#like... he gets his first instances of being more brutal than necessary out of this i think

[liaroflesbos]

WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO HIM BRUCE

[absolutehomosexuals]

Astarion's ascension is extremely popular, despite it clearly being the designed bad ending for him.

So many fans of this version want to argue that it's a "valid" path to choose if you enjoy his character, or that it's equally good as his Spawn ending. The "it's what he wants" argument is the hegemonic justification in question.

But is wanting something better than needing another thing? Yes, he talks about ascension ever since he finds out about the ritual.

Yes, when push comes to shove he's still committed to ascend. But is this enough? Should we support his choice, even when everything but his words tell us not to? Should we trust the judgment of a deeply traumatized man about the best way for him to feel better?

This may sound harsh, but the answer is no.

Because in many circumstances, we see Astarion behaving unhealthily as a result of his trauma: he's hypersexual at the beginning of the game, using sex as a survival mechanism. He's yet to learn what his boundaries should be, what it means not to be an object, to see himself as a person that deserves respect and has so much more to offer than just his body. His trauma is still fresh. And he's so scared of losing his freedom, being trapped under slavery again.

We can't blame him being so desperate to feel safe that he will trade everything he is for it.

Because that's what the ritual means, Cazador says so himself: despite gaining the ritual's power, Astarion is still part of the bargain for said power. He still loses his soul in the process, and that is clear once we see how he acts post-ascension.

Of course, someone that is still suffering from the consequences of 200 years of abuse wouldn't care if he became less of himself, in the process of becoming untouchable ever again. Astarion's behaviour towards himself highlights that he doesn't care for the person he is because that person is, sadly, the product of those centuries of abuse.

He doesn't want to be that person anymore: even better, he doesn't want to be a person anymore: people suffer, people get taken advantage of, people are submitted by more powerful beings. He is willing to give this up not despite losing everything he is, but because of it. And that's what happens after his ascension: he retains his body, which becomes an empty shell of who he once was, with someone else inside of it to fill the void left by his soul.

This situation is a perfect, brutal metaphor of an abused person that later in life becomes the abuser himself, a thing that often happens to male victims of SA.

This is what is fundamentally wrong with Astarion's ascension: he's choosing power, his abuser's tool, over healing. Instead of learning to feel like a person again, to deal with his trauma to life after having endured it, he chooses to not feel anymore, while letting thousands of spawns (like he was) be consumed to get what he wants.

This terribly selfish act is the first instance of Astarion behaving like Cazador, considering the spawns as lesser beings, as nothing but his tools, like all vampire lords do. In this process he also sees himself, the person he gives up being, as a tool. He isn't healing. He's losing all of himself entirely.

Why would someone see this sacrifice as not only necessary to leave his trauma behind, but also preferable to healing from it?

The fan-favourite characteristic of Ascended Astarion is his behaviour towards Tav: in this version of "himself", he clearly is even more sexual than he was in his first days with the tadpole. And this expression of his sexuality is drastically different from the one we got to know prior to this point.

He is dominant, prevaricating, demanding in his avances: he enjoys being in a position of power even in his relationship.

This isn't the Astarion that slowly learns to trust his partner, to build a real loving relationship with someone who sees him as equal and truly cares for him.

Everything that he learns during his romance and his plot gets nullified by his ascension; and yet, this gets overlooked in favour of this more sexually appealing version of him. For people that claim to love his character because of his complexity, Ascended Astarion fans seem to only truly love him when he's less of himself than ever.

When all that's left of him is his body, and he behaves more like the toxic love interest from a young adult romance book, a great number of his fans get wild. Is this all that they want from him? The husk of the funny, sarcastic, dramatic and complex character, filled with this more traditionally masculine attitude, replacing what he used to be? An Astarion that never heals from his trauma, choosing to leave behind everything he was instead? Who resembles his abuser more than ever?

Do his fans who like his ascended version so much to genuinely think this is the best outcome for him, or do they just enjoy being able to project this "macho" fantasy on a physically attractive male character, that otherwise isn't anything like this prototype of man?

We can't help but think that appreciating Ascended Astarion is the same as believing in, if not loving, his hypersexual facade: it's overlooking his humanity in favour of sexualising him.

Which is the biggest disservice one could ever do to his character.

[lyledebeast]

Cruelty, Compassion, and British Privates in The Patriot

It's astounding that there's anything left in this film that I haven't discussed, but I find that I've said almost nothing about how British soldiers who are not officers are represented in The Patriot. In my defense, there are barely any instances of anyone in the film talking about them either. In the longest piece of dialogue in the script, General Cornwallis and Benjamin Martin focus on the officers Martin kills so exclusively one might expect to see him sparing the men of no rank he and his men encounter. Except we know he does not do that; in fact, the suffering of those men is even greater than that of the more privileged men leading them. Martin's orders are to target the officers first, so the men shot in their faces while begging for their lives? Privates. The men Martin hacks to death with his tomahawk after his sons shoot all the officers? Privates. After the Maroons of Gullah Island, British privates are the most visible silenced group in the film.

While Martin's brutality to privates goes under the radar of most viewers, Tavington's to colonial soldiers is impossible to miss. Not only does Gabriel report on his killing surrendering men at the Battle of Camden, but he we see him do it in his very first scene in the film. He is even quite callous in his treatment of officers on his own side. When General O'Hara points out at the prisoner exchange that attacking Martin threatens officers' lives, his response is essentially, I don't care about those heifers. They shouldn't have gotten themselves captured! "With all respect, Sir, he's killed as many officers in the past two months. He rolls his eyes scornfully when the lieutenant who has arrived at the Martin farm first does not know the origins of a marked case delivered directly into Tavington's hand. He even snaps at one of his own officers for interrupting his interview with the wounded survivor of Martin's attack by answering the questions for him.

What's interesting, though, is that none of Tavington's shortness is visited on the wounded private himself. Instead, he introduces himself, including the sole utterance of his first name in the film, and gently urges the man to "calm down" when he begins to get agitated. The only person he treats with similar congeniality is General Cornwallis himself. That is not necessary. The private is not a fly he has to catch with honey; he is this man's superior in rank several times over. What makes this scene doubly interesting is that it is the only case of anyone, on either side, speaking to a British private directly.

I hardly think it is intentional on the filmmakers' part to present a softer side of Tavington. I think they were so preoccupied with contrasting British "gentlemen" and Colonial "rustics" that they simply forgot that the overwhelming majority of British soldiers who fought and died in the American Revolution were as far from being gentlemen by Cornwallis's definition as possible. So, of course it slipped under their radar that Tavington's first order, that the British wounded to be taken to their surgeons before he orders the executions of the Colonial ones, is about protecting British lives regardless of rank. His final order, an attempt to stop his men from charging into the Continental Army's trap, is about the same thing. If he cared only about his own agenda--as Cornwallis does when he sends in the rest of his army to stop Tavington from stealing his glory--he would have just continued his pursuit of Martin. A moment that is clearly meant to register as Tavington finally being punished for his hubris actually features Tavington trying to spare his men, even if it is likely too late. He does not forget abut them, even if the filmmakers do.

Considered from this position, the exchange between O'Hara and Tavington looks quite different. Beneath the obvious contrast of the "real" gentleman concerned with honor and the brutal thug concerned only with his own advancement is another. O'Hara and Cornwallis value the lives of these nineteen officers more highly than those of all the men the militia under Martin have killed, and all those they'll kill once they've been set free. It is classism masquerading as compassion. Meanwhile, Tavington, who has been obsessed with catching "the Ghost" since the wounded private attributed twenty British deaths to him, recognizes Martin and is immediately taking off his helmet, pulling out his sword. Square up, Farmer Ben!

The framing of Martin as a man of compassion hinges on erasing the experience of the British privates he brutalizes. Framing Tavington as a cruel butcher hinges on erasing the experience of the British privates he seeks to protect or avenge. It's almost as though being compassionate to soldiers on your own side and cruel to soldiers on the other side is just how war works, or something. But that's nonsense, of course. Tavington is cruel to Patriots in a film titled The Patriot, so it hardly matters whether he cares for his own men or not. Still, if I were a British private, I'd consider it an honor to hold his helmet while he kicked Benjamin Martin's ass.

[fyx-ation]

A Continued Ramble on FFXVI

Themes! Tone! Character development!

Spoilers beyond the cut.

Tonally, my first reaction is to say that this game is nothing like any previous FF titles as far as presentation goes. However, when I thought about it... many of the older ones were incredibly dark and had brutal story beats.

The difference is that they were presented through 16bits and text on the screen rather than fully rendered CGI models with lifelike expressions and voice acting. The gulf is as wide as the pacific ocean. The impact of Kefka cutting down General Leo in VI's 16bit glory is vastly different than Mom of the Year slicing her own throat in XVI's CG cutscene. Both are intense but the delivery of the latter is much more gratuitous and realistic. Doesn't leave much to the imagination.

I'm not much for censorship, but parental guidance should be a given. FFXVI is not for kids, which is a tough thing to wrap my head around as I started playing Final Fantasy when I was a kid. The M rating should be a warning, but as someone who's handled clueless parents for customers in the past--some folks do not read ESRB ratings. On the entirely plausible instance that the parent hasn't been living under a rock and knows what FF is, they might still ignore that rating because their experience with FF in the past tells them it's perfectly fine for all ages. A friend of mine learned better very quickly within the first few minutes of playing when Garuda calls Titan a cock before dry humping him. He had to shoo his preschooler out of the room and turn down the volume. lol.

Was it necessary to tell the story in this way? As though the staff hovered over the corpse of Game of Thrones and huffed the decaying fumes of rot like it was a freshly baked pie? I'm not so sure. I swear, when the first cutscene with Benedikta and Barnabas post-coitus happened, I was like "If you guys start sexpositioning me right now, you will have to get pliers to free my eyeballs from rolling so far back into my head." Fortunately, this was not a reoccurring thing. And the only purpose that scene had was to reveal Benedikta's role between factions.

Was anyone out their clamoring for a Final Fantasy swear counter? I cuss like I sailor, but I wasn't sitting in front of my TV thinking "You know what FF fucking needs? More fucks." It doesn't detract from the game; it's just a weird thing to meet in a FF game. The fact that 95% of the voice acting is from the British Isles, Clive and Torgal are like Jon Snow and Ghost, and the warring factions of Storm and Ash are like Westeros, not to mention the Akashic are like white walkers/wights makes it impossible to not see the influence.

But stories are always influenced by other stories. Nothing new under the sun, and all that. There was something driving me crazy from day one of playing... something that is still driving me crazy because I cannot name what I was thinking of. The game was reminding me of something. A show or book or movie I saw about a person meant or designed to be the vessel of some higher being, but they wind up being the hero and better at using their own body than the higher being. For the life of me, I couldn't just name the thing I was talking about but I have since decided it might be because I'm remembering the plot of several different things all at once. It's like ATLA, Avatar, Star Wars, ASOIAF, a billion Chinese/Korean/Japanese period fantasies, and so many other things. If you know what I am remembering that is so similar to the Mythos/Ultima dynamic, please drop a comment. Give my over-thinking brain some relief.

This is a wild journey of over-thinking, really. I did enjoy the game. I will definitely new game+ it at some point. I do think it's a much needed breath of fresh air for the franchise. And yet, while trying not to be a contrarian asshole, I feel there were a few missed opportunities and fumbles.

Why do I feel like Blackthorne had more character development than Jill? I would have loved to have had a few "loyalty" missions with her to really flesh her out. I can only think of 3-4 scenes where she talks about herself without any tie to a main character. The game fails the Bechdel test, too. Very early on, I found myself wondering if any of the women with a decent amount of screen time were going to be more than raging bitches or the love interest. Tarja, Doris, and Charon did balance out that worry a bit. Isabelle and Martha, too, as they were more developed. Oh, shit, I forgot about Mid. She's (suddenly!) there, too.

A few months ago, I responded to a post about the tone-deaf excuse for the lack of black people in the game. Well. I was perhaps half-right about the reasoning behind that (without knowing when humans migrated away from Storm/Ash--the original cradle of life on Valisthea). I think the real reason was because the game tries to tackle the immorality of slavery and very firmly decided not to include darker skinned people in the game to avoid that foul can of worms. Bearers being treated as less than human, property, unclean, etc. all mirrors how many real cultures viewed their slaves. The writing drives this home, but the message is delivered with very padded, not-to-political gloves.

There's a little side quest near the end that explains how bearers went from being at the top of the food chain to the very bottom. That, perhaps, should have been a running theme much earlier in the game as it explains why they don't turn on their masters or why you see most of them just doing menial labors in the first quarter of the game (which is entirely dropped later. It's like we're shown an example a few times and then just reminded of it from time to time).

And while we're on the subject of disdain for the bearers, Clive's magical capabilities are largely ignored by people that should be spitting on him pre and post-brand removal. They must know what the scar means, they must see him fighting with magic, but he is mostly treated with tolerance because he wears literal plot armor in the form of "I'm vouched for" merit badges.

We never see the bearers or cursebreakers actually using magic to fight. It's implied that former slaves take up arms more than once, but it's never shown. Maybe they don't know how? Unless they were trained assassins... whom we also don't see use magic (like Doris).

There's an enormous pile of implied stuff that's off screen or mentioned in lore that could have been very interesting to see. But the game is very compact. It's whittled down to the barest essentials: plot, linear main story, and some side quests that are actually vital to the story. No dungeons, no grinding, no padded pacing, no mini-games, and no collectibles. The chronoliths and hunts are (nearly) entirely optional, too, though they do give decent rewards.

This is personal taste, but I like an RPG with some idle fun. Stuff that doesn't immersion-break the game because DOOM is immanent. A good example is Commander Shepard re-treading old ground for new dialog or hidden encounters--all of which is beneficial. Or Geralt playing Gwent. A bad example of this is Aloy while the apocalypse is approaching and she fucks off to get a hologram for Las Vegas.

Right before the last encounter of the game, quest after quest after quest opens up, so there's no sense of DOOM coming. The blight is getting worse, yes, but the game never says "Yo, you should finish the game right now because the blight is coming and also Arche is sorta turning everyone into wights/akashic." The chronoliths and hunts are about as close to that side content as it gets, and you can finish those pretty quickly unless didn't do them as they popped up. Gotta backtrack a little over maps you might have only visited a handful of times before.

As for feelings about the plot's execution, hmm.... Mostly positive, I think. On the downside, I was predicting things way too early and not even things that are drip-fed. I figured out what the Mother Crystals were doing before Cid lays out his theory. I called the harvest of ether/breeding the vessel. The upside is that I hadn't figured out the hows of Ultma, despite knowing the whys, so I was still surprised by the revelations. It had the right amount of foreshadowing and peeks behind the curtain. I love a good plant and pay off.

So, now that I've played the game, I'm curious to go see how others experienced it. Is this a good direction for FF titles? How many bad takes are out there based on minimal game play vs. full play-throughs? How many people wanted to hate the game so badly they they're reaching for reasons to? Conversely, how many people are heaping praise on it because they love Yoshi-P or just FF in general? How many journalists or content creators are gushing about it because clicks are more important than genuine opinions that might incite backlash? That's just the gaming atmosphere anymore. Giving a game people love or hate a 7/10 is blasphemous.

[nicklloydnow]

“I do not know how it is now, but in the recent past there were gentlemen who derived from the power of flogging their victims something that suggests the Marquis de Sade and the Marquise de Brinvilliers. I imagine there is something in this sensation which sends a thrill at once sweet and painful to the hearts of these gentlemen. There are people who are like tigers thirsting for blood. Anyone who has once experienced this power, this unlimited mastery of the body, blood and soul of a fellow man made of the same clay as himself, a brother in the law of Christ - anyone who has experienced the power and full licence to inflict the greatest humiliation upon another creature made in the image of God, will unconsciously lose the mastery of his own sensations. Tyranny is a habit; it may develop and it does develop, at last, into a disease. I maintain that the very best of men may be coarsened and hardened into a brute by habit. Blood and power intoxicate; coarseness and depravity are developed; the mind and the heart are tolerant of the most abnormal things, till at last they come to relish them. The man and the citizen is lost for ever in the tyrant, and the return to human dignity, to repentance and regeneration becomes almost impossible. Moreover, the example, the possibility of such despotism has a perverting influence on the whole of society: such power is a temptation. Society, which looks indifferently on such a phenomenon, is already contaminated to its very foundations. In short, the right of corporal punishment given to one man over another is one of the sores of social life, one of the strongest forces destructive of every germ, every effort in society towards civic feeling, and a sufficient cause for its inevitable dissolution.

The professional torturer is an object of disgust to society, but a gentleman torturer is far from being so. It is only lately that an opposite idea has been expressed, and that only in books and abstractly. Even those who express it have not all been able to extinguish in themselves the lust of power. Every manufacturer, every capitalist, must feel an agreeable thrill in the thought that his workman with all his family is sometimes entirely dependent on him. This is undoubtedly true: a generation does not so quickly get over what has come to it as a legacy from the past; a man does not so easily renounce what is in his blood, what he has, so to speak, sucked in with his mother's milk. Such rapid transformations do not occur. To acknowledge one's fault and the sins of one's fathers is little, very little; one must uproot the habit of them completely, and that is not so quickly done.

I have spoken of the torturer. The characteristics of the torturer exist in embryo in almost every man of to-day. But the brutal qualities do not develop equally. If they develop so as to overpower all the man's other qualities, he becomes, of course, a hideous and terrible figure. Torturers are of two kinds: some act of their own free will, others involuntarily, of necessity. The voluntary torturer is, of course, more degraded in every respect than the other, though the latter is so despised by the people, inspiring horror, loathing, an unaccountable, even mysterious terror. Why this almost superstitious horror for one torturer and such an indifferent, almost approving attitude to the other?

There are instances that are strange in the extreme. I have known people good-natured, even honest, and even respected by society who yet could not with equanimity let a man go until he screamed out under the lash, till he prayed and implored for mercy. It was the duty of men under punishment to cry out and pray for mercy. That was the accepted thing: it was looked upon as necessary and proper, and when, on one occasion, the victim would not scream, the officer, whom I knew personally and who might, perhaps, have been regarded in other relations as a good-natured man, took it as a personal insult. He had meant at first to let him off easily, but not hearing the usual “your honour, father, have mercy, I'll pray to God for you all my life" and the rest of it - he was furious, and gave the man fifty lashes extra, trying to wring cries and supplications out of him - and he attained his end. "It couldn't be helped, the man was rude,” he said to me quite seriously.

As for the actual executioner who is not a free agent but acts under compulsion, he is as every one knows a condemned convict who escapes his sentence by turning executioner. At first he learns his calling from another executioner, and when he is expert, he is attached permanently to the prison where he lives apart in a special room, keeping house for himself, though he is almost always guarded. Of course, a live man is not a machine; although the executioner beats as a duty, he sometimes grows keen on his work, but, though the beating may be some satisfaction to himself, he scarcely ever feels personal hatred for his victim. His dexterity, his knowledge of his art and his desire to show off before his fellow convicts and the public, stimulate his vanity. He exerts himself for art's sake. Besides, he knows very well that he is an outcast, that he is met and followed everywhere by superstitious terror, and there is no saying that this may not have an influence on him, may not accentuate ferocity and brutal tendencies in him. Even children know that he "has disowned father and mother." Strange to say, though, of the executioners I have seen, all have been men of some education, men of sense and intelligence who had an extraordinary vanity, even pride. Whether this pride has been developed in them in reaction against the general contempt felt for them, or whether it has been increased by the consciousness of the terror they inspire in their victim and the feeling of mastery over him, I do not know. Possibly the very ceremony and theatrical surroundings, with which they make their appearance on the scaffold before the public, help to develop a certain haughtiness in them. I remember that had once for some time opportunities of frequently meeting an executioner, and closely observing him. He was a thin, muscular man of forty, of medium stature with a rather l pleasant, intelligent face and a curly head. He was always extraordinarily calm and dignified, behaved like a gentleman, always answered briefly, sensibly and even affably; but there was a haughtiness in his affability, as though he felt superior to me. The officers on duty often addressed him before me, and they positively showed him a sort of respect. He was conscious of this and before the officers he redoubled his politeness, frigidity and sense of personal dignity. The more friendly the officer was to him, the more unbending he became, and though he never departed from his refined courtesy, I am sure that he felt himself at the moment infinitely superior to the officer who was addressing him. One could see this from his face. Sometimes on hot summer days he would be sent under guard with a long thin pole to kill dogs in the town. There were an immense number of these dogs, who belonged to no one and multiplied with extraordinary rapidity. In hot weather they became dangerous, and by order of the authorities the executioner was sent to destroy them. But even this degrading duty evidently did not in the least detract from his dignity. It was worth seeing the majesty with which he paced up and down the town, accompanied by the weary guard, scaring the women and children by his very appearance, and how calmly and even superciliously he looked at all who met him.

The executioners have a very good time of it though. They have plenty of money, they are very well fed, and have vodka to drink. They get money from bribes. The civilian prisoner who is condemned to corporal punishment always makes the executioner a preliminary present of something, even if it is his last penny, But from some rich prisoners the executioner demands a sum suitable to the victim's supposed means; they will exact as much as thirty roubles, sometimes even more. They bargain dreadfully with very rich prisoners. But the executioner cannot punish a man very lightly; he would answer for it with his own back. For a certain sum, however, he will promise the victim not to chastise him very severely. The condemned men almost always agree to his terms, for if they don't, he really will punish them savagely, and it lies almost entirely in his hands. It sometimes happens that he demands a considerable ransom from a very poor prisoner; the relations come, bargain and bow down to him, and woe betide them if they do not satisfy him. In such cases the superstitious terror he inspires is a great help to him. What wild stories are told of executioners! The convicts themselves assured me that an executioner can kill a man at one blow. But when has there been an instance of this? However, it may be so. Of this they spoke with absolute confidence. The executioner assured me himself that he could do so. They told me, too, that he could aim a swinging blow at the convict's back; yet so that not the slightest bruise would follow and the convict would feel no pain. But of all these tricks and subtleties too many stories have been told already.”

[wolfpackmuses]

Maybe it was the fact that the Dragonborn had been a few drinks in already, but there was something definitely off about the new companion that he had come to start talking to. He couldn't exactly place his finger on what it was that ticked him off to Puck in the first place, but Balasar knew there was something there. Something about the two being a bit similar in a way... Maybe it was the fact both seemed to have relatively the same idea of what to do for work. No, that couldn't be the only thing and Balasar knew that.

There was something more about Puck that was scratching at the Dragonborn's brain. Something that he himself knew incredibly well and had been dealing with his entire life. Although... no. No. That couldn't be possible, surely there wasn't someone else out there who was seemingly in a similar position to him with the Urge, right? There were only so many Bhaal cultists as there were, so to have the possibility of someone else carrying the Urge around was not a comforting feeling. Well... maybe not a completely uncomfortable feeling, as it meant there was the chance the person actually had the smallest idea of what Balasar went through on a constant basis.

There was that possibility, but Balasar refused to believe such a thing. He was here to find some work, to help Puck out in locating whoever this person was. Whether or not his Urge came out and started to take control was yet to be seen, but Balasar knew full well it would not take too long for the Urge to start working the Dragonborn over. After all, he could already feel it scratching at his mind, wanting to be free. Freedom, oh how Balasar had hoped he would eventually find that...

But that was for a different time at a different place, that was not something he wanted to think about at the moment if he was honest.

At the end of the day, an interesting proposition had been made by Puck. There was a bit of an eyebrow raise that came from Balasar as he heard them start to explain the plan and what exactly he would be used for, before his eyebrow, mostly nonexistent anyway, dropped and his eyes narrowed. It seemed despite his screw-up with how he had worded that, Puck had picked up on it and was playing into what he said.

❝I promise my toughness is not an issue that should concern you in any way,❞ he grunted with a shake of his head gently from side to side, ❝I wouldn't say protection is the first thing on my list when it comes to doing work, but I have a feeling that it can be arranged in this instance...❞

As if there were any more doubts about whether or not Puck actually had some sort of connection back to some Urge was in question, the way they kept talking about the entire "bodies" and "slashing" thing he had brought up somewhat confirmed it to Balasar. He knew no one in their right mind would want to keep bringing something up that was so brutal for a rescue mission of all things. It seemed the two had some more similarities that Balasar had to sort out later but at the same time...

There was that bit of comfort he felt in finding someone else who seemingly had the same types of Urges as well as him. And if the Dragonborn knew anything, it was the fact that the protection was likely to be to keep Puck from doing anything rather than just keeping bad guys away. Which only added to Balasar's work load, knowing his own Urge would get in the way at some point or another.

❝I can handle helping you with this rescue mission of yours,❞ he nodded simply after hearing the details that Puck wanted to share, ❝I've done far worse in my time, so this... shouldn't be an issue compared to some of the things I've done over the years.❞

Another bite of his blue tongue came as he almost wanted to keep going in explaining the gory details of some of the things he had been a part of, but... that didn't exactly seem necessary.

❝Do you have any idea where we may find this person that you're looking for?❞

THIS WORLD WAS NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM HIS. Baldur’s Gate seemed the same, more or less. He knew this tavern. Stabbed a guy in the eye in that corner over there. Iago slipped on some ice & fell on their ass next to that table there. Very funny. Puck had to bite into his cheek to stop from laughing at the memory. He never did care for any of the drinks served here though. 

You don’t care for any drinks. Blood-sucker. Yes, yes, ha-ha. Shut up. We’re busy. 

Drinks weren’t what he was here for, anyway. He shouldn’t really be here in the first place, but that is a different matter entirely & shall be dealt with at a later time. Preferably Only with Iago successfully returned to his side first. They got separated in the chaos of accidentally world-hopping in the middle of combat, Thank You, My Dear, Sweet, Lovely WILD MAGIC SORCERER SIBLING. Very, very cool trick. 

Finding them wasn’t the issue. Not exactly. He had their scent memorized, ( even if he didn’t, he had their tooth on a hook stuck in his earlobe ) so he was able to track them just fine. Hunt them, you mean. No, I very much meant track. Find. But thank you, you’ve just reminded me why I’m here. 

He needed ⸻ he shuddered at the thought of it, then ⸻ he needed HELP. Muscle. That was what he needed. Sheer, raw strength. Someone who could, in theory, hold down the weight of an entire pack of wolves & then some more all at once. ( Ah, what the hells. Drop a bear on top of that pack of wolves, too. Just to be safe. ) And, he supposed, someone who could also stand & watch help him cut down any potential suckers who tried to get in the way of reuniting him with his twin. 

LOTS OF PEOPLE WANTED THEM DEAD IN THEIR UNIVERSE. PROBABLY WILL BE THE SAME HERE, TOO.  

Now, he was picky about this sort of thing. Rarely ever sought it out. Didn’t need to. He shouldn’t have to. He didn’t have to. Oh, you have to. You REALLY have to. One of his eyes twitched, followed by one of his pointed ears doing the same. The tip of his tail flicked the ground irritably. 

One of the first things he typically did when meeting anyone but especially those he might work with was look directly into their eyes. Test their mettle. His eyes had a certain effect on people. They gave them migraines. He used to hate this about himself, forced to learn to avoid eye contact, but it had its benefits. Intimidation, namely, but he could also gauge a person’s resilience & stamina based on their reaction. 

Spotting the dragonborn he had planned to meet, he locked eyes with him immediately. Gave him a long, hard stare, unblinkingly. Testing his mettle. But he quickly found himself distracted by the smell, calculating stare morphing into something much more curious. The barbarian before him smelled good familiar. Like blood & death.  It seemed to cling to his clothes though there was nothing there. 

Puck’s eyes narrowed, flicking across the rest of the dragonborn’s body. An experienced fighter, certainly. He had no doubt this man knew his way around a blade. He looked as if he might be capable of wiping out an entire horde of enemies on his own. Impressive, but that alone would not be enough. 

❝ Hm . . .  You seem tough, I suppose. ❞ A wry smile stretched across his face, then. He amused himself sometimes. What a bold thing to say to such a man as this. Puck was, by no means, a small man himself; he was only a few inches shorter than this hulking dragonborn, but he always had something of a lanky, unassuming figure at first glance. 

❛ Slash my way through some bodies, ❜ the man had said. An interesting turn of phrase, one that Puck could relate to. They were both bloodthirsty freaks, it seemed. Might be a problem. We’ll see. 

❝  I have a feeling you’ll get your share of slashing bodies, but the primary task I have in mind is protection. ❞  Puck tilted his head to the side, the gesture not unlike the way a dog would do. A smirk tugged at his mouth. ❝ Not for me, of course. ❞ FROM me. 

❝ Someone dear to me has gone missing. I don’t need help tracking them; that part is easy, but it is imperative they make it back here alive. I don’t doubt we’ll run into some trouble along the way. The two of us have always, hm . . . ❞ 

How to put this  . . . ？Puck scratched at his jaw in thought, claws almost breaking the skin. Need to cut them again.

❝ . . . Well, we tend to easily earn the ire of others, let’s say. Should you join me, your job will be keeping them safe once I’ve found them. And, of course, slashing bodies in the process. ❞

[dmclemblems]

Regarding Claude and Leonie's support vs Dimitri and Yuri's: On one hand yes, Claude feeling that he can't do this himself shows that he should learn to move out of his bubble more, as Dimitri shows that being a king doesn't limit one's ability to mingle with the commoners on a personal level. But on the other hand, I still like that he gives his people a voice through Leonie - another commoner, and one of the most commoner student in the game (no experience as a rich merchant, or a famous diva, or a noble's adpoted child - she's one of the exceedingly few characters that has NO experience being any kind of well-off). It shows that he does still care for them, even if he feels like he isn't allowed to attach himself to them on a personal level - speaks to his character overall really, that he genuinely cares about the people around him but something in HIM stops him from connecting to others as much as he wants to.

He's more disconnected from the commoners than Dimitri is, but it's something he acknowledges and something he's working on in his own way - and that way involves his friends! It involves TRUSTING his friends to help him!! - and that's kinda neat to me. Well, until the game decided that actually he hates having any responsibility and that he wants to run away from all of the work he gave himself before blaming his own actions on an innocent woman that he's going to brutally slaughter for no reason. Since Hopes is apparently deathly allergic to even the CONCEPT of basic consistency.

damn i was gone from tumblr for so long that i didn’t know asks could get this long lmao

Oh I do like that Claude is getting help from commoners. That at least is a very normal thing for Claude to do.

I do feel like it was pretty odd for him to take on all that work and then continuously make jokes about not wanting to do it. It was consistent enough that it sounds like he actually regrets it, and iirc there was a quick mention implying he might?

Part of what aggravates me about the way Claude was written in this game is that yeah, he blames what he does on everyone else, such as “they wouldn’t surrender” or “they have to surrender so there are fewer causalities or else it’s their fault if people die”. I hate that he takes no responsibility for invading other people’s lands and pulls the “it’s their fault” card when really, Faerghus was minding its own business. It’s not Dimitri’s fault that people die in a war that he didn’t start. He was working on Faerghus’ politics and defending from the Empire. You can’t go to someone’s house, rob them while armed and then go “it’s your fault your family died because you wouldn’t give me your valuables”. That’s just stupid, and Claude isn’t supposed to be stupid.

Another thing that bothered me was just the overall lack of consistency in the second half. In the first half he was fine, but in the second half they made it a point to make him not want to sacrifice people and the stuff we’re used to, but then he’d turn around and do something terrible and blame his enemies for it. The only thing he took responsibility for was Randolph because all his allies got pissed about that, but if they didn’t get mad at him, he didn’t really care about what he was doing/who he had to kill.

There are times when he does seem to genuinely care regarding not wanting to kill people, but his excuses for the people he does kill always cast the blame on the actual victims. I don’t think he’s heartless, but he definitely lacks any kind of decency. Claude’s always been the type to do whatever was necessary to win as long as it didn’t involve causalities, and if it had to that would be because they were being attacked first.

For instance, he was really upset in SB when tons of people died because he insisted on fighting Leopold and the Empire still got him out of that fight alive. He wondered if they should’ve just surrendered to the Empire in the first place because it would’ve saved lives, but Hilda reminds him that the people in the Alliance would never have gone for that without putting up a fight first. In that situation, he’s upset about it but he was in the right to fight back. People died, yeah, but because he was trying to defeat the strongest general in the invading army.

It’s not Claude’s personality that I don’t like in this game. I think his general characteristics and behavior are pretty standard for what we’d expect. I just hate how they made him be the one to make all the questionable choices and do things that disregarded his morals. Even Edelgard, at least in SB, isn’t as bad as he is in GW in some ways. In SB it also seems more like Claude allied with her because he was so defeated and stressed out from their losses that he gave up. In GW, he’s a lot crueler and while I think Claude can be dubious from time to time, I don’t think he’s supposed to be outright cruel.

Like, I’m sorry but guilt tripping Ashe to join them and making Ashe question his choices for the entire rest for the game was just painful to watch. Ashe hated betraying Faerghus and probably would’ve gone down fighting if Dimitri hadn’t told him to prioritize his life over his loyalty. Claude obviously knew Dimitri was like that and used it against Ashe to make Ashe stop fighting, but it wasn’t like “you can surrender, give us the stronghold and we’ll let you live”. It was “you can surrender and join our army and actively fight against your friends or die”. When it comes to Claude, I would expect him to lean far more toward the end of “just surrender and leave” not “join our army and help us slaughter your friends :)”. Even Yuri calls him “vicious” for it.

Something I noticed was that throughout GW, the characters in camp were questioning Claude’s choices very regularly. It got to the point where a lot of people were disgusted with his choices. That does mean the writers are self aware, and that bugs me even more tbh.

It feels like they wanted to try something new with Claude but didn’t really know exactly how to pull it off, and it just feels like a convoluted mess. I want to like Claude in Hopes just because... he’s Claude and I like Claude, but it’s so damned difficult when he does half the shit he does.

[firelxdykatara]

I’m just really confused as to where this idea that Zuko is gaycoded came from. Like people are allowed to have that headcanon but I don’t understand where people are coming from when they try and claim that he was undisputedly gaycoded and trying to deny it is homophobic when he’s only ever shown romantic interest in women.

I made a pretty long post on the topic a while back, but the ultimate gist of it is this: there are a lot of elements of Zuko's status as an abuse victim and trauma survivor that resonate with queer folks. This is understandable and completely fine! However, there are some parts of the fandom who have taken that to the other extreme and will now insist that those elements are uniquely queer, and that they can only be read as some sort of veiled gay/coming out narrative, even though that doesn't make much sense since there is no part of Zuko's narrative which is unique to any sort of queer experience.

I think the problem really does stem from two things being conflated--Zuko's history of abuse and trauma, and trauma&abuse being something a lot of queer people have experienced. I suspect it goes something like 'I see a lot of myself in Zuko, and I was abused for being gay, therefore Zuko must be gay too in order to have had similar experiences.' This can then lead to feeling dismissed or invalidated when other people point out that those experiences are not unique to being queer--but on the flip side, abuse victims and trauma survivors whose abuse&trauma do not stem from queerness (even if they are queer themselves) can feel invalidated and dismissed by the implication that their trauma must be connected to their queerness or it isn't valid.

This is also where the 'people don't actually know what gay coded means' part comes in, and I realize now that I didn't actually get into what gay coding (and queer coding in general) actually means, since I was so hung up on pointing out how Zuko doesn't really fit the mold. (And the few elements that exist which could be said to count are because of the 'villains historically get queer coded bc Hays Code era' thing and mostly occur in Book 1, not because of how he acts as an abuse&trauma survivor.)

Under a cut because I kind of go on a tangent about gay/queer coding, but I swear I get back to the point eventually.

Queer coding (and it is notable that, with respect to Zuko, it is almost always framed as 'he couldn't possibly be attracted to girls', rather than 'he could be attracted to boys as well as girls' in these discussions, for... no real discernible reason, but I'll get into that in a bit) is the practice of giving characters 'stereotypically queer' traits and characteristics to 'slide them under the radar' in an era where having explicitly queer characters on screen was not allowed, unless they were evil or otherwise narratively punished for their queerness. (See: the extant history of villains being queer-coded, because if they were Evil then it was ok to make them 'look gay', since the story wasn't going to be rewarding their queerness and making audiences think it was in any way OK.) This is thanks to the Motion Picture Production Code (colloquially and more popularly known as the Hays Code), which was a set of guidelines which movies coming out of any major studio had to adhere to in order to be slated for public release and lasted from the early 1930s until it was finally abandoned in the late 60s.

The Hays Code essentially existed to ensure that the content of major motion pictures would not 'lower the moral standards' of the viewing public. It didn't just have to do with queerness--cursing was heavily monitored, sex outside of marriage was not allowed to be seen as desirable or tittilating, miscegenation was not allowed (most specifically interracial relationships between black and white people), criminals had to be punished lest the audience think that it was ok to be gay and do crime, etc. Since same-sex relations fell under 'sexual perversion', they could not be shown unless the 'perversion' were punished in some way. (This is also the origin of the Bury Your Gays trope, another term that is widely misunderstood and misapplied today.) To get around this, queer coding became the practice by which movies and television could depict queer people but not really, and it also became customary to give villains this coding even more overtly, since they would get punished by the end of the film or series anyway and there was nothing to lose by making them flamboyant and racy/overly sexual/promiscuous.

Over time, this practice of making villains flamboyant, sexually aggressive, &etc became somewhat separated from its origins in queer coding, by which I mean that these traits and tropes became the go-to for villains even when the creator had no real intention of making them seem queer. This is how you generally get unintentional queer-coding--because these traits that have been given to villains for decades have roots in coding, but people tend to go right to them when it comes to creating their villains without considering where they came from.

Even after the Hays Code was abandoned, the sentiments and practices remained. Having queer characters who weren't punished by the narrative for being queer was exceptionally rare, and it really isn't until the last fifteen or so years that we've seen any pushback against that. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is famous for being one of the first shows on primetime television to feature an explicitly gay relationship on-screen, and that relationship ended in one of the most painful instances of Bury Your Gays that I have ever personally witnessed. (Something that, fourteen years later, The 100 would visually and textually reference with Lexa's death. Getting hit by a bullet intended for someone else after a night of finally getting to be happy and have sex with her s/o? It wasn't remotely subtle. I don't even like Clexa, but that was incredibly rough to witness.)

However, bringing this back to Zuko, he really doesn't fit the criteria for queer coding for a number of reasons. First of all, no one behind the scenes (mostly a bunch of cishet men) was at all intending to include queer rep in the show. This wasn't a case where they were like 'well, we really wanted to make Zuko gay, but we couldn't get that past the censors, so here are a few winks and a nudge', because it just wasn't on their radar at all. Which makes sense--it wasn't on most radars in that era of children's programming. This isn't really an indictment, it's just a fact of the time--in the mid/late 00s, no one was really thinking about putting queer characters in children's cartoons. People were barely beginning to include them in more teen- and adult-oriented television and movies. It just wasn't something that a couple of straight men, who were creating a fantasy series aimed at young kids, were going to think about.

What few instances you can point to from the series where Zuko might be considered to exhibit coding largely happen in Book 1, when he was a villain, because the writers were drawing from typically villainous traits that had historically come from queer coding villains and had since passed into common usage as villainous traits. But they weren't done with any intention of making it seem like Zuko might be attracted to boys.

And, again, what people actually point to as 'evidence' of Zuko being queer-coded--his awkwardness on his date with Jin and his confrontation with Ozai being the big ones I can think of off the top of my head--are actually just... traits that come from his history of trauma and abuse.

As I said in that old post:

making [zuko’s confrontation of ozai] about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

And, regarding his date with Jin:

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

Zuko is socially awkward and maladjusted because he was abused by his father as a child and has trouble relating to people as a result. He was heavily traumatized and brutally physically injured as a teenager, and it took him years to begin to truly recover from the scars that left on his psyche (and it's highly likely, despite the strides he made in canon, that he has a long way to go, post series; it's such a pity that we never got any continuation comics >.>). He was not abused for being gay or queer--he was abused because his father believed he was weak, and part of Zuko's journey was realizing that his father's perception of strength was flawed at its core. That his entire nation had rotted from the inside out, and the regime needed to be changed in order for the world--including his people--to begin to heal.

That could be commingled with a coming out narrative, which is completely fine for headcanons (although I personally prefer not to, because, again, we have more than enough queer trauma already), but it simply doesn't exist in canon. Zuko was not abused or traumatized for being queer, and his confrontation with Ozai was not about him coming out or realizing any fundamental truth about himself--it was about realizing something fundamental about his father and his nation, and making the choice to leave them behind so that he could help the Avatar grow stronger and force things to change when he got back.

TL;DR: at the end of the day, none of the traits, scenes, or behavior Zuko exhibits which shippers tend to use to claim he was gay-coded are actually evidence of coding--they aren't uniquely queer experiences, as they stem from abuse that was not related in any way to his sexuality, and they are experiences that any kid who suffered similar abuse or trauma could recognize and resonate with. (Including straight kids, and queer kids who were abused for any reason other than their identity.) And, finally, Zuko can be queer without erasing or invalidating his canon attraction to girls, and it's endlessly frustrating that the 'Zuko is gay-coded' crowd refuses to acknowledge that.

[agent-cupcake]

you ever thought abt writing about if Dimitri's feral side didn't go away? or maybe one where the only way he stops being feral around others is if he, ahem, takes his frustrations out on Y/N

I might have talked about this before but I can't remember for the life of me so, sorry if I'm being repetitive.

I don't have any plans in particular for writing this but I like thinking about Dimitri never fully recovering and just becoming somewhat more functional and all of the many disastrous ways it could change the way he has relationships.

~Like, if Dimitri realizes that the best way to get revenge on Edelgard is to engage in the war strategically. Not because he sees the error of his ways, just the error of his methods.

~This would be a Dimitri who becomes aware that his delusions aren't real, who realizes he can't go on as he is, but isn't able to reconcile with his issues or the dead. His campaign is no longer about those he has lost but those impulses, that madness that drove him to such extremes in the name of the dead, remains. He's sane enough to fight against that side of himself, just not very successfully.

~To that end, he takes the feral, primal rage and misery that compelled him for so long and refocuses it.

~Dimitri's Crest is tied to the Major Arcana Justice and that becomes his driving motivation.

~His army retakes Fhirdiad, the first step in canon!Dimitri's recovery, but instead of remaining calm and using it as a moment of character growth, he brutally tears Cornelia apart on sight. The men come to admit to their treason and he orders their deaths. There is not any cruelty he will spare those who are opposite what he sees as just, this Savior King Dimitri.

~And, yes, Dimitri takes on the mantle of King, he vows to fight for his people rather than the dead, but it's more so because he needs some way to alleviate the pressure of his aggressive urges, because that is the burden of madness he feels he must now pursue. But that's the way of war, isn't it? That is what's necessary.

~Whatever pain it causes, whatever cost it asks of him, he willingly accepts as retribution. This is not a man who is asking for forgiveness or is attempting to better himself, he still views himself in the incredibly negative way he does through the first few chapters of the timeskip, he just deals with it differently.

~When he kills Edelgard and finally gets the revenge he was pursuing, Dimitri realizes that it does nothing for him. His mania, his rage, his insanity still haunts him.

~And, okay, even though he's horribly unapproachable and snaps at people, spends an uncomfortable amount of time training (brutalizing the poor training dummies), and is held together by duct tape and a prayer, Dimitri is somebody who so horribly desperately wants love and validation.

~You give it to him because of course you do, you fool.

~But, at even the faintest whiff of this affection, he taints it with his unresolved mess of emotions after realizing that revenge couldn't fix him and ends up hyper fixating on you as an object to fill the vacuum left by his fixation on Edelgard because he is a messy man with messy feelings.

~So he's not "feral" exactly, but he never actually recovered or figured out a way to deal with his emotions in a healthy way. This is exacerbated by his lack of a support system. I don't doubt that his friends would support him given that he's a competent ruler and I think it would still be in their best interest to help him but his constantly shifting moods and single-mindedness towards some not-so-savory endeavors would make him quite uncomfortable even without being feral. Felix would probably give up his title and run away similar to his non-AM endings.

~So, basically, Dimitri clings to you even tighter because at least you're not going to leave him.... Right?

~I suppose this entire (far too complicated) scenario is just laid out to highlight issues I already see him having.

~Dimitri would have a white-knuckle grip on you because of his terror of losing someone precious to him.

~His anger would bubble up given even the slightest hint of losing the few things he feels keep him stable, or at having his justice challenged.

~Unlike canon!Dimitri, you wouldn't get very much in the way of emotional vulnerability. Not expressed through words, at least. He'd make his devoted desperation clear in other ways.

~He'd be so paranoid, which is another big deviation from canon!Dimitri because I don't think he would trust you very much at all and would be a lot less likely to give you the benefit of the doubt if he began to think something was going on.

~While it's not like I think he'd go full boar on you physically, he wouldn't be that great about controlling his strength. You think you're going to leave him? Hah, good luck when you can't even walk the next morning.

~Everything about this version of Dimitri would be so much more intense than what could be considered even slightly rational. In general, he's already an intense person, but his driving, unrelenting need would become suffocating and excessive, constantly flip-flopping from aggressively possessive to fanatical devotion.

~I've never thought that Dimitri would be a particularly sexually driven person (more that he'd care about his partner's needs over his own needs), but I do think that his need for physical intimacy would be persistent and ravenous enough to make a case for it in this instance.

~He would rely on you a lot more to help manage his moods and emotions and ground him when he needed it, so it'd be insanely emotionally unbalanced. You'd basically be Dimitri's emotional keeper. Not in the cute emotional support way, but in the scary "it is your responsibility to ensure that the King doesn't have a mental breakdown" sort of way.

[gammija]

How the Web helped Magnus mark his Archive

Have you ever seen people talk about how the Web was involved with getting Jon marked, but didn’t feel like going through every episode to find every little reference to spindly spidery legs? Well, worry no more! Because in this list I’m going to do just that. With quotes, ‘cause I never half-ass theories on tma

In chronological(ish) order, ranging from: - Undeniably Spider-involved - Suspiciously Web-adjacent - (and Web!Tapes propaganda) Let’s go!

- 22, 123: Prentiss being in Carlos Vittery’s basement

Martin may be the one who lead Prentiss to the Institute, but only because Prentiss was hanging out in Vittery’s cobwebbed basement, for an unknown reason: 

022 Colony Martin: “I turned on my torch and shone it around, but was disappointed to see that all those spider webs that I remembered seemed old and unremarkable. If there were spiders there, none were easily seen, and… for a second I thought that the only interesting part of my return trip was that it would land me in prison if I wasn’t careful. Then, I heard movement. From the other side of the basement.”

The same Vittery who had already told Annabelle about his experiences: 

123 Web Development Jon: “I-It’s apparently a list of people whose names appeared in the various pieces of text Mr. Cox was pasting into the code. It’s unclear if they were meant to be users or victims, but I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery.”

Which might mean nothing if it weren’t for:

- 38, 40: A spider lets Prentiss be found

Not only does a spider cause Jon to knock down the wall to where Prentiss was hiding in the tunnels...

038 Lost and Found Sasha: “A spider?” Jon: “Yeah. I tried to kill it…. the shelf collapsed.”

...But according to Tim’s speculation:

040 Human Remains Tim: “I think they were almost all in the Archives. I have a theory, actually. I think they weren’t ready to attack when you found the tunnels.”

Which, if true, means that if the wall hadn’t been broken, Prentiss might’ve attacked with bigger force and killed Jon outright, instead of neatly marking him.

- 35, all of s2: A Web table lets a Stranger into the Institute

Although it’s never said who or what ordered the table to be delivered, the addition of the Web lighter with it makes it easy to guess. As Jonah says in 160:  the Not!Them mark turned out not to have been necessary because of the Unknowing, but this was certainly a nice back-up to have. 

- 80: Jon steps out for a smoke

Giving Jonah the opportunity to brutal pipe murder Jurgen.

080 The Librarian Jon: “I’m going to have a cigarette. Don’t… Don’t.” [...] [SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PIPE MURDER] [...] Jon: “Sorry, I’ve been quit for five years now, but th -”

While nothing in the actual text of the episode points to Web involvement, addictions like smoking fall under their domain. Add to that the recent gift of that lighter, and Jon saying he didn’t smoke anymore, it’s certainly suspicious.

- (91: Daisy only went to the Institute when she got the tapes

Okay, this one is mostly web!tapes propaganda, but I think it’s compelling web!tapes propaganda. I’d link the post I made about this earlier, but it has simply vanished from this universe, as far as tumblr is concerned... In any case: 

091 The Coming Storm Daisy: “You ask me to take a tape over to this murdering freak, and I’m all set to tear you a new one for it. But then I get the cassette in my hand, and suddenly all I want to do is deliver his tapes, and spill my guts.”

If it’s from Jon, not only would this be the furthest reaching compulsion by far, in only in season 2 no less, but it would also be the only one that is transmitted via the tapes/another person outside of the Institute(Basira) instead of just Jon speaking directly to the person. While, if it’s the Web’s doing, making someone want to do something they don’t realize is weird at the time, is totally in their wheelhouse! And it’d make them responsible for convincing Daisy that Jon’s a monster, ergo, his Hunt mark.)

- 121: Oliver was sent by the Web

121 Far Away Oliver Banks: “Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure why I’m here. But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks.” 

Aka, the man who told Jon what he needed to hear to wake up, nice and alive and marked by both the Stranger and the End, when he hadn’t been able to for 6 months.

- (130: The Web leads Jon to Jared)

130 Meat Jon: “I found this tape tucked in a corner of my desk drawer, covered in cobwebs. I suppose subtlety has gone out the window a bit, and the question is now simply… how much I trust the Spider to have my best interests at heart.”

Not only did this one tape lead Jon to get his Flesh mark, which Jonah had conked up by getting Jared to the Institute too soon, but arguably it also made Jon confident enough to go into the Buried. Which the rib didn’t even help with!  What did help though, was...

- (134: Tape recorders and Martin got Jon out of the Buried)

Even if you don’t believe that the tapes are from the Web, there’s still this conversation: 

134 Time of Revelation Peter: “What does – puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is – why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while Jon was in there.” - Martin: “I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it – it might help him… find his way out.” Peter: “Interesting. Were you compelled?” - Martin: “I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it. [But] I’m not sure where the idea came from. Peter: “You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous.”

Implanting ideas in someone’s mind, specifically making them want to do something, without them knowing that the idea is coming from outside, is something the Web isn’t a stranger to (056, 059). It might also be the Eye, but wouldn’t Martin know what an Eye compulsion would feel like, by now?  On a meta level, it’s a curious thing to point out. Would anyone have protested if Martin got the idea of the tapes on his own?

And there you have it! 8 instances of arachnid involvement.  There are more small mentions of Web-like interference with Jon here and there in other episodes, and of course his first Fear mark in 081, but these are the ones that seem to very clearly point towards the Mother of Puppets, or some of her avatars, having helped Jonah in bringing about the end of the world. There’s still the question of why, what their ‘plan’ is now, but I’m sure we’ll find out about that soon enough - Dare I say, March 25th or earlier, even

[brazenautomaton]

Fixing Afterlives: The Maw, First Visit

So our Shadowlands journey starts with the Maw. You know what? People hate this scenario now because you can’t skip it and have to go through it on every character, but the first time through, this is actually really good. You’re kicking in the gates of Hell with a platoon of Death Knights and then everything goes tits-up and you don’t have a beachhead and you’re lost and wandering and there are awful, awful things everywhere and you’re hiding and isolated and need to learn how to escape. You just need the option to skip it on your alts.

Plus the aesthetics of the Maw are great. They sell what it is -- the hostile architecture, sinister crystal formations, the way everything seems swept and shaped by a windstream of souls. We’ve seen plenty of environments that look like a Hell of flames. This is a Hell of pure suffering. Pain is what lives here. Pain is all that enters and pain is all that is produced. It’s only after you went farming Stygia for a while that the pain gets inflicted on you.

So we assemble the crew, get the exposition while we put together the Helm of Domination, get given a portal stone to establish a beachhead, and we bust in to find the four captives: Anduin, Jaina, Baine, Thrall. We rally the Death Knights into enough of a formation to make it in and find the evidence of Jaina, and I like that, I like how you track her by the huge formations of ice -- it shows you her power and the mark she leaves. Finding her is mostly the same although her dialogue is less generic and content-free (from now on assume I apply this caveat to all dialogue). She’s more confused and disoriented and even though she’s fighting it’s with a resignation that she knows it won’t work and she’s starting to think she’s only hurting herself by trying. She acts like she has been there for years. But you say you and the DKs are here to save her and she follows against her better judgment and agrees to try and find Thrall, who she struggles to remember, but seems to be trying very hard to be able to remember.

Then the Mawsworn Kyrian show up and laugh about her hopelessness, and you fight them. And they kill the shit out of you. 

More and more and more of them keep coming and they’re level 60 when you’re level 50 and if you do some bullshit to survive eventually one of them will grab you by the neck to Silence you, lift you into the air, and do the ol’ Val’Kyr Special and fatally drop you. You unavoidably die.

This is necessary early to establish what dying in the Shadowlands means. Play a special graphic effect when the player dies, something more drawn out and grasping. Play a sound effect appropriate to race/gender of the PC of them struggling against great pain and gasping. Then you appear next to a Spirit Healer (yes normally in the Maw you just respawn alive so you have to pick up your Stygia like in Dark Souls, we’ll explain the discrepancy later), a Mawsworn Spirit Healer, who says “No. Your suffering will not end. The Maw claims you.” and then starts to chase you the fuck down with a bunch of shades. You need to run, as a ghost, to claw your way back into your body. Obviously, if the shades catch you, you get dragged back to the start and the Spirit Healer fucks with you a bit. 

Your body has been dragged over to the area where Jaina and the rest are hiding; they fled while you were being merced. Jaina sees you stir. And she says “I’m sorry, champion. Death is no respite here. It is so hard to fight the pull… I struggle to even remember my body when I try to return.”

Jaina has been brutally killed over a dozen times. This is not her first rodeo. This is not her first escape attempt. This is not the first time she’s killed that particular Mawsworn tormenter whose name I don’t recall. It doesn’t end. It never ends. She doesn’t know why she tries any more, when she knows it will fail and she will die and suffer and claw her way back to her flesh and every time it gets harder and harder. All it buys her is the ability to offer futile resistance and maybe that isn’t even worth it.

Mood: established.

From there it goes mostly the same. You try to pump the shades for info about how to escape and they don’t know, they can’t know, they can’t even want to escape. The info you get is a memory of spitefully hating someone who fled to the waystone. You rescue your buddies. You see the Jailer fuck up Baine, only instead of giving him a spirit poison, he fucking snaps the dude like a Kit-Kat and drops his lifeless corpse, and you drag it to safety. You don’t need to find a poison dagger to counteract the spirit poison; you need to keep him safe and clear a path for his spirit to flee back to his body. Thus reinforcing what the danger here is and how it’s different and what they fear.

And while you do this, at some point, you run into Sylvanas. Maybe she just walks up to you while you’re all collected around Baine trying to help him revive. Since the Jailer won’t be saying “it’s not like you won anything b-b-baka, it was just a temporary setback,” you need to establish that feeling that he views your victories as completely meaningless. Sylvanas knows you’re here saving Baine. So does the Jailer. It does not matter. You cannot accomplish anything. 

Thrall kills her dead. She just gets back up. She has an escort for her soul to go back to her body. “How many times are you going to try that before you learn it’s futile? Come now, Thrall. I know you’re smarter than this. I know you respected me more than this.”

And then stuff like “How could you do this, Sylvanas? How could you betray the Horde?” Thrall is incredibly angry and offended at her. He thought he knew her. “Neither of us had any illusions you were not a monster, Banshee Queen. But I trusted you anyway because I knew you wanted what was best for your people. You were a monster, but a loyal one. How can you now turn your back on what little principle you had?” Sylvanas is hurt by this, but she doesn’t linger on it.

Jaina, however, is desperately trying to flatter her. Do this to sell the kind of impact this has had on Jaina, and what this suffering drives her to. “Please, Sylvanas. I know you were my enemy but you were an honorable one. It isn’t too late. Someone as cunning as you must know that this will end in ruin. I promise… I promise… I will surrender if you let me return. Kul Tiras will become servants of the Forsaken. Just, just let them live… please, you could rule our world, not slaughter it…”

Jaina breaks down in tears. Yes, she just tried to surrender her people to the enemy for mercy. Jaina is breaking. All of them will. The Maw is a Bad Place and makes them give up hope. That’s how we sell the threat. Not by making the enemies bigger or spikier, showing how they have broken these heroes. Less screaming anger. More pain.

Sylvanas scoffs at her offer. “It doesn’t matter where your people’s loyalty lies, Lord Admiral.” And then she says the phrase that will become a motif: “Nobody escapes the Maw.” She leaves. She doesn’t care what you do. It doesn’t matter.

But you have to still hold on to that sliver of hope that maybe the waystone is a way out. So you get Baine up and you sneak past this big-ass Maw army that can fuck 31 flavors of your day up. The jailer notices you and sends out a force to stop you at the waystone, and he repeats the phrase when he sends out the order: “Nobody escapes the Maw.”

So there’s the event, you fight off the army while the waystone charges, the army gets bigger and bigger, the charge meter gets stuck at 90%, you go to kick it and it teleports you to Oribos.

The mob descends on the other captives. Sylvanas and the Jailer look completely unconcerned with your escape. After having clearly seen you physically leave the Maw, Sylvanas brushes it off with “Nobody escapes the Maw.” Dun-DUNNN! Cutscene end.

You appear in Oribos. The Protectors stop you because you stink like the Maw and what the hell dude, yada yada. This is when you get a tour of the city, here’s the profession trainers, the bank, the transmog. Only secondary details need to be changed here. One, this is an instanced version of the city where no other players exist (you are the first one there, nobody else is). Two, Lich King Bolvar (hashtag #notmylichking) arrives from Azeroth and says SOMETHING to justify other players coming from the Maw but being less important than you. Something like, he saw what you did, there are other adventurers from Azeroth still in the Maw, his DKs are hunkering down in defensive positions and will try to make their way to the Waystone once it cools off because you already activated it, since you are the more special one, and there might be a chance that a couple others might have an echo of your power because they have had similar adventures. You are the True Maw Walker, and the context of the massively multiplayer element is “for your story, all those other guys have shitty Maw Walker powers that only work once you opened the pickle jar for them.” They can’t bring passengers, either.

Third, not the most importantly but yes the most importantly, if you are Forsaken or a Death Knight or Mechagnome or whatever you get a special dialogue where you say “Why do you keep calling me a ‘living mortal’? I’m not alive. I’m undead / a machine / maybe something else like maybe I missed the fact that vulpera are made of rocks and string.”

So Tal-Inara or whoever can be like “Oh, THAT’S what that is. Something was odd about you, mortal, that I couldn’t quite place. I call you ‘living’ because your soul is still tethered to a body. To us in the Shadowlands, to be bound in a vessel like this is far more important than the nature of the vessel itself.” That’s why people keep calling you “living”, to them you’re easy to mistake for one.

Kyrian in the Maw is disturbing news, and also WEIRD, because as Tal-Inara reminds us, “Nobody escapes the Maw.” Why would the Kyrian go down there when they can’t come back? It is terrible but not unheard of for mortals to try and speak to the Jailer but they never GO there because they can’t get out. And yet Sylvanas just walked in there? And he is mustering armies? Better go to Bastion and find out what is up. Let’s crank open this gateway, and...

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Five

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.

While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.

Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.

Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.

Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.

Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”

His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”

“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”

Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”

Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”

“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”

Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.

"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!

"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.

"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.

Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.

The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.

"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."

"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.

Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"

"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.

She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.

"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”

Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!

"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.

"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"

Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.

Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."

This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.

Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.

"Oh shit!"

°°°

A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.

Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.

"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

"And you are...?"

Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."

Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.

Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.

"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."

"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."

"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"

Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.

"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.

Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“

Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."

"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.

"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.

“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.

A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”

Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.

°°°

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.

"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."

"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."

Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."

Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."

"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"

"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."

The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"

What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.

"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.

°°°

He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.

“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”

Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.

“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”

Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”

If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.

°°°

Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!  

“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.

With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”

“No, the charges were dropped.”

Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.

As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."

Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.

"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.

With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."

Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.

With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"

"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.

Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.

Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.

“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”

Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“

Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.

As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.

He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”

“Tenders and fries.”

Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.

Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.

Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.

Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.

“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”

°°°

There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.

°°°

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About the First Season of--

Salutations random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

When I first saw the sneak peek of--

...I...didn't...think it would be anything all that special. I love animation, and I love superheroes, so it would go without saying that I would love an animated series about superheroes. But the animation looked a little too stiff for my liking, and aside from featuring J.K. Simmons, there wasn't anything grabbing me when it comes to this show.

Then I heard some s**t goes down at the end of episode one. So, letting my curiosity get the better of me, I binged the entire series in a day to see what the fuss was about. And, um...Yeah. Holy s**t.

This is a series that will very much make you uncomfortable in all the right ways. However, it is a gigantic gorefest at times, so if you get queasy after a single drop of blood, DON'T WATCH THIS SHOW! Trust me, you will not be prepared for what this series has to offer.

At the same time, I highly recommend you watch this series before reading this review. I'm going to spoil major plot points and characters so I can appropriately discuss what I think about the season, so trust me when I say you should click away if you haven't watched it yet. It's one of those series that are better to go in as blind as possible. You can call it a cheap way to appeal to shock value, but I call it one of the best reasons why--

...Is a contender for best-animated series of the decade--That bit with the title card isn't going away anytime soon, is it?

WHAT I LIKE

The Guardians of the Globe vs. The Mauler Twins: This is the best possible way for the series to begin. The first fight scene is bright, colorful, and kinda fun. Thus setting the ultimate expectation subversion in making audiences think that will be the series staple. However, just because it has the energy of a harmless superhero fight, there is a sense of intensity as the Guardians give their all in saving others. Like that moment with Darkwing (Not the duck) as he rescues that woman without hesitation, despite knowing he might die because of it. Or Green Ghost, who just barely rescues all those civilians from that falling debris. It shows that you don't need intense scenes of violence to make a fight scene thrilling to watch.

Diversity Wins: I don't know how diverse the comics are compared to the show, but I'm impressed with how inclusive this series is. So many members of the main cast are people of color, with the main lead being half-Korean. And it's not just different races that the series shines a light on, as we also get the rare, but very much welcomed, animated male gay character. Who's thankfully isn't cliched in ten ways to Sunday...for the most part. It really does seem like writers are starting to grow up and that it's better to be as inclusive as possible instead of pretending certain people don't exist for the sake of "convenience." It might not solve oppression in general, but it certainly makes certain people feel better, even if it is briefly.

Mark Grayson: Mark is a pretty solid super-protagonist if you ask me. Sure, at first, he comes across as whiney...and even more so in later episodes, but he's really an endearing character at times. Mark nails the role of the relatable everyman that's also inspirational with his determination since he never gives up until beaten to the inch of his life. Seriously, while he might not entirely be--

...I guess that bit with the title card really isn't going away.

Anyways, while he might not entirely be invulnerable in the literal sense, he is very much so in the figurative sense. Mark, in so many ways, refuses to call quits once he finally gets the hang of being a superhero, which is what makes him so inspirational. Plus, it's funny seeing how much of a rookie he can be to the gig at times. Mark is far from a perfect lead but is still charming to a fault, and it's nice seeing him grow more heroic each episode. I hope to see him develop more in future seasons, as he has the potential to be ranked higher up as one of my favorite superheroes (it's hard to compete with Spider-Man and Batman, but he'll make me consider it).

Debbie Grayson: This is almost what I expect a mother and wife of superheroes would be. 

Your son is constantly crash landing in your yard? Tell him to knock it off because he's past his curfew. 

Your husband disappeared into another dimension to fight off invaders? Shrug it off and expect that he'll be late for dinner.

It's a ton of fun to watch, and I adore how supportive she is of Mark, despite how much danger he could be in as a superhero. But, what really endears me with Debbie is her complicated feelings with Omni-Man. There's not a doubt in my mind that she loved him with her whole heart, but she also isn't an idiot. She is quick to pick up how unheroic her husband can be at times, often scolding him for it when necessary. And when she finally starts investigating if he really did kill the Guardians, I love that she instantly comes up with every single plausible excuse she can, despite knowing the truth. Because she believes that she knows who Omni-Man is and refuses any possibility that he might be a supervillain. So when she finds out that there really is no other explanation and hearing him call her a pet (big ouch when that happened), you wanna know what she does? She cries. Not because the man she loved is gone forever, but because the idea of him is. And it's that level of emotional devastation that comes from those complicated emotions that make me think Debbie Grayson is the most complex and endearing character on the show. And I. Will. Stand by that.

Seeing the Guardians of the Globe on their down time: Wow, what a cute collection of scenes that are charming as much as they are heartwarming! A set of scenes that show how human these characters are with their close relationships with friends and family! I sure hope it's not followed up with a brutal emotional gut-punch of a scene that will be even more devastating after thinking back on these! Especially with that bit with Martian Man and the little girl, cause OOO-WEE, would THAT tear me up inside!

Omni Man destroying the Guardians of the Globe:...I'd follow through on my joke here, but holy s**t.

That's really the best way I can describe all of this. It is a brutal, I repeat, BRUTAL scene that will stick with you hours after watching it. Not only that, but it's one of the few instances when I was damn near speechless because I couldn't think of anything else to say other than, "Holy s**t." The only time another superhero property did that was Avengers: Infinity War, except with that, the only difference is that the characters come back. Here, except for The Immortal, the Guardians stay dead! There's no magic amulet or alternate versions from another dimension. No, they die and never come back. Thus setting up how serious the show can be. Because if these superheroes can stay dead, then so can others.

Plus, what makes it more impactful is how throughout the entire fight, there was a glimpse of hope that the Guardians can beat Omni-Man. I heard he got nerfed for the sake of drama, and I approve of that decision. Because if he was really--

...If he was really unbeatable, then the fight doesn't have weight to it. There wouldn't be a point in rooting for these characters to win when we already know they're going to lose. But, by showing there's a chance that they could win, it becomes all the more intense watching the fight and even more tragic seeing them lose. It is a masterpiece of a battle that proves once and for all: Batman is right. You need contingency plans.

Omni Man: J. Jonah Jameson has become the one thing he hates the most: A masked MENACE...Ok, I know Omni-Man doesn't wear a mask, so the joke doesn't work as well as it could. But it was served to me on a silver platter, damn it! I had to take it!

In all seriousness, though, Omni-Man might give Homelander a run for his money on best evil Superman. Because while Homelander might be terrifying in his own right with his style of evil, Omni-Man takes it a step up a notch with the mystery behind WHY he killed the Guardians of the Globe. We know right away that there's something off with him, but up until that point, we see multiple instances of Omni-Man doing the right thing rather than the wrong. Sure, he might come off as cold when interacting with people, but so does Batman and other great superheroes in comics. That doesn't mean he's evil. So when he does do something so incredibly heinous, we're left with this mystery as to why. Because there has to be a reason for it all, right? Like, maybe mind control or his family was threatened. Something and anything that means he was forced into killing the noblest of people. So when it turns out that his actions were intentional, it is already pretty devastating. But when we find out why he does these things, it paints how truly evil Omni-Man is, given how little respect he has for human life.

Plus, as terrifying as Homelander is, Omni-Man is ten times more of an engaging villain. With Homelander, what you see is what you get: A narcissist with a god complex. For Omni-Man, it's more or less the same thing, but it's something fed to him because of the conditioning from his planet. There is a tiny, molecule-sized part of him that genuinely cares about others. It doesn't change what he does, nor does it mean he deserves forgiveness (far from it), but it hints that maybe he's not evil because of his own ego. It's because of how he's trained to be. And judging by his pained expressions from Mark's words and the single tear he sheds when leaving everything behind, there's a chance that he might be willing to fight back that mentality.

Or he will stay evil, and that he'll return to do worse things in the future. I don't know. I haven't read the comics. But I feel like I don't need to read anything to tell you all that Omni-Man is up there as one of the most intriguing comic book villains of all time, and I can't wait to see what happens with him next.

This show is f**king Violent: I mean, I refer you back to that scene where Omni-Man destroys the Guardians of the Globe. But, unlike other shows that use violence to force that mature rating, I feel as though In--

...Title card. You were cute the first time, but now your novelty has quickly worn thin.

Anyways, I feel as though this show...uses gore more appropriately. More often than not, death and carnage get treated as a literal joke in adult cartoons because people are sick bastards, I guess. But with...the current series I'm talking about, it all has an impact. No one dies or gets mangled for the sake of shock value or for a laugh. Instead, every instance of this type of violence is to either make a point, set the tone, or prove just how dangerous a specific character is. It makes...the series more mature than most adult cartoons you'll find because it actually brings a worthy discussion for its violence rather than milking it to give the illusion of maturity. And I gotta respect the writers for doing that.

Cecil: This man is basically Nick Fury if he was overpowered but in a good way. There is just something about a man who knows superheroes are needed in the world but also trusts a "hero" like Omni-Man as far as he can throw him. Not only does Cecil have contingency plans for his contingency plans, but the guy also knows to send the right heroes out for the exact missions that require them. Plus, a man is an instant badass when he's stone-faced about a demon saying he'll go somewhere worse than hell and is calm when being face-to-face with an angry Omni-Man.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

The title card gets bloodier with each episode: This is just a really cool gimmick. It proves how intense this show can really be and how the stakes get higher and higher with each installment. Also, I like to think the amount of blood that splashes over the title card reflects how brutal the episode will be, especially with episode eight, 'cause holy hell.

The plot structure: The way the story works is very similar to how a comic book series handles its overarching narrative. Even though the writers begin a new arc that continues for a handful of issues, the overall main plot still develops in the background of the current adventure the hero goes through. That's basically how--

>Intense inhale<

>Calm exhale<

That's basically how THIS SHOW operates. Each episode can be seen as its own story that's given a ton of room to develop with its forty-five-minute runtime (which blew my f**king mind when I started binging it). Despite that, there's still a great sense of continuity. Everything involving Omni-Man and the mystery behind his murder of the Guardians gets fleshed out throughout the season, even when it takes the background of Mark's escapades. It really does feel like sitting down and taking the time to read an entire volume of comics, which I like to believe is the intention. After all, what's the point of making a series about superheroes if you don't make it feel like a comic book at least once?

Dark Blood: I desire a series based on this character alone. I know it's probably just Hellboy, but I want it. 

The idea of a demon solving murder crimes to work off his debt in Hell is too much of a remarkable concept to strictly be a c-plot in one series. Give Dark Blood a spin-off, damn it!

The Realistic Portrayal of a Superhero world: Unlike certain superhero properties--*cough* DC *cough*--it's--

>Huff<

>Puff<

>HUFF<

>PUFF<

>HUFF<

It's. This. F**KING. SHOW! That really does an excellent job at portraying how much it would suck to live in a world of superheroes. Sure, you got the cool battles and awe-inspiring heroes with incredible powers, but do you know what else you get? Hundreds upon thousands of people dying from the very threats those heroes fight against. Not to mention all the realistic physics that come from people like Mark trying to save others. Just look at how mangled that old woman looked when he attempted to help her. It, uh...It sure did not look great. Don't get me wrong, I love superheroes and the worlds they live in. But when watching a show like...this one, it really makes me appreciate how I don't live in those worlds with them.

It’s Still Funny: This is something I appreciate the most. When most superhero shows go for the realistic approach, they go with the doom and gloom route, making everything so melodramatic about how serious the world is. But here's the thing: Superheroes are f**king stupid.

Don't tell me they're not because they are. Superheroes have cornball hero names, bright costumes, and logos on their foreheads, chests, belts, and what-have-you. Taking a superhero too seriously is the worst mistake you could make, which is why I love the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Say what you want about Marvel having "too many jokes," but at least they know it's for the best to laugh at themselves and embrace the weirdness. It's something similar with...you know what. Because while the series tells a serious and realistic story about superheroes, it's still a story about superheroes. So it tells some jokes and some pretty funny ones at that. Because while it's essential to include some drama in a story such as the one in...you know what, it's just as important to never forget to have some fun.

“Earth is not yours to conquer.”: Such a great line that gains an even greater meaning once we fully know who Omni-Man is. The main creditor for how effective it is goes to J.K. Simmons for making the line sound explicit yet implicit at the same time.

Allen the Alien: ...It is an absolute crime that this character only has about six minutes of screentime. Allen is such a bro, partially because of Seth Rogan's performance, that I would honestly be upset if he doesn't show up more often in later seasons. Seriously, bring him back for more.

The Mauler Twins: Thankfully, these characters get as much attention as they deserve. The banter between the Mauler Twins is always entertaining, often being the comedic highlights at times. On top of being funny, they also work as efficient villains who can come across as threatening at times.

But what I love most of all about these two is the explanation behind the cloning process. The reasoning of why neither character remembers which one is the cone is a brilliant idea that I'm surprised no one else did in the past (to my knowledge). It also provides some excellent fruit for thought in wondering if it really is better to live your life not knowing if you're a clone or not. The whole thing is great to watch, and it makes me really glad for their inclusion...too bad they had to be forced into a story that makes a character look like a reckless superhero and an inconsiderate jackass to his friend. Seriously, what was up with that?

“That Actually Hurt”: This just might be my favorite episode of the first season. Machine Head is both equally hilarious and devious, Titan might just be my favorite character due to how intriguing his allegiances and motivations are, that final fight was the perfect amount of brutal, and we get the biggest hint of the man Omni-Man really is. Having him simply watching Mark instead of flying in to help him actually shocked me the first time seeing it. It's not until we learn what a Viltrumite really is that it becomes clear as to why. He doesn't care about saving his son but instead seeing Mark reach the same potential Omni-Man did during that smash fest the planet went through to reach perfection. And something tells me he felt more disappointment than sadness after seeing his son get nearly killed by Tony the Tiger (I know he has an actual name...but this is funnier to me). It's such a solid moment with great implications that just so happens to exist in an even greater episode.

Eve deciding to just help people for the heck of it: I actually love this idea more for the potential it has rather than what actually happens so far. Because the main reason why heroes don't fly around and solve every little minute problem people have is that they need to learn how to act without help. If you suddenly make food appear out of thin air or stopping forest fires, you're doing good, but there's also potential harm that comes from it. I think back to that episode of The Powerpuff Girls, where the townspeople are so idiotic and complacent with having their heroes solve every problem that they really can't think or act for themselves. A similar thing can happen with Eve if she's not careful. Even worse, if she keeps trying to end famine for farmers, because she might get into a Supergirl situation with people building a cult around her. And, you know, that's not going to be fun.

But again, that's just the potential that this presents. We--Or the people who haven't read the comics--don't know if Eve will actually face this issue. Regardless, we still get some solid moments that proves just how much Eve is a true hero in this series as she has no other motive to help people other than she just wants to. And I actually think that's pretty cool.

The Immortal’s rematch: I gotta hand it to the guy. Not a second after being brought back to life, and The Immortal's already flying off to get revenge on the bastard who killed his closest friends in the world. Or, globe, I guess.

I respect that, to be honest.

(As a bonus, The Immortal causing Omni-Man's eyes to become bloodshot adds to how evil he'll be in the last episode)

Mark trying to snap his dad out of mind-control: Oh, I felt that.

I'm pretty sure we all felt that.

Ow...Big ow.

The Train Scene: ...This is the most horrific thing I have seen in entertainment. Seriously, while Omni-Man annihilating the Guardians left me speechless, this is another level. Because him using Mark's body to kill a train full of people ramming into them, leaving Mark all the more helpless to stop it, makes a scene that is so...so hard for me to describe how effectively f**ked up it is. It's one of those moments where just by seeing it, you know why it's awful in all the right ways. And I will never forget the look of shock and horror on my face when it reflected onto my laptop's screen after the scene briefly cut to black soon after the carnage. Because if that doesn't explain how unmerciful this moment is, I don't know what will.

Saving Mark after the fight: I really love this because as it flashes between still images of people carrying Mark away after his brutal fight with Omni-Man, it really feels like you're reading a comic from panel to panel. It’s pretty neat. I won’t lie.

WHAT I DISLIKE

The Animation isn’t that great: Now, in terms of action, the animation is fantastic. You feel the impact of each attack, there are some creative uses of powers, and the gore is better implemented because it's all animated. As for everything else...yeah, it kinda sucks. Movements are a little stiff at times, the CGI backgrounds could use a bit more polish, and don't get me started on the CGI crowds of people. I understand the shortcuts that need to be taken to make everything else more effective, but man, this series needed a little more time in the oven before being shown to everyone. It's never too bad, but it can be pretty distracting at times.

Amber: F**k Amber. Just f**k her. Everything people tell you that is wrong with her is one-hundred percent on point. She is easily one of the worst love interests, and to me, it has everything to do with the fact that she knows Mark is--

...That she knows Mark is--

...

...

...ThatsheknowsMarkisInvinci--

--BECAUSE IT INVALIDATES ANY POINT SHE HAS, GOSH DANGIT! I don't give a single S**T if she's upset that he's late all the time! If Amber was always unaware of it, then I would understand. But having her know means that she thinks her issues are more important than Mark, oh, I don't know, SAVING THE PLANET! I mean, the girl helps feed the homeless! You would think she would understand.

But fine. Maybe Amber's just upset that Mark's lying to her. Sure. That's understandable...BUT WHAT THE F**K IS UP WITH HER BLOWING UP IN HIS FACE FOR NOT HELPING ANYBODY AT THE COLLEGE WHEN SHE KNOWS HE'S HELPING EVERYBODY!? Even if it's her giving Mark one last chance to tell her the truth (which is a mile of a stretch, and you know it), did she really expect him to reveal his secret with tons of people watching? That is a crazy expectation that no one should live up to!

Amber is quite possibly the worst thing about this show. She was fine at first, and her chemistry with Mark was on point, but MAN, did she get worse later on.

And if I see one mother f**ker calling me a racist because I don't like this character who just so happens to be black...I'm going to be upset, not gonna lie. Because that is a cheap shot to dismiss any criticism, especially since her race has NOTHING to do with why people hate her...Or, at least, most people.

Edit (5/27/2021): Disregard the above. The long and short is that I don’t like Amber. She just doesn’t sit right with me for the reasons that her anger towards Mark just never felt entertaining to me in comparision to everything else. But saying her thoughts and arguements are invalid is not cool, and I’m sorry to both any readers who are black or especially female who would be upset by this.

Rex-splode: I understand the point behind Rex. He's a character who we're supposed to hate, so it becomes so much more satisfying seeing others s**t on him. But those characters are hard to get right if you’re not careful. Make them too irritating, then any suffering they go through will seem too little. Make them not annoying enough, and their punishments can be too harsh. Rex fits into the "too irritating" category. It's satisfying to see Monster Girl wreck his s**t after he started commenting how ineffective she might be, but with what he pulled with Dupli-Kate, I feel as though he might deserve worse. Although I will admit Rex gets slightly better in later episodes, showing at least a smidgen of character development. But I don't think it's enough to make his a**holeness worth it. Still, I hope he at least becomes above decent in the next few seasons, which is way more than what I can say for Amber.

(Seriously, writers, if she just disappears without an ounce of an explanation in the season premiere, I won't question it. You have my word.)

Edit: I no longer agree with what I crossed out, but I won’t delete it either. I want people to know the mistake I made so I can prove that I changed in the future.

Robot cloning himself to be with Monster Girl: ...Nope! 

Nope!

Changed my mind.

I am NOT touching that.

I will touch a lot of things, but I will not touch--That came out wrong.

Please forget you read anything.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Let’s move on

Transitioning to the title card: Here it is! The nitpickiest of all nitpicks! But, seeing how it happens in every episode, meaning that the writers have no choice but to commit to it, means it's one of those things that viewers are forced to get used to. And boy, is the transition to the title card hard to get used to! Oh, you thought it was annoying how it kept happening in this review? Well...fair enough. But trust me when I say it's much more aggravating in the show.

The funny thing is, I had no problem the first time it happened. It was a cute way to introduce the character as well as the title of the series. But having that be the basis for transitioning to the title card every time was a gimmick that got old real quick. Especially since every time that a character says the word--

--it always feels forced. What's even more annoying is that sometimes it interrupts characters as they're saying invin--

LIKE! F**KING! THAT! Because interrupting someone before they say something is one thing, but doing so as they're saying it shows a sense of bad timing. Not even that, because this is something that I feel like could have been the easiest to change in the series by having someone go, "Hey, maybe we should edit out this single second."

It's laziness that doesn't happen often, but it still grinds my gears a bit. Plus, is there really no other smoother transition the writers could come up with? Did they really believe this is the best way to do it?

Think, writers! THINK!

It's fine to have a gimmick, but this is one that really shouldn't have any follow-through on.

-------------

That's about all the issues I have with the show. It's far from perfect, but still, an A- is pretty impressive work. The stuff that this series does right not only outnumbers the mistakes but also heavily outweighs them. Besides, no show in the history of creativity has ever been perfect in its first season. There are always dents that need to get buffed out and improve upon for the subsequent seasons to come. Only then can a series truly be Invincible from all criticism.

...

...Oh, sure. 

SURE!

NOW it lets me say it!

GOSH, DANGIT, I HATE THAT TITLE CARD!

[bigskydreaming]

Ive been reading some debates on whether or not Dick has LoA training because of the Vengeance Academy stuff and was wondering what you thought about that. Do you think this counts?

Yes and no? I mean, lol, it depends on your purposes for exploring this train of thought.

Thing is, I personally think it would be a mistake to view “League of Assassin training” as some complete singular thing that you either have or you don’t have, like a specific training regimen or course work for lack of a better analogy, that you either make it to the end of and have in its entirety, or else it doesn’t matter.

And I also think that part of the reason for viewing it this way is fandom’s tendency to try and rank the Batkids, according to a lot of various arbitrary variables like skillsets they do or don’t have.....which, if you’ve followed me long enough, you know is something I heavily disagree with, the trying to rank them in skills or competency in general.....as I tend to be more interested in ways this found family that I do ultimately gravitate towards for their ability or potential to be actual FAMILY, can like.....work together and come together rather than so constantly be pitted against each other. Like yeah, I’ll rant to Kingdom Come about times they’ve been pitted against each other in terms of my feelings on those specific instances or how the dynamics played out in them, but that’s in terms of scenes or stories that already exist....for the most part my thing is not really looking to INCREASE the divide between the characters, but rather the opposite.

So like......my point here is I’ve mentioned the League of Assassin training Dick likely has from his time at Vengeance Academy myself, but not in the interest of like......adding to his ‘rankings’ within the Batfam or being like anything the others can do he can do better, as frankly, I don’t think the time Dick spent at VA puts the training he got there as directly comparable to the time Damian or Jason or Cass spent with the League or League trained tutors....but that’s not really my aim in exploring that line of thought. Rather, I look at what League training Dick might have as being more a possible source of insight into experiences his siblings have.

After all, the thing about the League of Assassins is they’re very good at what they do, but what they do isn’t inherently all that different from any of the other hand-to-hand combatants throughout the DC Earth. I mean, depending on what continuity you go with, in most of them Bruce himself trained with the League or various League affiliated teachers before he came back to Gotham to be Batman, and he just sorta took what worked for him and put aside all the more lethal applications of their training and knowledge. But his own training methods when teaching Dick and the other Robins and Batgirls no doubt included more than a little overlap with League skills and training, because not all of their knowledge and expertise is STRICTLY lethal....as Bruce himself has shown, and later on Jason and Cass and Damian....most of what they can do can just as easily be repurposed for non-lethal combat. So in a lot of ways, depending on your interpretation of things and what angle you’re going with, all the Batkids can be said to have some degree of League training.....the same training Bruce himself had.

So when I talk about Dick having League training from his time at VA, Ilike I said, I’m talking more about insight, things he could glean from having firsthand knowledge not just to various League techniques or skills, but also League training methodologies and mindsets. Dick was only there a few weeks, at most maybe a couple months, and the thing is....you can pack a LOT into fairly short term experiences. That’s what boot camps are, essentially, and that’s how I viewed VA....a short term but extremely rigorous and intensive boot camp for prospective League recruits, as Shrike used it to put potential League candidates through their paces with little regard for their health or longterm prospects if they couldn’t make the cut. I called them prospective League recruits but its important that the kids weren’t recruited into VA itself first....they were literally kidnapped off the streets like Dick himself, and forced to prove themselves daily in their training and the missions Shrike set up to advance that. And all of that can be extremely motivating and act as a pressure cooker that packs a ton of training and skill acquisition into very short periods of time......BUT.....that’s not ever going to measure up to all of that being equally in place and acting as a pressure cooker when training Jason, Cass, Damian, etc over even LONGER periods of time, y’know?

BUT. Equally true is all of that is never going to measure up directly to the still extremely intensive and longterm training Dick himself received OUTSIDE of VA....just one on one with Bruce, training with the other Titans, hell, this is a guy who was an acrobat on the world stage before his parents died. Every day of his life he’s been training intensely. VA isn’t just a footnote compared to the lengthier League training some of Dick’s siblings underwent, its a footnote in the overall tapestry of Dick’s own training. And I have extreme reservations about the way League training is referred to as something various Batfam members have in addition to or on top of their other training as reasons for why they’re an even better fighter, etc....same as when Talon training comes up for Dick in AUs....when like......Bruce, Dick and the Batfam overall have never NOT ultimately defeated the League and the Court of Owls every time they come up against them.....so why does assassin training so often get regarded as this ‘leg up’ over the Batfam’s primarily non-lethal approach to combat, as though its a superior skillset? If its inherently superior, why do the assassins keep losing to the Batfam, I’m just saying. So on that front, the idea that “was trained by assassins” is innately translatable to higher elevations in the eternal quest to rank the Batkids, like.....just does not work for me and that specifically tends to be where people lose me here, not whether or not Dick has this training at all in the first place.

Another way to look at things here is like....let’s take one specific skillset: Dick’s use of escrima sticks in his fighting. Now, this DIRECTLY hails back to his time at Vengeance Academy. It was a literal plot point, that VA is where Dick first trained with escrima sticks and discovered an affinity for them. Once he was back with Bruce though, he didn’t do much further with this while Robin, but upon becoming Nightwing, he picked them up again and RENEWED his training with escrima sticks, becoming extremely proficient with them and making them his signature weapon. 

Now, is Dick’s status as one of the best fighters with this particular weapon because of his several weeks boot camp when he was ten? Again - it just depends on what you mean by that specifically. If you’re asking did he gain the proficiency he’s known for with that weapon AS a ten year old during that short span of weeks - hell no. His proficiency comes from the intensive, regular training he does with them here and now, as an adult, over a course of years, still constantly growing and improving day by day. BUT at the same time, you can ask the same question and examine it through the lens of “would he have ever discovered and explored and FURTHERED his affinity with this particular weapon if not for his time training at VA”.....the answer could still very well be no. Thus his training there matters, its just its not the only thing that matters, and the context and qualifiers that go not just with this question but the reasons for asking that question and the purposes you intend for the answer.....all of that matters too.

So to circle back.......do I consider Dick’s time at Vengeance Academy to be him having League of Assassin training?

Yes, but I must specify that my reasoning for that, and for exploring that line of thought, have absolutely nothing to do with my view of Dick’s overall status as a fighter, and everything to do with my view of him as a brother.

I think Vengeance Academy was tough and brutal, and did a lot to increase and hone Dick’s skills in various areas over an extremely short period of time. I think that it absolutely left an impression that shaped his training and fighting in later years whether in terms of preferred weapon choices or even choices he makes in the heat of the moment, like Last Laugh (which I think absolutely built upon Dick’s feelings about having once stood over a similarly unrepentant and mocking Two-Face years earlier, gun in hand, poised to make a choice.....as well as Dick’s awareness of how many times Two-Face, like the Joker, has busted out of jail and hurt and killed more people since that time).

But I also think that Dick would still be one of the foremost fighters in the DCU even without his time at VA, and that his short time there is not anywhere close to being the reason he’s at the heights of skill and aptitude that he’s reached over the course of years and years of rigorous, intensive training.

So while my answer remains yes, he has League training and it matters and counts, my reasons for bringing that up will never be because I think it adds to his status or reputation as a fighter, or is necessary for him to be as highly regarded there as he is.....but more for what his time at VA, his firsthand experiences with their approaches to training, the methodologies and ideologies they train kids with, what all of that gives Dick in terms of insight to members of the League, and to those people League members have trained, like his siblings.

One thing I’ve long wanted to see fandom explore more in the context of Jason’s views on killing is the fact that so much of that was shaped while he was in the pressure cooker of being freshly resurrected, traumatized, still an impressionable teenager, with feelings of obligation towards the League for the Pit’s rejuvenation of his mental faculties, taking him in and training him, and like......feeling isolated and abandoned by everyone else who’d previously known and loved him, thinking that he had no one who really cared about him, and that not only was he dependent on the League for his survival at that time, but like, he owed them and he was that much more open to being persuaded of their way of looking at things. 

And thing is, in terms of like, scale and shit, Dick’s experiences in Robin: Year One and his own mindset at the time and how vulnerable he was mentally and emotionally, they’re not the equivalent of what Jason was going through but like I’m always saying, when you stop looking at trauma in terms of arbitrary rankings and stop pitting what the various Batkids have been through against each other’s experiences and just like......look for potential common ground, this opens up SO MUCH potential bonding, insight and understanding between the brothers and positions Dick to be so much more capable of intuiting even a sense of what Jason went through at the time and why he was clinging so desperately to things he may or may not have actually believed in (at least so strongly) if circumstances had been different, etc....but you get what I mean, I think. There’s so much that can be done with this angle, that’s opened up entirely just by virtue of Dick having SOME shared experiences here.

Because while like I said, in terms of actual training, Bruce has a lot of the same skillsets and knowledge the League does, and his own history with them, its the MINDSET that’s so key here. The one thing that sets Bruce and his experiences when he was a young man with the League and League affiliates apart from Jason, Damian, Cass, etc.....is that Bruce went looking for training, and never was without resources or options. The League-trained Batkids though were either approached (or ‘approached’) by the League at key low points of extreme vulnerability in their formative years, when they HAD no other options (or felt they didn’t) or else were just outright raised by them like Damian or Cass, with no knowledge of anything else until they left or escaped. And that puts everything through an entirely different filter, because its that specific element of vulnerability, of having no one else to turn to or anything else to cling to or put your faith in, that renders you particularly vulnerable to being influenced or exploited by those who seem to hold all the cards there.....and its a shared insight that Dick can have into various of his siblings BECAUSE of his League of Assassins training, as short as that might have been, because of the specifics of why it was so intense and influential despite how short a time it was.

So. In conclusion: 

Does Dick have League training because of his time at VA? My answer is yes, but not if the follow up is anything in the vein of “and how does this factor into which of his siblings he can or can’t beat while sparring.” In that case my answer is yes but YAWN. If however the follow up is along the lines of “and can this open up tons of doors for potential conversations, bonding, trauma-unpacking or camaraderie with siblings due to their own histories with the League and its training methods and teachings and mindsets” then my answer is YES GOOD NOW LET’S HAVE SOME MORE OF THAT PLZ.

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Where I Go, Will You Still Follow?’ - A Clingyduo Fic from the Hunger Games AU

In the most ironic twist, I missed Tommy’s lore stream on Monday writing Clingyduo comfort/hurt (in that order). I wasn’t sure whether this fandom needed any more angst right now, but whatever, take this anyway. This fic is set in a Hunger Games AU where the characters of the Dream SMP reside in Panem and must compete in the Games. Only Tommy + Tubbo appear in this fic though. Angst reigns supreme on Reaping Day, where the boys face the possibility of being picked for the deadly Hunger Games for the first time. (Also I promise you don’t have to have read HG to get this.)

tw nothing really, they’re only being reaped here.

word count: 3102

On the morning of the reaping, two boys tread carefully through a desolate orchard.

At this time of year, the trees are mostly left to their own devices. In about six months their boughs will bear fruit, and there will be plenty of people scurrying to and fro beneath them collecting their bounty to be stored and sent to the Capitol. Those very boys will join them. However, on that late Spring morning there is no one about. During this season the trees require only the occasional pruning, and everyone’s still in bed this early anyway. No reason to get up on a day where you don’t need to. Public holidays like this are rare.

Tommy and Tubbo hold hands as they move through the trees. Old habit, they suppose, a defense mechanism against getting split up, for better or worse. With the number of people in their district it can make public gatherings hazardous for lonely children, and if there’s anything worse than getting caught alone in a stampede, it’s getting left behind in a chase. If one boy falls, so does the other. If one boy is caught with his hand in the larder, the other will be nearby. The two of them are a package deal: where one goes, the other follows.

They only stop when they’re sure they’re properly alone, deep in the orchard. It would take anyone hours to find them; it would take most people hours to get out from this point. But years spent traversing these paths - both from the ground and the branches above - have given them an instinctual knowledge on which way to go. They settle in beneath a large apple tree; lush and green now that the blossoms have since blown away. They go about unwrapping several grease paper packages that were previously weighing down their pockets as Tommy hums a tune to keep them company. Tubbo shuffles uncomfortably as they lay out a small breakfast of half a loaf of bread - dark and dotted with seeds, District 11’s signature - a petite disc of cheese that Tubbo suspects Tommy sat on at some point, and an apple each. Food they either squirreled away from the pantry at the orphanage or stole outright. The thought pinches Tubbo’s cheeks.

“What’s that sour face for?” Tommy asks him, flicking his eyes up every so often as he arranges the cheese on the bread with a tiny knife stashed in his boot and breaks the half-crescent of bread roughly in half. “You’re not still worried about getting caught.”

Tubbo sighs, and it tells Tommy all he needs to know. “C’mon! We covered our tracks and literally no one saw us.” When Tubbo’s expression doesn’t change, he puts a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “Well, definitely no one saw you. I’ll take the hit for it, if they find out.”

“No, it’s- fine.”

“Your face says otherwise, my friend.” All the same, Tommy retracts his arm and finishes haphazardly spreading the cheese upon the bread. He nudges one of the apples towards Tubbo with his foot, “Here, start.”

“Excuse me, the apple comes after the main course, how dare you break tradition.”

“My apologies, my liege.”

The easy smile returns briefly to Tubbo’s face as they laugh, then quickly melts away again. Tommy fixes him with a sympathetic look. “What?” Tubbo asks, locking eyes with him as he finishes brutalising the cheese and hands him his half. “You’re worried about the reaping.”

“And you’re not?”

“Should I be?” When Tubbo gives him a sideways glare, Tommy shrugs. “Dude, it’s a tiny chance. Two in thousands and thousands. You’re more likely to get struck by lightning than have either of our names fished out of the bowl.” And though Tommy was likely skewing his numbers a bit, he supposed it was true. It was their first year of reapings and neither of them had taken any tesserae. They were about as safe as you could be between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Still…

“Besides,” Tommy continued. “If your name gets called, I’m sure someone would volunteer for you.” He barely makes it to the end of his sentence before Tubbo’s noise of dismissal drowns him out. “Yeah right. Let’s be realistic here.” Tommy leans back against the tree as he eats. Sunlight peeks through the branches at random intervals, illuminating him in softly glowing patches. He turns his head slightly and beckons Tubbo over with a nod. They shift their bodies and the food around until they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder between two large roots, and Tubbo finds that the sunlight is almost as warm as Tommy beside him.

They remain in that position for some time, eating their way through their swindled picnic. It’s a bit much for an ordinary breakfast, but it’s somewhat of a tradition to have something special on reaping day. Makes the hours standing in the square while the Mayor drones on about how it’s right to send two children to their deaths a bit more bearable. According to those traditions, you’re supposed to celebrate with a meal after the reaping too, though neither boy is quite sure where that convention came from. Not many in District 11 could afford it in any case.

At some point Tubbo drops a hand to the floor between them, and at some later instance Tommy places his where their fingers can interlace. “You’re nervous too.” Tubbo states without looking at his companion, instead remaining as he is, staring past the leaves to the clear blue sky. “No way.” Tubbo giggles at Tommy’s indignant tone. “A big man like me is not scared of being picked in the reaping.”

“Fearless he is, Big Man Tommy.”

“Too right!” They laugh, and the terror their giggles mask bubbles just beneath the surface, a pot mere seconds from boiling over. 

“Look, Tommy,” Tubbo’s voice becomes serious, and Tommy’s laughter peters out. “It’s all well and good laughing and joking about it, but… In the event one of us is chosen…” Their eyes meet and Tubbo squeezes Tommy’s hand, to which Tommy returns the grip. “I need you to tell me you remember our promise.” In response, Tommy sighs, drops Tubbo’s hand, puts that arm around his best friend’s shoulder, pulls him close and runs his free hand through his hair, almost all simultaneously. “Yes of course I remember it.”

“And?” Tubbo replies expectantly.

“And what?”

“Say it, you dummy.” Tommy places his free hand over his heart like a salute. “I, Tommy Innit, promise my dearest friend Tubbo Underscore, that if he is chosen for the Hunger Games in this afternoon’s reaping, I will not volunteer to take his place.” He waits for Tubbo to relax, satisfied, before tacking on: “Thus letting him be led away to a faraway place to be on television then get brutally murdered, also on television. “ He can feel Tubbo’s eye roll without even looking. “You made me promise the same.”

“Yeah I did, didn’t I?” He admits quietly, leaning his head against his best friend’s, brown curls obscuring half his vision.

“It’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Tubbo’s hair smells faintly of apples, somehow. Tommy squeezes his best friend and hopes he won’t have to betray him.

Unbeknownst to him, Tubbo has the same thought.

---

The duo spend the hours before the reaping as they usually do: sleeping in each others embrace somewhere they technically shouldn’t be, pretending the clothes they have to change into back at the orphanage are any better than what they’re changing out of, and hogging the second floor bathroom for way longer than necessary. The black storm cloud that is the reaping casts a longer shadow than previous years, but they manage to ignore it for most of the morning with enough shenanigans to fill their quota for the year. The clouds threaten to burst however when the time reaches half twelve, and the parentless teenagers of the district begin to make their way towards the square where the ceremony will take place. The once-blue sky darkens as the crumbling facade of the Justice Building comes into view, as if nature were waiting for her cue, and Tommy wonders if he jinxed himself with his earlier comments about being struck by lightning.

He’s holding Tubbo’s hand again - standard crowd procedure - and he’s thankful for about the millionth time that they’re the same age. They head with the other twelve year old orphans to the corresponding pen for their age group, and find themselves sandwiched in the centre. Tubbo exchanges a few words with some of their peers, most likely to be ‘Good luck’, but Tommy’s not really concentrating. The square is already full and still there’s many more people to come, and with every person that joins the crowd there will only be more cramming the possible tributes together like sardines in a tin. There have been crushes at reapings before; they tell them in school about the reaping for the seventh games, where too many spectators packed the floor and there was a panic that killed four people, including one kid in the crowd. In an ironic twist, their name was later pulled from the ball, and their escort had to be informed live on stage in front of the entire nation that they’d died earlier that day.

Decidedly, the odds were not in their favour.

Tommy doesn’t like to admit it, but tight spaces get to him. And here, packed in by bodies with camera crews perched high on the rooftops over the crowd, scanning for the faces that will leave the district tonight, he feels like a fish in a barrel. “Hey-” Tubbo’s voice reaches him through the din of thousands of people talking at once, but he sounds a million miles away. He practically crushes Tubbo’s fingers with his own, and, in retaliation, Tubbo flicks him on the nose. He blinks at him angrily for a second, the distraction welcome despite his show of annoyance. “Breathe, Tommy.” He forces air in and out of his lungs for about thirty seconds just to make sure he still can. Tubbo traces stars on the back of his hand.

By the time the Mayor’s stepped up to the podium and began his yearly recitation of the history of Panem, Tommy thinks he’s calmed himself down somewhat. Tubbo still traces stars in little pentagram patterns on Tommy’s hand with his thumb, and though it’s starting to get a little irritating, something stops him from signalling him to knock it off. He glances briefly sideways to Tubbo, and though his expression is mostly blank, the two have gotten used to watching each other’s tics and tells, signs that are imperceptible to anyone else but them. The small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way he scrunches his nose slightly when he blinks, even the way he presses a little too hard with his thumb, his patterns becoming less uniform and the edges of his nails leaving little scratches. He’s as scared as Tommy. So he lets him keep doing it, for both their sakes.

The Mayor finishes his history lecture, reads the list of past victors and then finally introduces the District 11 escort, a spritely-looking man in a bottle-green suit called Montaque. He’s been the district’s escort for a few years, and Tommy and Tubbo used to joke his mustache was so spiky-sharp looking you could win a Games by using it as a weapon. He seems to glide across the stage as he gives a speech about District pride or some nonsense, then utters the classic phrase, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour.” 

He crosses the stage to the front where two glass balls sit, holding thousands of tiny slips of paper. A lump forms in Tommy’s throat. Somewhere in one of those balls there’s two slips of paper that could serve as their one way ticket to the Capitol. He knows they’re somewhat lucky: some kids their age have many more slips thanks to tesserae, but Tommy feels a pang in his chest even as he thinks about it. Some kids have parents. Some kids have somewhere to put their tesserae so it won’t immediately get stolen. He and Tubbo may have considered it, but what use would they have for grain and oil when on most days they could barely hold onto their bedsheets? It was one less thing to worry about.

Montaque the Stupid sticks one of his disproportionately-large hands into the first glass ball, and retrieves a slip of paper, and Tommy begs inside his mind, not us not us not him. He reads the name, and the entire world suddenly stops spinning. Somewhere in the back of Tommy’s mind is a lag, like when one person in a chain of people passing produce from a field to a wagon disappears. The chain does its best to keep up, but it’s very quickly overwhelmed, leaving debris in the form of dropped vegetables and a backlog that needs to be attended to.

That’s how it feels inside Tommy’s head as the crowd parts for him, a sea of people craning their necks as they shuffle aside to form a runway for him towards the stage. This can’t be happening. His mind can’t catch up to the fact, doesn’t want to catch up to the fact that this is happening. He glances to his side and immediately regrets the action, for Tubbo stands beside him looking equal parts shell shocked and distressed. Their eyes meet, teary and desperate, and Tommy only has the strength to mouth ‘Promise’, before his feet start to carry him towards the stage alone, and his hand in Tubbo’s becomes an outstretched arm. When they finally let go Tommy can feel the ghost of his friend’s hand in his own, and knows that it will be one of the last kind touches he ever receives. He tries not to think of that as he half-marches towards the veranda. He doesn’t look back for fear it’ll set him off crying, but if he were to, he would see Tubbo standing impossibly alone in such a huge crowd, holding the hand that held Tommy’s to his chest.

He mounts the stage and looks out over the people of the district he calls home, a tiny voice in his head telling him to make the most of this last time. Last time. He searches for Tubbo in the crowd, spotting him easily by the empty pathway he just walked down being slowly absorbed back into the crowd. He can see even from here the tears shining on his cheeks, the way his whole body shakes with the effort of holding more back. There’s a couple orphanage kids looking like they’re trying to console him, and, if Tommy should weigh in, doing a pretty sh’it job. He looks away to watch Montaque snatch the second slip of paper from the glass ball, and he tenses every fibre of his being shouting internally please please please. The name is read, and this time Tommy finds himself still breathing and present as some older kid makes his own shaky way to the podium. He’s about fourteen, with a stocky build that betrays work in the crop fields. As he takes his place opposite Tommy, the young boy is reminded that the Games will be full of people like him. Stronger, older opponents. Tommy, at the monumental age of twelve, doesn’t stand a chance.

The moment lingers, and then it keeps lingering, and then Tommy turns to Montaque to find out why the da’mn moment won’t move on. He’s staring out into the crowd once more, and Tommy’s heart, already too heavy, drops straight into his boots as he follows Montaque’s gaze. The crowd parts once more, and Tubbo strides forward, a shaky confidence marking his every step. The murmurs around the square hush, as he comes to stand mere metres from the tributes. Tommy wants to catch his eye, shake his head, scream at him to stop, but Tubbo doesn’t look at him. Tommy knows exactly what he intends to do as he opens his mouth; Tommy mouths the words along with him.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Now you’ve gone and done it.

Montaque, biggest pri’ck on the planet, waxes lyrical about courage and bravery while he arranges the exchange of the fourteen year old for Tubbo. As if he’d ever know what it is to be brave. As the Mayor takes over once more, reading the Treaty of Treason as he is bound by duty to do, Tommy tries to catch the attention of his best friend, who’s acting annoyingly aloof. He watches as Tubbo stares into the distance, looking alarmingly calm with the whole ordeal. Tommy wants to scream, and do a bit more than scream and call him all the foul names he can think of and demand he un-volunteer and why? You stupid bi’tch absolute idiot why would you volunteer when we had a promise, why did you betray the promise? Why? Why why why why why?

As the Mayor wraps up the Treaty bore-fest, he motions for the two tributes to shake hands. Tributes. Now bound unrelentingly for an arena where they will kill other people. Other children. Maybe even each other.

Tommy feels some comfort in how helpless their situation is. Odds are they’ll die long before each other are a threat. They’re going to be a team obviously, and Tommy’s going to protect Tubbo as long as he can. That’s what he promised him the day they met, and that’s what he intends to do.

They shake hands, and Tubbo finally looks at him. The tears have dried on his cheeks. They take a little longer than is necessary, conducting a silent conversation between them.

‘Sorry.’

‘I am so fu’cking mad at you.’

‘You thought I would really leave you?’

‘I hoped I was wrong.’

They stand for the anthem. They are carted into the Justice Building to wait for people to come and say goodbye. No one comes. They weren’t expecting anyone anyway. They are all they have; all they’ve ever had. And where one goes, the other follows.

Tommy waits alone in the Justice Building, trying to figure out if the first thing he’ll do when he’s alone with Tubbo is hug him or strangle him. Beyond that though, he has to protect his boy. He has to keep his promise. An uneasy feeling stirs his gut. One promise has already been broken today.

And the odds aren’t playing nice.

[starlightsearches]

Hi please may i request a hux x reader where you’re also a general and you hear a loud bang in the room next to your office which is hux’s office. (Maybe he kicked the wall or something in frustration). You go to check all is well and step in to find him head in hands sat against the wall having a panic attack and so you help him out of it and then discuss it with him and show him some much needed affection and human connection. I love you’re writing, you’re one of my absolute favourite bloggers

Shattered

Hello sweet friend! Thank you for the kind words, and I’m sorry that this request took so much time! I kind of adapted it a bit, I hope you don’t mind 😊

Requests are closed  ✨

Armitage Hux x Reader

Warnings: I was feeling very angsty when I first wrote this, and I think a lot of that seeped into the story. Also discussions of a mild injury, and mentions of blood. Hope you enjoy!

As far as neighbors went, General Hux was one of the best, all things considered. You never heard him, hardly ever saw him, and you liked that just fine. It was certainly an improvement from your last assignment, before your promotion. That base had been frigid, and so damn loud, like there was never a moment of peace—especially not for you, practically running the whole damn show. While it had been a slight adjustment in the beginning, you much preferred being on the Finalizer. The work was engaging, the company was pleasant enough, and your quarters were blessedly quiet.

That’s why the shattering sound is especially jarring, and your first thought, however ridiculous, is assassination. The glass at your desk spills when you jump to your feet, and you rush to move the data pads and various items out of the way of the trailing water before running to the door and out into the hall, pounding on the general’s door furiously, only to be surprised when it actually opens.

You step inside and the darkened room, and General Hux approaches, looking very much alive and un-assassinated. He glares at you through bloodshot eyes, and for a moment you want to leave, to run away from this place and forget that you were ever here. That’s the effect his gaze has on you.

“Did you need something, general?” he says the title with a mouthful of disgust, and you pause, waiting for the words to come. There’s nothing to say, though, nothing that you could say without making yourself seem paranoid and irrational. It’s obvious that he is fine, or at least, he seems fine.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, general, I thought I heard something,” you reply, slowly backing away to the door, hoping to escape some of the embarrassment, “I wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

“Of course I’m alright,” his voice is harsh, harsh enough to surprise you. You’ve only worked with Hux for a short amount of time, and although you knew he was upset about your appearance on this ship, he’s never been so outwardly cruel to you. Something is wrong.

You take in the scene again, noticing a few things. There’s no light on in his quarters, but General Hux is still in his uniform, despite the lateness of the hour, so he must not have been sleeping. And then there’s the way he’s standing, so stiff and guarded, with one hand behind his back. On the far side of the room, something glints.

"Is something wrong with your hand, general?" As soon as the words leave your lips, he bristles, immediately on the defensive.

"As I told you before, I am clearly fine. I’m not sure how you ran things on the Derus base, but here I expect a certain level of decorum from my fellow officers, and that includes not barging into my quarters and asking personal questions. If that isn’t something you can manage, then the Finalizer is not for you.” The words hit you like a slap to the face, like an avalanche, and you struggle to breathe under the weight of his disapproval. He’s called to mind every insecurity, every instance where you have been reminded that you’re so often out of your element here. It paralyzes you, this reminder that you don’t belong. You had been able to convince yourself that it was impostor syndrome, that the others, even Hux, appreciated your presence. Apparently you were incorrect. He continues, advancing on you like a force of nature, a little wild, full of rage.

“How can I be asked to lead if I’m not given the basic respect of privacy in my own space? If I am not given one simple courtesy, if I am treated this way-” he stops, his teeth bared, with such anger in his eyes that you flinch, After all this time in the Order, no one had talked to you like this. You knew he was angry, you knew he didn’t like the perceived slight that your presence implied, but still—he had no right to address you so angrily. 

"What is wrong with you?" It's not a question you mean to ask out loud, but the words slip out anyway, and you find you don't regret them in the slightest. You had been wrong about the general before. He's not the man you thought he was, and you can't stand the idea of being around him for another minute.

You turn your back on him, turn to the door and the light of the hallway, ready to leave this place. Maybe you'd have room in yourself to regret this tomorrow, but the only thing you can feel right now is the bright sting of anger that attempts to mask your wounded pride.

The palm of his hand is slick and sticky when he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to a stop, and you yank your arm out of his grasp, uninterested in anything else he has to say. That is, until you see the blood, visible in your periphery, staining your arm in the shape of a watery hand print. That makes you stop.

"Please," his voice breaks when he sees you hesitate, his pleas too desperate to be said face to face, "I need help."

Desperation is a language in which you are fluent, and it’s one that you can’t ignore. Your anger still swims in your chest, but you won’t turn your back on his brokenness when it so closely mirrors your own.

The door closes, the lights turn on, and you get to work, caring for him with practical efficiency: hand first, glass second. You don't allow yourself to think about the way he shakes at the contact as you bandage his palm, watching as the blood seeps through the white layers that you wrap methodically over the cut. You don't allow yourself to wonder why a man like General Hux would own and then destroy such a delicate porcelain cup, the glittering fragments scattered across the floor. You just bandage and clean and ignore. You're still hurt. You're still angry. And you still want to help him.

You finish, tossing the final shards of glass into the waste, and then turn your attention back to the general. If you hadn't figured out that something was wrong earlier, you'd definitely know now: you've never seen him sit for this long. He stares at you, looking lost, searching for guidance, but you've helped more than enough. You could leave.

A harsh sigh of surrender puffs through your nose, and you move over to his small kitchen area, searching through the drawers and cupboards at random until you find what you’re looking for.

"What are you doing?" he asks, affronted, until he sees the glasses in your hand, the bottle in the other. You set them on the table with more force than necessary, and they rattle against each other, a clinking chorus that startles you both.

"You look like you could use a drink, general," you say, pouring the amber liquid into his glass first, "and I know I could."

You're not sure how much time you spend sipping in silence, but the lower the liquid in the bottle drops, the smaller you feel, like you're shrinking inside of yourself, able to search through the caverns and hollows of your mind. You wander inside your own consciousness, but no matter where you travel, your thoughts always return to General Hux. Had he really meant it, that you didn’t belong here? Or was his anger misdirected, and you just happened to be the closest living target? You find yourself shifting in your seat, wells of sadness that you normally kept damned finding their way into the greater cavities of your thoughts. You can’t keep thinking this way; you need a distraction.

"Are you alright?" You say to Hux, the question floating to the surface, bubbling from your lips like a laugh or a sob. You watch him drain his glass again, swaying side to side to the tempo of some imaginary song, and for a moment you’re not thinking about yourself.

"No, general," he says, slurring his words but proper, as always, "I'm not." It's the answer you expected; why don't you know how to respond?

"Do you want to talk about it?" It's a stupid question—you know it's a stupid question even as you say it; your voice sounds incredulous to your own ears. You must be drunker than you thought. But you’d like to know. Despite everything, you want him to be alright. You need him to be alright. It’s difficult to admit, but you rely on him. Admire him, if you’re being brutally honest. 

"Not tonight," he looks at you when he says it, his movements a sigh, and his gaze loaded with meaning, the softness in his pale green eyes consuming and powerful and defenseless. With just one look, he's rendered you speechless. You watch his hand skim over the surface of the table until it makes contact with your own, just the tips of his fingers overlapping yours. The contact is minimal, but the effect is not; you feel your face grow warmer, and not just from the drink.

"Are you alright?" he asks the question now, and you’re not sure how to give him an honest answer.

"I don't think so," you whisper the words, the pleasant drunkenness from before warping into something that splinters and cracks along your weakest points. It's been so long since you let yourself feel this way. Suddenly the feeling of his hand on yours is much more welcome, and it grounds you. You're not okay right now, but he isn't either.

"I'm glad you're here," he keeps talking, his voice calm and soothing for you, and the difference makes you laugh. You’re glad he’s here too. You don’t want to be alone.