us to infer, using the info above, two situations:

Astarion may have condemned some isolated Gur to an unfair trial who ended up in a slavery network, being discovered later by their Gur fellows who simply avenged them in Baldur’s Gate. This theory has been developed as a way to see fit the concept of Maiden Fel.  If Gandrel dies and Astarion performs a Speak with Dead, he will reveal that Maiden Fel is the head of his tribe who asked him to return with Astarion “unblemished”. Digging for more details about who Maiden Fel is, Gandrel says she is the “reason even monsters have nightmares”. Walking on the speculation ground, there is a chance that Maiden Fel could be a nightmare Hag, since Gurs consider hags as “wise women'', and unlike the rest of the humans, they respect them a bit more than common folks.

Or the whole setting was done by Cazador, who plotted this ambush to make it look as an act of barbarism using furious Gurs (which attack could be seen as an obvious reaction since Gurs are despised everywhere due to their nomadic lifestyle and all the stigmas they carry) as a way to punish Astarion for trying to outsmart him.

Among the many conclusions that we can draw from here is that, if Astarion’s backstory is not retconned and rewritten later in the full game, we can be almost sure he was an Evil-aligned character as a mortal. We can’t say that vampirism twisted his morals; they were rather poor in the first place. 

Astarion, the Vampire spawn

After the bite scene, Astarion presents himself as a vampire spawn, a creature lesser than a slave for his master, since Cazador’s commands are impossible to resist. He explicitly says that his body always reacts to Cazador’s word and for two hundred years he was tormented by him. Thanks to datamining information, we know that Cazador performed an infernal deal, and part of the contract is carved on his back. 

Due to datamining information as well, we know that the first dream that Astarion experiences may not be the one related to the tadpole dreams mechanics since he dreams without having made use of the tadpole powers yet. I prefer to suppose that this dream is product of his own psychology, or even it could be an effect of Cazador’s power on him (maybe he can’t dream of anything but of his Sire, considering how possessive Cazador is)

As I said, this is not a dream of power and desire in the same way that the other companions or Tav have, and for this reason I’m inclined to say that the vampiric power of Cazador is the one making an effect instead of the tadpole (or simply Astarion’s trauma showing). This dream looks like a reminder, like a reiterative dream for Astarion about Cazador’s rule, which are:

rule 1: he will not drink from thinking creatures.

rule 2: he will obey him in all things.

rule 3: he will not leave Cazador’s side unless directed.

rule 4: he will know that he is Cazador’s proprietary.

Most options end up in the similar idea of: “Free? Lie to yourself, boy, but not to me. You are mine, forever.”

Cazador and Astarion

[Astarion has just related what Cazador made him eat] “Flies? What did you do to deserve that?”

“I existed, that was enough for him. He revelled in having power over me, because those with power can do whatever the hell they want.”

If we are going to talk about power with a character as Astarion in mind, we need to talk first about Cazador. Let’s start with the way Astarion describes him:

“The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They're scheming, paranoid, power hungry beasts. So why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me, it doesn't happen.”

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power.(...) Not political power or military power. Power over people. The power to control them completely. (...) He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.” 

“He had me go out Baldur’s Gate to fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find. It was a fun little ritual of his—I’d bring them back and he’d ask if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat. Of course if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse.”

“Cazador liked to make them art, spent all night with a razor, drafting a sonnet on my back. (Puppy eyes) Apparently the more I screamed, the more mistakes he made. And the more editing was required.”

“It was a group of Gur/thugs that attacked me that night in Baldur’s Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me. (...) He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were “eternal life” or “bleed to death on the street”, I took him up on the offer. It was also afterwards I realised just how long “eternity” could be.” 

“Cazador likes to toy with people. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don’t play games unless they know they’ll win.” 

(About Raphael’s encounter) “All that 'take your time. I'll wait' nonsense? He's playing with us. It reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged. "

Tav: “Would he send another Gur to capture?” / Ast: “Yes, he probably thought it was funny.”

(“We can kill him.”) “No, you don't understand. You don't know him. Just trust me when I say we need to be careful. He'll send more lackies – he has plenty of souls to command. We just have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters on sight. We can probably make an exception with Wyll... Probably.”

>>So far we know that Cazador has a particular pleasure for control, especially the one related to people’s will. With the nightmare information, we know he has powers related to mind control. He has many slaves, and enjoys cruelty, humiliation, and torture. He enjoys making Astarion eat putrid animals, carving his back with an infernal contract, and playing psychologically with him. He also likes to give false hope, making his victims believe that there is hope, removing it right in front of them. 

I want to highlight that this twisted way of giving hope just to offer a perverted solution to a person’s problem, and enjoying the pleasure caused by the break of the hope, can be seen in Astarion during EA: in the approval that Astarion gives to Tav when you revive Connor, and that pinch of hope in Mayrina turns into horror when she sees Undead!Connor. For Astarion this situation is “funny”. Similar can be said when he approves telling Arabella’s parents that she will be released after the end of the ritual, when she is in fact dead. 

Astarion describes a bit more what power we should expect from a Lord Vampire:

Shapeshift: turning into mist.

Calling wolves to do his bidding.

Shrugging off blows.

He “could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands.”

Astarion and Slavery

One of the characteristics that so far in EA has got my attention was how little conflict Astarion has with slavery, despite having been his former condition. 

He is apathetic to slavery in the best case, or even supporting it in the worse case. Proof of this can be found in the Myconid Colony, when interacting with a duergar slave. He speaks as if it were a totally useful tool that inspires little sympathy in him, since they don't have consciousness. However, he leaves a quite open question when finally adding “Or maybe not”.

But this “maybe not” is not left to speculation, we can see what Astarion truly feels with a non-Gur human slave in another part of the game: in the Zhentarim hideout. This can be checked with Oskar, the painter slave.

You can free Oskar using persuasion with his kidnapper (Astarion keeps neutral, he doesn’t approve the freeing). Now, if you can buy Oskar by paying the gold directly or by using intimidation to lower the price, it would keep Astarion neutral until the moment of the payment is stated, which he disapproves. At first I thought it was because he was truly against slavery of thinking creatures... but it was not. It was because you are paying a lot of money (we need to remember Astarion is greedy [1] as well, he wouldn’t be a vampire if it weren't for his greed). 

Once bought, if you keep Oskar as a slave, and you demand him to keep silent because "you want your slaves silent unless they are spoken to", Oskar will think it's a joke, and you, again, can use the option "I don't joke with my slaves" and then Astarion will approve. None of these options is under any tag to make them believe they are part of a preformative act to prank Oskar. And this is key... this is not a joke. They are used as your real sentiments and intentions, and Astarion approves them.

These reactions are not random, they make sense with his—until this moment unchanged or retconned—backstory, where he had no problem trafficking with criminals as vampire food and later as slaves to have higher profits. So, these two aspects remain in his vampire nature unaltered: the most important thing is always to have profits, and his relationship with slavery is absolutely fine as much as it gives benefits, it’s useful or at least, gives him some entertainment.

The tadpole

We know the tadpole has a particular effect on Astarion. Unlike the other companions, Astarion doesn’t dream of a person who represents to him both desire and power. Power? undoubtedly, but desire? It’s hard to say. The implied, vague concept that Astarion has been sexually abused by Cazador is there (because we know these dreams are about “sensual” desire as well). 

It’s maybe a consequence of the vampirism and, by extension, of Cazador’s power, that makes Astarion unable to dream of anything else but his master. From the datamining information about the non-tadpole dream of Astarion, in which Cazador lists four rules, we know that the fourth one is about never stopping to be Cazador’s propriety, unable to be free, not even in dreams. Maybe Cazador’s effect also applies to Astarion’s dreams as well (but this is a mere speculation, there is no real proof of it on EA or datamining info so far). 

So when Astarion awakes in the beach and sees that some rules of his vampiric nature have been changed, he gets excited about the tadpole, and unlike the rest of the companions, he doesn’t want to get rid of it. He wants to master it, to have control of it. However, when the opportunity of controlling the tadpole appears with Raphael encounter, Astarion is one of the few companions who is completely against it at first. 

“Raphael is playing with us; Cazador liked to toy with people too. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don't play games unless they know they'll win.”

In that moment, he claims he won’t change a vampiric master for an infernal one. However, when the first use of the Tadpole causes the first symptoms of transformation evident, Astarion falls in despair: he is scared and, calling for Raphael to take him from the camp, he says a curious phrase: 

“I would choose servitude over oblivion any day”

So, after this moment, he is not completely convinced that Raphael is the true solution to his problem but he is more open to keep him as a plan B if anything else fails. Later he claims that it doesn't matter to be a servant of a devil, because he knows Cazador, and he wants to get rid of his power for good. 

“I won't lie, it's tempting. If I keep the tadpole, I risk transforming into a grotesque monster. If I lose the tadpole, Cazador has control of me, body and soul, and I return to the shadows. It's grim either way, so why not sell what's left of my soul to a devil? Better he has it than cazador. Whatever it's coming we need to have our options open.”

Astarion’s process of seeing the potential of the power of the tadpole increases along the game. It gets higher and wilder. The first instances of the tadpole use are about Astarion discovering how much this tadpole gives him powers he can barely understand. 

“The tadpoles are not so bad at all. (...) First I can walk in the sun, then make people dance like puppets? *laughs * I've certainly had worse days.”

He is not an idiot, he knows that, without control, they will end up turning into mind flayers, so he needs to find something powerful that can give him control over his tadpole. This is the reason why he encourages the use of the tadpole after knowing about the netherese magic containing the transformation via Omellun or Ethel.

Ethel explains that the tadpole had been tampered, so the dialogue goes:

Tav: “It's giving us more time, sounds good to me”. 

Astarion: “Perhaps. And who's to say it can't be tampered with further?” (She said it was netherese magic) “it must be powerful magic to stop the parasite in its tracks, I wonder what else it could do?

At that point in the story, he knows that the netherese magic is powerful enough to contain the transformation: so he is now sure that there is more time to use it. So he will end up being the only companion in EA who encourages everyone to use the power:

“What's not to enjoy (with this tadpole)? I can walk in sunlight, trespass upon any home, manipulate minds – I'm the most powerful vampire in the realms. Granted, the looming doom is an issue, but why not enjoy the benefits while we can?

Despite the nightmares happening after every use of the tadpole powers, Astarion doesn’t want to stop. At this point, he is the only companion who doesn’t want to. 

“The power to twist a mind to your will is worth some nightmares.”

By the end of the game, we are sure that Astarion wants this power without doubts. He revels in the power of mind-controlling people, ironically, despite having suffered so much of it under Cazador’s control. If we see all the situations where Astarion’s mind is controlled, or violated, his reactions will be extremely more aggressive than the other companions. He has suffered it a lot, but by the end of EA he is enjoying being on the other side of that power. 

This post was written on April 2021. → For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Hera´s Hatred

Hello everyone! I wanted to take a moment to thank all the amazing support and positive feedback the stories have gotten. I’m very glad this community is so welcoming, and I hope you keep enjoying my creations. Credits to @amalianetwork​ for the picture and correction.

The thunder palace had been in complete chaos since Zeus announced his plan to stop Typhon and save Olympus. Winged servants flew swiftly back and forth across the residence, organizing the more organizational aspects of such an event like the upcoming ritual. Nervous chatter reigned across the halls, uncertain of what was about to come. It was usually the lesser creatures of the heavens who suffered the most casualties during the original monster´s assaults to Mount Olympus. The celestial Sentinels stood silently guarding the palace´s many different rooms. Their muscular solid gold bodies reflected the shining sunlight entering through the building´s many skylights. They were fierce pieces of weaponry when activated with heavenly power, but until then they represented little more than beautiful statues adorning the already opulent palace interior.

The queen of the heavens watched the palace´s eastern garden with apathy from her balcony on the uppermost level of the residence. Long golden hair was flowing magically around her back, giving the impression of being permanently swinging under a non-existent wind. Her slender frame was covered by a luxurious white robe that shone like the sun itself, with beautiful peacock feathers adorning the neck and sleeves from the garment. She stood impassively watching her servants move in a panic once again due to the capricious whims of her husband. Although she was the queen of the heavens, Zeus outranked her in the divine hierarchy. And that drove Hera mad with anger.

Not to mention her husband´s many romantic escapades, each one of them an extra nail on the coffin of her compassionate heart. After a life full of intrigues and plotting revenge, the goddess of marriage was left ironically with an unhappy marriage, together with eons worth of hateful feelings against her husband. She tried everything to stop him, from harassing his offspring to tear other gods down to shreds out of pure jealousy. But nothing could change the king of the gods, who felt his birthright was taking whatever he pleased, especially sexual satisfaction. His rage was left permanently marked on her perfect body, leaving the scars of her ankles as an imperfect reminder of what Zeus was truly capable of. In the end, Hera limited herself to watch somberly each one of her husbands' movements, waiting for a moment to strike. A knock on the door resonated in the room and Hera turned around to receive her expected guest.

"Come in."

She said with a melodious, but a somewhat cold voice. Like a beautiful snowflake falling on warm skin. The strong celestial Sentinels then opened the door, and Hermes entered the room. He bowed reluctantly to the goddess; his sense of duty much stronger than his utter repulse for the beautiful monster.

"The package you requested, my queen."

He said presenting Hera with a little crystal bottle with shining water inside. The queen got close and grabbed the bottle in her delicate hands. Hermes stood up once again and looked at the goddess. Her beauty was unheard of, making everything else seem mundane and worthless. A curvaceous and elegant silhouette leads to an aesthetically perfect face, her beautiful features harmonizing with each other to the point of being unsettling. Her irises were also an iridescent gold, standing out like beacons from her emotionless expression. But the god of travel could see something dark lurking beneath the otherwise bright eyes. The true form of Hera´s sinister demeanor printing itself as a red halo emanating from her pupils, fading into the shining gold. She was surrounded by a permanent bright halo, completely solidifying her status as heavenly royalty and a warning sign of the unmeasurable power the goddess possessed.

"Thank you, Hermes, you may now leave the premises. I'm sure the king has other tasks for you to complete."

Said Hera with a glimmer of disdain in her voice. The fast god of travel was indeed always busy. As the head of trade on all realms, he was constantly flying back and forth from every corner of the universe. The queen of the heavens always saw someone complicit to her husband´s deeds in him, because Hermes knew everything and everyone of interest for Olympus.

Hermes analyzed the goddess´ unusual rushing of their encounter, which normally ended with Hera insisting on him telling her Zeus´s antics to the point of threatening with violence. But this time, Hera seemed impatient, quickly dismissing him without even trying to squeeze some information out of him. He quickly glanced at the ornamental bottle in the queen's hands.

"If I may ask, my Lady, why is it that you needed water from the river Styx? It is certainly not fitting for a queen to be asking for such mundane favors."

"That's none of your concern, godling. Now please leave the premises, or I´ll have my guards escort you out."

The gigantic automatons opened the door and looked inside expectantly with their solid gold eyes. Hermes sighed and quickly took flight, passing both guards faster than lightning and heading to the outside court. He might be a god, but the celestial Sentinels were heavenly weapons designed to give even deities a hard time, and he had better things to do than being dismembered by the queen´s guardians like some of his half-siblings.

Hera was then left alone in her chambers again. Her unfazed calm expression was briefly interrupted by a sinister smile. Hermes was a nosy deity and he certainly was going to keep investigating, but at least she had bought some time to start executing her plan. It was true that with a simple command she could go to the riverbank in the underworld and get as much water as she wanted, but her plot required absolutely no suspicion from anybody. The god of travel could be curious, but his honor for his duty was stronger than his petty need for gossip, so she was sure he would not talk a word to anyone else about the mysterious gift he brought for the queen. Many creatures in his brother´s hellish realm could sense her overwhelming presence with ease, so this was considered the safest way to acquire what she was looking for.

She then approached a big chest next to the bed, and with a movement in her hand released a golden wave of energy that swiftly seeped into the lock. She heard a complex mechanism on the inside clicking, and then the chest opened. The queen of heaven had many secrets. Some were very easy to hide like her curses against lesser beings from her husband´s bloodline and others were a bit harder due to their intense radiation of divine energy. The true golden fleece for example, along with some golden apples from the Hesperides and Ariadne´s golden thread. Relics she had quickly collected from the terrestrial plane for safekeeping mostly. But on the bottom of the trove laid what she was truly looking for.

Hera pulled out an ornate mirror from the chest and took it to a big marble altar in the far corner of the room. The queen of heaven´s magical ability was rivaled only by a few other deities, and she enjoyed performing all kinds of rituals and curses to execute her will everywhere she needed to. She didn't feel the necessity of dirtying her energy by traveling down to the realm of mortals, far preferring a more indirect approach. The mirror in her hand was one of the strongest divination tools ever created, crafted as a gift from her son Hephaestus from ores coming from the Delphi temple itself. Its ability to watch over the currents of time was only inferior to Apollo himself and the Delphi oracle’s vision. The relic had been the inspiration for epic tales down on the Earth, as Hera allowed it from time to time to fall into the hands of mortals only to plant the seeds of conflict for the goddess´s enjoyment.

She put the mirror in the middle of the altar and took out the tiny water bottle. She then sprinkled a few drops of the Styx´s water on the surface of the mirror, and chanted the required incantation, releasing powerful divine energy from her body into the artifact. The mirror´s surface then became liquid, absorbing the river's water and flowing outside the ornate frame. Hera walked back and watched as a potent stream of liquid mirror flowed down the altar, forming a large puddle in front of her. A strong wave of energy pulsed out of the liquid. Hera raised her hands and finished the incantation, and from the puddle raised an identical copy of the goddess. The only difference was that her light halo was missing, along with her golden eyes, which were a reflective polished silver. Like a mirror.

"Oh, oracle of truth, knower of the unseen and progenitor of the universe´s secrets. Hear my command and show me my destiny."

The doppelganger smiled, as it lifted its robe to show a vast firmament full of stars. A deep vibration came out of the black veil. The marble columns of the queen's chamber vibrated, as a black fog started seeping out of the creature´s robe. An ominous voice came out of the veil, answering the Goddess´s call.

"What is it that you seek, Hera. Daughter of Rhea. Heiress of the heavens."

The fake queen stared impassively at Hera with her mirror eyes fixated on her, the expression vacant like a statue´s. The mirror´s creature was only a conduit for the true knower of all, the origin of the universe. It was unusual for an Olympic deity to contact the primordial progenitor. The magic required was too ancient for it to be remembered, even by the gods. But Hera was an erudite, her thirst for revenge driving her to uncover the darkest secrets of existence.

"Tell me, why is my husband trying to raise a mortal to divinity? What is the truth behind Tartarus´s veil being broken?"

"The balance in Tartarus remains the same. The inescapable abyss has not been disturbed in eons, but I can sense a will to breed discord in the world. Be careful, queen of the heavens. The king acts mostly on a whim, but such a decision is rarely unplanned."

Hera pondered on the answer of the oracle for a moment. Zeus was impulsive and arrogant, but he was not an idiot. He knew the implications of the ancient ritual, and the fact he was so keen on getting all gods involved so the ascension would be guaranteed and a new deity on earth could be born meant only one thing.

"It seems you already know the answer, my child. Look within yourself and act fast. Your time is running out."

The doppelganger then closed its robe and was consumed by the mirrored pool on its feet, leaving Hera alone to meditate on her next move. The words of the oracle resonated in her mind. She could beat her husband in his own game, winning a powerful ally in the process that could help her once and for all to enact her revenge on the king of the gods. Most importantly, she could not let Zeus acquire any more power. The rivalry between her three male siblings was the cause of many disasters in the past, and she couldn´t let the celestial realm suffer due to the quarrel between the gods.

Hera then pulled out the golden sharp head of an arrow from her robes. It was the artifact the bastard Heracles had used to try and harm her with. She held her palm on top of the mirror pool and slid it open with the weapon. Bright golden drops of ichor fell to the molten crystal, and it started glowing as bright as a star. The queen was going to find a knight worthy of Olympus, and she was going to use him as a conduit to spill out her hatred against her husband. Flying in the distance, Hermes witnessed the queen´s spell and heard what Chaos said. Could it be that his father was deceiving everyone? Or was this another of the goddess of heaven´s many antics to move against Zeus?

Dr. Richie Couccou was not having a good day. He woke up too late, he dropped his coffee on his lap on his way to work and was faced immediately with the plethora of problems his patients bombarded him with. Being a psychologist was the dream of his life, wishing to help people find their way through life with the least amount of suffering possible. His specialty was marriage counseling, so he wasn't unfamiliar with the burden marital life could bring. Adulterers, narcissists, abusers, addicts, pathological jealousy, Dr. Couccou had seen it all. When he imagined his life as a young professional freshly out of university, he imagined himself mapping the human psyche and developing exciting new theories that would laurel him with the recognition of his most prestigious peers, only to discover that the academic pathway in his profession leads mostly to a dead-end in careers. His lack of initiative and his unwillingness to take risks pushed him more and more to financial security instead of spiritual fulfillment.

In the end, he specialized in marriage counseling, which was where the money was, in an affluent neighborhood in the outskirts of San Francisco. Couples could put on a very convincing façade of stability, but deep inside the relationships grew rotten with remorse and frustration. The young doctor still conserved an altruistic nature, which when combined with his innocent idealism produced a very professional therapist who cared for his patients and tried his best in finding the best outcome for them. Besides, he couldn't complain about his own life. Living close to a more liberal city allowed him and his husband to live as freely as they pleased, together with a beautiful house and an expensive sedan to complete Richie´s suburbia fantasy.

The young couple had married just a couple of years ago when Richie finished his professional formation. The 25-year old men were madly in love with each other and decided to take the next step and move in together. Mario, his husband, was originally from Honduras and had come to the U.S. to work as a model and an aspiring actor. They met in a club during one of Richie´s very few nightly adventures, and they both hit it off immediately. Mario was everything Richie had hoped for in a man: attentive, charismatic, charming, and very attractive. His job as a model kept him in top shape constantly, in contrast to the young therapist whose body was never awe-inspiring, to begin with, and had only withered more and more due to a poor diet and a sedentary lifestyle. At first, he wondered why Mario was with him, but his new lover´s romantic attention just worked their way into his young heart.

Now just a few weeks shy of reaching the age of 30, Dr. Couccou was settled in a marriage that kept him happy, and had the financial security to live a comfortable life. All those thoughts crossed his mind every time he heard another tragic story about a failed relationship, keeping him sane for the most part and away from the abyss of depression, to which he was prone. Session after session made the man grow more impatient, nervously waiting for the day to end so he could drive home and celebrate his anniversary.

He finished his work schedule for the day on time as usual, and after the routine paperwork, he hopped in his car and drove back home. He remembered to pick up some flowers and a nice bottle of wine to celebrate the special occasion together with his husband. He arrived at the two-story family home just a few minutes after seven, like a clockwork. The sun was already setting down painting the sky in a romantic shade of red. He enthusiastically opened the door with a bouquet of lotus flowers on one hand, and an expensive bottle of wine under his elbow, only to be greeted by dead silence inside his home. The lights in the whole house were off, along with the kitchen stove and the set of candles he picked up at Bath and Bodyworks to illuminate this special evening. Richie hung his keys and left his presents on the dining table, noticing the open envelope of Mario´s accepted citizenship application. Another reason to celebrate, he thought.

"Honey?"

He asked, looking nervously for his husband.

"No. Not again."

He held back the tears in his eyes, as he hesitantly headed towards the garage. Once he opened the door his suspicions were confirmed. His husband´s Range Rover van was gone, so that meant he wasn't in the house. Richie then went back to the formal living room and left himself to be swallowed by the lavish leather couch.

"Maybe he went to get groceries. Maybe he ran late in the gym. Maybe he had an accident and ended up in the hospital."

Anxiety overwhelmed the therapist, the thoughts praying on his fears like hungry vultures. Richie was a prodigiously intelligent man, his only flaw being his foolish naivety. This same couch was a witness when the same scene happened a year ago. The hunky Latino lover he had for a husband wasn't very thoughtful when it came to dates, so this hadn't been the first time he forgot about their anniversary. Last year´s night ended with Richie begging his husband for forgiveness, his only mistake being that he started an argument about Mario´s recent lack of attention. The Latino heartthrob had a way of twisting every problem to his favor, constantly gaslighting Richie into believing he was being too needy and demanding, or that he spent too much time at work. Either way, it always ended with Richie bending to the whims of his husband. Last year Mario had made the generous offer of cooking a very nice dinner for both of them next time they celebrated their anniversary. But judging by the empty dark kitchen, he had forgotten once again.

Richie let out a loud sigh, as he went upstairs heading directly to their shared bedroom. Their bed was not made, and there was an explosion of bright clothes hanging off of every corner of the room, hinting that Mario had gone off partying again, as usual, trying out every outfit in the closet before heading out. The doctor's husband loved the nightlife, leaving Richie staying at home so he could go partying and enjoy the benefits the big city offered. The tired man headed then into the bathroom for his routine before bed. He took off the ill-fitting suit he was wearing, along with his thick-rimmed glasses, and splashed some water on his face. When he put them back on, he was greeted by a vision he was constantly trying to avoid.

He looked with sadness at his body. His naturally thin frame was filling up with some fat, forming a small belly and starting to accumulate on his chest. His love handles were being pushed out by the elastic band on his boxer shorts. His arms and legs were just as slim as they were when he finished puberty, unable to gain the coveted muscle mass every gay man was chasing. His husband signed him up for his gym as an idea to spend more time together, only to be completely ignored once the hunky social butterfly found his usual friends and left him on his own. Prey to his insecurities, he stopped going altogether, much to his husband´s annoyance who wanted him to get in shape. His blond hair was dry and messy, styled in a boring way. He barely had any beard growth on his round, to begin with, unable to hide the soft jawline and little chin, and the one he had was very patchy and light blond, so it was practically invisible. Otherwise, he wasn't a very hairy man, just sporting unkempt armpit and pubic hair, along with some sparse sprinkling around his nipples. His blue eyes were the only feature he kind of liked on himself, being an icy blue that was magnified by the thick glasses he wore all the time.

Richie put on his pomegranate printed pajamas and got into bed. The emotional shock from earlier had exhausted him, along with the stress of his intense work schedule. He then turned to the side to take off his glasses and turn off his bed lamp when he caught a glimpse of the beautifully framed photo of his husband and him on their wedding day. Richie was a bit taller standing at 6 feet and was wearing a black tuxedo that hung off his even thinner body. His soft features shining with happiness. Next to him stood the hunk he married, his beautiful brown skin contrasting with the white tuxedo Richie had bought him for that day. The elegant garment was taut over the Latino man´s body, showing off the volume of his arms and the prominence of his chest. It was tapered to his thin waist, which made him look like he jumped out of a GQ magazine cover. His raven black hair was beautifully styled back, and he was beaming a white smile at the camera. The handsome man was truly a sight to behold. Richie didn't like looking at his reflection because it was a painful reminder of the abyssal difference between them. No wonder Mario never wanted to get in bed with him anymore. He took off his glasses and closed his eyes, unable to fall asleep with a million worries circling on his head.

 "Good morning amor"

Richie opened his eyes to the deep melodious voice of his husband. Mario was standing next to his bed holding up a box of chocolates shaped like a heart. Richie put on his glasses and managed to squeeze out a faint smile. He then extended his arm and accepted the gesture without saying a word. His husband remained unfazed, beaming a bright smile, and acting with his usual confidence.

"You didn't wait for me last night. The boys from the gym invited me to a birthday party, so I couldn't say no. Still, I brought some pizza for us to eat late only to find you sleeping!"

The Latino hunk then pouted like a little kid making emphasis on the last word.

"I know better than to wait for you to get home Mario. Besides, you arrived at 3 in the morning, high as a kite. I really thought you remembered this time."

Mario could feel his husband´s sadness in his voice, but he didn't let his facial expression change.

"I still brought you dinner as I promised. I even got your favorite pizza. Come on, let's go have breakfast. I have a photo shooting later and I cannot be late again."

Richie sighed and got out of bed to get ready. He then joined his husband in the kitchen who was sporting one of his usual skintight tank tops that made the defined muscles in his body pop out more.

"The pizza is in the fridge."

He said taking another spoonful of oatmeal without even raising his gaze from his phone. Richie then took out a cold slice and sat down on the opposite end of the kitchen island. He stared at the pepperoni pizza on his plate, unable to take a bite. He took a deep breath and looked at his husband.

"Mario, we need to talk."

The hunk barely raised his eyes from the screen, giving Richie an impatient glare. Even when he was annoyed, he remained strikingly handsome, with sharp masculine features decorated with a dense black beard.

"Does it really have to be now? I´m already running late amor. We can talk when I get back from work."

"No, it has to be now."

Said Richie fighting the breaking of his voice. He had a lot of feelings, but he had to remind himself of his practices at work and how to emote his thoughts without overwhelming his partner.

"I think you´re not paying a lot of attention to me, and that makes me feel sad. Remember when we first moved into this house and had that candlelit dinner on the floor? I miss that Mario. The romantic detail Mario."

Mario´s gaze remained fixed on his husband, meditating the best way to squirm out of the problem. It wasn´t the first time he messed up an important date, but he could always count on his husband´s weak character to do the trick for him.

"I´m sorry amor. I´ve been stressed with work now that my career is finally taking off. My diet is also killing me, making me tired and irritable. You should have a bit of consideration with me. Besides, I brought you your favorite pizza. I remembered. It's just that you know how important these parties are for networking amor. And you´re always at work. You never come to the gym with me. The least you could do is being more comprehensive."

He managed to finish his monologue with a little tear under his eye. Richie fell victim once again to his husband´s bulldozing charm. His bitterness turned quickly into concern for his hard-working husband, who just wanted to make his dream come true. He stood up and headed towards the hunk´s back, embracing his muscular body tightly.

"I´m sorry love, I had no idea you had that much on your head. I´ll take you to dinner tonight, to that fancy place you like."

Mario smiled triumphantly, knowing there was no sin his pushover of a husband was not going to forgive.

"If you really want us to go then fine."

Richie jumped excitedly at the prospect of having a romantic evening with his man again. The sorrow in his heart turned again to the blind happiness that had imprisoned him for a long time. He took his briefcase and kissed his husband´s cheek, who winced a bit at the gesture.

"I'll pick you up at eight."

He said as he headed outside for his car. Mario remained sitting down eating his oatmeal impassively, completely dismissing his husband´s nice gesture.

 Richie could barely keep his excitement in check during his day at work. He responded with automatic answers during his sessions, his mind wandering through all the possible outcomes of the night. Mario did care for him, and that made him very happy. It was ironic the best marriage counselor in town couldn't see the shipwreck his marriage was. The therapist remained oblivious to all the red flags life was throwing at him constantly, in the hopes that everything was a product of his overanalyzing mind. He never had anyone like Mario before, his few past relationships being sacrificed to achieve his dream profession. That is why he was so self-conscious about spending so much time at work and not paying enough attention to his handsome man. But this night was going to be different. He was going to take his husband for a nightly stroll on the boardwalk after dinner, and then home for hopefully more intimate marital activities.

His last patient for the day canceled, leaving Richie with two hours to go back home and prepare for the evening. He even made a stop at the mall to buy a luxurious watch for his husband, to surprise him along with his regular anniversary gift. He bought a lotus flower bouquet again and rushed to his home to get ready. This time his husband´s car was parked on the driveway, so he was sure Mario was inside. He stealthily went inside, only to be greeted by an empty ground floor again.

"He must be upstairs."

Said Richie for himself while he quickly hid the expensive presents and quietly headed up the stairs. But as soon as he arrived on the top floor, his blood froze inside his veins as he heard giggles and whispers coming from the furthermost door. He felt vertigo as the hallway appeared to extend, separating him from his bedroom. He approached the ominous door quietly, his heart sinking further down with every step.

"I swear I heard something."

Said an unknown deep voice inside the room. Richie stood in front of the door, unable to grab the knob and see with his own eyes what had been written on the wall for a very long time.

"I told you, he never comes home earlier. Stop being such a pussy. I´ll go downstairs and check so you don't get distracted anymore."

Richie saw the doorknob turn in slow motion, only for the door to open aggressively. The doctor stared then at the half-naked image of his husband, his brown skin shining with sweat. The hunk couldn't keep his cool this time, widely opening his eyes, completely speechless. Both stood in front of each other for an instant in complete silence. Richie diverted his gaze to look inside his bedroom. He saw another muscular man behind Mario, recognizing him as one of the personal trainers working in his husband´s favorite gym. Mario was the first one to break the silence, managing to squeeze out a few nervous words.

"Richie, amor. I know it looks bad, but I can explain."

The doctor didn't wait for another second, storming down the hallway and out the front door. He started his car and sped away from his once safe haven. He couldn't spend another second in there, feeling breathless and heavy. He just needed to get away as soon as possible.

A storm of feelings quickly mined what was left of his rationality. He suddenly recognized all the signs. The late-night escapades, the forgotten details and the general apathy his husband emanated suddenly became beacons for Richie, illuminating the ruins of his falsely happy marriage. His insecurities bubbled up, making him hate himself for even considering that what happened was his fault. He had this talk almost daily with his patients. But he still couldn't let go of the feeling that he simply wasn't enough for Mario.

He stopped at a red light and looked to the back of his car. His untouched gym bag laid on the backseat, almost taunting him for his lack of discipline. If he made an effort to keep up with his gym obsessed husband, none of this would've happened. In the middle of his crisis, he made the absurd choice of heading to the gym. He thought that maybe if Mario saw him there, he would think Richie was trying to be attractive for him, and he wouldn't have the necessity of looking for pleasure somewhere else.

 It was already dark when he made it to the 24-hour fitness center. The upscale gym had everything necessary to train a professional bodybuilder, and then some more. The sleek interior with shiny chrome finishing sported mirrored walls on all sides of the establishment, including the reception. The doctor couldn't escape the haunting image of his reflection, no matter where he tried to hide. He nodded with courtesy towards the young clerk checking the patrons in and headed to the dressing rooms. He tried his best in avoiding eye contact with anyone, so no one could see his red eyes or swollen face product of the intense night he was having, and quickly changed into his simple workout clothes, grabbed his headphones, and headed to the training floor.

He instantly regretted his decision in coming to the gym, as he stood there in the middle of the training ground with no idea where to start. Mario had never actually explained to him how to work out with weights, and he never dared to ask any of the trainers that roamed around the room. An infinity of machines of all types and sizes decorated his surroundings, along with four giant mirrored walls that gave the impression of an infinitely big area. Big men paraded around like peacocks, preening their bodies and flexing in front of their reflection. Groups of girls and teenagers chatted next to the machines and the big water fountain where people could refill their drinks. It was an entirely foreign ecosystem for the nervous doctor, who carefully made his way to the free weights area.

He looked at all the big men pumping iron all around him, their sweaty bodies practically bursting out of their tight clothes. He then turned around to face the inevitable. The mirrored wall reflected all of the doctor's miserable existence once again. His graphic tee depicting a cartoonish cow was snug against his midsection, and his black shorts made his legs look even thinner. He pondered in his sadness for a while, reflecting on how little he was in comparison to his husband. No wonder he looked for someone else.

But something happened once Richie turned around to grab the lightest pair of dumbells around. He thought for an instant he saw his reflection blink just before diverting his gaze. He put the dumbells down once again to examine his reflection closely. A wicked smile formed on the doctor´s soft face, completely contrasting with his innocent eyes. Richie felt a chill go down his spine, as he immediately recoiled from the mirror, only for a hand to come out and pull him towards it. The hard mirror of the surface rippled like water, and the doctor soon found himself in an identical mirrored room. All equipment, towels, and water bottles were there, except for the patrons. The new training area was empty, except for Richie, who instantly went back to the original mirror. He could still see the people walking outside, but when he tried to knock on the glass and ask for help, no one realized he was there. His increasingly panicked screams echoed through the big empty hall.

"Why aren't you a nervous one?"

He heard a voice talk to him from his back. It sounded like his own, only with a rasp metallic cling to it. He turned around and went white in fear as he saw an exact copy of himself staring back. They were even dressed the same. The only difference was the most disturbing part of that living nightmare: the eyes. The doppelganger sported a pair of mirror eyes, which gave it a supernatural look.

"Wha-at are yo-ou?"

Stuttered the terrified doctor slowly walking backward until his back hit the glass. The reflection smiled broadly; its sinister mirror eyes fixed entirely on Richie.

"I´m you, or better said I´m the worst part of you. The one that haunts you every time you look at yourself. The one who blinded you from the truth. The one that represents the shackles of your pathetic existence."

Richie fought the tears in his eyes and was able to muster a glimpse of courage, answering with all the aggressiveness he could muster.

"That's not true! You don't exist, you´re just a product of my own trauma. I must have hit my head with a weight or something."

The reflection cackled loudly, its cold voice breaking like a tuning radio.

"This is exactly why he cheated us now. Your passiveness, your naivety, and of course your appearance drove him away. But look at me, look at us. Who thinks someone like that would want to be with someone like us? Damn, a Ph.D. in psychology and you´re still as stupid as an infant. You must feel pretty miserable. We wasted so many years of study for nothing."

Richie looked down, the tears finally rolling from his eyes. The monster was right, he was stupid. The signs were there, signs he would´ve recognized on anyone else's relationship. But things got different once it was personal. What was clear turned opaque, as his naiveness drove him to excuse everything he saw and felt.

"Don´t cry! You don´t deserve pity. It is your fault we're miserable, but this situation can change."

The doctor looked at his doppelganger once again. A bright halo of light seemed to flicker around him, making the monstrous eyes glimmer with a golden hue from time to time.

"I was sent here as a catalyst for change. There is someone interested in our innate potential. But first, you must shatter. We can finally put a stop to your insecurities, and be free."

A bright flash of light beamed out of the doppelganger´s eyes, completely blinding Richie for an instant. The air felt heavy, humming with energy and the temperature started rising. The light was gone as soon as it came, leaving the doctor unable to see for a couple of seconds. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes slightly annoyed at the inconvenience, blinking frantically until the blur around him reformed into the weight room. The creature was not in front of him anymore. He looked around, only to find it standing next to one of the bench presses. He approached his double, his face contorted with an exasperated look.

"What the hell was that? I almost went blind! And what do you mean by shattering?"

He asked angrily, his former nervous demeanor replaced by new assertive behavior. He felt animosity towards the creature for trapping him inside this trick room. A new aggressive defense mechanism triggered by hearing the doppelganger´s plan for him.

"Nothing, forget it. As you are now, we´re completely useless for our lady."

Richie clenched his fists tightly, as the light annoyance started turning into sheer anger, an emotion completely unexplored for him. The doctor was usually very calm and passive, rather bending to other people's will to avoid confrontation than approaching issues with an aggressive attitude. But something about the creature in front of him made his blood boil, but he couldn't put his finger on the reason yet.

"What lady!? Besides, I´m not useless"

His angry remarks echoed through the empty halls of the mirror world. The doppelganger smiled knowing the doctor was being lured right where it wanted him to.

"You are useless, there is no question about it. Let´s do a little bet. Prove you're not a failure, and I´ll let you out of here."

The doctor squinted his eyes, giving the creature a suspicious look. But it might be his only chance of getting out of there, so he reluctantly decided to go along with it.

"Fine, what do you want?"

His double then pointed at the bench press; its eerie mirror eyes fixated on Richie´s slightly confused expression.

"Show me we´re not weak. We came to the gym fleeing from the problems you were too weak to face on your own. That is what caused this whole problem. If you want my help you have to earn it."

Richie stood nervously next to the bench. He had never been able to train with weights before, so having his freedom be conditioned on such a test was terrifying, but he didn't see another way of escaping. The people outside were completely oblivious to what was happening inside the mirror, so the only chance of getting out was beating his double in its own game. He laid then on the machine, unsure about how to continue. The creature scowled at him, lifting the barbell and throwing it on his arms.

"You're such a worm. Pathetic."

Richie´s anger returned, fueling his strength. With some effort, he lowered the empty barbell to his chest, and pushed it back up with all his strength, putting it back in its place. He looked at his double expectantly, but the creature's face remained with the same expression of disgust.

"Is that all you got?"

The roof started filling up with thick golden vapor. It looked like ink being dropped in a glass of water. Small tendrils descended towards them, picking up two 45-pound plates and putting them on each side of the barbell. Richie opened his eyes incredulously. That amount of weight would certainly crush him, permanently ending the possibility of escaping. But judging by the doppelganger´s expectant gaze, he sighed and lowered himself back on the bench. His face went red with the effort from pushing the bar out of its base, holding it above his chest. A little droplet of sweat dripped down his forehead.

"What are you waiting for, pussy? Do it."

"I'm not a pussy…"

Grunted Richie as he once again lowered the bar with all his might. He then tried to push it back up, only for the barbell to remain static above his chest. The scared doctor started panicking, completely sure this was going to turn into his grave. But then, all the insults the reflection had thrown at him came back into his head, breeding a violent emotion that provided the energy he needed. With an angry grunt, he started lifting the bar slowly. He felt like his chest was on fire, each muscle fiber screaming in agony as the barbell completed its route and was left back in its base, only for the tendrils to load another six plates on it.

"You disgust me. Again."

Richie didn't even bother to discuss this time, as the violent emotions in his head slowly took control over him. He grabbed the bar with fury and pushed it over his chest with a roar. As the bar fell, the muscles in his chest expanded a bit to the sides, and when he pushed it back up, the pectorals rose a few inches. He then proceeded to repeat the movement, each rep adding mass to his chest like inflating cantaloupes. Once he was done, he put the bar back on its place with a heavy groan and got up from the bench. The evil reflection smiled as the doctor got out of his trance and realized what had just happened to him. He touched the now-massive muscles hanging from his chest, his white t-shirt strained to the maximum, deforming the cartoon on the front. His pectorals twitched with newfound power, his enlarged nipples rubbing against the fabric sticking out like thumbs.

"What happened to me?"

The doppelganger didn't say a word and simply moved towards the squat rack. Richie stood up, tumbling due to his center of gravity changing drastically, and followed the creature. The barbell was already loaded with two plates. The doctor stared at his reflection once again, only to find the same disgusted sneer.

"Do it again you pussy."

The feelings of anger kept bubbling out of Richie. He got under the bar, completely unsure of how to move without falling back. As soon as he got into position, he returned to his trance-like state, performing a squat with perfect form. The bones in his legs cracked and lengthened slowly, along with his feet, which grew gigantic to provide a better base for the exercise. He then proceeded to complete the set, each repetition slowly adding inches to his frame. The vertebrae in his back cracked and elongated, each joint growing stronger to support his now towering frame. When he finished, he was more than half a foot taller, his overstretched t-shirt now looking more like a sports bra containing his herculean chest, and his shorts riding up almost to his crotch. He then threw a sneer at his impassive reflection, which stood there only smiling.

"You're still weak. We didn't deserve someone like Mario."

"Shut up!"

Roared Richie. The golden tendrils then loaded the bar with enough weight to put it well above 300 pounds. The furious doctor then got under the bar and grasped it with both of his hands. He then pushed it up with all his might. The veins on his temples popped out, as his face went red like an apple again. The bar then slowly budged, unhanging itself and resting on the doctor´s slim shoulders. It was marvelous to behold those toothpicks he had for legs support such a monstrous amount of weight. Concentrating on the fiery rage in his stomach, Richie started going down. The muscle fibers in his legs were burning, unable to keep up with the amount of power being demanded from them. As a result, they started to quickly multiply, leaving the doctor with two slightly thicker legs once he finished the first repetition.

But the real change was just starting. He then started going down and up again, his legs working like heavy-duty pistons carrying a massive amount of weight. Each pump added muscles to his thighs, which grew bigger than most men´s waists. The deep divide of his quadriceps etching itself painfully into the muscles, making the skin covering them look paper-thin. His ass swelled so big it looked like it was defying gravity, swallowing the now tiny black shorts and providing the beastly strength he was needing. His calves grew bigger than football to stabilize Richie´s increasing mass. Even his feet grew muscular. During the last repetition, the strain was so much, he felt his legs were dipped in molten metal from the sheer output of energy. He felt his knees buckle, as he felt himself falling on his back. The now-massive cushion he had attached to his rear attenuated the fall.

The doppelganger then let out a crackling cruel laugh. The doctor came out of his trance again, unsure of how to move his much larger lower limbs. He was sweating profusely, the white t-shirt now completely translucent showing the deep divide between his humongous chest. Tears fell down his reddened cheeks, completely overwhelmed by the situation he was in.

"Please let me go. I don't want this. I beg you."

His double then stopped laughing and barked back at him in that metallic voice.

"Beg of me? We don't beg, we demand. You will keep us drowning in misery. Is that what you want?!"

The doctor's painful memory then entered his head once again. A lonely childhood, an unfulfilled dream, and heartbreaking betrayal. His eyes pulsed for an instant in a bright golden color. He managed to get up and sneered back at his reflection, hatred once again taking over him.

"No. I'll stop the misery."

"Then you know what you must do."

He then approached the bar, which was already loaded again by the mysterious force in the room putting it above 500 pounds. He positioned himself to do a deadlift, grasping the bar tightly with both hands and pulling with all his might. Sweat practically cascaded out of every pore and thick veins bulged and pulsated on his neck, and the straining muscles grew. His growl slowly went down a couple of octaves as his Adam's apple grew along with the rest. Two giant triangles grew on the back of his neck, connecting it to his shoulders and leaving the doctor with a pair of massive traps.

The muscles in his back rippled as new nerve connections were made recruiting more mass for the movement. Two thick poles grew along his spine, spreading outgrowth to his lats. The back of the man grew so much, it looked like the spread wingspan of an albatross, each hill and valley carving themselves like on marble. The small t-shirt didn't stand a chance as it fell in tatters to the ground, exposing the sweat coated skin of the man´s back.

As he pulled the bar above his knees, the muscle in his midsection started burning to stabilize the movement. The fat on his stomach melted away, replaced by a convex thick eight pack bulging with veins. His lower back developed strongly, forming an upwards arrow between the muscles.

Once he was able to stand straight, he quickly jerked down to push the bar from underneath. The burning sensation spread to his arms, as his hands grew around the bar grabbing it with a vice-like grip. The forearms formed thick muscular columns with more than enough strength to hold the lift, veins quickly traveling towards his upper arms like a complicated crossroads. The fibers on his biceps ripped and grew rapidly, quickly inflating the biceps to a formidable size. Iron triceps etched themselves to the hinder part of his arms, pumping and growing bigger the more the bar was lifted. Lastly, as he pushed the bar over his head, his shoulders raised and rounded out like big medicine balls, condemning Richie to a life unable to go straight through doors.

With a mighty roar, he put the bar in its place, panting exhaustedly. The man inside the squat rack was unrecognizable, having almost doubled his body mass in lean muscle. The only vestige of his old self remained his soft rounded face, along with his icy blue eyes, which squinted when the wave of pain woke him up from his trance. The doppelganger stared amused at the new Richie, its mirror eyes gleaming with a golden glow.

"Well, this is definitely what I had in mind. We're still not quite there though. You remain a pathetic wuss inside."

Richie looked at his practically naked body and was left speechless. He was completely terrified of what happened to him. This monster had completely ruined his life. He clenched his fists in anger, while he slowly walked towards the creature.

"Look at what you did to me. I'm a freak. I´ll never be able to get back to my life."

The creature looked at him mockingly, smiling cruelly at its creation. Richie´s anger only kept rising until everything else other than his double disappeared from his vision. He took out his glasses, crunching them with his fist. His new body bulged menacingly with new strength.

"Do we want to get back to that life? To be deceived and betrayed? No. We hate Mario, but we also hate ourselves."

Richie thought for a second about what the creature said. It was right in saying he hated Mario, and he hated himself for being weak, for not being enough. But now he was enough. He looked at his body and felt each muscle fiber vibrating with new power. He then looked at his double, which was a physical reminder of his past and the painful betrayal.

"No, I hate you. For being weak. For keeping me down."

The creature glared at the muscular titan towering over it, now inches away from its frail body towering over him. It produced one last cruel smile knowing its purpose had been fulfilled.

"Then you know what you must do. Pussy."

Richie raised his fist with a deafening roar and struck his old self-right in the face. The creature then exploded in a million mirror shards which remained suspended in the air and released the contents of its vessel. A glowing blob of ichor was left floating in the place of where the monster once stood. The doctor stared dumbfounded at the thing he had in front of him. The golden vapor floating on the ceiling then condensed into the liquid, and it started emitting a powerful light that mesmerized Richie. He then moved forward to touch the liquid.

As soon as his fingers made contact with it, the blob glued itself into the hands of the doctor, who then woke up again from the trance for the last time. He screamed in panic as the golden substance traveled up his massive arm, coating it in glimmering reflective gold. The rest of his body got quickly invaded by the liquid, leaving his face for last. His scream was then drowned once the substance entered his throat. He felt the scorching heat of the liquid melting away his mind. Memories of love and romance, from hope and peace, bled out of every pore, being sucked away by the golden coating. The heat then intensified the anger in the pit of his stomach and raised it to his mind, corrupting it. Feelings of hatred and arrogance melted into his brain, molding a new persona out of the doctor.

The liquid then started to melt away his features, making his head grow inside the golden suit. The bones in his jaw cracked and squared off, leaving a prominent glass-cutting jaw behind. His nose broke and rearranged, expanding to a more masculine form. His forehead grew larger, hooding his eyes and printing a permanent scowl on his face. Once the change was completed, the liquid started to seep into the pores in all of his body, stimulating the growth of thick dark body hair that slowly revealed itself the more the coat absorbed into the skin. His armpits and pubes grew thick hair, marinated with his newly acquired masculine essence. A thick treasure trail escalated to a dense covering of his pecs. The liquid on his face then condensed into his eyes, revealing a full bushy beard. His blond hair had grown long on top disappearing on the sides and darkened to a dark shade of brown. As the final drops of the liquid were absorbed into his eyes, he was left with a pair of solid gold eyes, the anger condensing as a red halo surrounding his pupils.

The new man then cracked his neck and flexed his body. He felt incredibly powerful, more than any mortal could ever be. He looked at the mirror and saw his rugged hyper-masculine face staring back at him. He looked very menacing. And he liked it. The titan relished in the satisfaction that gave him in being an intimidating wall of muscle. He had no desire of being nice to anybody because he could bulldoze his way over anything to get whatever he wanted. He was the biggest dick on the planet. Dr. Richie Coccou was reborn in the form of Richard "Dick" Coccou.

"Speaking of dicks."

Grumbled the new goliath as he grabbed his manhood over the makeshift thong he was still wearing. The gold liquid started coming out again of his palm, burning away the garment and coating the already enlarging member. The former small penis then inflated to a menacing size, just like his owner, until it reached the size of a small children´s arm. His balls grew proportionally, like two small pomegranates hanging from a branch. The titan grumbled with pleasure as he played with the large head.

"You´ll have plenty of time for that later, my child."

Dick then looked around attentively, like a predator hearing a small branch snap. The broken glass shards floating around him condensed into a body size mirror in front of him. Out of the deep infinite loop appeared a beautiful woman. Her shapely silhouette surrounded by a bright halo. And her glowing gold eyes cold as ice. Dick smiled, all kinds of lascivious thoughts crossing his mind.

"Do not get distracted by primal necessities my child. You have a mission to accomplish. I´m Hera, queen of the heavens and your ruler."

Dick´s mind was suddenly filled with awe and respect for his progenitor, having been born out of her own blood. He kneeled before her and bowed his head.

"What can I do for you, my queen?"

Hera smiled, very pleased with the results of her spell.

"I gifted you with divinity for one reason only my child: to kill my husband. You know the sorrow of a broken heart, and have a thirst for revenge of your own. You will get your chance, but afterward, your destiny will belong to me. Meet me on Mount Olympus in thirteen days. I will make sure you ascend."

With those last words, the mirror shattered, and Dick was left alone with his hatred. Hera´s work was impeccable, fully turning the intense loyal love of a mortal into her own personal thug. And Dick was the spitting image of a muscular thug. The image of his still husband came to his mind, along with an unquenchable thirst for revenge. He smiled and knew immediately what to do next.

 The last patrons left the 24-hour gym at high hours of the night. Mario had been looking desperately for his husband all night without success. He looked around the places he thought he frequented most, like his office or his favorite pizza restaurant. But the meek therapist was nowhere to be found. The last way to look for it was the gym, although Mario was going more out of pure necessity than of real worry for his husband.

He got into the establishment and found it empty. It was unusual to find people after midnight, but not even the janitor was around. An eerie presence haunted the many mirror walls, making the usually cocky Latin hunk feel uneasy. He looked into the dressing room hoping he would find his husband there, but there was no one inside. He shrugged his worries off and thought he´ll find it back home once the tantrum was over. He had to be more careful though, or his citizenship process would be interrupted and he'd have to leave his life there. Richie was nice, but Mario was more into the life he provided other than the man himself.

He stepped out of the locker room and could immediately hear the cold clashing of iron from inside the weight room. Low grunts accompanied the metallic echoes, letting Mario know he wasn't alone in the gym after all. He went inside the room, only to find a behemoth of a man half-naked pumping a monstrous amount of weight on the bench press. A strong musky scent permeated the room, asserting the titan´s dominance over anything that stepped into his dominion. He finished his set and immediately fixed his gaze upon the stud.

"I knew you would come."

His golden eyes completely infatuated Mario, who felt an almost magnetic pull towards the man. He put a hand on his sweat covered giant chest, relishing in the feeling of having such a specimen so close to him. Dick smiled triumphantly, completely aware of the power he now possessed over simple mortals. He grabbed both shoulders of the smaller man with his massive mitts and aggressively pushed him down. Mario was completely enthralled by the intimidating piece of meat he had in front of him. He wanted desperately to please the bigger man, but he was unsure his anatomy would allow it. Dick didn't wait for Mario to prepare, taking his head with both hands and slamming it against his pelvis, impaling the choking stud with his massive endowment. Mario struggled to breathe, tears flowing down his cheeks as big Dick sodomized his face.

"You’re a lousy sucker kid. Let's see if you're a lousy fucker as well."

Said the titan as he lifted Mario like a feather and put him facing down the bench, spreading his legs. Mario already knew what was coming and was glad he was ready. He always found a good fuck or two in the gym at this hour, and this was not going to be an exception. Dick then slammed down the still closed cheeks, impaling his former lover. Instead of feeling the searing pain, he was awaiting due to the sheer size of the manhood, Mario felt incomparable bliss. Every nerve ending in his body was burning with pleasure, his face drooling due to the intense sensations he was feeling. The titan then pumped him full for a while, giving him the best sex, he ever had.

Once it was over, the behemoth took a humongous black shirt that was hanging on a nearby bench and put it on, heading towards the exit. Mario then felt terrible despair, as he ran to the man to not let him go, only to be sent flying away and crashing against a pile of weights. Dick gave him a menacing look, his golden eyes sparkling with anger.

"You will never be able to enjoy intimacy anymore or feel any kind of pleasure. Everything will remind you of tonight, and what can no longer be yours. I will let you live, but the future that awaits you will only be painful. Now, get out of my sight before I change my mind."

His newly acquired divine power gave Dick full power over mortals, including the ability to move the boundaries between pain and pleasure inside them. Mario watched with tears in his eyes as the giant walked forward into a mirrored wall next to the entrance, and was swallowed by it. He had no idea this hateful god was his once pure-hearted husband, corrupted by a jealous´ goddess hatred against the one who had been her greatest lover.

[technospotatoes]

C!SAM - Redeemable Qualities Analysis (Dream SMP)

Hallo! I’m back with another brain rot post for ya’ll instead of doing my schoolwork :] 

Recently, I’ve been doing some thinking and theorizing with some friends on discord following Quackity’s huge lore stream (if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you watch it). I woke up this morning with a head full of many thoughts about C!Awesamdude and where his story could take us. Seeing as how there is going to be lots of change in the future with the server, there must be changes in these characters as well-- evil to good, good to evil, and the like. With these changes comes my thought: “can these characters be redeemed?” Here are my thoughts on how this applies to C!Sam.

Please let me know your thoughts and theories, I’d love to discuss with you! As always, strap in, it’s gonna be a long one :]

I hope you enjoy!

Author’s note: I want to start this off by saying that all of the contents being discussed are fictional, and are from the Dream SMP universe. I do not support the actions of these characters, but merely have interest in analyzing them through a lens of psychology and for entertainment purposes. Content of this post will contain spoilers up to 3/25/21 of the DSMP lore. I will also talk about ATLA a little bit ;)

Content warning: mentions of torture, manipulation, death, possible psychological trauma

(pls be safe ily)

What makes a redeemable character? 

  Redeemable characters are some of the most pleasing and favored characters in modern media. Their stories are rich with emotion, and they can even evoke some form of catharsis within the most skeptic consumers. Redeemable characters are memorable and inspiring, and without one, a story can feel empty. Before we apply this character trope to the Dream SMP and C!Sam, we need to answer a basic question in order to fully understand the complexity of redeemable characters and how they are so universally significant. 

What is a redeemable character?

  Simply put, a redeeming character or characteristic counteracts or corrects something negative. From a storytelling standpoint, a redeemable character is someone who has roots in good qualities, turns bad, and has the ability to revert their wrong choices to become a better person. 

Examples of redeemed characters in popular media include: 

Zuko - Avatar the Last Airbender

Boromir - Lord of the Rings

Kylo Ren - Star Wars

Severus Snape - Harry Potter 

  Zuko, for example, starts his story off as the villain. He tirelessly hunts down the protagonist, and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal to please his father. However, as the show progresses, we learn that Zuko wasn’t always bad. He was only driven to his path of villainy because of his fear of failure, of his father (the firelord and true antagonist of the show), and of a greater punishment than what he had already received. With the help of his uncle, Zuko learned to push through and accept his past, while also making amends with his wrongs and coming to the realization of who the true enemy was; ultimately choosing peace and unity over destruction and fear.    Zuko’s story is so appealing because it was drawn out. It was raw, it was real, and it was a genuine telling of how damaged people can heal, change, and come to accept themselves. Because he went through the process of redemption, he was not only able to be loved by those around him, but also by his audience-- And I believe that this can be the same case with any redeemable character. 

So how does this relate to C!Sam? How could he possibly be redeemable if he is not evil?

  C!Sam has become increasingly interesting to me in the DSMP lore, and he has shown how complex his character is-- in contrast to many first impressions that people have of him. Based upon his actions from the past, and his willingness to remain neutral in times of conflict, we can conclude that he sustains both “neutral good” and “lawful neutral/good” qualities. This means that Sam is a reliable character, driven by his own personal values, and is devoted to helping others (when he sees fit). Evidence of these qualities emerge…

When he sided with Pogtopia during the Manberg War to maintain good relations with Tommy and Tubbo. 

When he saved Hannah from the Egg

Created Sam Nook to assist Tommy in building his hotel

Built Pandora’s Vault for Dream

Showed concern for Ranboo after one of his denied prison visits

  Sam’s moral code is deeply rooted with good intentions; he keeps an eye out for his friends, maintains his relationships, assists in builds/projects, and also serves as a “stable adult figure” for some of the younger members of the server. In contrast to his logical outward appearance, C!Sam lets his emotions drive his decision making-- which can lead to many severe consequences depending on how he acts. However, recently Sam’s actions indicate that he is experiencing a flip in morals. 

Below are incidents that have led to C!Sam’s recent change in moral code. 

Incident 1: Trapped with the Egg

  Many weeks ago, during the height of character involvement with the Egg lore, C!Sam was lured into a trap by BBH and Antfrost. He spent about a day trapped in close contact with the Egg, and after he was saved by Puffy and Tommy, he was clearly changed. It is likely that the Egg is behind these sudden changes in character motivation for Sam… similarly to how it corrupted BBH, Ant, and Punz. Whether this is the case with Sam is unclear. 

Incident 2: Tommy’s death

  C!Sam and C!Tommy’s relationship within the DSMP lore is one of my favorite things to talk about. After his victory over the disk war and finally landing his nemesis in prison, Tommy was left empty, without much to do. He decided to take upon a new project to incite a new era of peace, and was able to enlist the help of Sam with building his hotel. Throughout this process (and under the watchful eye of Sam Nook), Tommy and Sam were able to develop a bond with each other through their work, along with their interactions at the Prison. 

  Sam has made it clear that he intends to defend Tommy no matter what-- but after his untimely death at the hands of C!Dream, Sam was deeply wounded. He felt as if he failed his promise to keep Tommy safe, and he made it clear that the blame for the “security issue” and C!Tommy’s death should be placed fully on him. No matter how selfless and responsible this makes his character appear, this event will only serve as the basis for severe consequences in moral change in the future. 

Incident 3: Confrontation with Quackity

  Following the large emotional impact of Tommy’s death, C!Sam is very vulnerable, because he is still within the stages of grief. C!Quackity came to Sam for a partnership, to take advantage of Sam while he was low to gain the upper hand. It’s no question that Q’s character is a talented manipulator, we can see that clearly in his interaction with Sam. Q restates again and again that Sam failed, further cementing Sam’s existing guilt and desire for revenge for his failure. Sam gives in to the manipulation, and somewhat reluctantly allows Quackity to torture Dream to get information and to get payback for what he did to Tommy... which completely goes against what his responsibility of Warden entails. 

  As Warden, C!Sam is supposed to uphold the law and rules of visitation, but because of his leniency with Quackity (in breaking the rules) and because he is still emotionally raw, he no longer defends good from evil, but is now biased against it. C!Sam probably wants Dream dead, but as Warden, his opinion shouldn’t matter. Because Sam fully blames himself for failing Tommy, he's lost the "lawful good" in his character, meaning Warden Sam (as a set of morals) truly doesn't exist anymore.

Incident 4: Ponk’s mistake

  To recap a stream briefly, Ponk did a prank on Sam a couple days ago, and stole a few of the expired keycards to Pandora’s Vault. Rightfully, Sam was very angry, and not only took back the keycards, but also imprisoned Ponk. However, where this interaction should have ended, C!Sam only took it to the extreme. (TW!!!!) Out of anger and frustration, C!Sam tortured Ponk for his wrongdoing by setting him on fire, and amputating his arm (END TW!!!). 

  This only proves my point from Incident 3. Warden Sam is fading, only bits and pieces of his morally neutral character remain within him for basic tasks. His encounter with Quackity had a huge impact on his psyche, not only is he allowing the torture of the prison occupants, but he is doing it himself as well. C!Sam is now starting to believe that pain and torture are the only solutions for punishment, which is the complete opposite of what he believed before Dream was imprisoned. 

In short...

  C!Sam is losing his grip on moral and mental stability because of his emotional insecurity due to his psychological trauma. Because of this, I believe that it is entirely possible for Sam’s character to explore the route of evil and unlawful values-- which furthers the possibility for a redemption arc. Even currently, Sam is eligible for redemption as well.

  If C!Sam is willing to acknowledge his wrongs from today and improve himself upon them, he will likely become a more memorable, lovable, and even more human character than we’ve seen in the SMP before. 

SIDENOTE!

IRL Sam recently posted in his discord talking about his character. Here are a few key things to keep in mind as the story goes forward: 

“There is a LOT of things in the plan for me as a character and a very big change is coming about for me as the story moves along.”

I believe this change could be a villain arc, or a turn towards evil that incites the possibility for redemption. 

“My character is playing a role that I think is VITAL for the server and a role that I like to think was a good one for me to pick up and accept.”

You can read the reddit post I referenced for this here (ty to my friend on discord for providing me with the link <3)

TYSM FOR READING!! <3 <3 <3

[thejustmaiden]

Fiction and Real Life Go Hand In Hand

This blog goes out to all those pro-Sessrin fans out there who refuse to acknowledge the very real effects fiction can have on our world and vice versa. I highly encourage other Inuyasha fans who defend/enable these shippers to read this, as well. I assure you, by no means are my intentions here to stir up trouble. Honestly, I just want some good healthy discourse for once if that’s not too much to ask. If you do decide to engage, please be mindful of that and treat others with respect and I will do the same in return. All in all, the goal of this blog is to exercise my right to speak out and be critical about content I believe to have very potentially detrimental repercussions. I ask that you not attack me or insult me simply for stating an opinion. Thank you! 

It’s like the title says, meaning fiction does matter. Where do you think we get ideas for all the stories we tell? Where do we draw inspiration from in the first place?

Real life, that's where! And yes, always with a touch of imagination! Long story short: fiction matters because real life does.

Allow me to elaborate.

Shippers of the Sesshomaru x Rin (Sessrin) pairing say it's not fair of us to throw around serious accusations or use certain deragatory terms that suggest such awful acts like child grooming or pedophilia because of the harmful implications. One of their reasonings being that some people IRL have actually lived through these traumas, so we shouldn't dare to assume they're comparable since one is just fiction and the other is not. But this isn’t about which is worse than the other, because they’re both super problematic. All we’re literally doing is making a link between grooming in real life and grooming in fiction. They mirror each other. Same issue; different mediums. We’re not undermining any one’s past experiences with grooming or the like, nor are we prioritizing fiction to diminish real life abuse. They’re both awful in numerous ways and that’s all we’re trying to say. In fact, if anything we’re attempting to demonstrate just how crucial this correlation is between them. In order to protect past victims and prevent future ones, we must remain vigiliant of the content we consume, and yes, sometimes that means we have to challenge it too. Just because it’s widely-viewed does not make it widely-accepted or well-received. It is paramount that we educate ourselves on how to be more critical of some of the harmful tropes and images that are still way too prevalent in mainstream media. Sexualizing young and pre-pubescent girls is way more normalized than some of us even realize. It’s sad but true that Sessrin is just one of many examples. I know it feels like society has failed us in a lot of ways, but it’s never too late to re-evaluate and re-learn better and more improved ways of viewing and processing information presented to us.

Our mission: Let’s not show our kids that grooming or any other form of abuse are acceptable if they may ever come to experience or encounter it themselves. Be it the real world or on screen. Deal? 

There have been a number of occasions where real life victims do speak up against the Sessrin ship and express how extremely uncomfortable it makes them feel by what it represents. The problem is that it’s becoming more evident now that many of their fans will dismiss anything purely on the basis that we pose a threat to their ship and nothing more. What it comes down to is they have no real leg to stand on and cannot possibly top any of what we have to say so instead they simply disregard it. Our inconvenient truths don't fit into their ideal *cough* OOC *cough* narrative so they just choose to be willfully ignorant. It conflicts with their fantasy, so rather than present a sound argument of their own, they flat-out reject it and offer no plausible back-up behind their reasoning besides "I don't interpret it that way." GUYS, CHILD GROOMING IS NOT UP FOR INTERPRETATION.

Just because you so desperately want your ship to come true does not mean you can up and decide to redefine a word so that it caters to your stance. Remind yourself that these are complex AND objective terms that we have no right to fiddle with to serve our own selfish purposes. This is why we can conclude that there's no debate about Sesshomaru's actions towards Rin embodying child grooming.

I apologize if any of my words are triggering by the way, so please feel free to take a break and return later if that’s more suitable for you. it's just really important that everyone in this fandom comprehends the extent in which Sessrin going canon is catastrophic. And no, I'm not exaggerating; I'm simply speaking the truth. Shippers justifying these horrible acts- yes, even in fiction- is usually due to the stubborn refusal to hear us out. No offense to anyone (just stating facts), but more times than not antis like myself feel as if we’re talking to a brick wall when we interact with Sessrin peeps. They go in circles and never expand on their perspectives. 

Just a head’s up: THIS GETS LONG. Stick with me. :p

Just look at their take on the Inukag vs. Sessrin relationships for example. This isn't a question of age gaps, this is a question of physical/emotional compatibility. Inukag are the same age mentally wise regardless of one being demon and the other not, whereas Sessrin is not and never will be, and yes, even once she's an adult. The thing is we have debunked this time and time again, because they’re not the same and therefore not comparable, but for some reason these fans won’t drop it. Nothing has changed in their argument, yet they’re persistent in bringing it up. I choose to not go into more detail, since like I said, you can find it around everywhere. I just wanted to touch upon it briefly to prove a point. Maybe it will come up again later in my blog though! 

Where was I earlier? Right, child grooming! Haven't you guys realized that what you’re doing is precisely what child groomers do to make excuses or deny any grooming took place at all? (FYI: I’m not accusing you of being child groomers yourselves.) “They reciprocated so the feelings are mutual" is a typical groomer response, but of course it varies. More often than not, victims of grooming aren't even aware they've been groomed until much later. That's how manipulative groomers are that they can legitmately convince you that maybe you're wrong in questioning their motives. Perhaps in the victim’s mind that because one huge indicator of grooming never actually took place it technically cannot constitute as grooming. They start to doubt themselves even though their intuition is telling them something’s off. They should just ignore it then since it can’t possibly be grooming if that one particular thing never happened, right? Wrong, grooming isn’t strictly this or strictly that. It's much more complicated and multi-faceted. This is why the “but Sesshomaru left Rin in the village” point upsets me greatly. HE WAS STILL INVOLVED IN HER LIFE, Y’ALL.  

On top of that, are you aware that this is the exact same kind of predatory mindset pedophiles use to describe their infatuation with children? They'll say things like, "I don't see them as an adult and a child. I see them as two people with a soul connection." Okay no joke, I wish I was lying, but that is literally a point one pro-sessrin fan on here recently used to defend this ship. It both astounds me and terrifies me that they don't see the glaring similarities they share in common with actual pedos.

Alright, I want to quickly return to what I was saying earlier about fiction's impact on real life. (Sorry, I’m a bit of a scatterbrain!)

The characters and their worlds in our stories that we dream up and bring to life are nothing short of awe-inspiring and magnificent if we so choose them to be. If it wasn't for our imaginations, stories like Inuyasha would have never come to exist. Fiction provides us an amazing outlet where we are given the opportunity to express ourselves and explore its infinite creative possibilities.

But strip away all the demons and magical components of this show we all love so dearly and what are we left with?

At the very core, Inuyasha is a story that's very reminiscent of the human experience: love, camaraderie, a sense of purpose, and much more!

So perhaps we got a full-fledged dog demon like Sesshomaru, but does that necessarily mean we can't relate to him or understand him simply because dog demons don't exist in the real world? Well, I hope that's not how you view it or else you're missing the whole point of why humans create stories to begin with. We create them to make better sense of and thus connect with the world we live in. And when you really think about it, our stories are just a celebration of life- both our struggles and our triumphs. Now I'm no philosophy professor, but I'm pretty sure they'd say I hit that nail right smack on the head. ;)

All shitty jokes aside, the whole reason I’m mentioning this specific example in the first place is because this recently came up with another Sessrin supporter. That supporter tried to defend the ship by stating that we aren't allowed to use Sesshomaru as an example to judge by since his kind don't exist in the real world.

Now if it isn't evident already, this "it's just fiction" argument is a popular go-to stance many Sessrin fans will resort to once they've run out of ideas and are metaphorically backed into a corner. The funny/sad thing is that they seem to sincerely believe this is strong enough evidence to defend their ship with, but per usual, they fail to see how hypocritical that would be. I’ll clarify soon down below. 

Seriously, since when did we decide that fantasy- or any story genre for that matter- stopped reflecting the real world we live in? I mean, we humans are the ones writing these stories. Our human influence is bound to make an impact in some capacity. In fact, we want it to!

Obviously none of us have ever met a dog demon like Sesshomaru, because how could we? Let me tell ya, this is gaslighting at its finest! This is a fictional story with fantasy elements, so of course there will be beings and creatures in their world that don't exist in our own. Does that somehow translate to the fact that nothing from the story of Inuyasha can be applied to our own personal stories or that there aren't meaningful messages to be taught and learned?

So on the flipside, if they're not screaming at us "it's just fiction" for the hundred billionth time, then they are, believe it or not, doing the reverse and comparing it to real world history. One instance of this is how they tell us we're making a big deal about something that isn't real, but go right ahead and use the history of feudal Japan to support Sesshomaru's decision to court (aka GROOM) a young girl because that's how it was done back then. And so, your point being?? It wasn't right then just because it was legal, and it's most certainly not right now. This is how all of their arguments go by the way, where you'll constantly witness a cherry-picking approach. It's agonizing to endure contradiction after contradiction in their arguments filled with nothing but holes in their logic.

I'd just like to add that if we're overreacting to this fictional ship like they love to say we are then technically so are they. They tell us things like "grow up" or "nobody is telling you to keep watching," yet fail to realize they're reacting just as fervently as we are but just on the opposing side of the same damn argument. I find it interesting how they're as invested in this show but pretend they aren't then STILL have the audacity to say it's only us who care this much!? So thank you Sessrin shippers for further proving our point that fiction is more than capable of affecting reality and the people- YES, US- who reside in it.

It's insane that people act like pedophiles and other creeps don't enjoy entertainment too like the rest of us. Believe it or not, they look just like you and me most of the time. Yes, that means they can easily pass as a “regular guy” if they so wished to. My question to you is how do you think pedophiles will take it when they discover others- underage fans more specifically- who dig the same kinda media they get off to? Maybe not in the exact same way, mind you, but there's a thin line between them when you really think about it. I mean, what other explanation is there for why literal pedos on the internet have been known to sneak into pro-sessrin group chats here on Tumblr before? (Thankfully, they were later kicked.) I know that for a fact! It's almost as if the universe is trying to tell them something they refuse to listen to elsewhere. Hhmmm I wonder what that may be. 

I imagine it’s possibly one of the hardest things to admit out loud and to themselves, but I can almost guarantee you that most of these Sessrin shippers who are victims of CSA and who still see no issue with Sessrin must be living with some sort of unresolved trauma caused by the very abuse they claimed to have undergone. It's been proven that victims who do not seek or properly receive the help and treatment they need in order to address and live with a traumatic experience such as this are more likely to perpetuate that very same abuse themselves in some way, shape or form. What if in this case fiction is enough for them, but who's to say it won’t eventually manifest itself in other more dire and far-reaching ways? It's not like we haven't seen this vicious cycle before, and I can promise you that Sessrin won't be the last. LET'S STOP NORMALIZING & GLORIFYING THE ROMANTIZATION & SEXUALIZATION OF CHILDREN. Fictional example: Usagi Drop. Need I say more? Real world example: Woody Allen. Again, need I say more?

Bottom line is that Sessrin shippers don't want us to think too critically about this ship of theirs, because if we dig too deep then they're forced to face the very troubling implications this pairing really stands for. Of course they'll never admit to them, because instead they rather double down and grasp at the same old straws as long as it means their precious ship is protected at all costs. Screw everyone else if that's what it takes, because they'll threaten to burn down legit buildings in real life if that ensures Sessrin goes canon! (True story, this happened on Twitter.) They’ll taunt and bully anyone who disagrees. Even if all you literally say is that you don’t like the ship, they’ll gang up on you. Tell them about your past experience with being groomed? They’ll laugh in your face. I wish I was kidding, but I assure you I am not.  And they say we're ridiculous and taking this way too seriously? Yeah...

The typical behavior of a Sessrin shipper demonstrates an overly aggressive front since they're usually on defense mode anyway. They only want to ship their sick ship in peace in other words. But just because neo-nazis have a right to spew their bigoted ideology, doesn't mean we don't got the right to punch them! Freedom of speech doesn't equate to freedom from consequences. And Sessrin shippers wonder why they got so many haters. Just sayin'.

Their presence on other platforms like Twitter and Reddit are some examples of how delusional and unstable some Sessrin fans are capable of becoming. Even recently, an anon here on Tumblr sent Richard Ian Cox (English VA for Inuyasha) a totally uncalled for ask telling him that "sessrin is love and there's nothing he can do about it." (That's not verbatim, but if you're interested I'll link you to it.) It appears they discovered that he didn't like Sessrin based on how he had been replying to asks, and just for that reason alone they thought they had the right to harass him. For simply stating his opinion, y'all. They didn't even have the decency to show their face either. Talk about immature and cowardly! 

Just yesterday (or was it the day before?) a fanatic Sessrin user on Tumblr- who’s also been known for hateful remarks on Twitter but those tweets have of course been deleted since then- went out of their way to not only lurk in a group chat they don’t belong to on here but to then proceed to harass a few of us in there. They had the guts to take screenshots from that group chat, tag us in posts on their page regarding what they read in there, and without our knowledge or permission went ahead and actually blogged them?? I mean, who calls out people behind their backs while they're just minding their own business?? It worries me how unhinged and out of touch with reality some Sessriners are. Not all of them, but a whole lot of them. 

It seems all they are doing is looking for trouble, as they just can't stand how much we hate this ship. So it's more than okay if they love on their ship but it's not okay if we don't and we should just keep our mouths shut. But since when do Sessrin fans have authority over our opinions? Even if they were officially canon, nothing is ever gonna change our opinion. Now when they actually do decide to participate in discourse with antis, you'll see them fishing for excuses to bow out. How they normally go about this is by fabricating a way to blame us antis for their exiting a conversation as if we're being the irrational ones here.

There’s no denying that some antis can also be overly blunt or aggressive (nobody is saying we’re perfect here), but speaking for myself, I know I would never make such nasty comments about other fans and their personal lives. And honestly? It would make me feel like shit talking bad about someone I don't actually know. Nah, I won't stoop to that level or give haters that satisfaction. I may not attack them as people, but that doesn't mean I can't attack some of their messed up ideas that threaten to distort how we should or shouldn’t perceive certain dangerous situations and events. Seeing as how for me this is more than just a matter of opinion- it's a moral responsibility and even an obligation.

I know it's difficult to remain civil when things get heated and people start taking things personally- yet more proof that fiction impacts our lives- but that's the only way any of us will ever have constructive discussions about serious topics like this. Unfortunately, Sessrin shippers, from what I can tell, are incapable of engaging in real discourse for the most part. They may be vocal but that doesn't mean they can pack a punch. I’d really love to be proven wrong someday.

Okay, moving on! If they're not involved in some big-time gaslighting then they're using their infamous strawman argument approach.

Sessrin fans’ sole purpose isn't really to defend their ship, per se, but rather to deflect and antagonize. They like to mislead in order to shift the focus/blame onto their opponent or something else that's not related so that they can stray from the main point. 

Take the drama CD for example. It's officially NOT considered canon, right? But that hasn't stopped many fans from referencing it anyway so let’s too consider it for a moment. The point is that they use its "existence" whenever convenient then deny it or downplay it whenever it’s not. So on one hand, it's plain as day that they celebrate it as proof of a romantic future for Sessrin. But then later once we point out to them that Sesshomaru is essentially confessing to Rin that he will wait for her until she's of age, they'll brush it off and quickly add that they didn't interpret the scene that way and leave it at that. I mean how else would you interpret it? And if it's not a proposal of sorts then why exactly are you bouncing off the walls about it to begin with?? If that's all it means is nothing then why are we even talking about this?! You see what I mean here??! And somehow we're the crazy ones? 

Let me to be frank with you. If you haven’t listened to it already, this proposal he offered her sounded like a declaration of love in a multitude of ways, which is wildly inappropriate since Rin was only 12 at the time. Signifying that Sesshomaru was/is indeed grooming her. Well, that is if you choose to recognize the drama CD. Nevertheless, whether you do or not, I personally hate that this non-canon satire is even associated with the Inuyasha name to begin with. Ugh. 

Intentional or not, Sesshomaru made a deliberate decision in that moment to tell a little girl- and not just any little girl mind you but a girl he's taken in under his care for a good year- that he would wait for her if she so chooses once she's old enough. 

The issue is that it isn’t only age of consent we’re concerned about regarding this pairing. What Sessriners fail to see is that this grown male authority- her vassal, her guardian, her adoptive father, or whatever you wanna refer to him as- is basically making a move on this girl he had in his company for quite some time. There's no sugarcoating that. Us antis call it how it is, and I'm sure as fucking day other people who don't watch the show would most certainly agree that the Sesshomaru/Rin bond is filial. Set aside those rose-tinted glasses of yours, and going by everything we’ve been delivered in the manga and parts of the anime (and NOT the drama cd), there are literally no hints that indicate a blossoming romance between this adult male demon and this small human girl he’s taken under his wing. You can imagine them all you want if it pleases you, but that doesn’t mean they’re there. Adult!Rin is a figment of your imagination, nothing more. The idolization of this pairing is pretty disturbing seeing as all we have to go off of in canon is Child!Rin. There have only ever been sweet and innocent moments passed between the two, which is why I’m positive that an unbiased viewer or an outsider would state their dynamic resembled something akin to a father-daugther relationship. I would bet a shit ton of money on that, believe you me!

Rin's inhibitions are low because children are naturally naive and don't know any better. Remember, she adores and trust this man with all her heart, so why would she think any of this so-called grooming is not normal behavior. (I only say “so-called grooming” because I don’t think Sesshomaru bringing her gifts in the village has to be a romantic thing.) Or how would she ever be able to understand that she’s being taken advantage of if she has no previous experience with it? Maybe if she was present for that time Inuyasha and the gang scolded Miroku when they had learned that years previous he had supposedly proposed to this young girl in the village they were visiting, then Rin would. And he didn’t even assist in helping raise her but look at how they reacted! How is this any different than Sesshomaru hooking up with Rin later? It’s actually worse in Sessrin's case. Do you honestly believe that Inuyasha and the others would take kindly to this?

It's not uncommon and considered harmless for young children to have crushes on adults, after all, but the adults in these scenarios should never resort to using and abusing the position of power they held or continue to hold over this child for any reason whatsoever.

What I'm trying to get across here is that no matter how you spin it, Sessrin can NEVER be deemed a morally acceptable pairing. Like ship what you want, we're not saying you can't ship Sessrin. What we're saying is this:

STOP referring to their bond as "pure" and not expect backlash for your grossly inaccurate statements. Just admit it's toxic, because it's extremely harmful to many viewers- and not just victims- to pretend and suggest otherwise.

Please remind yourself of the very real canon fact that Rin traveled with Sesshomaru and they established a bond all while she was just a girl. Oh, and he saved her life too many times to count, not to mention brought her back from the dead TWICE. This is why I don't care much for your counter argument "that dynamics can change over time," because although that's true, like with everything in life there must be standards we adhere to. Exceptions to rules, if you will. Our own basic morals demand it.

For instance, it’s normal that some childhood friends begin to like each other as more than friends years down the road. Nothing wrong with that, because that's a natural and healthy occurrence. Now you cannot apply this to an adult and a child for obvious reasons, but what you also cannot do is apply this to an adult who met and knew another adult while they were still just a child. Why? Well, because it'd be like betraying and perverting that former child's view of you. They were never your equal because your established dynamic resembles that of one an adult posesses with a child even once they've grown up. Think about it this way: it's in the same bracket of family members or family friends who've watched you grow up and mature into an adult. Then later just because they're all grown up, does that mean that those children "are not off bounds" - that's quoting a Sessrin shipper by the way- to these certain family members and family friends? 

If you're still struggling to grasp this, I urge you to take a moment (or all the time you need!) to really put yourself in that child's shoes and self-reflect. Would you truly be alright with a family friend you haven't seen in years (but sorely missed because they used to occasionally babysit you) just someday coming back into your life and then very inappropriately flirting with you or even making sexual advances on you? (Sorry for the run-on!) Or even worse, can you picture this happening to one of your own children??! Seriously, ask yourself that and sit with that for a while and really take it all in. It’s not fun, I know, but if that’s what it takes to help you finally understand then please try and practice more ways to utilize your self-awareness in the future. It’s for everyone’s benefit, not only yours, I promise! You'll also find it makes it tremendously easier to empathize with others.

I got news for those fans who don’t view Sesshomaru as a father figure to Rin. The title we give him doesn’t hold as much weight as a lot of us are making it out to be. Let’s try to be neutral here and stick to the hard facts, shall we?

*Sesshomaru is an adult male authority whose protection Rin is under*

*It’s safe to assume that Rin has grown attached to him and maybe even looks up to him*

*They care about each other and the other's well-being*

*He has has played a crucial part in her supervision and care for a significant period of time (yes, even if it’s just passing a message along to Jaken)*

Not so random anecdote: In an Inuyasha episode I recently revisited, Sesshomaru had just rescued Rin from Kohaku who had been possessed by Naraku and was ordered to kill Rin. Anyway, at the end of their scene you can hear Jaken ask out loud, “what should we do for dinner, Lord Sesshomaru?” And that’s about the most domestic thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. They’re such a family dammit and nothing will ever change that!! <3

This is precisely why I could never in a million years view those past students of mine in a romantic light. I don't care how many years have passed, it's just not possible for me. Just the idea of pursuing a romantic and/or sexual relationship absolutely repels me.

Speaking as a former teacher, you don't need to be a parental figure who's around all the time in order to have great love and affection for a child. I would've done absolutely anything in my power to protect them even though they weren't my own. Then again, I did consider them my children in a way even if wasn't in a familial sense. Does that make my love for them any less unique? No, it's just different but not inferior. When you stop to think about, it really doesn't take as long as you may think to establish rapport with a person, particularly children. Connecting with a child is almost instant (but of course some are more receptive than others), and once you do make that special connection one can only make with a child, a strong and overwhelming need to guide and protect them kicks in almost automatically. The unconditional love an adult feels for a child is powerful and constant, and nothing should ever change that. As much as some of you really want to believe otherwise, that feeling doesn’t just go away because they turned 18. In your eyes, they’ll always be that kid.

I get it, sometimes when we escape into these fictional worlds of ours, it's difficult not to project our own wishes and desires onto certain characters. I don't blame fans for picturing themselves with Sesshomaru- I know I did haha- but never once did I self-insert myself as Rin. I know she's one of the biggest catalysts for his character growth- if not THE biggest- but how and why does that need to turn romantic? There are other antis who I have spoken with on this. They informed me that they used to live vicariously through Rin and ship them together, as well. As they got older, they later learned how weird and twisted this ship actually was. That's what's supposed to happen, y'all, you're supposed to grow out of that fixation. 

Now take your mind out of the Inuyasha universe for a second and hypothetically (or not hypothetically if you have kids) answer me this: if and/or when you ever have a child, would you genuinely be comfortable with the idea of them dating and eventually marrying their father’s best friend who was also there to witness them grow up? Be honest please. 

I highly doubt you would want that- or at least I hope not. You see, that's another MAJOR point I've made a few times already and yet you Sessrin shippers continue to avoid the question. It's pretty obvious it hasn't been rhetorical either. Ignorance is bliss?

Finally, I’d like to address one more point. It seems there is a HUGE misconception and I'd like to clear it up real quick. That is Sessrin shippers misinterpret one of the issues we have with this ship. They chalk up our complaints of Sessrin being canon (which is a LIE, nothing has been confirmed yet) to us just being salty because that somehow means our ships aren't or won’t be. I assure you, readers, other antis and I will attest that this ain't about dumb shipping wars, this is so much bigger than that!!!

I noticed recently that some Sessrin fans have even begun calling us Karens lolol like if anybody is a Karen it's them! This ain't about some mere difference in taste, this is very likely to have LONG-LASTING NEGATIVE EFFECTS. Sessrin going canon is a very harmful message to send viewers and children/teens especially. So if anything, it’s these shippers who are being the entitled ones here thinking that the fact we don’t support their ship is the worst thing in the world. NO, THE REAL PROBLEM IS CHILD GROOMING. GET OVER YOURSELF.

Out of nowhere, some of them even started assuming all us antis were white, which in their books is also equivalent to Karens or even white supremacists somehow?? Those aren't one in the same, but it's easy to make it appear that way when the US is currently tackling major systems of oppression and racial injustice. Because to them, all antis must be from over here. (Yes, I'm American. But no, I'm not white.) How else can anyone explain not shipping Sessrin, right?! Somehow they have it in their heads that ALL of Japan and surrounding places are super approving of this ship, and that everyone else isn’t because of their upbringing and “Western way of thinking.”  

To give you an idea of what I mean, look back at what I talked about earlier with their incessant mention of Sessrin vs. Inukag. Because THIS is another popular example of how these shippers present their side and then ignore all the facts. Many fans have already proven how fucked up and inaccurate it is to label whole countries and cultures. It’s like they simply think mentioning it makes it count even though we’ve discredited their points over and over. Nah, you got to back it up with good reasons that support your side of the argument. That’s How To Have An Argument: 101. So at the end of the day, all they're actually achieving in doing is making dumb and entirely unrelated accusations based on nothing just to lead to deductions that are equally unfounded. Nothing at all is accomplished but more gaslighting and hurling of insults on their part = a complete waste of time for antis = an excuse for them to peace out early from the conversation & that’s what they wanted all along

We’ve reached the end (finally! sorry for all the rambling!), and I hope those of you who stayed till the end or read enough can take something positive out of this. As many Inuyasha fans are aware, there will be a livestream with the VAs for Sesshomaru and Rin coming out within the next few hours. We don’t have all the details yet, and afterwards we probably still won’t. I’m not just talking about Sessrin here but about the sequel in general. Whatever happens, please just remember to be kind to one another. If you don’t think you’re capable of doing that, then it’s best you vent and fume elsewhere. Easier said than done, I know, but just try. Throughout this blog, I admit there were moments where I got frustrated and took some jabs at Sessrin shippers. Please believe me when I say that I do not and would not ever wish any of you ill will. 

Inuyasha was such a huge part of my childhood, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m anxious as hell that Sunrise will ruin one of the best things I loved about this show. So pardon me if my reactions are too visceral for your liking. haha Also, like the movies and the drama cd, this sequel is not in fact canon. Therefore, for those of you who disagree or who still plan to enjoy this new series, respect the fact that some of us fans will definitely “cancel” it if we feel that’s what we have to do to come to terms with it and move on. Fans have that right, after all. Why should we get on board with something if it’s so uncharacteristic of and unrecognizable from the original source material? If all this is some sort of cash grab of Sunrise’s doing, then count me out. I truly hope that this sequel turn outs being a lot more promising than a lot of us are expecting. I’m begging you, Sunrise, I wanna believe you’re better than this. Please and thank you!   

By the way, if you’re interested, feel free to check out my two other blogs on this same subject. Click here and here. The last two screenshots do not come from something I’ve written myself. If you’d like to read more from where those came from, let me know and I’d be more than happy to send you the links. Okay, bye for now. Peace out and stay safe, everyone! 

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26​

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Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

[iwriteaboutkpopsometimes]

Hyunjin "Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)" (원곡 : Sam Tinnesz) | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER]     ~A Love Letter~

I talk about why I love this video so much and deliver an excruciatingly detailed play by play of it, but why read a two thousand word, five page essay on a three minute video when you can just go watch the aforementioned three minute video? Forget me spending hours writing this, why are you here, seriously, it would take you significantly less time to watch the actual video. Regardless, enjoy my attempt to refrain from saying the same three things, “he's so cool”, “I love him”, and “this is so good”, in exchange for a  more, hopefully, academically professional sound.

Watching him perform never fails to put me in a trance, it’s incredibly captivating how precise and sharp while simultaneously lively and energy-filled his movements are. This video feels reminiscent of enjoying a movie I’ve seen countless times, memorized every line of dialogue from, and genuinely think of every part as the best it has to offer. I greatly missed seeing him dance and having this as his grand welcome back into the spotlight is nothing less of a gift. Every second leaves my heart pounding and as excited as the last, as he continuously tops himself the longer I watch. I feel that revisiting the video is the least I can do, for giving it only one view doesn’t feel morally acceptable if I intend to truly appreciate it for that art that it is. Dramatic of me? Perhaps, but I can’t help but perceive it as more than just this one video that was uploaded onto their YouTube channel. It isn’t just about all of the work he and others put into the making of this particular video, his choreography for the song was a result of years upon years of practice and learning different techniques. A performance this good doesn’t only involve technical skill though, but also skill in regards to one’s inner mind. To have confidence in one’s self, to hit every move powerfully, to know what you’re doing and be unapologetic about it, that is skill. Sure, the performer is at the focus of any performance, but don’t forget that it’s also about the audience, it is after all for the enjoyment of the viewer. If the audience senses your doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, it will make your stage that much less enjoyable. Whatever you feel, they can feel too. When I watch him, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, I feel the exact opposite, I feel inspired, motivated, confident, excited to advance in my own endeavors. The emotion that this video evokes from me goes beyond anything Stray Kids or K-Pop or even dance itself, it makes me want to be a better person, be kinder to myself and work harder. That might sound like a lot for one video to do for someone, but it’s the truth. All of the details, even down to the individual frames, it all works together to create the most gratifying viewing experience. At the time of writing this, the video has just hit five million views and has over one million likes, only a mere three days after its initial upload.

The first shot of his footsteps alone,  as he goes to stand in front of the mirror, I already feel this sense of importance coming from him, delicate, yet powerful. The setting, cold and empty, yet inviting, it makes room for him and gives him just enough light to be seen, for he doesn’t need all that much help to surely shine. The credits that pop up use a dark shade of pink-red for it’s background color and white text that acknowledges the same deep red imagery and text associated with the material of the original work. His outfit is neat and pristine with some sparkle, resembling one a prince would seem fit. He stares at his reflection, holding a sheer white ribbon in his mouth, gathers a section of hair behind his head and proceeds to tie it with said ribbon. The music starts as he finishes tying and lets his arms fall down at his sides. The over the shoulder shot looking into the mirror, shows that his expression is neutral, almost calm. This can most certainly be described as “the calm before the storm”, except the storm itself is antonymous to a tragedy, because when the singing starts, it’s as if his performance persona was turned on by a switch, a charismatic possession that took place in a matter of seconds that sends chills down your spine in the best way. His previously neutral, calm-like expression and gently resting arms are quickly replaced by the sudden placement of his right hand around his neck and a look that resembles more of  a vengeful, hesitant, and somehow playful one. Similar to what I’d imagine a villain would look like right before being bested during an epic fight sequence at the climax of a film. It’s satisfying to see him popping to the beat’s rhythm, his arms, wrists, and head smoothly illustrating the flow of the words, his focus and the secure angles he’s able to form before even fully utilizing his lower body. On the line “Got secrets I can’t tell”, he delicately places his pointer finger in between his teeth, as he turns back to meet the camera with his eyes, the shot now semi-closely focusing on both Hyunjin and his reflection as opposed to just one or the other. He extends his right arm, his hand forming a fist, and the camera movement making it as if I’ve been punched and sent flying. He stumbles to the middle of the room, does an opening gesture with his arms, like a proud baker showing off their completed wedding cake, along with a dramatic spin incorporating his thin, white, flowy cape. Reaching the pre-chorus, we get to see the room more clearly, like the stone pillars and the contrast of the small, warm lights on the walls to the grand grayness radiating from the large window that makes him appear as a near silhouette. There’s a certain holiness about him spending a count with his head down and arms out, much like the Crucifixion of Christ, before showcasing more of a demonic energy when he faces the window with his body, but bends backward and looks to the camera upside down. He rips off the cape, tosses it behind him, to his right. This could symbolize a transformation, an abandonment of a particularly purer image of oneself, a liberation. The music picks up, and the manner in which he dances is like a visual representation of one’s inner turmoil combined with an agenda to seduce those watching, wanting to dance for himself while taking us along for the ride. Now that the first minute of the video is out of the way, let’s continue.

The music fades into the background and the video takes on a sudden widescreen and grayscale appearance as he falls back on his right hand, flings his left hand over to his right shoulder, as though he’s been shot, and is being supported by his knees. He leans forward, places his right hand on the ground in front of him, uses his left hand to push his right knee over to achieve ideal balance, setting up his body roll. He extends his right leg back, getting close to the ground, and there’s something quite feral, yet intimate about the way he traces the length of his arm with his face and left hand. It looks like he’s taking out his frustrations through his moves while never sacrificing the detailed quality of the performance as a whole. It reminds me of how it’s more than common for artists to use their pain in their art, whether it be a point of well-intentioned expression with a specific purpose or simply an outlet for them to channel into. Hyunjin is the definition of aggressive elegance. The fullscreen, colorful display and music entirely return when he spins and lands on the ground in a Spider- Man esc pose, the room a lot warmer than even before the stylistic grayscale section. There’s hints of red, acting as a match that’s set to illuminate and ignite the puddle of gasoline that is him and his performance, that replaces the once colder, icy blue that previously enveloped his silhouette. He bounces to the beat showing off his proud, devilish smile that, instead of striking fear, makes me feel proud, as I’m essentially rooting for the villain in the movie. If the transition to the grayscale widescreen was him getting shot, then the transition back to fullscreen color is him emerging from his grave, an awakening. His shirt is no longer neatly tucked into his pants, but rather, hanging very loosely and mostly unbuttoned. He covers his face with his left hand, pulling it down for just a second before revealing his expression that has swiftly reverted to a roughly indifferent one. The inner conflict has greatly subsided, and focuses on the hesitant-free embracing of his newly discovered self, one of immense confidence and sex-appeal. Although, something about the flow of how he averts his gaze, looking to the left and not the lense, while pointing and doing body rolls at the camera, covers his eyes with crossed arms, and then allows for his hair to cover his eyes as well, makes me feel like he doesn’t want the viewer to know he is still at least a little bit shy. He quickly makes you forget though, because the next and final minute exaggerates everything he’s shown us up until this point, taking it to a whole new, spectacular level.

The bridge of the song creates a slower, softer atmosphere, which is beautifully interpreted with how Hyunjin carries himself during this part. Bigger gestures that blend into each other seamlessly, centering on really taking up the space he’s in. He gently and precisely lowers his body to the floor, collecting a white rose between his teeth. As soon as he returns to his upright stature, the setting changes dramatically. His hair now completely down, he’s under a spotlight in an otherwise pitch black and foggy room. There’s blue and red light reflecting off of his white top and his skin as he dances. This part feels more humane compared to the rest, with more of an obvious balance between sharp, impactful moves and tender, compassionate ones. He draws attention to his shoulders, brings his hands and feet close to his body, and showcases his red lit back. I particularly enjoy when he flicks his wrists and twists his ankles to the right in unison on the second syllable of “unstoppable”. For the “legendary animal” part of that line, his arms create a cage-like structure by doing a climbing motion and carrying it over all the way to the left. A cage in which he destroys the walls and breaks out of, shown by him punching downward on beat. From holding the rose in his mouth to holding it in his hand, he brings it over his head to his left shoulder, and raises his heels. He carries the rose down and around his left arm, his left arm momentarily resting at his waist, his right arm extended downward, he raises his heels again. His whole body lowers as a rigid wave starts at his up flicked wrists and subsequently elbows and shoulders. This collection of gestures results in petals falling off of the rose. He then inevitably throws it into the void, out of the reach of the lovely spotlight. I see this spotlight dance as a danse macabre, or dance of death. The white ribbon, white shirt, and white rose all coming together to illustrate this innocent and pure quality to him, that through this dance, he finalizes the renouncement of. He is more than ready to embrace a new and different side of him, but especially to get rid of the older and repetitive side that felt restrictive more than anything. The spotlight dance ends with Hyunjin looking directly into the camera, tracing his right hand down his chest and to his side, and the camera backing away. The last chorus of the song brings us back to the oh so familiar main room, Hyunjin’s hair back to being tied up, the lighting is the same, but there’s something that stands out. His shirt is on the verge of being completely unbuttoned and that allows for something alluringly shiny to be fully in view compared to before. The video comes full circle with Hyunjin’s hand around his neck, he stands in the hallway, and walks away a new man as the screen fades to black. 

As I wrap up this essay on Hyunjin’s “Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)”, original song by Sam Tinnesz, Stray Kids: SKZ-PLAYER, the video has reached six million views, a million more than when I first started writing this, and I feel proud to have spent a day simply pouring my heart and mind out on this wordy display of my appreciation. Don’t be fooled though, for my necessary research, I guess you could call it, for this project may no longer be so necessary, I shall continue to watch and applaud the masterpiece and experience that is this video for my own personal enjoyment, much like how this whole piece was written for my own personal enjoyment. It was an interesting challenge to properly voice not only the contents of the video but also my thoughts and feelings on it. Hyunjin is a highly valued dancer, member of Stray Kids, and person and five pages isn’t ever going to be enough to fully explain the respect and admiration I feel for him and his various projects. I think he’s really cool, I experience all sorts of fiery euphoria watching him dance, his rap and singing alike are addictive as hell, and he’s pretty, haha. I missed him a lot while he was inactive, and I’m so happy to have him back and doing great things as per usual. I’m excited to see what he and the rest of the group have left to show us this year. I advise you to watch the video if you haven’t, but somehow ended up reading an essay on it first, and if you’ve already seen it, watch it again, yeah. I’ll leave you with lovely thoughts and lovely vibes and I hope you too can appreciate the work he’s put into the video, as well as my work on this essay. Thank you for taking the time to read my love letter, essentially, and bye for now ^ ^

[ofravensandgenesis]

I'd love to ask about '03 Rachel/Faith notes, backstory, past Faiths, Bliss Mechanics, Tracey, etc' and 'Redshift Collision', if that's okay! 👀

Oo, fun choices! :D Thank you for asking!! ♥ Putting it below the cut, also trigger warnings for mentions of child abuse, drug use, dark backstories, in line with or inspired by Far Cry 5 canonical content. Trigger warnings for Redshift Collision include mentioned fantasy religious content, topic of euthanasia mentioned, magical diseases, etc. Long post is long, I hope the read is enjoyable though!! :0

————— 03 Rachel/Faith notes, backstory, past Faiths, Bliss Mechanics, Tracey, etc ————— So this folder breaks down into a dozen docs with split up notes, we’ll touch briefly on a bit from most of if not all of them, but the list is as follows:

01 Faith Character Notes, NPC Followers

02 Rachel Jessop’s Backstory for ACABH

03 Deaths of the Former Faiths Prior to Rachel, Some Bliss Mechanics

04 Tracey Lader Backstory Notes for ACABH

05 Types of Bliss Drug

06 Bliss Dart Mechanic Notes

07 Faith NPC compilation links

08 Overarching Bliss Realm Mechanics

09 Priestess pictures for Athalia - refs, tattoos, etc

10 Jacob’s Men talking about Bliss Shipment Amounts for Various REgions, Bliss Barrel capacity

11 Faith’s character arc, [Redacted for spoilers] - Major Plot Developments for All Main Characters

12 Angels versus Lost Souls

So, fun tidbits from these various docs! Some are implicitly dark because Faith is a Seed and Seeds don’t get to have happy, fun backgrounds in cult-centric AUs like ACABH, poor souls. The first Angel that Faith ever made, and the first ever Angel of the Project, was a woman named Abigail. It was an accident. Researched the first and last (and alternate) names for both Rachel Jessop, Faith, and Tracey Lader. Fun stuff honestly, Tracey’s is very fitting in that one definition of the name is taken from the Irish word "treasach" meaning "war-like" or "fighter." Lader is from Old English and Middle English words meaning to load; draw up (water specifically.) Rachel is as far as biblical names go, the name of the favorite wife of Jacob, and means “ewe” as in a female sheep. Fitting in a metaphorical sacrificial lamb way, if one chooses to look at it like that, among other sheep-like metaphors such as following the herd, etc. Rachel’s father was a doctor who researched the biochemistry of various plant  based compounds that he extracted from specimens he grew at home in controlled conditions. Her mother ran a florist shop and delivery chain, and grew orchids in the green house as a past time. Rachel was passionate about the sciences when she was young, but neither parent looked upon this favorably for various (toxic and abusive) reasons, leading Rachel to become far more withdrawn and reclusive about her passions and activities—in as much as she could manage, beneath her parents’ ironclad rule. Rachel in the present day still is passionate about biology (specifically botany) and biochemistry, but keeps that to herself unless she really happens to trust the other person. There was a brief time when she was a more rebellious and spirited young girl—but her parents quickly stamped that out through any means necessary, including force. It is a major reason as to why Rachel is so conflict avoidant: she remembers how badly it can go, how quickly it can escalate, and she is so very aware of the inherent fragility of both life and limb. There are quite a few conflicting points-of-view regarding the deaths of Rachel’s predecessors, and a great deal of misinformation. Rachel believes that the Seeds aren’t being entirely forthcoming with her about how their own abilities work and the limits of said abilities, and that there’s a lot of secrets not being told regarding the details of how the two former Faiths died. Selena was the first Faith, chosen while the Project was still in its infancy, long before they had made it to Hope County, and Joseph was so sure she’d be the prophesied fourth Herald to help shepherd the faithful through the Collapse. Lana was the second, stepping up to fill the role when Selena died—but Lana died two months later, with both Faiths’ deaths serving as markers of the dangers of the then proto-Bliss-realm. Rachel had been at the Project for half a year at that point, and was the one who took up the mantle of Faith and has served ever since for the past seven years. She was eighteen when she took up the name Faith, but despite her young age had marked accomplishments to her name that had put her forward as a candidate, namely her works with the geneticist Peter on developing the first strains of the drug that would later come to be called the Bliss. This lead to huge leaps and bounds of development with regards to the psychic network that would become the Bliss Realm, and without Rachel’s work, it would be safe to say the Bliss both in drug and psychic plane form, would likely not exist. Jessop as a name is potentially from a root name of Joseph in the form of Yosef, meaning “may God increase, or add (another son)” which ties into Rachel’s family’s thwarted desire for a son rather than a daughter very well in this AU. Thematically, Rachel does arguably share ideology from both Jacob and Joseph, so in a way that is also extremely apropos for her. Ah, Tracey. She did not come from a happy home life either—but that doesn’t surprise anyone in the slightest I think. Her father left her mother the moment he found out she was pregnant, and that’s all Tracey knows and wants to know of him. Her mother worked hard to support them but was absent most of the time, leaving Tracey with relatives to keep an eye on her. Said relatives were very shitty in their treatment of her, leading to a whole host of problems for Tracey to deal with growing up, ranging from neglect to verbal and emotional abuse. This is a cluster of reasons among others that lead to Tracey learning to look out for herself—and to stick up for those who couldn’t look after themselves. She and Rachel met in high school, and they were each other’s first real meaningful friend. It was when they were together that they first thought of the possibility of a better life than all the horror and terribleness they had to live through so far in their very young lives. They were so sure they’d be friends forever...until they weren’t. As of writing this, there are currently six major strains of the drug bliss in ACABH, including Regular Bliss, Sleeper’s Bliss, The Chosen’s Sacrement, The Angels’ Bliss, Cleanser Bliss, and Red Bliss. Variant strains within those major categories also exist as it’s an on-going series of projects for Faith and her followers, with varying levels of involvement from other Heralds, regions, etc. Red Bliss is specific to Jacob’s region and is used in both the Judgification process and the Trials. The others are all largely self explanatory for the most part, or explained or will be explained in the fic. Bliss darts! These are what John’s hunters use, same substrain of Sleeper Bliss that Jacob’s hunters and Faith’s followers use in the form of Bliss arrows and Bliss grenades (think like smoke grenades) to capture non-Project-members too, alongside their attempts to capture the Deputy. Joshua still has a nice stash of them at this point, so the whole family’s in on this. Commonly used even in the Project’s rank and file to subdue kidnapped targets. People can die permanently if they suffer sufficient psychic injury or psychic death in the Bliss in general, but that’s not a guarantee. If some form of psychic death is induced while the person is in the Bliss, it’s possible with immediate medical response to potentially resuscitate said person. Some people can “die” in the Bliss without problem though, aside from likely waking up in a panic as if from a very stressful nightmare. Most people can’t without being connected to the private Bliss network in Jacob’s region—Jacob’s is specifically split off from the rest of the Bliss Realm through the exclusive use of Red Bliss, though Faith and her priestesses could in theory cross over and connect to Jacob’s network, they generally do not. It is easier for Jacob’s people to cross over to the main Bliss network than it is for other rank and file or even Chosen that belong to other Heralds to enter the Red Bliss network if they are not induced into it through drug use. The Heralds have a much easier time of it, but it’s still difficult—Faith and Joseph have abilities that allow easier passage for it among other things, whereas John would struggle more with it sans other additional factors to help said effort along. Athalia was originally one of John’s people before she transferred to help support the previous Faiths, and Rachel retained her as Head Priestess from early on, striking up something like a friendship over time. Some of Athalia’s loyalties may still lie with her old Herald though moreso than her chosen Herald, certainly some of her outlook mirrors John’s dogma moreso than Faith’s, though Athalia keeps that underwraps more often than not. They have a SHIT TON of bliss being shipped around to the different regions. They have to have one hell of an industry for making the stuff to keep up with that scale, depending on what the chemical makeup and ratios are. The doc regarding the plotting of Faith’s arc is all spoilers, so we’re skipping any mention of it here. Angels are different from what the Project calls Lost Souls due to the fact that Angels aren’t 100% disconnected from their bodies and lost in the Bliss Realm, they’re still distantly connected to their corporeal forms in reality, just busy enjoying the Bliss high trip and for the most part uninterested in returning to the real world...for the most part. A minor part of the job for Faith’s people is to ensure that the Angels don’t wander too far in the Bliss realm, or else they’ll become Lost Souls and if gone too far for too long (average length of time spent too far required to become a Lost Soul is a little over a week), this separation can induce major multiple organ failure, including cardiac arrest. It is possible to revive a Lost Soul, much like with reviving someone who died a Bliss-plane death, but it requires that the person’s soul in the Bliss Realm be found and brought back immediately, to sustain the body without extensive external life support systems. Even then, brain death has been known to happen. What counts as “too far” varies from person to person, but the general rule of thumb is within shouting distance—namely, having the Angel’s psychic form in the Bliss Realm’s counterpart of the real world being within shouting distance of where the Angel’s physical body is in the waking world. Brief bouts of separation have not been noted to cause harm to Angels, so it’s fairly lax as duties go to shepherd their souls about and is often tasked to lower ranking Priestesses on the day to day basis. ————— Redshift Collision ————— Redshift Collision is a fun idea that spawned from a crossover fanfic idea I was considering a while ago before letting it evolve into its own original fantasy setting with sci-fi elements instead. It centers on a character named Edgar Loom, short for Loomis, which is his family name. A bit of cultural trivia about the name: The reason he’s called Loom instead of Loomis is because only the heads of a house may use the full family name, everyone else is introduced with a derivative surname. As Loom is next in line to be the head of their household, he is typically the one people refer to when using the name “Loom”, though casual use of the derivative name happens for applicable family members here and there as the situation calls for. First names are typically a much more private affair, and people typically have “use” names that they give when introducing themselves to others including but not limited to prospective business partners, strangers, distant family members, etc. Telling someone your given first name is seen as a huge sign of trust, the equivalent of saying that the other person is part of your inner circle. It is generally expected that first names not be given out prior to knowing someone for a socially acceptable amount of time (length of time not given because I’m not done working out the calendar yet.) Typically, the head(s) of house can use just the family name as their use name if desired, or if there are multiple heads of house then their own use name can be used either as a stand alone or combined with the famiy name. In Loom’s case, since he’s next in line, his use name is typically Loom by default, thus why he’s called that in the ensuing paragraphs. Loom is the only child of his parents, much beloved and happy with his lot in life, having spent his time apprenticed in order to learn how to take up his father and mother’s trade, namely overlooking the production of luxury textiles in the guild of weavers (you can imagine where their ancestors got the surname Loomis from.) Tragedy however has befallen their world in the last two decades, an unknown cataclysmic event has shorn the very fabric of reality in such alien angles, even the gods are left scrambling as they try to figure out what has happened—and what is happening. Despite the new dangers and unforeseen changes that continue to twist the fabric of their world however, life goes on. People still survive, and flourish, adapting as they can to the strangeness that has taken root upon their planet. However, one of the new shifts brought about in their world includes new diseases—plagues. One such disease is called Wraith Fade, so named for what a person becomes as the disease progresses, and how. It is unknown how Wraith Fade is transmitted, but it is widely suspected to be magical in some form, due to lack of evidence for it being transmitted through the more common corporeal means. Loom contracts Wraith Fade, and he and his family all know that it’s a death sentence—sufferers of Wraith Fade are typically observed to have a year or for the more robust two before succumbing to the disease. Typically, the course of treatment is for the afflicted persons to make good of their last days, and then to call for a doctor to help with euthanasia—most countries if not all sponsor covering costs for this procedure to varying degrees, due to the dangers that wraiths pose if left unchecked. And wraiths are very dangerous, and very hard to kill. One of the early to mid stage symptoms is what appears to be a magically-induced loss of voice—both medical professionals and thaumaturgical researchers are at a loss for the mechanics of it, as studies do not register readings of magical structures either natural or artificial that would induce a silence effect. Various treatments have been attempted, but no direct results have been observed thus far in the trials. Another symptom is what has been referred to as “greying”—specifically, a gradual fading into total translucency and loss of most forms of color in the afflicted person’s physical appearance. The silencing and greying that sufferers of Wraith Fade endure eventually comes to encompass most if not all sounds that they make towards the end of the disease’s incubation period, and coupled with the greying effect this translates into a near silent and visually obscured entity when the person loses themselves fully to wraithood. Older wraiths have been observed as occasionally being able to silence entire areas seemingly at will for brief periods of time, and some of the more markedly dangerous individual wraiths have even learned to disappear from sight completely in what appears to be true invisibility. Their hardiness and resistance to what would constitute mortal injury to many living beings also seems to be supernatural in origin, though it is yet one more area that eludes researchers and experts to a vexing degree. What makes wraiths so dangerous however is their penchant for hunting in sporadic and irregular patterns, and the predominant pattern of many wraiths taking to heavily populated areas as a preference. Why they hunt people is a mystery, as sufferers of Wraith Fade are noted as slowly losing sensations of hunger and thirst, and late stage sufferers going without either food or drink without succumbing to starvation or thirst beyond noted secondary effects. The individual modus operandi of a given wraith develops over time, to terrifying results. It is not unusual or imprudent for the public to break into mass hysteria should a murder occur in a city, with people fearing that a new wraith has taken up residence. It is for this reason that sufferers of Wraith Fade are at times persecuted and sometimes killed on sight by unruly mobs, so-called vigilantes, and at times even government-sanctioned organizations in some countries. It is dangerous to travel for both the afflicted and for others, should the afflicted’s health take a turn for the worse and their condition deteriorates faster into wraithood. There is no known cure for Wraith’s Fade—but there are rumors of one, in the strange and distant city-state of Wyrrawyr. Loom is however a soul defined by hope, in that moment of definition. He chooses to try and seek out this rumored cure, and he and his family and friends have a tearful goodbye, knowing this full well could be the last time they see each other in this life. Wyrrawyr is a strange place. It is the city of stained glass, the gateway to the Snowfeld Sea, the broken circle which once sat as the crown jewel of the mighty Hederan Empire, the land of a thousand sieges—and a land of the old ways. Wyrrawyr has been conquered many times, but no conqueror has ever met with good fortune when trying to rule that place. Ill fortune plagues any power that tries to rule that city for long, and Wyrrawyr has garnered a reputation as a place to avoid...not that everyone listens to such tales. It is known as a cursed place to many, but those brave souls who dare to call it home say otherwise. The local gods of Wyrrawyr in particular are strange in their antics when seen through the eyes of the more northern countries, but not so strange as the people—some of whom say the city itself is a divine being in its own right. It is for that reason first and foremost that the Northern Alliance calls it the city of heretics, proud and unyielding in their strange ways. But age-old feuds are reduced to mere distractions as the entire world shudders as the shifts seemingly grow more aggressive where once they were placid. The landscape of their home world seems to shift more drastically in a short span of time than ever it has before, and many are driven to terror at the thought that reality may be collapsing into an unrecognizable form of chaos as they watch the mechanics of their world come apart at the seams. Loom arrives to a sundered Wyrrawyr, as parted and torn with unknown magical phenomena as if a slip-strike earthquake had cracked the earth’s crust open. It is in a sundered Wyrrawyr that Loom meets Death. Specifically, the local Wyrrawyran incarnation of Death, who offers Loom a deal: stand as Death’s champion and agent to investigate the phenomenons, and to enact Death’s will in restoring a form of natural order back to their world—among Loom’s tasks should he accept is to find those souls spirited away by forces unknown. Gods unknown, perhaps, is Death’s suspicion. In exchange for Loom’s services, Death offers him an out that will spare him from dying from Wraith Fade—and this is the only way to avoid that fate and all the sinister after effects that come with it. But both their deal and the “cure,”—in so much as it can be called that—requires Loom to leave their home world, never to return again. Loom must go where Death cannot: into the new world that is slowly colliding with their own, the two ripping each other apart like the collision of galaxies into a new, singular galaxy. A world where magic is a foreign idea, and technology is the watchword of nearly all who live there. A world that is out of place. This collision shouldn’t have happened. These two worlds were not on a collision course—far from it, they had been moving away from each other in their shared planes of existence. That is why the gods of Loom’s world have taken to calling the matter the Redshift Collision. It is the possibility of survival and a world full of the unknown that Death offers, should Loom agree—or, as a mercy, the option of a swift, safe, and painless passing into death and the afterlife, if Loom would prefer to die in his home world while he is still himself. Loom accepts. And that’s the starting point for Redshift Collision’s story!

[thatfrenchacademic]

A message from your future TA if you are starting college this fall :

On attendance : Attend lectures, attend workshop/tutorials/whatever the session with the TA is named.

On attendance - bis : If you can’t attend because you work, because it conflicts with other obligations (practice for university sport team, weekly medical appointements, work/student job), do not stay silent and just miss lectures/TA-sessions. Tell your TA/college administration. At worst, they are at least aware of it and know you aren’t just skipping for no reasons. At best, they can solve the situation.

On attendance - ter : If you cannot attend smaller group sessions with your TA,  I would advise to just ask them in the beginning of the semester what their preference is : do you have to tell them in advance or not ? Some TAs I know like to be informed, some don’t. Ask.

On readings : Have a look at the syllabus of each course, notice the readings. If there are entire book, get these books (second hand or e-book versions are absolutely fine, but pay attention to the year of edition!!) and get familiar with them. No, you don’t need to have read all of them by the start of the term. Yes, you most likely will have to read all of them by the end of the semester.

On questions/emails : No, you are not annoying when you send emails asking questions about something you did not understand. Do we whine because it takes us time to answer ? Yes. But 90% of us also know it is simply part of our job, and if we don’t have enough time or aren’t paid enough for the jobs, we don’t blame it on the students. 

On questions/emails - bis : we may whine a bit because answering student emails take time. We WILL whine WAY MORE grading papers where students clearly missed the point. And we LOVE seeing something that we took the time to explain then properly used in a student paper.

On participation and talking in class : College is filled with young, or less young, people who speak loudly, pseudo-eloquently and a lot (I teach political science, where these things get turned up to 11 on a daily basis). Don’t be initimidated, you are both taking the same class and using the same material, there is not particular reason why they would be more entitled to speak than you. You contribution does not have to be impressive, or even perfect or eloquent. And if you were actually wrong ? Whatever. We don’t care, you showed an interest, and it’s more important at your level than to show mastery. 

On assignements : No way around these. Do them. Do not plagiarize, we can and will find out. A assignement imperfect and done is always better than an assignement perfect but late. If you think you have a very good reason, you can ask for an extension. At best, you get an extension. At worst, you don’t but the eprson grading you will know that the bad paper does not come from a place of disinterest from you. And it does matter.

On notes : Take complete notes. On computer, on paper, in blue, in black, in pink, with pictures, rainbow color, diagram, block of texts,  stickers, drawings, quotes, whatever. Re-write them to make them pretty, keep them messy and spontaneous, whatever. Everyone works differently, find what works for you, find inspiration in the way other people do it, but there is no one-size-fits-all method. 

On asking for help : get familiar with the ressources your College has, even if you don’t think you are going to need it :

for physical health : is there a doctor/nurse on site ? Are there specialists ? How to make appointements ? What are the fees ? 

for mental health : Are there support groups ? How often to they meet ? Who attens them ? Counsellors ? Psychologists ? Psychatrists ? What are the procedures to get an appointements ?  How long is the waiting list ?(trust me, there is a waiting list)

for studying/work : if you are a foreign student, is there a “writing in {language in use in the Unviersity}” course/support system ? Do they offer lessons ? Review your work ? Is there some tutoring system ? 

On extra-curricular activities : DO. THEM. College is a time to grow. It’s a time to study you ass off, but also a time to grow into the well-rounded person you want to be. So get to know the student societies/associations/charities. Sports, arts, social, religion, political, whatever. Do something that you definitely enjoy, and will get you out of the routine of studying non-stop. If you don’t find anything within your college, go outside and find something there, no problem ! And if you are like me, with an aversion to any social gathering and just want to crawl up in the library and study for 4 years because you think it’s what’s best for your futur postgrad applications? Remember that your resume is going to look dry and sad, without any extra-curricular activity. Trust me. It will.  

[Hopefully this has been of some help, anyone please feel free to add to the “list of things I wish Undergrad really knew” !]

[donotexterminateupgradepudding]

Lucifer Morningstar is an introvert.  A very awkward and unusual introvert.

In an attempt to not create a bunch of random side-blogs, I’m just going to drop this here.  Sorry Doctor Who/Torchwood fans.

With the whole covid-19 thing, I’ve been trapped at home more than I had anticipated recently and I was looking for something a bit more fun and frivolous to watch so I finally gave Lucifer a go.

I honestly don’t know why it took me so long to get to this, my brother had watched it when it was on tv and had mentioned it in passing several times.  Suffice to say, once I finally gave into Netflix, I found it to be quite an enjoyable watch.

What really struck me in the serious is how it becomes obvious that Lucifer is an introverted character who is hurt.  Wait - what you are thinking?  He’s an introvert?  Oh man, he’s totally a huge introvert.

Let me walk you through why he’s clearly an introvert despite a quick glance at his outward actions.

1.) Hiding in plain sight. 

An interesting aspect to his personality is how he hides in plain sight.  When he moves to LA, he rents the building that houses Lux and his penthouse suite.  Lux is a place where he is surrounded by people, if he wants to partake in revelry all he needs to do is go downstairs and party with people in the club.  However, he can also retreat to his place easily which is surprisingly well stocked with books and another piano for him to play in private.  I doubt all of his books are for show, he frequently denies thinking deeply about things, but he always seems to be one step ahead of others which has always implied to me he plays the “I’m smarter than I look/act” card.  Early on in the show, he occasionally invited people up to his place to party but it wasn’t a common experience.  Think of the pizza delivery guy being invited to stay and party.

Despite his love of drinking, drug use and sex, he makes it quite clear that drinking and drug use rarely have an effect on him for long.  He is rarely hung over or wasted since his metabolism clears the alcohol too quickly for him to feel it and on multiple occasions he states he mainly drinks as he likes the taste.  One of the few times he was high was after he smoked a massive amount of pot at the teenage delinquent recovery farm as indicated by him sitting at the detective’s desk eating potato chips and dipping them in nutella realizing it was an amazing flavor combination.  For him, drugs seem to simply be something that is fun and a way to amuse himself and based on his drinking, it is mainly a way to meet and socialize with people.

As far as the sex, it is clear that he uses his casual hook-ups as a fun distraction.  To avoid any possible intimacy with others, he hides behind the fact that sex is a pleasurable act and by keeping his sex life 100% casual, no person in his or her right mind would even consider dating him.  He has made himself impossible to be seen as possible long term boyfriend in a steady relationship.  He likely struggles with his own angelic power to pull out people’s desires and his ability to seduce them.  Since his default is to have people literally throw themselves at him, he likely sees most of them acting in response to his powers and necessarily to him as a person.  As he wants people to follow their desires and free-will (as he simply removed the inhibitions that were present and did not create them) he gladly indulges them as well as himself.  If I were him, I’d be like “well why not?” an attractive person wants to sleep with me, sure do it, no harm, no foul.

I found it most telling based on how sensitive he is to his sexual reputation as well as his ability to meet his current sexual partner’s needs.  First off, when a random kid pretended to be him, he was incredibly upset that his imposter lacked his skills.  He’s Lucifer Morningstar, he has skills and a reputation associated with them.  Secondly, when the detective decided to interview his previous partners for the past 8 weeks (all 92 of them) two things were very obvious i.) he went to great lengths to make sure no matter what he did, that person had the most amazing sex of his or her life ii.) not a single person he slept with saw it as anything more than an amazing night of no strings attracted sex.  His actions did not inspire them to want more of a relationship from him.  How his facial expression become quite sad as all 92 of them stated it was just empty sex showed how alone he is. Another unusual trait is that he has been the most sexually responsible angel ever.  Granted, the vast majority of angels were never going to have sex in the first place, yet he has a much more responsible track record than Amenadiel.  It is clear that he has had sex with thousands upon thousands of humans over the years and he never once resulted in a human-angel pregnancy.  This may also be linked to the fact that Amenadiel by default, desires a ‘normal’ regular relationship while Lucifer has been avoiding having a “normal” relationship.  It would imply that if he found someone to have a kid with, he would be in a “normal” long term relationship with that person.

Overall, his first career on earth was to make sure he had an establishment that represented what he felt others perceived as his core personality, that as the devil, he would have to surround himself by partying and temptations.  Owning Lux is a way for him to keep up appearances and maintain his public persona as well as his persona that is seen by celestial beings.  Lucifer is a classic example of a character who is totally alone in a crowd.

2.) Few close friends

Another true introvert trait is to have a small tight knit group of friends.  Lucifer fits to this exactly.  He has excellent social skills, and again due to his former job and his nature, yet does many actions by smooth, polite and calculated actions - from a distance.  His job of granting favors is based on how he knows someone, who knows someone, forming a vast network he has to draw upon to make sure that the favors work out the way the person would like them to.  He doesn’t do the favors though because he cares for the person, more than he seems to do it to pass the time until he finds a job with more meaning.

It is starting his second job as a civilian consultant for the LAPD that his preference and need for a small friend group becomes obvious.  The most obvious one is his relationship with Chloe. 

Chloe Decker: He is first intrigued at why his powers do not work on her, his immediate physical attraction to her as well as seeing her as a kindred spirit also drew him to her. She is the outcast of the department and he knows all too well what it feels like to be the literal outcast.  As a result of their common situation and the fact he can’t sway her, the two of them can speak openly and honestly.  Granted, the biggest issue with his relationship with Chloe is the fact that she denies the obvious truth that he tells her even though she has seen enough evidence that he likely is not some random British guy living in LA running a high end nightclub.

As their relationship deepens he begins to find comfort in the fact that despite his inability to influence her, she still appreciates his company and values him as a friend and a work partner.  Even though he panics and holds her miracle status against her at first, he comes to realize she can’t be held responsible for something she has no control of and is unaware of.  Linda time and time again tries to get him to realize that he keeps her away due to his absolute fear that she would reject him.  Since she’s the only person who could accept him as is, it means her acceptance of him is the biggest risk to his own heart in regards to her. 

In part, his complicated relationship is tied to his fear that she would reject him, so him loving and caring for a single person as he does for her is too risky.  He’s a seriously hurt dude, he’s terrified of being hurt anymore by someone he cares for.  Chloe really takes a long time to realize how deeply he is hurt.  I get that she’s his opposite but I do felt out of all of the characters, she got short end of the stick in regards to character development.  Everyone else has had major changes and realizations yet she only sort of struggled with Lucifer’s identity in the first half of season 4 and she was off her “mark” when she was a bit preachy with him.  Thankfully, she stopped that bit and realized that he more needed her to listen to him and to support him.  It really got that concept that sometimes you need to just be there for someone and not try to fix it - since Chloe is a fixer. 

Mazikeen:  She is his right-hand woman.  The only demon to leave hell to follow him to earth, she first acted as his personal assistant, running the day to day operations of Lux and also working as a bartender.  Despite all of their conflicts, they care deeply for each other and have each other’s back.

The hardest part of growth in their relationship is when it went from master-servant/boss-assistant to more that of peers.  Even as he began to change in how he worked with humans, he keep their relationship as their default from hell.  He really hurt her feelings since she developed feelings and both of them are terrible at expressing them to others.  They have a relationship and work dynamic that they had for thousands and thousands of years - it is pretty impressive that they are learning and growing in a relatively short time period to respect each other and mature.

I found the most emotionally moving parts between them to be in season 3 when Chloe begins to get involved with Cain/Pierce and he expresses his worry that at least he has her and she’ll never leave him.  Maze interprets this as him being selfish and treating her as his number 2.  She lashes out at him and all he does is look back at her in return is hurt as he almost quivers.  Since she was his right hand woman in hell, she is the person with whom he has had the longest and most trusting relationship with since being cast into hell.  Did he phrase things in a way that helped in the situation - no.  But was he telling her his honest feelings that he really does feel like she is someone who is always there for him and supports him - yes.   When she goes behind his back to work with Cain/Pierce, he’s hurt and feels betrayed.  Sure, some of it is karmic payback for the times he’s hurt her, but after his failed experiment with Abel, he has every right to not just pop willy-nilly between earth and hell.

I have the vibe that they will eventually settle into a sibling like relationship treating each other the same way he interacts with his angel siblings like Amenadiel and Azrael.

Ella Lopez: So far Ella has been the only human friend that he has worked with with whom he hasn’t used his angelic charms on.  He was uncomfortable around her at first; she’s religious, she’s outwardly friendly and very much into giving hugs.  Ella “wastes” her time on what he would see as pointless pleasantries in the office.  Yes, Lucifer will lay on the pleasantries, but his always have a purpose - Ella’s are just her being nice.  He did like her opinion that the devil got a bad rap, but then she kept thinking he was a method actor in addition to being a nightclub owner.

Despite their obvious differences the two of them are both very straightforward people who have a strong sense of personal justice and are dedicated to solving the crimes.  He quickly begins to joke around with her and with her four older brothers, she finds no issue with dealing with his antics - it is more like par for the course. 

The fact that Azrael also couldn’t help but become friends with her seems to indicate she has some sort of personality that celestial beings really like, especially those who have the shittier jobs e.g. Lucifer running hell and punishing and Azrael being the angel of death dealing with, well, death.  The fact that she made sure Ella would become friends with Lucifer was really sweet and even though he was at first upset since he doesn’t like people trying to manipulate with him, he realized that Azrael’s action was in right place. She got her favorite brother and favorite human to become friends since she knew they would get along even if she couldn’t be with them - you know, having the whole angel of death as her day job.

His love of Ella as a friend though came out when her older brother Jay was in town and mixed up in the illegal diamond cleaning.  Yes, he brought his own feelings with his older brother into the mix, but he was correct.  Jay is not the absolutely perfect brother, he was involved in shady stuff.  I think when he confronted Jay was one of the best scenes in regards to him standing up for and protecting his friends.  He made it very clear that if Jay ever hurt Ella again he’d be in trouble as he knew how important it was to her to continue to see her brother in her own most positive light.

I really get the vibe that they feed off of each other being goofballs - Ella was a nerd and picked on as kid and had a lot of issues to deal with.  He’s the cast out son, they are both outcasts on the rebound and they like to have fun with each other.  This really comes to a head in season 4 when Lucifer, Chloe and Ella go to the nudist colony.   Chloe is a complete stick in the mud and by the time she turns around the two of them are naked and ready to go.  As adults on their own and away from their family and their former “teenage” issues they finally get to be who they want to be and I just think their dynamic duo antics are adorable.  She is the friend that will do silly things with him while Chloe remains too, well stoic. When Ella has her crisis of faith, Lucifer doesn’t fan the flames instead, he’s confused how to react so he doesn’t tell her what to think.

Trixie:   She immediately loved Lucifer from the moment she met him.  He is incredibly awkward with her.  He’s not sure to do with her little kid hugs, he tries to not hold her hand when they investigate the elite private school.  Yet, no matter how frequently he calls her a little urchin and doesn’t understand why she likes him, she grows on him.

I personally loved her bedroom sign in the first season - “Trixie’s room - no boys allowed - except for Lucifer.”

Trixie is a classic example of kid radar seeing people for who they are; she accepts Lucifer and Maze with no judgement, she just sees them as these rad adults whom she can play with. 

I really liked when he tried to buy her the new doll since she destroyed her old one - in a way he respected her kid logic - did it teach her a lesson - no.  But it was a logical extension as a means to an end.  He came from a background of illogical parenting so to speak.  He dealt with rules that didn’t always make sense it is clear he spent too much time pondering them thus leading to his current situation.

Does he like other children still? Not really, he still didn’t know what to do when he touched a kid’s head with a little pat as his backyard picnic with Cain as he wiped his hand on his sweater.   Yet, since he has gotten to know Trixie through his interactions with her it is clear that he likes her.

Dr. Linda Martin: Dr. Martin is my fav female character on the entire show as she is a compassionate, caring and intelligent individual and a secret badass.  Her relationship with Lucifer started how all of his interactions with people who desire him do - with her wanting to sleep with him.  Over time, she realizes that she can’t and shouldn’t be sleeping with him and he also begins to realize that he can work with her without having to pay her with his body and pay her the normal way - with money.  He learns to treat himself with more respect and not just give away himself to her.  Showing a bit of a shift in how he sees himself with those he actually knows.

I think she really was his first example of how to have a normal human transaction with well, a human.  She is incredibly patient with him and even when he reveals his true self to her, she is able to accept him with a little nudge from Maze.  Despite being overwhelmed due to his families odd demands on her and almost killed by his very upset and stressed out mother, she protects him as a client and as a friend. 

Sure, he always interprets her advice in interesting ways and she knows him well enough to realize that he avoids things and is in denial but she always still cares for him.  He also does frequently figure out what she wants him to realize - he just likes to make it more difficult for himself.  I wonder if the more that they got to know each other, his ability to influence her waned as she saw him as more than a playboy and he saw her as a doctor who could help him and later as a good and trusted friend.

Most importantly, she never gives up on him and truly believes in him despite all of his detours and distractions.  When he has his identity crisis in season 4, she is the first person he shows his devil wings to.  This comes from a place of deep trust in her and even though she can’t help him, she is there for him as a friend. 

I don’t think he’d ever admit it to her directly, but Lucifer likely understands that Linda’s friendship with Maze has helped Maze grow as a person - er demon - and her advice has helped him in how he interacts with her learning how to change his relationship with her from boss-assistant to more that of peers and friends.

Dan Espinoza: Oh yes, despite all of their stupid male ego headbutting, Lucifer is friends with Dan and he does care for the man.  When they first met, Dan was definitely a being a bit of a dick to Chloe; mainly by keeping his own secrets to protect her even though it drove her nuts.  If anything bothers Lucifer more it is people lying and hiding things from him.  Lucifer is almost pathological with telling the truth and not lying; and well Dan was not the most honest at the beginning.

So of course, he received full on Lucifer hazing; once the police admin punished him by demoting him for messing with evidence he slowly became more sympathetic to Dan.  He did use his skills to get Dan to admit that he wanted to correct his mistakes and when Dan started to lose it with Azrael’s blade, he saw that Dan was a stronger and more complicated man than he wanted him to be.  If Dan were a simple man, driven by simple desires and actions, Lucifer could write him off.  But Dan isn’t, his biggest change is when he realized he needed to stop calling him Detective Douche and actually call him Dan, in part due to Dan standing up to his teasing.  

Was it right for Lucifer to keep up his petty antics for so long?  Likely not, but Lucifer learned that some of Dan’s actions and personality traits are actually good things and his day shadowing Dan was annoying for poor Dan, but at least allowed him to realize that not everyone is the same.

Lucifer also has been more honest about his feelings in front of Dan than many others - when they went to get a favor from the Russian mob boss, he freely admitted his own hatred for himself and how he hurts everyone he cares about. If he said that in front of Chloe or Ella, both of them would rush to tell him it isn’t true and he’s being too hard on himself.  Instead, Dan kept his distance and realized that both of them think the grass is greener on their side of the fence.  Lucifer is secretly jealous of Dan’s more simple approach to things and Dan thinks Lucifer truly is careless and wishes he could be a flippant as he appears to be.

Dan really is a reminder how how Lucifer is unable to open up to others and make himself more vulnerable.  Unfortunately, this results in Dan frequently getting hurt and he makes epic bad decisions in season 4 out of grief over Charlotte’s death, blaming Lucifer for all of his pain.  But no matter what happens, it is clear that Lucifer would not wish for bad things to happen to Dan as he is a good guy and a capable detective.

Is their friendship a perfect one?  Far from it, but both of them really do try to care and support the other guy as long as they aren’t pissed off at each other.  It likely doesn’t help that Lucifer���s friendship with Dan is pretty much his only one with a normal human guy.  He’s got plenty of angelic brothers and Cain really isn’t normal by a long shot so it makes Dan even more important to have him in his circle of close friends.  As a 100% totally normal dude, Dan acts frequently as the ‘in’ to understanding (or really lack of understanding) what is happening.

Eve:  I just finished re-watching season 4.  I’m still not sure where I’d place Eve in all of this.  She’s only in season 4 so far and based on her actions, I’m not sure I’d call her one of his close friends. If anything she was pretty much an impediment to all of his relationships - albeit maybe not quite on purpose . . .  she’s a woman who still hasn’t figured out who she is despite realizing she needs to not define herself in the context of a relationship. 

Sorry for not having more thoughts on this, I need to ponder it more. 

What I will say is that their relationship issues stem from the fact that he is an introvert and she’s an extrovert.  He realized that Eve was a “bad” influence on him and he struggled to express his feelings to her.  The fact that it takes him shouting out at her that he “doesn’t like who he is when he’s with her” was painfully difficult for him to say.  It is clear that he cares about her deeply and he wants her to be happy.  Yet, he can’t and really doesn’t want to deliver on her actions or feelings.  The worst part is that it tears him up inside since in a way he saw her as a possible long term partner which was a big deal for him.

3.) Works either alone or in small groups. 

When it comes to his role with the LAPD, Lucifer’s modes of action are not that of a typical extrovert.  He is either working closely with his partner Chloe, or occasionally with Ella or Dan.  He is never part of a large group nor is he taking a typical leadership role.  Due to his need to protect others and his need to get answers as quickly and directly as possible, he frequently goes off on his own.  In part, this is so that he can take full advantage of his angelic powers and immortality, but also to protect those he cares about.  Sure, he walks into a Korean gang headquarters and tells them to come out, but he doesn’t try to chit chat or smooth things over with them.  He goes in, finds the head boss and pretty much strikes a deal with him that he can’t refuse.  When he wants an answer his methods are far too direct.  Find suspect/target/person and just question them or threaten them and then question them.  There is no charming and social games.  He can’t be bothered with banal pleasantries when he wants to know something.  If Lucifer were a true extrovert he would want to talk to others and feed off of the energy he gets from being with them - yet - he never has shown this.  He sees getting information as a task he needs to complete as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Even though he is hurt when Chloe and Cain become closer and begin to hang out or work cases without him, he still shows up and does work to help out with cases.  He also is good at working by himself and is able to work things out when he applies himself.

He also has an excellent sense of intuition when reading people.  Of course, one of the major aspects of the show is that he projects his own issues onto others.  This leads him off of what they are doing sometimes, so his read isn’t quite right.  But he is perceptive when he sees odd behaviors and is able to connect things without full information.  This is both what he did with Ella’s brother Jay and more importantly with Pierce/Cain.  He invites him for a drink and then stabs him with the knife.  He looks incredibly nervous after he kills him as he can’t kill a human as an angel - he keeps switching between trying to be calm and have a drink while he waits for him to wake up with a nervous sweat.  Did he know for sure Pierce was Cain?  No, hence the nervousness until his intuition was proven correct was his true feelings on his gamble.

Furthermore, when he does work with Chloe or others, he always has their back and will go to any length to work with them.  This to me indicates that he finds working with a select few people with whom he can trust is how he is most comfortable and he doesn’t need to be the center of attention and the one in charge like how he was in charge of hell. It is clear that by the end of season 4 even though he returned to hell it wasn’t because he enjoyed to or wanted to - it was because he had to protect everyone he cared about.  He also has a natural chemistry and ease working with Chloe where even in tough situations they instinctively know what to do and how to act.

4.) He expresses himself through actions. 

Lucifer is an incredibly hurt individual.  He was punished by having to take a job that he didn’t even want or even desire and most of his family abandoned him.  He’s terrified to open up and show his true feelings and pain to others as they would take advantage of it as a weakness to hurt him further. Honestly, I think he still doesn’t quite understand how his actions landed him in hell.  He was questioning the establishment and it is clear he thinks deeply about rules and how they influence others.  Anything he thinks is illogical he ignores as he can’t be bothered to care to follow those rules and conventions.  I think about how he made Chloe rethink the “swear jar” for Trixie - he pointed out rules without a clear basis don’t make sense.

Since he struggles to express his feelings in a way to help others. e.g. mainly in his denial/fear to tell Chloe he truth does two things; i.) he makes it about him or ii.) he tries to demonstrate through his actions.

The making it about him method, is a subtle way where he wants to know how to solve his own problem to help him understand or interact with others.  But since he doesn’t want to say for example “I need to figure out how Cain can die since I promised him and I am true to my word.” he instead hides behind the idea of “I need to find the author’s killer so I can read how she got over her writers block.”  By extension, since the manuscript is an instruction guide, he thinks he’ll learn something so that he can follow through on his promise.  It is a very obtuse way to act, but since he hides behind his narcissistic facade no one will understand he’s not doing it for himself.

As far as his actions, he really shows it when he reorganizes Chloe’s desk; he realizes that she deals with all the paperwork and since she is capable she gets even more paperwork piled on to her workload.  He cleans up her mess and anal retentively arranges her pencils and makes sure the right angles on the files are all lined up.  He also found a method of filing that makes more sense to him and it inadvertently helps her find the missing piece of evidence for their most recent case.  I liked how he color coded everything.  Did he need to add the picture of him in his underwear as her backdrop?  Hell no, but he figures out that since she likes him, what’s wrong with her seeing a part of him that she likely will never see.

This also gets him into trouble; again, buying the doll for Trixie, trying to out perform Cain in gifts for Chloe and always seeing things as a competition.  He wants to give people physical proof of his care for people without actually saying it.  Specifically he wants to express his care through a tangible amount of some sort of physical object.

5.) He hides behind his narcissistic behaviors. 

As Lucifer struggles to come to terms with himself and expressing his feelings he has hid behind his narcissism.  What is a great way to keep people away from you and keeping your distance from them?  Being completely self-absorbed with yourself that no one would ever want to be friends with you.  His narcissism is a HUGE turnoff for the vast majority of the population.

It is so clear that he wants to develop close relationships but he’s so afraid of hurting others and even more so hurting himself. He’s hid behind his hedonistic behaviors and his self-absorbed actions for thousands of years.  He really is a very particular person; he is constantly adjusting his sleeves under his suit coat, his shoes are always perfect, he moisturizes and his hair is styled elegantly.  He likes things arranged elegantly and it shows how important control is to him.  If he is 100% in control of everything, again he’s protected from being hurt.

As he works at the LAPD and forms his important friendships, his appearance changes.  In the first season, he wears black or dark grey suits, his shirts are white, black, dark purple, dark blue and grey, if I recall correctly.  He keeps his look simple and professional, almost cold.  His matching pocket squares are also basic and mainly a single solid color with few patterns.

Yet overtime, he becomes more adventurous in his appearance, he starts wearing more light blue shirts, he begins to add in more color with burgundy, forest green, and even a caramel colored suit.  His pocket squares become more interesting with patterns and more color combinations.  With the increase in color and variety he appears much more approachable and has more of an air of friendliness even though he still only cares for his small group of friends.

A case that was a real struggle for him was with the online dating app for “fabulous” people - Top Meet.  He wanted to continue to judge people based on superficial appearances, as it has been his own wall and it has served him well.  When they ultimately confront the killer, his own knowledge of nature and narcissists allows him to save the day by tossing the head sculpture at him and the detective can apprehend him.

His car serves as both another front and also shows how he longs for few intimate friendships or relationships.  He’s got that lovely little Corvette and it is a two-seater.  He doesn’t drive a giant, flashy car that can fit lots of people.  Instead, he has a small almost cute (I personally think it is cute) car that only another person can sit in.  He only wants to ride with one person at a time as he values his close relationships.  Yet, having a car that only can fit one other passenger shows a part of his narcissistic front - that only a person who he’d see as worthy would be able to ride with him.

Overall, by looking at how Lucifer chose to have a job on earth in a nightclub where he could simply hide was the first indication he’s an introverted character.  The longer he has been in LA, the more close friendships he has formed and they are very important to him as well as his oldest friendship with Maze.  When he realized that Maze was attracted to Eve, he noticed it, but hasn’t made mention of it yet (likely that will happen in season 5).  The fact that he noticed it meant he really has stopped seeing her as his right hand woman and more just as an individual with feelings.  His close friendships really show that he’s an introvert not an extrovert.  It is obvious that he gains meaning and connection from these close relationships in a way he never experienced before.  His preference for working either alone or in a small team also shows that he is much more comfortable as well as his preference to express himself through actions as opposed to using words since that is much harder and more uncomfortable.  Lastly, by hiding himself from all others behind a self-absorbed image he has been able to keep others away from him for thousands of years.

The major point about his character growth is learning that having a small support group of real friends and family he can find what he’s been looking for.  A place to belong and be accepted.

[rivalsforlife]

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE DOING COMMENTARY hope it's not too late to ask for The Scene at the end of chapter 5 of the catch up game?? if no one else has asked?

It is never too late to ask!! Genuinely you could probably ask me six months from now and I’ll ramble on about all this, I’m generally down to talk about my writing all the time. (And I’m actually a little surprised nobody asked about The Scene yet... oh well haha)

First though: have you seen this art yet? If you haven’t you should. It was going around twitter again lately and I love it a lot so I wanted to advertise it while I had the chance.

Anyways, keeping under a “keep reading” here:

So. The Scene. First I’ll present my notes from the outline when I was trying to figure out this fic:

Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

Somehow “kind of an awkward note” ended up being uhhh that!

Anyways before we get into this I want to say that I really did not think it would have that much of an emotional impact? I got a much bigger reaction than I thought and that’s around when people really started talking about it on the narumitsu discord and stuff, so I ended up for the rest of the week soooo stressed out that I’d accidentally gone in a completely different direction than I’d planned and set people’s expectations too high and they would be COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED IN THE REST OF THE FIC but uh luckily that didn’t happen! I think. At least if anyone was super disappointed they didn’t tell me about it!

And it was probably partially that I am not very uhh good with emotions and also probably that I got pretty desensitized to my work but I genuinely did not think it was that bad until I saw Ro’s art and then went “ohhh suddenly I am consumed with so much guilt...” (and also doubted how in character this scene was. how can ANYONE say no to that face --)

Most critically though, this scene distracted everyone from whatever the hell was going on with the casefic earlier in the chapter, so overall I think it’s a success.

Sorry it’s taking a while to get to the actual scene, but I wrote a few drafts of this thing beforehand and modified it a lot trying to get it right. I needed it to be sufficiently dramatic but I didn’t want it to seem like... I was just adding it in there for extra conflict? Like you know sometimes you read stuff and you’re like “where the hell did this sudden argument come from” yeah. I wanted to avoid that if I could, so partially this was supported by the weight of chapter 4 to explain Phoenix’s reasons for the rejection and then chapter 6 is supposed to elaborate more, but I still needed this to stand fairly well on its own.

The overall theme of this chapter was “Opposites”, and again, here’s what I had in my fic notes:

I want to contrast how Phoenix sees Miles and how Miles sees Phoenix. Because they both kind of see each other as an amazing person while seeing themselves as failures. Maybe at the end Phoenix is kind of putting himself down and Miles argues about it and then they have a slight argument. Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

I couldn’t really find a way to integrate this conversation in naturally, so I could only get Phoenix’s perspective in there a little bit. Originally Miles’ confession wasn’t supposed to be planned, just a spur of the moment in the middle of an argument where Phoenix kind of goes “I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with me, why are you spending so much time with me, I’m not struggling, I don’t need you worrying about me” and Miles interrupts with a “Because I love you, you idiot!” ... But I couldn’t get that to work because the buildup into the argument felt too abrupt. 

Last little bit of something just before the argument (some of the dialogue here went into the chapter 4 dinner conversation instead):

Miles: (quietly) I’ve spent most of my life trying to climb higher in my career, in order to fight corruption as best I could. And I have, and every day my mission is growing closer to completion, or at least as much as it can. But after that… (staring at some kids’ toy) what’s left for me? I’ve taken a rather unconventional path through life. I’m starting to wonder about opportunities I’ve missed.

Phoenix: (jokingly) Is that some long-winded way of telling me you’re planning on settling down?

Miles: I’d never settle. But in some sense, I suppose so.

Phoenix: (stopping in his tracks) You’re kidding. L-Like, what, in a year or so I’m gonna walk in to your office one day and find you with a wife and kids?

Miles: (rolling his eyes) You do know that I’m gay, don’t you? And why would I keep them in my office? There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Wright.

Again couldn’t fit it in I just found it funny. ANYWAYS FINALLY MOVING AWAY FROM THE DRAFTS AND TO THE ACTUAL THING, I’ll skip ahead a bit to just before the confession:

“How long has it been since I came here?” 

“I dunno… since before I got my badge back, probably.”

“That sounds about right.” Edgeworth sighed and leaned against Phoenix’s desk. “I’ve barely gotten the chance to see you, since you got your badge back and I took my new position. I’ve missed going up against you in court.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix teased, slipping his case notes into his desk drawer. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You’re one to talk.” The corners of Edgeworth’s eyes crinkled as he looked over at him. “You can be so infuriating, but I do like working with you. I had fun today.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Fun? You?”

“I suppose age has softened me up.”

“I didn’t think anything could soften you up.”

“You’d be surprised. I often have fun when I’m with you. I always…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and gripping his elbow. “I’ve been… thinking, a bit. On our earlier conversation.”

So basically... Miles got preeetty close to confessing during their dinner in chapter 4, but kinda backed out at the last moment, and he’s been agonizing over this ever since. Because the way he interpreted their conversation was sort of “We both want to move forward into a relationship but don’t know how to take the steps to do so”, whereas Phoenix interpreted more as a consensus that “We could probably start a relationship and there are feelings there but it wouldn’t really work out so we just won’t ever talk about it”.

And Miles throughout this fic assumed that Phoenix has been in love with him for a while and only holding back for Miles’ own sake, and waiting for Miles to signal that he’s actually ready to move into a romantic relationship. ... Which is very much not the case. What makes today different though is that Miles got to watch Phoenix solve mysteries, and I’m of the opinion that Miles considers Phoenix at his most attractive when he is uncovering the truth!! so Miles pretty much just saw him solve this case and go “I must kiss this man on the lips Right Now” but thought he should clear some things up before he did that.

which is good because if he just walked up to Phoenix and kissed him without preamble I’m pretty sure Phoenix would have died, so.

Something imperceptibly changed in the atmosphere. It made Phoenix’s heart race faster in anticipation. “Oh? Which one?”

“The one we had during the last dinner we shared.”

“O-Oh.” That had been weeks ago. Surely Phoenix had forgotten something.

“Everything has changed so much, over the course of my career, between us.” Edgeworth’s eyes flickered up to him briefly before settling back down on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of moving forward, but this, I want…” He exhaled, shakily. “Give me a minute. This is… difficult.”

Phoenix kind of... knows, subconsciously, where this is going, but he’s trying to deny it until the last minute because he’s very unprepared and has no idea how to deal with this... which will become very clear by the end of the scene.

Miles is tricky to write in a confession scene because he can be kind of weird with emotions? Sometimes he’ll give these Grand Speeches about how much That Man means to him but at the same time he struggled a lot with talking about his feelings during the trilogy and I think he’d still struggle with it now. Especially something as raw and vulnerable as a love confession.

And Miles is also someone who is, at least by the Investigations duology, determined to pursue what is Right and what is the Truth without any sort of hesitation. However pursuing Wright is different. (insert horrible forced laugh track)

“W-Well, don’t strain yourself,” Phoenix insisted. “We can talk another day. I-It’s getting late, after all, we should —”

“We should stop dancing around the issue.” Edgeworth’s eyes snapped up and locked with Phoenix’s, pinning him in place. “Don’t go easy on me now, of all times.”

oh man I have to admit I got really into Persona 5 Royal for like a few weeks around the time I was writing this and that “don’t go easy on me now of all times” is looosely inspired by a similar line in there that’s like “do you think I’d be happy with being shown mercy now, of all times?” because although it’s a different dynamic than narumitsu I was uh. intrigued.

... sorry it’s so vague I wanted to avoid spoilers anyways, moving on,

Phoenix’s mouth ran dry. Edgeworth couldn’t possibly be planning to —

“Everything has changed between us,” continued Edgeworth. “I want things to — to continue to change, I-I want to be closer, is—” He sucked a breath in through his teeth “— is it not obvious?”

Hadn’t they agreed, in that way they could agree without saying a word, that they were never going to talk about this?

Phoenix broke his gaze. “No. It’s not. I— I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late.”

Pretty much same as previous notes: Phoenix in extreme denial that this is actually happening whereas Miles is just trying to force it all out.

Phoenix is kind of trying to talk Miles down from confessing; Miles is sort of interpreting it as “Wright isn’t going to let me get away with not actually saying this so I need to be more direct.” 

I’m sure that later when Miles is curled up on his bed wondering where he went wrong he’ll think of that :)

“Phoenix.”

The use of his first name forced Phoenix to look up again.

Edgeworth stared at him for a long time. There was something impossible swimming just under the surface of his grey eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said. “I am in love with you.”

HE DID IT!! He’s so brave I’m sure that nothing can go wrong!!

Gossip was one thing. Lingering touches and stolen glances, Phoenix could deal with those. The knowledge that Edgeworth was interested in him in a not-so-platonic way… that was more than enough.

This, hearing Edgeworth say the words out loud, was another thing entirely. Even if Phoenix already knew. Nothing could have prepared him for — for whatever this was, for Edgeworth, looking at him all open and vulnerable, and — and saying —

“Wh… What…?”

Edgeworth tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his bangs to fall into his face. “Surely you’ve figured it out already?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

At first there was a line right after “Even if Phoenix already knew” that was “Even if he felt the same”, but then I decided to make it so Phoenix can’t even admit his feelings to himself, so I cut that one out.

Anyways this is shocking to Phoenix partially because of Denial but also because he didn’t expect Miles to actually come out and say something like this. He’s used to Miles being closed off with his emotions and doesn’t think him the type to ever directly acknowledge them, so it’s got him totally off guard, too. It’s unpredictable for someone who is supposed to know Miles so well so it’s very unnerving for him.

“I… I think you are incredible,” said Edgeworth. “Your single-minded dedication to truth and justice. Your compassion. Your mercy. The way you… brought light, brought life, back into my world. You can be so frustrating, and stubborn, but that’s part of why I have always admired you so much.” The corners of his eyes softened. “You saved me a thousand times over, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side… however you want me.”

Miles generally people go on at least one date before proposing marriage but okay.

One thing I find interesting about Miles as a character is that he’s very much an all-or-nothing kind of person... he doesn’t ever really half-ass things and he doesn’t know how to do things gradually haha. He won’t allow the truth to be covered in darkness for even a moment even if it makes things easier for him in the long run. Saying “I think you’re great, maybe we should go on a few dates and see how things end up?” is probably the SENSIBLE thing to say, but Miles puts 100% of himself into everything that he does post-character development; and he’s secure enough in his relationship with Phoenix that he doesn’t really feel the need to test the waters. Plus Miles is allergic to uncertainty, so by the time he confesses he’d need to be absolutely certain that he loved Phoenix Wright and was prepared to pretty much go all in with him.

after all Phoenix feels the same way right!!

Phoenix stared. His heartbeat was reverberating in his ears. “I don’t know what to say. … Me.”

“Who else?”

“Who — a-anyone else. God, Edgeworth, what even is that shit, about me being i-intelligent, and dedicated, and compassionate, and — and — incredible, geez, I’m a wreck! I—” His voice wavered into a fit of near hysteria. “The only reason I’ve gotten this far is ‘cause I’ve always had amazing people by my side, and — and once they’re gone I’m back to whatever I usually am, I-I only have this one suit, I still haven’t got my freaking driver’s license, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but instant meals in a month—”

(And he looked to Edgeworth, desperately, but Edgeworth was still gazing at him, expression gentle, gentle yet unyielding, not taking back his words or expressing an ounce of regret — why wasn’t he changing his mind —)

“You’re describing yourself more than me,” said Phoenix weakly. “Really, I’m not — I’m not like that, okay, I’m not…” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

This is the one part that stayed consistent throughout all drafts of this scene haha. Some of it is echoes from what Godot told him back in Bridge to the Turnabout about him always needing someone to swoop in at the last minute to the rescue; others are sort of a loose refence to his behaviour during the beginning of RFTA and Reunion and Turnabout where he couldn’t really function without Maya there to look after.

This part sort of ties more into that objective I had with this chapter of contrasting how they see themselves; they both see each other as incredible people, because they don’t really get to see inside each other and see how much of a wreck they feel.

Also the very first sort of script of this confession had Phoenix saying “I thought you knew me better than this!” but that just seemed way too cruel for this haha.

“I know that I… that I have difficulty with these things,” said Edgeworth, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ve never been the most open of people and we’ve — we’ve always been so distant, for so long. I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, and I want that to change. Because, ever since we met… you’ve been such a major part of my life. I never thought I would live to be older than my father. I never thought I would be happy with myself. But you, you came into my life, and you changed all that.”

(That wasn’t you,) a voice in Phoenix’s heart whispered. (You only started it. The rest was all him.)

“But I don’t want to be satisfied with what I have right now. I still want more. There’s still a part of life I want to explore, and… I want to do it with you.”

(He’s always been fine without you. One day he’s going to realize it too, and then…)

“I’m tired of hiding my emotions and being too afraid to upset the status quo when it comes to relationships. I refuse to be scared of that anymore.”

(Why isn’t he scared, too?)

ugh this was the hardest part to write I think...? Trying to figure out a way to get Phoenix’s internal feelings across where it doesn’t come out of nowhere. I settled with a lot of internal thoughts that are just like... self-loathing, pretty much.

Meanwhile Miles has prepared this whole emotional monologue that Phoenix is only half listening to, basically about what a huge impact Phoenix has had in his life and how he’s sort of... now that he’s presumably made large steps to fixing the justice system he’s turning to more personal goals in life, and one of those goals is spending his life with Phoenix, if he can be brave enough to do it.

Phoenix isn’t paying attention though because he’s too busy panicking...

“Most of all, I… I couldn’t hide anything from you for long. I’d trust you with the world. You’re my equal, and my opposite.” Something resembling a shaky smile crossed Edgeworth’s face. “And I love you.”

me shoving the “theme of the day” in there awkwardly

But he smiles!! This is one of the rare occasions where Miles kind of does smile... there’s a lot of “almost-smile”s or brief smiles and Miles is scared out of his wits here but he’s happy. he finally got that off his chest. he was brave and he told Phoenix how he felt and they’ll be so, so happy together, nothing can possibly go wrong,

The words knocked out any breath Phoenix had managed to regain. His skin suddenly felt cold and clammy, and he was faced with vertigo more intense than standing on rooftops. What was happening to him?

There was something he was supposed to say to this. He should react to this normally. His mouth was drier than a desert. His tongue felt unsightly and awkward in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that if I have somehow misinterpreted, I won’t mention this again.” Unease and uncertainty flickered behind Edgeworth’s eyes. “And I would never be upset, as long as you tell me the truth. I want to take the next steps of my life with you. … Do you feel the same way?”

oh yeah this part was a little tricky too. Pretty much Phoenix is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and cannot think of a response, even a nice polite rejection... and finally Miles starts realizing that something’s off, because before he was just running on adrenaline to try and get his feelings out that he didn’t stop to examine Phoenix’s reactions, otherwise he would’ve started overthinking and psyched himself out. But now that he got it out and seeing Phoenix pretty much in shock he’s starting to worry he’d made a mistake.

Also “unease and uncertainty” is definitely an “unnecessary feelings” reference because I’m shameless.

Yes, Phoenix wanted to say, yes, I do, and say what he felt, what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Why couldn’t he say it? It should be easy. If he truly wanted this, it should be as easy as breathing.

His vision swam with pink butterflies, he ran his tongue over the scars in his mouth, his breath caught jagged on the edges of chains —

Aaaand if either one of them had the magatama right now there would be the psyche-locks! I was gonna elaborate on this a lot but this is so far waaay longer than I intended so I’ll spare you and give a brief summary.

Essentially there are three locks. I wrote them as sort of representing each issue that Phoenix needs to acknowledge for them to break -- not necessarily fix, because that would be a super tricky thing, but acknowledging they’re there is a start. They’re pretty much “Trust”, “Abandonment”, and “Vulnerability”. Later I realized those issues are pretty much tied up in each other so instead I just made it so that each one is set by a traumatic event, and then acknowledging those events is what breaks them.

The first is an obvious “Dahlia and Iris really screwed up Phoenix’s ability to trust a partner romantically”. I love Iris but she really did mess him up as well. Phoenix kind of convinced himself he’s over this issue now since Iris was a good person! but really he’s still messed up about it. (And that’s where the butterflies + scars in his mouth sort of come from). Talking to Iris and acknowledging that he’s still hurting over it is what breaks this one.

The second is more directly related to all the times Miles himself has abandoned him particularly throughout the series. Some of the hurt when Miles prosecuted him in Turnabout Sisters, and definitely a lot regarding “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death”, it’s pretty much him being scared to get /too/ attached to Miles because he fears Miles might abandon him again. This one breaks in chapter 7 when he has the whole realization that Miles might die and leave him regardless, and acknowledges how afraid he is of Miles leaving again.

And the last is more of acknowledging his need to be needed by people and help people but they move on without him and not don’t really him in their lives. This built up more gradually... with littler things like Apollo leaving the Agency and Maya not being around as much and Trucy moving out. Neither of these are Big Bad Traumatic Events like the other two but it’s still an issue Phoenix has that he needs to acknowledge. Trucy’s letter breaks this one by telling him he’s never going to be alone and they all love him and are there for him. And that’s why right after reading the letter he can tell Miles that he loves him.

So that’s that. Moving back to the actual story now...

“Phoenix?”

Edgeworth still stood so close, too close, and when Phoenix breathed his senses were assaulted by the scent of his cologne and — and he was too close, and his words were too much, Edgeworth couldn’t be in love with him. Attracted, sure, but love — how could he so easily say love?

This wasn’t like Edgeworth. This wasn’t how things were before, this wasn’t how things had always been, every time things changed too fast something would go wrong, every time things changed too fast Edgeworth would leave again —

(— and right now Edgeworth’s body was coiled tight with tension, like a spring, ready to take off at any sudden movement —)

— and Phoenix couldn’t say a word.

Fairly self-explanatory I think: basically acknowledging that fear that Miles is going to leave again.

Phoenix was standing on the edge of a turnabout. Somewhere he’d have to take the plunge for victory, for the truth. He’d never shied from them before. He’d always accepted the risks. And they’d (almost always) paid off.

But something had Phoenix in a vice. Dark chains that wrapped around his chest and constricted his lungs. Something that would drown him if he took the plunge. Something that whispered that he could not risk this, his heart and his life in one. There was too much to lose. It was all too much.

That little (almost always) there is referencing that one time he presented the critical case-changing evidence and got disbarred for it; his disbarment messed him up pretty bad too, I guess it’d fit in the category of the third psyche-lock.

And of course the second paragraph references the psyche-locks more directly before they actually show up.

The words came. They weren’t the ones he wanted.

“No,” said Phoenix. “No, I don’t.”

The rattling in Phoenix’s head cut out. Silence fell over the room.

Pretty much once Phoenix stops pressing the issue the psyche-locks stop shaking. I imagine they’re a pretty terrible thing to break directly; he can’t do it on his own like this.

“... I see,” said Edgeworth, and something snapped shut, drew tight, rigid, back to a statue. “I thought… nevermind.”

Miles kind of draws back into himself all tightly-controlled, less open than before, because that really hurt him a lot. He’d probably prefer it than Phoenix being all evasive and sort of reassuring because he prefers people just cut straight to the facts, but that was direct even for him.

And of course he thought that Phoenix did feel that way about him. He was certain of it. So hearing Phoenix didn’t and he was completely wrong is... not good.

He’d gone so still. At the sight of it, whatever spell was holding Phoenix in its grasp broke, and he came back to reality — this wasn’t right, this wasn’t good, he had to fix this, somehow, bring things back to the way they were, “Edgeworth—”

And the sight of Miles completely freezing up and closing himself off is enough to break Phoenix free of the initial panic, because he does care a lot about Miles, and seeing him withdraw worries him.

“It’s getting late,” said Edgeworth, and only someone as experienced as Phoenix could detect the waver in his voice. “Thank you for being honest with me, Wright. I’ll talk to you later.”

The remark stung worse than a knife would, he couldn’t let it end like this. “I—”

The office door shut, none too gently. Phoenix was alone.

“... I’m sorry.”

That “thank you for being honest with me” wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a jab, of course, because Miles would prefer that Phoenix was honest than lie to him. But Phoenix did lie and that’s what bothers Phoenix the most throughout the next couple of chapters; they both value the truth so highly that lying to each other is inconceivable.

And Miles probably should have stuck around for a bit and heard Phoenix out and maybe Phoenix could have managed a half-decent explanation of “okay I don’t know what that was but this was very sudden and I’m panicking, can you give me time to process?” but if Miles stayed for much longer he probably would have started breaking down and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now, especially in front of Phoenix, so he left as soon as possible.

I think he managed to repress enough that he could get home safely, but the moment he crossed the threshold into privacy he probably had himself a good cry... curled up on the couch and watched some Steel Samurai with a tub of ice cream... but he was pretty emotionally devastated by this. It took a lot of effort for him to open up and be honest about his feelings so just being shut down like that... hurt a lot. He’d never admit it though.

anyways I also have this short bit of writing I posted a while back about Miles actually getting a hug after all this, because he really needs one.

And that’s the scene!! I think I said more than enough so I’ll end it here haha.

[jus-tea]

Going to explain a little about the Miss Rhona lyrics, what inspired different aspects etc, as I’ve seen a lot of people speculating over it, and coming up with their own ideas (which I fully support!) but for those who are curious...

1st Stanza

“Daddy’s at the food store” So, when this was written, myself, my partner, and seemingly everyone was spending so much time going from supermarket to supermarket trying to find the basics, the essentials. Pasta, flour, sugar etc were sold out seemingly everywhere. The weekend just before this was written he’d lined up for half an hour before Costco opened to ensure he acquired some toilet paper- which seemed impossible to get ANYWHERE. I had colleagues who sent their adult children to shops everyday (they couldn’t cause they were at work) to try to find toilet paper somewhere. We ran out at work, and ended up with tissues. People, generally, were spending so much more time trying to find essentials at supermarkets. It’s not nearly as bad now, but just over a month ago when I wrote this it felt like a big issue. Also, “food store”?! NO ONE HAS CALLED ME OUT ON THIS which I find so weird because no one actually says, “food store”?! What a weird expression! So why did I use it? Well! Initially I thought “cost-co” but didn’t use it because I wanted the rhyme to appeal more universally. And we only got a Costco in my city a few years ago and I know plenty of places in the world don’t have one so... I thought maybe supermarket? But thought maybe they didn’t call them that in other countries- market? Market sounded so strange as it’s really only fresh fruit and veggies we get in our local markets here (in my part of the world) and didnt fit with the image I was trying to create and besides all our markets were cancelled as they were too crowded.. so “food store” was initially just a place-hold. I still can’t believe literally no one has said “hey wtf is up with “food store? No one says that” but there you go. It’s in literally every version ive seen as that so... that’s what it is now. So, that line about the food store and collated with the next line, “mummy’s our of town- she’s working at the hospital” was based on news articles I’d read about doctors having to isolate themselves from their families by sleeping either at hospital or in their garage. People who couldn’t see their kids for ages, it was really sad! And then combining these lines, it’s about how these little kids for the first time really are sometimes being left home alone because their parents have stuff they *have* to do; get food or work, and lots of kids these days don’t get left home alone anymore, it was common when I was little but not for a long time! But seemingly suddenly with this pandemic it’s happening again. And I hadn’t seen that talked about but I was seeing glimpses of it and it, felt weird? I guess? So that made for the perfect beginning to a covid19 nursery rhyme- a kid getting left home alone a lot and not being really sure how to respond to that.

So, with the hide away lines, there’s 3 stanzas and in each miss Rhona gets closer. The first one is she’s “come to town”. Now I remember that feeling on that day learning that the first coronavirus case had occurred in my city. Up until then there was a bit of a sense of dread, like you knew it was everywhere else, then in the news it got closer and closer, with cases in small country towns nearby. But when it got to my city it was suddenly so real. And that’s where the story starts because Miss Rhona was HERE. She arrived in the kid’s town. The line, “she’s come to take us down” is another way of saying “she’s going to get you” and also links to the final line which reveals her success “she took us down/she’s brought us down”.

2nd stanza

So, she goes from being in town to being “at the doorstep” which represents getting closer- being in those people the child might interact with everyday- and imagined more literally in the postal worker delivering a package (actually ON the doorstep) or food delivery or anyone who they’d still have close contact with. But “I’ll keep 6 feet away” is a self reassurance that if they just do the right thing and keep their distance everything will be ok. But then the conflict! Grandma needs toilet paper, EVERYONE needs toilet paper and no one can get it anywhere! No doubt the dad is our trying to find some more while he’s at the “food store”. And I was thinking... my children’s grandmother lives in a different state to us but if we were in the same one you can bet your life id be out dropping essentials at her doorstep whenever I could- tp included. (Although, tbh the tp issue didn’t seem as bad in her state from what she told me) so in this bit I guess I imagined myself as the child because that would be something important to me, to make sure my elders had their essentials. Idk I tried to help where I could, got baby wipes when I found it for a friend with a newborn, stuff like that. So the conflict is the child’s sense of responsibility ensuring their grandmother has what she needs, while also knowing that the coronavirus, Miss Rhona, could reside in anyone they meet along the way. Kind of like a little red riding hood situation linking the dangers of strangers. So they open the door due to this sense of responsibility and, oh no, Miss Rhona was at the doorstep, remember? Now the child has it too; “Miss Rhona’s come to stay” IN THE CHILD. This line was to use the imagery of Miss Rhona coming to stay with the child at their house, like an aunt might come to visit for the weekend, but symbolises the virus coming to live within the child, they’ve caught it now, which is why they definitely, “can’t come out to play”.

Stanza 3

“But grandma needs the paper” that’s where the conflict arises again- the child’s sense of responsibility, maybe guilt even? Overshadowing their understanding of just how serious the virus would be should their grandmother catch it. They’re just a kid remember? They don’t understand. So they take her some anyway, everyone needs toilet paper! Also, I know that phrasing it as such misleads the listener to think about a newspaper. Thats how we talk, “I’ll get the paper!” My dad says ... often. But, 2 things, it rolls off the tongue easier than “grandma needs toilet paper” which would’ve messed up the rhythm anyway, and also, for anyone who’s lived it you would automatically know about the “great toilet paper shortage of 2020” 😅 there were so many memes about it and it was funny that everyone was obsessed with it but if you were one of those people who genuinely really couldn’t find any- and there were lots!- then it kind of sucked. And that’s a memory that’ll stick with you 🙈

So. The note. “And here’s a note from Rhona she wanted me to say” imagine the child at the grandmas doorstep, she’s bringing her tp (that’s nice) but the child is infected, and hands grandma a note. I imagined like a little filed up piece of paper in their back pocket they take out and hand over, to pass on the message from their aunt living in their house. As kids would do- what teacher hasn’t given their student a note and said “go tell mr x such and such” and the note is a reminder of what to say. But the note they hand over is also a metaphor. It symbolises contact between the grandmother and grandchild, and as grandma took it, she caught the virus too. And the note reads,

“Hide away, hide away, keep 6 feet away”

Which is that line repeated all the way through the rhyme. In the end, it’s what Miss Rhona was saying all along. Hide away children...

And the final line is a throwback to near the beginning, “she took us down” because earlier remember she came to “take us down” but now it’s happened and we’re in past tense. She did it. She took down the grandma, and possibly the child too, although I left that as ambiguous. To be taken down here is the symbol for death, of course. It’s pretty grim. But that was the point i suppose.

And that’s where it ends. Anything after that, while I’ve seen some adaptations made which sound really cool, doesn’t really make sense with the story, because they died in that moment. And continuing on after that seems a bit overkill, because I gues, perhaps symbolically at least, who would be able to continue singing the rhyme once they had already died?

But having said that, it’s still nice to see people get exited about it and want to contribute more lyrics too. Making up stories, songs, games, art in general, it’s a way we’ve found to cope i think? Like dark and morbid stories are a part of our culture because we respond to them. Lessons, feelings, etc. people far more articulate than I have explained before...

So. That’s Miss Rhona. This explanation was written really roughly and I apologise for that, but you get the gist. I strongly recommend for anyone who hasn’t already to check out the #miss Rhona recordings hashtag on my blog, because some of these melodies people have put to it are really beyond words. Dreamy, haunting. Peaceful. Childlike. Much more than the original chant-like skipping rhyme I originally envisaged.

Thanks for reading this far... please be safe and look after your grandmothers ❤️