#not a fucking pawn or a character to literally get thrown away just to make some dude's story better

[lostvoidling]

chews on hands in tired of every female character being made into "no you cant be evil" territory only to be immediately turned into a mother figure or thrown under the bus for some other character

[bestworstcase]

If you have any random thoughts about the Brawnen twins either individually or together please release them into the ether

(I just chose two less "discourse"able characters)

it has been a LONG TIME since u sent this rip sorry anon but i’m in the middle of my third (3rd) rewatch and just got done with v5 so like. bird time

raven is so funny to me because she is like the only character to have clocked what genre this story actually is which is. cosmic horror. lmfao everyone else still thinks they’re in your bog standard fantasy cancel-the-apocalypse war story (with a side of tragic romance thrown in there for flavor) and then raven is like… ETERNAL WAR BETWEEN IMMORTAL MONSTER WITCH AND LYING SOUL PARASITE WE ARE NOTHING BUT PAWNS IN THEIR GAME I HAVE GLIMPSED BEYOND THE VEIL I HAVE A DEAD WITCH’S MAGIC HITCHING A RIDE IN MY SOUL WE’RE ALL DOOMED WHY DOES NOBODY BUT ME CARE ABOUT THIS from her perspective the final conversation in the vault with yang is just her daughter calling her a coward for not wanting to fight fucking,, like nyarlathotep kdhdjdks

i literally can not wait until she hears about the gods. assuming she doesn’t already know that is. i know the general assumption is that she broke because she figured out salem is immortal, but given how hard raven beats the drum of “OH so you’re just going to ACCEPT WHAT YOURE TOLD and MINDLESSLY OBEY” i have actually been wondering if what raven learned wasn’t actually ozma’s divine mandate, and if she unlike him accurately read between the lines and realized that the mentor she put all her faith in was a servant of gods who set up a cruel game where the only real ending is humanity obliterated. if the shoe fits…

speaking of shoes fitting cinder et al in the bandit camp is one of my favorite sequences in v5 because it’s like

cinder: here is salem’s my rock solid low-risk plan that will certainly end in salem getting the relic

raven: oh no. i guess i have no choice but to go along with this but in exchange you gotta kill my brother. you gotta tell lionheart to invite him to the school so we can ambush him. he’s a total pushover don’t worry about it we can take him :) trust me. i’m very trustworthy. this is not a trap.

watts: this is an obviously bad idea.

emerald: yeah cinder ruby might be there :(

watts: NO—

cinder: shut the fuck up watts what’s the worst that could happen?

and then the worst that could happen is she splits her forces exactly like raven wanted her to and loses control of the situation exactly like raven wanted her to and goes into the vault by herself exactly like raven wanted her to and then got her ass kicked mfjdjdkx

who would win, an immortal sorceress devoting a YEAR to coaxing and advising and flat out fucking telling cinder not to rely on power because it WILL fail her, or one bird lady going “yeah i’ll help you if you kill my brother i do not have ulterior motives for asking you to do this, promise :)”

ANYWAY

i have fewer thoughts about qrow largely because most of my qrow feelings are stored in the post-lost fable arc but he does have a lot of good moments in v5, fully half of which are “please for the love of GOD stand up straight because just looking at you makes my spine hurt” gkfjdhsvdh

i like the lowkey arc of him trying to puzzle together exactly what is going on in haven bc he knows something is really, really not right but he can’t figure out what. bc the thing is—lionheart gives himself away at the very beginning, if you pay attention. when he tells qrow they can’t go after raven yet, otherwise she and the tribe will vanish. which is true, but if you think about it for half a second that wouldn’t be the worst thing from team oz’s side, because their top priority is keeping the relic away from salem, and raven has the spring maiden, and if raven vanishes herself and her tribe then that rather neatly keeps the spring maiden away from salem and therefore the lamp stays locked away. but lionheart’s top priority is finding the spring maiden and getting her to unlock the vault for salem, so raven going underground is his worst case scenario and he openly treats it as such.

and nobody on team oz notices until it’s too late, and it’s especially interesting that qrow doesn’t notice. bc on the one hand raven is his sister and he’s caught up in resenting her for leaving, resenting her for betraying the cause, so he can’t take a step back and realize it might not be a bad thing to scare raven off and make sure she gets the spring maiden the fuck away from haven. but also, like, qrow carries himself as this cynical world-weary bastard and when a long term ally starts acting bizarre and unlike himself after dropping out of contact for months, it… doesn’t even cross his mind to suspect lionheart betrayed them. and then he’s finding dozens of huntsmen dead, and things look bad, and as he talks it over with ozpin they both dance around the possibility that lionheart might be a traitor, but even so: when qrow leads the kids to the academy it’s clear he’s not truly expecting to discover a traitor. it’s a possibility in his mind but he doesn’t believe it, not really, until proof is staring them all in the face. and then he’s genuinely dismayed and hurt and shocked and angry! he feels it all so deeply!

and that exposes the cynical bastard front as a lie as much as raven’s callous survival of the strongest posturing is a lie. he cares so much and he trusts people so deeply he really cannot conceive of that trust being broken until it’s already shattered beyond repair.

(see also: lost fable 🙃)

um what else. both branwens in v4-5 give me SO much salem brainrot catch me lying awake at night fumbling with things the two of them say about the conflict like what does it mean what does it all mean

qrow’s telling of the two brothers and his characterization of salem as an enemy who seeks to change the world, in opposition to the status quo maintained by oz’s academies, in particular lives rent free in my head. esp with how heavily salem is associated with change/free will/defiance in contrast to ozma being fate/resignation/obedience i just. HMMMM.

[medusinestories]

Onwards to the episode in which we get to see Flint and Silver each having a very bad day (as well as two literal dicks that nobody had asked to see).

Black Sails VII (s1 ep07)

- We open on Pastor Lambrick's sweaty face as he intensely rehearses the Easter sermon and he’s obviously eaten up by what he did with Miranda. His sermon, unsurprisingly, focuses on sin, keeping sin hidden, and the hell that awaits the sinner. Which leads us nicely onto Flint, who’s distracted (by his own sin? by thoughts of Miranda? both?) during a meeting with Eleanor. Eleanor is pissed that Miranda let Richard Guthrie send a message to the Andromache and then waltz into town to close up his business; Flint tries to take the heat off Miranda, once again protecting her (at this point, he may not know the contents of the letter).

- During this meeting, Flint is startled when Silver first speaks up to say that the mob in the street was bad - clearly Silver is a sort of intruder in this meeting. But Eleanor, after Silver reminds her by unsubtly clearing his throat, tells Flint that he’s not to harm Silver because he was instrumental in setting up the Consortium. Silver looks so pleased with himself in these scenes, and Flint quite defeated when he tells Silver to follow him back to their camp. I love it.

- To parallel Flint/Miranda’s Sulky Sex scene from ep4, we have Anne/Rackham’s frustrating/disconnected sex scene. It shows us a few things about them mainly that Anne wants to keep a lot of control over what happens, hence Rackham being tied up (though of course this might also be his kink), her wearing a shirt that covers up most of her body, and the reverse cowgirl position that means that she’s both in control of what happens and completely avoids eye contact. The position reminds us of the Flint/Miranda scene, where Miranda was also on top, but their scene involved more eye contact (yes glaring counts, he’s still intensely focused on Miranda), gentle touching (on Miranda’s side) and her being naked and open to him. Another parallel is that both Flint and Rackham aren’t in the right frame of mind for sex, Flint being angry and Rackham lost in a sea of worries (and probably also somewhat angry/disappointed at Anne for forcing him into the plot to kill their crewmates). The difference between Flint and Rackham is that while Flint doesn’t seem to have any trouble performing, Rackham is miles away and doesn’t even notice that he’s lost his erection - again. Anne is frustrated by this, and apparently knows him well enough that she offers to put something up his arse, but he’s clearly not in the mood, and she leaves in a huff, abandoning him all tied up as a sort of revenge for his performance problems. Whatever the problem is between them isn’t put into words (because Anne can’t yet, for starters), unlike the one between Flint and Miranda. The intimacy between Rackham and Anne, so often described as close partners, seems much more distant to me than the one shown between Flint and Miranda. I’m not sure whether it’s because of anyone’s sexual orientation, or just the fact that they’re fucking but they’ve never discussed the big important things, such as Anne’s identity/feelings/etc.

- In this episode, Dufresne gains a lot of power: with a freshly (and badly) shaved head and a new tattoo, he’s been promoted to Quartermaster on the Walrus in Billy’s place. And very quickly he has a problem to deal with: Randall revealing that Silver stole the page. Gates had actually already told this to Dufresne, as is revealed at the end of the episode, which might explain why Dufresne is relatively calm during the whole conversation, while DeGroot wants Silver and Flint hanged and Howell is surprisingly ruthless: he brings up the idea that it may be better to kill off Randall in order to get to the treasure, if they can’t make sure he’ll keep quiet about Silver being the thief. Dufresne is actually quite kind towards Silver in the scene where he puts Silver’s memory to the test - a test that could result in his death if he fails it and that Silver constantly grumbles against (I love his grumbling!). Basically, at this point Dufresne remains quite a sympathetic character, which will change a lot as the show goes on, especially after Jannes Eiselen had to leave the show (such a sad story, RIP Jannes).

- In the meantime, the Flint and Gates relationship is crumbling. It's sad to see, especially since they're shown sharing chuckles as they talk about Dufresne's appointment in the beginning of the episode. But then Gates brings up the subject of Miranda and demands explanations about the letter Billy found. We're not shown exactly what Flint answers, but it's clear that he's actually trying his best to give him an explanation without incriminating Miranda too badly. The sad thing is that Flint is actually telling the truth: he actually wasn't involved in any betrayal of his crew and and can only guess at Miranda's motivations. But the fact that he's lied time and again in previous situations, including on the Maria Aleyne where he claimed Lord Alfred drew a weapon on him (and Gates secretly verified that this was a lie), and used men as pawns to advance his and Miranda's plans, is now catching up to him. Flint seems truly hurt when Gates accuses him of using the men for his own purposes, and turns spiteful, telling Gates that he should have been "a better father" to Billy and helped him "understand the world he was living in" (suggesting that such a forthright character as Billy can't really survive in a world of pirates who are all ready to stab each other in the back). After that slap in the face, Gates says he's exhausted from Flint and threatens to take it to the crew. Somehow, this pushes Flint to bare all: he tells Gates about his plan to keep a part of the treasure and use it to build up Nassau, depicting himself as a sort of saviour, doing it for the men's good: they'd rather be rich men in a safe place than dead thieves hanging from a noose. Gates sees this as delusions of grandeur, and tells him that while he'll see the Urca plot through, after that they're done. I actually think he sees Flint’s point, since he doesn’t just throw him to the crew, but won’t admit that out loud. The whole of this scene hurts bad, because you can tell that Flint is desperate and sad to be losing his closest ally and friend, and that Gates is hurting from the loss of Billy and exhausted from the toxic relationship he has with Flint, where he's played enabler to his manipulations for years.

- While Flint and Gates’ alliance is breaking, Silver has to forge one with Randall or die. Randall finds out in the beginning of the episode that he’s been voted out of the crew. This is apparently due to DeGroot’s fears that Randall could be a fire hazard, which the crew took disproportionately to heart. Randall is furious with Silver, who smugly tells him that in these situations, a setback often comes with a new or unexpected opportunity. He’s right, but at this point he doesn’t know that he is the opportunity Randall’s going to latch on. Randall reveals that Silver is a thief, and Silver denies it, saying that Randall is both a halfwit and was in a haze of opium when he heard what he thought he heard; he even tries to convince Randall that he was mistaken (this, my friends, is gaslighting). However, by revealing that Silver was the thief, Randall sets a chain of events into motion which could either end with his death (if Howell has his way, since Randall is an inconvenient witness) or Silver’s (if DeGroot tips the balance, not trusting Silver to remember the coordinates and not wanting to sacrifice Randall for nothing). Silver figures out that these are the outcomes, and tries to talk sense into Randall by making a deal with him: he’ll care for Randall and make sure he can stay on the ship. But it’s only when Silver finally admits that he is the thief and that Randall was right, that Randall accepts the deal. Later, Silver realises that Randall might have orchestrated the whole thing: he’s now got Silver to serve him, doesn’t have to take any risks on the ship, and gets to remain with the crew. Silver wonders if Randall is a genius rather than a halfwit (a word thrown about a lot to describe him). And it seems quite obvious, considering what happened, that Randall still has strong survival skills (an amputee with impaired cognitive skills doesn’t stand a chance of survival outside a crew and he must be aware of it), that he still has a good memory and an ability to pick out useful information and that he’s aware enough of what’s going on to be upset by the crew’s rejection and Silver’s attempt to gaslight him. I think it’s important to recognise that Randall is more than a comic relief or a grotesque character: he’s a disabled man who's lost parts of his cognitive ability and is struggling to survive.

- This episode focuses on Vane facing his past. He seeks out the island where he grew up and its master, Albinus. I’d forgotten or never really registered that Albinus was a pirate and that the men who work for him were mostly his crew - and likely slaves (or children, hence Vane?) that he managed to capture/press into service. He’s retired from pirating and set up a system where his men cut down trees for timber all day, without wages. It’s not clear exactly how he holds so much power over these men, although it seems that everyone is terrified of him. He’s extremely strong physically, seems shrewd, speaks rather well, and his tattoos suggest that maybe he’s involved in some kind of ritual (truly religious or just for show?) which would make him all the more scary to superstitious people. Vane is clearly still frightened: he barely makes eye contact and practically stutters when he first tries to make the deal with Albinus, which is that he’ll take some of Albinus’ men as crew and send Albinus part of their earnings as tribute. It says a lot about Albinus that Vane, after years of having run away, is still so scares that he’s willing to pay him a tribute. But he changes his mind as he stares at a boy bearing the same brand as he does: he tries to persuade the men that Nassau is a pace of pleasures rather than hard labour, and confronts Albinus. The fight is brutal and ends with Vane buried naked, just after Albinus tells him that he’s proud of him. But of course Vane wouldn’t be Vane if he didn’t rise from the dead at the last minute and kill Albinus, goaded on by his inner Eleanor voice.

- In the meantime, Mr Scott returns to Eleanor, apologising for what he did, telling her he betrayed her out of love. However he also reminds her of his slave status: technically, he belongs to her. The argument upsets her, and he quite cleverly uses this moment to ask her to free the slaves who were on the Andromache. And it works: by the end of the episode, she’s made arrangements for the men to work on ships and has bought the women’s freedom and found them jobs in her tavern. But Mr Scott has still decided to leave Eleanor to join Hornigold’s crew, to refrain from meddling with Eleanor’s affairs, since he disagrees with her so strongly re: the Urca. Hornigold approached him earlier in the episode, and the introduction to that scene is quite interesting: Hornigold says to Mr Scott “I’ll need to know your secret” and Mr Scott looks startled and frightened. It seems that he’s startled because he’d been giving food to the slaves, but in light of S3, it could be a much greater secret that’s being referred to. Mr Scott is relieved when he realises that Hornigold is simply talking about tolerating Eleanor, who he clearly can’t stand.

- Flint’s bad day continues, of course, with the big confrontation he has with Miranda. He’s furious about the letter (of which he now knows the contents thanks to Gates), telling her that it could have got him killed, or destroyed the plans they’d made and asking her whether she was trying to embarrass him. This sounds so weirdly petty, and yet it also sounds exactly like the kind of argument that would come up in a bickering couple. Miranda answers that she was trying to help him out of that life, because she wants to move on. This is where Miranda utters the famous “there is no life here, there is no joy here, there is no love here”. I noticed that, covered by Flint yelling at her, and distorted because her voice has gone very shrill, Miranda says another line, which sounds like “you used to love, then”. If that really is what she says, it’s extra-extra-extra heartbreaking to hear (if someone wants to check it for me, it’s around 35:40). It’s obvious that Flint and Miranda’s views on life are very different, and I can’t help but think back to the fact that, as a carpenter’s son from the country, Flint has had to struggle all his life to become who he is. So when he says that you can’t get a life without having a war, and Miranda tells him he’s wrong, she’s speaking entirely from the point of view of her privilege. She’s never needed to fight as hard as he has to be happy, because she got extremely lucky in marrying Thomas. And when she says that Thomas would agree with her, I’m certain she’s right. But life has never been like that for Flint, and there’s no way he’ll ever entirely agree with their point of view. Rewatching this scene is tough, btw, because they both have great points, they’re both hurting so much, and there’s so much to take in between the body language, the facial expressions, the tones of voice and the actual words that it’s a whole whirlwind. And it feels very, very real.

- It’s absolutely hilarious to see Rackham get robbed by the whores taking advantage of his lack of knowledge (and research). He should absolutely have done a better job and has no clue how to run a brothel. He’s lucky Max takes things in hand after having heard from Idelle that the girls were taking advantage.

- Then we have the beautiful Drunk Flint scene. Eleanor notices him feeling very sorry for himself after Gates has pretty much broken up with him and he’s still reeling from fighting with by Miranda. I think Flint feels very misunderstood here. He thought that he was doing something good, to save Nassau and avenge Thomas, and doesn’t understand why they can’t see it, why they only see the terrible methods he uses to reach his goals. So he’s full of doubt, clearly wondering if he’s the villain of the story, and puts the question to Eleanor: is their plan worth it? Eleanor is the only person who still believes in him, which leads us to the only scene that I would ever call straight-baiting. Flint hovers near Eleanor, breathing heavily, and a variety of emotions play over her face during this moment of tension, as she seems to think this is leading to a kiss. It does, he gives her a chaste little forehead kiss and leaves. All the elements are in place to make your average viewer start shipping these two. I actually find it hilarious that the ship barely exists in the fandom (though I wasn’t there in the beginning of the fandom and I guess the viewership changed a lot between S1 and S4).

- The scene with Flint and Gates glaring at each other from their respective ships and Parson’s Farewell playing in the background... epic! We know this is the beginning of a big struggle between them, especially since we find out that Gates has pretty much decided that he’ll hand Flint over to the crew once they get the money. But nnnnggh that scene! The ships leaving on their hunt! Awesome and heartbreaking!

[crystalelemental]

Well, I finished the bad ending route of Scarlet Blaze, and I think this is the first time ever that a game managed to make the bad ending better.

Let me start with this: it doesn’t fix the fact that the ending sucks.  The Kingdom isn’t finished, we just divert efforts to take out Rhea, and call it good.  This is the same in both routes, nothing positive occurs.

What does change, however, is Chapter 14.  Instead of Claude remaining with us, he turns, at Byleth’s provocation.  The end result is that the chapter is much more chaotic, and we deal with both Claude and Dimitri, but end on taking out Byleth.  Arval expresses that he feels freed from something, and that he’s overcome by no longer being tied to this duty he must have had.  We then proceed not to talk about Zahras, or Epimenides, or anything.  We just let that success speak for itself, and move forward.

Comically, this is a much more satisfying conclusion.  Because we’re not left with like fifteen billion unanswered questions, most of which got thrown in last minute for no reason.  Because we’re not getting this completely devoid of context “team up” for the three lords for a dumb cameo that undersells everything going on with them.  Because Shez actually accomplishes something of value, and Arval matters as a character, and all of this feels cohesive.

Unfortunately, the fact that literally nothing changed in four chapters, barring one (1) scene and one (1) map, is pretty telling of how insignificant it is to go for the “bad” ending in the first place.  You learn and gain nothing from it, even if it is a more coherent conclusion to the story.  But man, imagine getting this as the “bad end,” expecting that the good end must involve the Agarthans and like...actual answers about Arval and Shez’ powers and like...anything.  Only to run smack into whatever the fuck those bonus chapters were.  I think I’d probably drop the game forever at that point.

As a bonus, because I don’t feel like making a separate post: my wife finished Azure Gleam.  It’s overall more coherent, but in exchange for coherence, they gave Edelgard amnesia and turned her into some meek pawn of Thales that kinda just gets left forgotten on the sidelines once the war is over, with absolutely nothing about where Ferdinand or Hubert went, or Monica for that matter, alongside the continuing nothing that is the bonus chapters.  Oh, and their explanation for why Edelgard is lucid in Zahras is that they’re in some alternate dimension away from whatever’s causing her amnesia so it doesn’t count in here.  Riveting.

Beginning to suspect this game is stupid.

[square-blunt]

You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head.

The normal empires fic in which shit goes from 0 to -100 to 100 and back to -100 in like, 2000 words. Scott ruins shit bc he's a dumbass in love. Jimmy watches him die. Y'know, the normal fic you'd see on the empires tag. This is a Minecraft Roleplay.

TW- MCD (major character death), Gore, (blood. and like, big knife mention). Angst. there is so much angst- emotional mental physical, it's all that shit. Sacrifice, screaming, crying, and they kiss so that's fun but y'know.

WC: 2009

Ao3: :) Second Chapter: :)

Scott knows something is wrong. He feels that pit in his stomach- familiar emptiness that clouds his vision and his mind. His feet start to move forward. He knows- he knows something's happening.

He knows Jimmy is in trouble.

He hasn't been in Mythland much- but somehow he cuts through trees and knocks over stands almost like he knows exactly where he's going and nothing was gonna stop him from getting there. It's getting dark- that's weird it was just noon-

Scott looks up to see where the sun is. 'This can't get any worse,' he thinks. You're never supposed to fight a demon when there's a solar eclipse, everyone knows that-

Scott hears a scream. It sends his heart up into his throat- that's Jimmy. Scott sprints forward and bursts through the treeline and he's at Sausage's summoning circle- no- no no no-

The sight is terrible. Sausage- his body is practically decaying under the weight of corruption- of possession. Xornoth's possessed the man he once saw as a friend. And Joey's by his side, a book in hand, chanting in elvish. They've crafted an obsidian altar- and writhing in chains, desperately trying to free himself is Jimmy. Tears are streaking down his face, his terror radiating off of him in waves.

Xornoth raises something above their head as the moon fully covers the sun- its last light gleaming off the object- it's a ritual knife.

They're going to sacrifice you- I don't want to lose you. He can hear Jimmy’s voice as clear as day.

Scott screams out a time-shattering “Stop” before he can get a hold of himself.

Everything does stop. Time, space, reality- it feels like Scott’s heart has stopped, too. Sausage looks at him with eyes that aren’t his own; Joey looks at him as well, but his eyes hold no rage or fear, only smugness. His eyes are drawn away as he catches Jimmy’s face. It goes from happiness to confusion, to heartbreak, back to confusion, and then to pure fear.

“Stop,” Scott says it a little quieter this time. His voice rings out against the stilled breeze. There are no birds, no nature, everything around them is either dead or too terrified to make a sound. Xornoth tilts his head, slowly and concerningly calmly. “Step away from him.” Scott’s hand finds itself on the hilt of his sword. Not like there’s much that could do, but he has to do something.

Xornoth laughs. It sounds like Sausage.

“Scott-” Jimmy says, and immediately cries out in pain. Scott looks up- Joey was the one to twist his arm. Under any other circumstances, Scott would have lunged forward and sunk his sword into Joey’s skull, but since Xornoth is still holding a very painful-looking ritual knife, Scott stays put.

“Jimmy, don’t say anything-” Scott begins, his voice tight with panic. Xornoth speaks up before he can continue, Scott’s heart dropping in his chest. His voice sounds like Sausage, too.

“Brother, have you come to replace your lover from another life?” Xornoth’s voice is suffocatingly rich with sarcasm and fake pity.

Scott can’t answer. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t- he can’t look at Jimmy.

“I know you remember, great champion of Aeor, I know you do.” Xornoth grins, their face contorting.

“I do, and I have,” Scott says, finally getting over the lump in his throat. The lump comes back tenfold as Xornoth’s grin grows impossibly wider.

“Scott- no- what-” Jimmy begins to say, but Joey quiets him with another yank on his restraints. Xornoth puts a hand out, and Joey drops the ropes.

“You know what I need, brother,” Xornoth says, their voice eerily emotionless.

“Scott- don’t do this-”

“Jimmy, please,” Scott says, closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he can’t give Xornoth his own humanity.

“Scott-” Scott winces as Jimmy’s voice breaks. Jimmy doesn’t know, he can’t remember-

Scott takes a deep breath, and once again, speaks before he can tell himself to stop.

“I, Ellinair, take the place of this man so that he might live free of pain or suffering for the rest of his life.” Scott needs to make sure that Jimmy gets off free, with no strings attached. So Xornoth can’t hurt him after he’s gone.

“No- Scott, what have you done- why-” Jimmy sits up, some of the ropes have disappeared but he still can’t leave the altar.

Xornoth laughs- it doesn’t sound like Sausage anymore.

“A great elf with a great future who was stolen in the night and thrown into an arena for the devil’s delight. And you fell in love. How cute!” they snarl, “Unfortunately, as you died, you were whisked away from our grasp. I had to find you again, and wasn’t I lucky that I found your husband instead? And, better yet, without your protection! It was so easy, brother, to just come in and take him. To use him. Sweet, dopey, stupid Jimmy. Why would he be the one tied to that dragon? I kill him, and nothing will happen other than a shortage of slimeballs and a few tears. The only use for him was that he was close to you. He’s nothing but a pawn to get to you. And you, in your blind devotion, played right into my hand. I was never going to kill him, it would honestly be too much effort to do so. I was never going to kill him. I was only threatening to kill him so you would change places with him, so Exor could finally triumph over his brother. You are weak, Ellinair, in your love, in your loyalty- or lack thereof. You always were weak. And now I’ve won. Exor has won because you fell for a mortal. Because of a flower. It’s sickeningly amusing, I must say. But unfortunately, it seems that your time is drawing to a close. Lesser, you may release the ‘bait’.” Xornoth ends their monologue with a direction Scott takes a moment to realize is for Joey, who follows it immediately. Jimmy, now free, lurches off the altar like it was burning him alive. He rushes over to Scott, questions bubbling up and out of him. His hands move to hold Scott’s, but Scott isn’t exactly... present. But he can still hear Jimmy. How he wishes he couldn’t.

“Scott- Scott what’s going on- I thought you- what’s going on? Why did you- Scott- why did you take- what-” Jimmy asks, clutching at Scott’s hands. Scott hangs his head, Jimmy immediately stops and lets him talk.

“Jimmy... you don’t know what you mean to me,” Scott says, tears threatening to fall, he can’t make eye contact with Jimmy.

“I think I can guess, at least,” Jimmy says, voice tight, cupping Scott’s face. Scott still can’t look at him.

“They’re right-” Scott begins to say- before Jimmy tilts Scott’s head to face him and kisses him. It takes Scott a second for his heart and his head to catch up to it- but Jimmy’s kissing him. Finally, after what feels like eons apart, he’s kissing him again. Scott kisses him back like he’s the air he’s gone without breathing for so long- Scott’s been without him for so long- and just when he’s got him back... he quite literally sold his soul for this. Time stops again- this has happened way too many times for it to be normal but Scott wishes it would stop forever. Seconds turn into minutes and it’s like the gods have finally taken pity on him and given him time to give everything he can. He’s sold his soul for Jimmy, and he’s never gonna get to see him again. The tears become too much, and they fall- but Scott would rather die now than break the kiss, so Scott’s tears stain both their cheeks. The kiss tastes the same it always did, like Jimmy, and it was heart-achingly familiar.

Scott can’t live without it.

Funny.

He won’t live much longer anyway.

He is hyper-aware of Jimmy’s grip on him, on his face, in his hair, holding him close like they would melt together if they could.

Maybe Jimmy needs him as much as Scott.

And fuck, he needed Jimmy.

He needs to feel as much of Jimmy as he can before all he feels is a knife through his chest.

But right now all he cares about are the hands on his chest where the knife will go- the hands that are gonna be gone soon- Scott hasn’t been counting the seconds how long has it been- how long has Jimmy been kissing him- how long has he been kissing back- how long do they have left? Scott wraps his arms around Jimmy, trying to become inseparable- and Jimmy just holds onto him tighter. One of them sobs into the other- and all Scott can think is I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you- and he hopes Jimmy can hear him.

They both can hear a sickening crunch, instead.

As time crashes back into Scott's reality like a freight train, a number of things happen in rapid succession.

Jimmy is torn away, crying out in pain. It's familiar. Scott's tears break their dam and his vision is blurred- but he can still see Jimmy, sweet, dopey, beautiful Jimmy.

As Jimmy gets jerked backward, his and Scott's grip tightens on each other, and Jimmy's screams of agony make Scott want to throw up.

It takes everything Scott has to stay in place and keep Jimmy with him.

"'Scott something's on my back- something's hooked into me-"

"Jimmy- don't let go- please, please don't let go- I love you, please-"

"I won't- Scott- don't- I love you, too, I love you, too-"

Something cold sinks into Scott's shoulder, sending searing hot pain across his body- and making his arm go limp.

Scott and Jimmy are ripped apart from each other.

Scott screams for Jimmy and thrashes around, trying desperately to free himself, sobs ringing in his skull and fear and pain and regret raking through his body- but he refuses to stop looking at Jimmy, and Jimmy still looks at him. He catches a glimpse of what’s hooked onto Jimmy's back- it’s a massive tendril of corruption, and now it's holding Jimmy suspended in the middle of the air- it looks like it hurts him to breathe, much less call out Scott's name, but it's all in vain.

Scott knows he's going to die.

He gave his word.

But that doesn't mean he's not going to try and get away.

He needs to get away.

He needs to scream and cry and writhe and brace himself against the altar that whatever's hooked into his shoulder is trying to drag him onto.

He needs Jimmy to know how sorry he was because he’s gone and fucked it all up now. He thought he’d be able to play it off to Jimmy as ‘you don't deserve to die in my place' but when Jimmy looked at him with pure heartbreak and fear in his eyes he knew that he was doing it to save him.

Not the world.

Jimmy was his world.

Scott loses the fight and is dragged up onto the altar, where tendrils of dark crimson threaten to bury him alive, and one-handed he tries to swat them off. He can feel his power draining, he knows Joey's probably chanting again, but all he hears is Jimmy. He looks back, and Jimmy is still struggling and sobbing and Scott has to keep fighting to stay alive as long as possible just to be able to see Jimmy for as long as possible.

But the tendrils are growing in number, and Scott can’t keep all of them at bay and slowly he’s overtaken and restrained. The metal hook still sits painfully in his shoulder as his energy drains with his blood, he’s lost the power to scream.

Jimmy hasn’t.

Scott hangs onto that.

Scott hangs onto Jimmy’s screams, his sobs, his ‘Please stop’s, his ‘why him’s, Scott hangs onto the feeling of rage- at his brother and their tool hurting Jimmy like this- but the rage stays heavy on his chest. Rage and fear and pain swirl in his mind and every other emotion drains out of him.

All he knows is terror.

All he knows is Jimmy’s sobs.

He knows that he has seconds left- Xornoth’s probably already gotten the knife back up above his head.

All Scott can offer to Jimmy, all that he has left, is a weak smile of comfort before every sense he has cuts out.

Scott can’t see Jimmy.

He can’t hear Jimmy.

He’s failed everyone he’s ever known.

[dauntingdarling]

In Defense of the Weeping Monk

So during my first ramped scrolling of Weeping Monk content post-completion of the series, I came across a number of people against the Weeping Monk not just for this storyline but because of how people have been quick to obsess over him and ship Nimulot.

In particular, calling the Nimulot ship racist or homophobic, his character a predator, and those shipping him with anyone toxic. While these points are valid and come from a place (I would assume) of good intentions (anti-homophobia, anti-racist, protect the children etc.) they are strong accusations that should not be linked to this character. And here’s why:

Racism:

-I’m going to be blunt here. Seeing as Racism isn’t a joke, it shouldn’t be thrown around as an excuse not to like WM just because said character didn’t end up with a person of color. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Don’t blanket cover your reasoning with a serious accusation that even today is still running rampid and needs to be taken seriously in today’s society (see George Floyd)

-It would be one thing to call out a show if they were expressing Racist undertones, but Cursed hasn't. Two of the most powerful characters in King Arthur lore are played by wonderful actors of color (Arthur and sister Morgana) and should this show continue, we will see the pair of them raise in the ranks of power for both good (King Arthur) and evil (Morgan le fay). 

-People are stating that WM should have been black, as we’ve had more than enough white edgy boys out in shows and movies (see Winter Solider, Kylo Ren/Ben solo...) I’m not against the idea of a black or someone other than white actor portraying WM. That’s not my fight. My fight is over disliking Daniel Sharman’s casting because of his race rather than his acting skill. The guy plays WM fantastically and shouldn’t be docked points just because he’s a white British guy. Like... come on. 

-I could go on, but we have more topics to cover so I’ll close this part with this: keep up the good fight to end Racism, but don’t use it to elevate your own ship/actor profile/ etc. 

Throwing around this topic to benefit your own belief (more than just in media) is what makes people degrade racism in the first place. Don’t be that person.

Homophobia: 

-WHY WOULD SHIPPING NIMULOT BE HOMOPHOBIC? WHY

-I would have thought this show already established that they were not homophobic seen by the great response Nimue gave to Morgana after spotting the scene above^. She normalized their relationship as any other and that was beautiful *chef’s kiss* 

-Back to WM, from what I read on the topic from a person with this view, they stated that because people are shipping Nimulot over Nimue and Morgana (I’m sorry I don’t know their ship name), they are homophobic? WHAT

-Dude that’s great that you saw the fantastic chemistry between Morgana and Nimue, but do you really want Nimue to bed both siblings like that? 

-What I just stated isn’t my real fight on the topic, it’s just something I just thought of as I am here typing away. My fight here is just because Nimue hasn't entertained the possibility of a romantic relationship with Morgana doesn’t mean those shipping Nimue and WM together are homophobic. We just are ex-reylo trash (as I’m noticing so far) and love the enemies to lovers trop. 

-Also I am pretty sure that those shipping Nimulot adore the relationship Nimue has with Morgana as they give off major feminism vibes. And have a healthy relationship overall. 

Which brings me to my next point:

Toxic Shipping:

-No one is stating that WM should hook up with Nimue immediately. And if they are, take notes. WM still needs to grow from the horrors he has done in the past and what he has ahead of him. Only then would he be deserving of Nimue (should she take him)

-I honestly believe people are not shipping Nimulot because it’s toxic, but rather because they hope that WM will come around on the other side as a better man (for he has been through the ringer) and should find peace. With Nimue? Sure, if the storyline fits. 

-I’ve read that some don’t want Nimue to be the fixer upper of WM, and I agree, but do not find this statement to be enough to call the Nimue ship toxic by any means. We just want to see everyone happy, is that so bad? 

-And after growing up idolizing the major character arch of Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender, I can’t help but hope (as the optimist that I am) that WM will get a similar ending to Zuko. 

-As for why people want Nimue with him and not, say Gwenevere, it is because of all the similarities they carry so far that complement each other (while also playing the opposites attract card). Similarities include:

cursed out fay (N- the villagers scorning her, WM- the monks attitude toward him as a weapon and not a being)

lingering on the edge of dark and light (N with the cursed sword, WM with his faith)

scars (that happen to be on their backs)

their relationship with Squirrel (both protective, not smothering)

Symbols of their side in war (WM is the monk’s best fighter, N is their queen)

I’m sure people can give you more reasons. This is just what I came up with on the spot after one watch through of the series. If you have others, please write them below, I’m curious. 

Now onto the topic that I find to be atrocious: 

Predator: 

-EXCUSE ME, a predator prays on others. How on God’s green earth is WM that? He was a literal sword for hire/raised to fight against his kind through mental strain from this messed up ideology of christianity. 

-And for those calling his relationship with Squirrel unhealthy... fair point but I’m not done yet. 

-I don’t mean all this to say that what he did under the red monks was good or even acceptable. No it wasn’t, the dude was practicing mass genocide of his own race, that’s fucked up. (That torture scene in front of the mill was really something)

-But as we learn in later episodes, all of his actions linger on not being damed and going to heaven (I assume) as seen in the scene when we got a nice look of him shirtless while he was having a moral crisis.

-Speaking of moral crisis, did you notice that he had one when the rest of the villains present in this show do not? Even Iris (a fantastic villain) had a tragic backstory with her family like WM, but rather than question her motives, she starts on the villain path. 

-Now while I do admit he doesn’t treat Squirrel right in the beginning, it makes sense for his character and where he is at. Not to say that hurting a child and using him as a pawn to kill leftover tribe members is justified. 

-But the writers always wrote the interactions between Squirrel and WM with a hint of humor. Squirrel was always talking back, calling WM and his horse ugly, and even hissing out “you” in front of the red monks. All this going on while WM maintains a blank expression, that to viewers is almost comical (because it breaks away from the sad emo boy cliche) 

-In the end, WM needed someone like Squirrel to get out of the disastrous rut the red monks had WM in. For WM to start on this journey of his (that I’m sure will continue through season 2) he needed to show he had a moral code. 

-Also, like many complicated characters, WM never thought through the damage he has done and how his work impacted children up until G called him out for it. For this reason, I think G had just as much a part of getting WM to revolt as Squirrel did. 

- I think his relationship with Squirrel will continue to grow into a more protective association now that G is dead. G made Squirrel into a knight, the next step is for this kid to train like one. Who better than Mr. Lancelot himself. (They better have a training scene in next season or I will riot)

-And lastly, all of you who know the lore of Lancelot understand that he will become the best of the best and also the most loyal and chivalrous knight out there. What a better way to love a character with these attributes than if he started in the proverbial gutter and grows to understand and value these characteristics?  It’s the shiny ending that he needs to work hard to achieve and that is what, at the end of the day, all lovers of WM want to see in the next few seasons. 

Him becoming that knight in shining armor.

[anawkwardshit]

Tubbo needs to step up and get his shit together. Here’s why.

Tubbo has consequently dodged the consequences of his actions, good or bad, and even though I love him and understand the hard position he’s been put into, I’m a little sick of it.

It’s already been established that Tommy has accepted what’s happened and forgiven Tubbo for it. He’s already explicitly stated that he understands why Tubbo exiled him and doesn’t blame him for trying to protect L’manberg. Tommy, despite everything, has come to understand Tubbo’s actions and accept them for what they are. Tubbo is still his friend, and he hasn’t given up on him. He’s not going to blame Tubbo for trying to do what’s right, even if Tommy doesn’t like it.

Tubbo, on the other hand, has completely dodged the results of his actions and tried to avoid the possibilities of them coming to fruition. Tubbo explicitly stated that there could have been another way other than exiling Tommy, but he made an impulsive decision based on stress and panic; he had no time to think on it. In simpler terms, he took the easy way out to avoid Dream’s wrath and complied with him to keep peace. This is a common occurrence with Tubbo, whom wants peace so badly that he lets himself be pushed around to try and keep it, but it only makes him a pawn.

It annoys me even more that Ranboo actually did end up admitting to Tubbo later that he helped in the griefing of George’s house, and he was never punished for it. Tommy was literally thrown under the bus to appease Dream, and that was it. Tubbo never addressed Ranboo’s involvement or tried to right it; he just brushed it off! He knew that doing anything would end in more consequences and outcomes that he didn’t want to deal with, so he just left it alone! That’s not justice!

Tubbo argued that Tommy’s actions were unacceptable as Vice President, but it was nowhere near the amount of destruction usually caused by anyone on the server (Dream included!) and Tommy said it was an accident. Saying others were exempt and Tommy wasn’t simply because of his vice presidency is wrong! Tommy’s place as Vice President was also given to him by Tubbo, not asked for. Tommy left presidency to Wilbur (who gave it to Tubbo) since he had business with Dream. Instead of becoming President and using the power he would have to call war on or use people to fight Dream, he left L’manberg in the hands of someone who could care for it properly (who he thought was Wilbur, but he was okay with Tubbo, too, since he thought Tubbo would be good at it) so he could deal with his own personal business by himself. He accepted the position as Vice President, likely only to be closer to Tubbo (he told Ranboo that he knew Tubbo being president would pull them apart). Tubbo uses Tommy’s position of power, which Tommy doesn’t even utilize, as a reason for him to be exiled, but Tubbo is just pulling at threads in order to make himself feel better for making the decision.

When Tommy is kicked out, he avoids visiting Tommy in order to, A) keep Dream from possibly getting upset, once more avoiding confrontation, and B) avoid facing Tommy’s possible derision or hatred of him. In simple terms, he’s scared, and therefore, he avoids facing his actions. He should have visited Tommy, should have made it clear that they were still best friends in spite of everything, and maybe then Dream wouldn’t have gotten his claws so deep into Tommy; maybe Tommy wouldn’t have downspiralled and become depressed in his isolation and abandonment. Instead, he shows up last minute and is too late to save Tommy—Tommy had to save himself in the end.

(People argue that Tommy was never alone, no matter how much he said he was. But Tommy is still a child; how is he supposed to know how to express his feelings, the difference between being alone and being lonely? Because Tommy was lonely.)

When Tubbo finds out Tommy is alive, he accuses him of siding with the enemy. But what else was there for Tommy to do? He was running from his abuser, his friends had turned their backs on him for all he was aware—he was forced to fend for himself, even if that resorted to stealing, and he took the companionship and help where he could. Techno gave that to him. Despite their ups and downs, Techno never lied to Tommy; he was honest, blunt, and even called Tommy a friend. Their relationship was healthier than Tubbo and Tommy’s has been recently! In this accusation, Tubbo is shoving blame onto Tommy and not taking into account what’s happened for Tommy to have made this choice. He doesn’t even bring up the tower or anything! Tubbo obviously knew Tommy had committed (or at this point, contemplated) suicide, but it was never mentioned! It’s like Tubbo completely glossed over the fact that something so horrible was done to Tommy in the face of his best friend siding with the person they were trying to kill! And Tommy is completely unaware that Tubbo even still gives a damn, since as I’ve mentioned, he never showed up to reassure Tommy of their friendship.

He shoved everything away, and it tore everyone but him down. The only consequence Tubbo has had to face was when he gave Dream the disk and, therefore, the free reign to obliterate L’manberg! And that was something that fucked everyone over!

I disagree and agree with many points for every character, but Dream is the one person I don’t have any excuses for. And yet he was still right when he told Tubbo he was a shit president and a pushover. Because he was.

New L’manberg was built on a crater; it was only a matter of time before it fell through.

In the end, Tommy has come to an understanding with Tubbo and his decisions. He’s faced the consequences, done his time, and come out of it persevering and accepting of it all. He looks at Tubbo and sees his struggling friend trying too hard—and I agree.

But Tubbo has not come to face that yet, not like Tommy has. When they were yelling at each other, Tubbo didn’t trust a word Tommy said, and in the end, it was more Tubbo’s fault than Tommy’s. Tubbo forgot Dream’s ways in exchange for his anger at everything and the stress on his shoulders; he could not face the reality of what his actions had caused.

With the way the story has ended so far, there needs to be closure. Tommy understands where Tubbo comes from, but Tubbo knows nothing of Tommy’s place, and even though his ignorance is not completely his fault, I still hate him for it. He knows nothing yet of Tommy’s abuse, of Dream’s gaslighting, of the ultimate truth behind the dark things that haunted Tommy during his exile; he knows nothing of its endless extent—and he needs to.

Tubbo is a child pushed into a seat of responsibility that he should not hold, but it is what it is. I’m sorry to say it, but Tubbo has killed too many, died too much, and bled too often to be a child anymore. The place he holds means he must face his actions like an adult, and he has not done that.

Tubbo needs to listen, and he and Tommy need closure. I hope to God that they do not just move on like nothing’s happened; they need to talk, to understand each other. Tubbo needs to understand that other people have suffered for his negligence, and he needs to right it.

“Can’t you see history repeating itself?” Tubbo has edged closer and closer to Schlatt through this arc, and I hope for the sake of everyone that he pulls back in time. He may be looking to steer clear of Schlatt’s path (he was all too aware of it when Quackity called for Ranboo’s blood), but you know what they say about self-fulfilling prophecies.

Whoever is writing the next arc needs to address this! Please!

[normal-thoughts-official]

I see so many people saying that lydia was/is a qUeEn and a hEro for being okay when alec kissed magnus at 'their wedding' but like...She knew that alec had feeling for magnus before the wedding and still was going to go ahead and marry him which meant that alec well them both would've been unhappy🤷🏽‍♀

I just don't like lydia tbf, she kinda rubbed me the wrong way but that might be just me😕

diaiduahs ok so i debated with myself whether or not to answer this question for like 0.3 seconds before i realized that wait a minute, i have never shut the fuck up about what i think ever in my life. who am i kidding. but anyway fair warning that my opinion on lydia is pretty unpopular among "both sides" of that debate (i don't think there are ever just two sides to any issue but anyway)

also warning that i'm not dissing you or your ask in particular, just giving my opinion based on what i've seen and heard on this debate in the fandom

here's the thing. i don't think she did wrong by accepting alec's marriage proposal. i wouldn't say she did right either, in my opinion her choice was pretty morally neutral

because it would have been different if alec had no choice on the matter and she chose it knowing it would make him miserable. but that's not what happened at all

alec did have a choice. in fact, the fact that he proposed to lydia was something that made his parents (who are the main responsibles for his closeting) fucking pissed. he wasn't doing it to please them; he was doing it as part of his own plan

and again, don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that this wasn't extremely traumatic and awful to him. he wouldn't have even considered it if it weren't for the awful conditions of his closeting and abuse, and he would have been miserable for the rest of his life. but alec had agency. he wasn't helpless. he was making a decision based on the shit conditions that he was in, trying to ensure his own safety and success. the conditions were horrible, but every decision we make is based on the environment we are in. and acting as if lydia was somehow forcing him into this marriage is acting as if alec didn't have autonomy to make his own choices, which i think is pretty unfair to him

one more time! i'm not saying it isn't fucked up that he had to make that decision. i know that ppl a lot of times say "lol it was their choice" regarding ppl staying in the closet to wave off the trauma of closeting and debates about queerphobia in general. the closet wouldn't even be a choice that's presented if queerphobia didn't exist. no one's choises exist in a vacuum, we are all dealing with the material conditions of our lives, and queerphobia is a huge part of that; one that makes the best choices for us impossible. so like, no, he wasn't BY ANY MEANS 100% free to choose what he wanted. but he DID have agency in his decision to propose to her

besides, what was she supposed to say? "no ur gay lol"? it's not like outing him would have been an amazing move. and of course she could have said no and not said that it's because alec is gay and would never be happy with a woman, but honestly, what the fuck kind of right does she have to make that choice for him? she doesn't even know him. she has no right to tell him what he should do with the plate of shit that homophobia and abuse has handed to him, especially when he obviously is trying to keep his agency and have control over his situation and choosing to marry lydia was a part of that. again, maryse was pissed. when alec chose to marry lydia, he was doing it for himself

what would have happened if she had said no? he would have ended up marrying another girl. and probably one that his parents picked, not him. like, let's please give alec credit here. he chose to stay in the closet, but he was fighting being just a pawn in his parents' game from the start. and it's not like either of them had any illusions about what this marriage was; it was a business arrangement at best. alec called it a partnership. they both just wanted to use that situation to their favor. and in shadowhunter culture, that's normal (i'm not saying that's a good thing, just that it's a fact that influences her decision to say yes as well). like, do you think maryse and robert loved each other? we haven't really seen any other shadowhunter marriages so i can't say for others, but it sounds to me like marriages of convenience were pretty standard. if i were alec, id probably be relieved that she had said yes, because then they'd both be in a situation where they knew exactly what they were getting into and he didn't want to pretend

and don't get me wrong, i'm not saying she did alec a favor or some shit. i'm just saying i can't really see how she is doing him harm in that situation, and that i think this take is taking away a lot of alec's agency and if i were him i'd be pretty pissed about that lol

but tHEN we have the Lydia Stans who ALSO take his agency just as much with this absolute nonsense take that she was a "hero" because she "let" him call off the marriage. excuse me lol? he wasn't hers for her to "let" him do anything. what could she even DO to "not let" him kiss magnus? at best, she could have thrown a tantrum. which would have been pretty ugly, but like. pointless. she can't make him stay and if she had tried to this would make her a fucking asshole and a villain. but the fact that she wasn't a villain doesn't make her a hero lmao

she did the bare minimum! sure, she was gracious about it, it was nice that she said that he deserved to be happy, but still the bare minimum. it was alec's choice, not hers. she doesn't have any right to force him into this marriage, and she didn't have the means to, either, which is part of why i think her choice to accept his proposal was morally neutral

and god it's annoying as hell that ppl act as if she was doing some kind of favor by not being incredibly violent and homophobic and trying to force him into a marriage with her lol? like not being homophobic should be the least we expect. and again, alec can make his own choices. he didn't need her permission to do jack shit

so when it comes to the whole alec situation, i'm pretty neutral towards lydia. it's whatever. she was barely there for that plotline anyway. when it comes to the doyalist perspective of it all, i am pissed as hell that she seems to be so popular within the fandom as if she did something incredible or whatever, but my feelings towards her as a person/character would have been pretty neutral

but tHEN we have the fact that "both sides" of this debate openly and completely ignore all the other fucked up shit she did, like trying to arrest izzy for saving a downworlder's life (idc if she changed her mind, it was still gross) or her openly racist comments. her comment about raj should "cut back on the smartass after being manhandled by a warlock" was one of the racist comments that stuck with me the most in tHE WHOLE ENTIRE SHOW, because like. what??? warlocks are literally immortal powerful beings with access to magic shadowhunters can't DREAM of. and the "warlock" she's talking about is MAGNUS BANE, not only one of the most powerful of them, but someone that she supposedly admires??? like, my god, she was all but fangirling about him coming to the institute and then it's like. wow raj how could you lose to someone so inferior

like are you kidding me???? tell me how this comment makes ANY sense whatsoever unless you are the most shadowhunter supremacist person to have ever lived. there is no reason at all to presume that losing to a warlock is humiliating (especially considering how them powerful they are) unless you believe that shadowhunters should be inherently better than them at everything

but we never talk about that, now do we

so...... the super lydia-positive corner of the fandom annoys me to no end but overall this whole discussion just tires me from "both sides". i don't like her, and i hate that she is so loved when the shit she did is ignored and most of the stanning comes from a pretty belittling vision of alec anyway, but i also think the anti-lydia side focuses entirely on the wrong issues regarding her character

[not-delicious-milk]

Also at the beginning I COULD take it as a joke. Joke can be gross as long as they don't go overboard. There is a lot of ship I don't agree with too, and the issue is that... it is everywhere like it's so natural, and this become an inside joke that most of the fandom is into while you are just on the side like... no?

2/2 I feel like this is because I see Sukuna exclusively as a villain which is why I joke about kicking him and beating him with a broom (honestly just thinking about it make me smile) so outside of AU I know that I can expect the worst coming him and he WILL deliver on it... so as I like Megumi I can only get worried about Megumi. Fandom is really like... a character is interested in another and the only explication is ROMANCE! 

yes! it’s literally EVERYWHERE, as if it’s the most natural conclusion in the world. it feels like everybody has lost their common sense??? sukuna is 98% pure evil and 2% surprises, and nowhere in that makeup is fucking pedophilia. like bro what.

to sukuna, humans are basically ants -- both in lifespan and in relative strength -- and megumi is a particularly useful ant. like what the fuck. he’s literally a pawn to use in his plans, to be thrown away once he’s outlived his usefulness. what the fuck kind of crack is everyone on to look at that dynamic and see ROMANCE???

sukuna is horny only for violence, you guys are just weird

[beauregardlionett]

On King Piece and Expectation

so post the new ML episode, I felt excited; but now I’m just kind of thinking about things from a writer’s perspective and tbh? the hype died quickly.

Adrien is positively oblivious. And here’s the hot take: it’s not cute. Don’t get me wrong, I think Adrien has a lot of potential to be a sweet and wonderful character, but he’s so caught up in his immediate happenings that everything else kind of falls by the wayside with him. I genuinely think he has NO clue about Marinette’s feelings for him and that’s just downright sad. Granted, the kid is overworked and likely overtired so his intrinsic focus makes some sort of sense, but Marinette is literally the absolute opposite of subtle.

I’m also refusing the name m*ster bug because...no. Just putting that out there.

I’m going to agree with some posts that I’ve seen on this already, but the chance for these two to understand each other on a more personal and basic level was entirely wasted. This trope is used often in situations of partners/teams who don’t necessarily understand the burden another has to carry. And ML literally didn’t even touch the ball before dropping it and shattering it. Marinette - while badass - learned nothing from being Lady Noire because she exercised the same practices as Ladybug, completely defeating the purpose of the Miraculous switch. Adrien acted the same, if not more removed from the actual happenings of the battle. He had absolutely no chance to feel things out for himself as evidenced by his “lucky vision” (idk) with the Lucky Charm giving him absolutely nothing to work with. Adrien is not stupid - obviously - and we know this. But his intellect seems to lie in memorization and repetition. Maybe this says something about his lack of critical thinking skills and being able to think on his feet because his life has been under such strict control for so long he’s never learned how to do things like this for himself - or maybe he’s forgotten how to.

Not to mention it literally hurt me to hear him just go “I’m not cut out to be Ladybug, that’s for sure” with a smile on his face. he never actually got to try. He was still just Ladybug’s pawn in her plots to defeat the latest akuma. This should have been when Adrien had the chance to step up to the plate and figure things out on his own, realize how much thought and work Marinette puts into every plan she devises, that it’s not easy thinking things up on the spot and executing them to near perfection. Hell, I would have been satisfied even if Adrien tried his own plan and failed, because at least he did that on his own and realized being Ladybug was hard. This was supposed to be when he figured out that Ladybug is more than just her powers, that it’s who she is that makes her Ladybug - because clearly he doesn’t remember telling her that on their first mission together if he’s still acting this way.

And this is a two way street! This episode was supposed to be when Marinette stepped back to let Adrien take the lead for once, to stumble over a new weapon, to fall into ingrained habit and call for her Lucky Charm rather than her Cataclysm and fumble to recover in time. This was supposed to be when she realizes how integral Chat Noir is to her plans, to her execution of those plans, by actually being the key piece on the board rather than her usual judge and jury way of doing things. This was supposed to be when she risked herself for Ladybug Adrien because that’s what he’s done for her time and time again. This was when she was supposed to realize he makes those jokes because he’s trying to stay young, trying to stay hopeful, trying to ease the burden from her shoulders while they’re locked in combat because donning the Chat Noir miraculous is “easier on the shoulders”.

Which by the way, even if that statement were wholly true, is a whole dynamic that could be explored.

My point with all this is that it seems like the writers got so excited and caught up in the fandom’s excitement of a mere Miraculous switch that they forgot the very foundation of this “power exchange” trope is supposed to give way to character development. There is no development in Adrien telling himself he could never be Ladybug because he’s already said that, already convinced himself of that, in the Gamer episode in season one. So if that was supposed to be the whole take away from this episode, then we could have done without it at all.

And listen, I support Marinette immensely because she’s talented and powerful and strong-willed and most importantly she’s not perfect. She’s still a fourteen year old girl with a crush on a boy, with boundaries, with attitude and snark and imperfections who has to learn lessons and apologize. But having her apologize to Juleka for Alya’s mistake? Utter bullshit. You can’t have Marinette apologize for things she didn’t do just because you expect her to be perfect as the main protagonist. She’s a child.

If you ask me, the crushing expectations literally everyone in her life puts on her both with and without the mask will be her downfall. She’s just as overworked and overtired as Adrien, and it should (hopefully, if the writers pull their heads out of the sand) come back to bite her in the end and teach her not to be passive about these expectations. She needs to stand up for herself and say ��this is not my responsibility, and i will not apologize for being unable to shoulder every little thing thrown at me.’ You want a female empowering show and character? Let her fucking stand up for herself, even if it’s to her friends. Because that’s real. That happens in everyday life.

Additionally, in a more metaphorical sense, Chat Noir and Ladybug to me resemble the King and Queen on a chess board. Ladybug is the King piece, moving slowly, subtly, powerful, a piece that must stay alive at all costs. Chat Noir is the Queen piece, deadly, moving in vast directions and distances to get everywhere and anywhere to protect the King piece. This could have been the perfect chance for them to experience this dynamic switch, for Adrien to stay put, to move with more caution and think things through before moving forward on instinct. For Marinette, this could have been a chance for her to loosen up, to move when she wants, to protect the King piece and strike when she has the chance rather than over thinking, to allow the King piece to dictate her movements for once and actually trust someone for once rather than doing everything on her own.

In short (TLDR) - this episode was a wasted opportunity. Marinette and Adrien are kids, and just because the adults who write this show have no flexibility when it comes to perception doesn’t mean the characters should have to suffer for it.

[iamalivenow]

“What did you use to do, before?”

They're taken aback for a second, because no body ever asks about Them. Not really, not in any sort of meaningful way.

“I'm an actor, darling. A Thespian, Surely you've noticed by now-”

“No, I mean.” Catra is a slim thing, no real muscle in her upper body at all, so when she leans on the railing of the balcony, Double Trouble really thinks she might tip right off. That would be stupid funny, watching her flail to her death.  But then, don't cats always land on their feet? “It's not like there are a lot of armies looking for spies.”

“Oh.” They flip their hair out of their face so that they could get a better look at her. Her hair is a nightmare, all over the place and in desperate need of a wash. “Much the same thing, really.”

“Aw, c'mon. We're friends right?”

That's a laugh too.

“Sure.”

“So then come on.” Catra whines, stretching from the railing, tail twisting around Double Trouble's own. That's a degree of familiarity she's definitely not paid for, but they don't pull away.

The Red Wastes were a hard place, for hard people, and the thing about hard people is that if you know how to distract them they'll miss what's right in front of their face. There have been a series of grifts, most that weren't worth mentioning, because they were just so basic, they put Double Trouble to sleep. Huge muscles were nice but they really left nothing in the brain area at all. They literally made a guy chase paper money on a fishing rod before. Criminally basic.

The other thing about hard people was that they paid extra for sex work if you could look like their dead lovers. Or their enemies.

“You know.” They turn, back on the railing. “Little bit of column A little big of column B.” Head tilted, they get a better look at her. “Someone as talented as me simply has to diversify their portfolio.”

“Is it embarrassing? Is that why you won't tell me? That's really lame.”

“There's nothing embarrassing about sex work, kitten.” And if she's too dull to pick up the insinuation, Double Trouble must have really thrown in with the worst sort of lot.

“O-oh.” There's a blush high up on her cheek that's just darling, and they slide into being her just to feel it on their face.

“What's wrong?” Their new soft tail twists around her waist. “Embarrassed? That's really lame.”

“Shut. Up.” Catra nudges them, but there's no real bark behind it. She's so predictable. “So what you just. Turned into other people and then-” She waves a hand, trying to look like she has any idea what she's talking about.

“God,  you're so cute.” Double Trouble hugs her, gets a hand in their face for the trouble, but who cares. “Yeah, doll. That's pretty much it. They'd show me a picture and tell me about it and I'd, you know.” They wave their hand just like she did. “Get method about it.”

“Huh.” She pulls away and Double Trouble lets her, their one body twisting back into their preferred preset. “And there's money in that?”

“You live on a military base. Are you really going to pretend people don't fuck around?”

“No!” Her tail stands up a little. Oof, weak spot. “People are just stressed, it's different.”

“Aw, no one ever crawl into your bunk?” And then they step into Lonnie. “People were lonely. Or frustrated. Or stressed.” They throuw an arm around Catra's shoulder. Her hair was coarse, they were right. She should really do something about that, maybe use some oils.

Adora comes easily enough, though they're pretty sure they still haven't gotten the hair just right.

“Ugh.” They're shoved again, and they go, laughing, back into their own pretty body.

“Practice makes perfect, kitten. And I'm as good as you can get. So watch the judgey face. Totally doesn't suit you.” They twist past her, into the glass frame of the balcony. “If you need me you know who to call.”

Double Trouble imagined they're done with conversations about their past.

…

Well, everyone's wrong from time to time.

There's a picture, a pretty scratched up one honestly, attached to their usual paycheck that makes them stare between Adora's face and back to Catra's. She's blushing again, tail curled around her leg, ears almost flat against her head. Wow, she's really showing her vulnerable side here. Taking notes for later, Double Trouble looks back at the photo.

“How much.” It's not even a question.

Sometimes this sort of thing is really way to easy.

They tell her the price and when she nods, they step into their role. Adora is, lets see, stubborn, but like, cute about it. Stuck to her convictions. A super boring character, but hey. Money's money. The day Double Trouble starts sticking their nose up at a paycheck is the day they drop dead.

It's easier to let Catra lead, let her set the tone of how she wants the little session to go, so when Adora gets slammed up against the wall, they swallow down the irritation that comes with another one of Those sessions.

Honestly, just buy a punching bag and some duck tape.

It's would be so much cheaper.

But then, just Adora starts biting out some insult, about how Catra's been like this from the start, how Catra's never taken anything serious but wanted everything that came with serious anyway, Catra's mouth is on theirs.

If she's never kissed anyone, she's pretty decent at it.

Or maybe it's just the scratchy tongue.

The rest of the affair is relatively silent, Catra pulls Adora around a bit until they end up in her bunk. Adora is on her back staring up at her, hair a mess and clothes ruffled. They're sure Adora paints a very pretty picture. Their client is panting above them, tail ramrod straight, claws digging into Adora's arms. Maybe even making her bleed a little.

“Catra?” With just that right hint of vulnerability and confusion in the voice.

“Shut up-”

“But-”

“Shut up! You don't- You don't know anything.”

“Okay-” Adora looks away, showing the neck off. “Okay- I trust you.”

“Still?” Catra's voice cracks like she's about to start crying. Poor baby.

“Always- You're my best friend, right?”

“But-” She slumps down, face buried into Adora's neck, trembling. “But after everything-”

“You did what you had to do. To keep yourself safe. I-” Adora bites her lip, leans forward a little, into Catra's hair until she finds Catra's forehead and presses her lips against it. “I understand.”

Catra does sob then, full body shaking with it, until her hands loose and raise to cup Adora's face. This kiss is was more intense then the last, even with out the biting. It's like it's Adora's entire job to keep her together or Catra's going to fall apart in a million tiny pieces-

Poetic.

Also unbelievably pathetic.

Who's in charge of the command structure here? Any idiot who pays even the tiniest amount of attention can see that Catra's on the verge of thirty different mental breakdowns.

“I've got you.” Adora says when they finally pull apart for air. “I've got all of you. I'm right here, Catra. I'm right here.” She rubs Catra's back, slowly soothing circles that just make Catra cry harder. Double Trouble can't stand this sort of thing, they really can't. Go see a therapist if you have the money. If the Red Wastes had some, this place defo has to right?

“I'm sorry.” Catra mumbles later, when she's all cried out.

“It's- You did what you had to do. I won't pretend it didn't hurt.” Adora says, holding Catra's face in her hands now. “But you're here now. So am I. We're both okay. That's all that really matters, right?”

Catra nods, kisses Adora again.

Oh, is she finally going to get to the good stuff?

No.

No, turns out it's just time to lay on top of each other.

This is romance.

This isn't the worst thing they've ever done, not even close, because there have been times when the client got a little to rowdy, a little to handsy in ways that they had to stop. There were also times when the sex just sucked so hard. There were time when they got really hurt, because people tend to forget it's not really their dead lover or whatever. Double Trouble chooses to take it as a compliment, really. Because they are just that talented that people forget they're paying for it. People forget everything in the whole wide world.

But this? Has to be the most boring thing they've ever done.

Hands down.

They have had one or two other clients that wanted the some thing, but at least after, Double Trouble knew they were going to get snacks out of it, hand crafted jewelry they could pawn, some sort of reward that made the whole wholesomeness thing worth it.

This though?

As soon as Catra wakes up, because yes, she did fall asleep, they're going to have to say bye and trudge over enemy lines and pretend to be an hero obsessed idiot.

But again, it's not like they stick their nose up at free money.

They could take the nap too, catch some extra beauty sleep. Not that they need it. Either way, it beats just staring at the ceiling.

Mostly.

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 39

VERIN!

Chapter 39: A Visit from Verin Sedai

Where were we? Oh yes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

“You never held the Oath Rod,” Egwene accused her.

Odd that that’s the first conclusion she jumps to. Verin has the ageless face, after all; she must have sworn oaths of some sort. Then again, I suppose Egwene can be forgiven for being thrown a little by that reveal. And for not wanting to jump to the other conclusion that might immediately come to mind.

“I don’t trust you,” Egwene found herself blurting. I don’t think I ever have.” “Very wise,” Verin said, sipping her tea. It was not a scent Egwene recognised. “I am, after all, of the Black Ajah.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She!

She just!

Did that!

Just came right out and said it. I waited ELEVEN BOOKS to find out what her deal was. ELEVEN BOOKS of wondering and suspecting and second-guessing and she just SAYS IT. LIKE THAT. RIGHT THERE.

WELL NOW WE KNOW, I GUESS.

Just. Well played. So very, very well played. One of the characters who held her cards closest to the chest all series, one of the most difficult to pin down, and so of coursethe reveal is on her own terms, direct and straightforward and stunning even if it’s not completely surprising.

Well. Played.

Also I’m suspicious of how often and pointedly the tea she’s drinking has been mentioned. The scent you don’t recognise is called foreshadowing, Egwene.

Egwene felt a sudden chill, like an ice cold spike pounded directly through her back and down into her chest.

Damn it Brandon get your hemalurgy out of my WoT.

Verin was Black. Light!

Nice forced juxtaposition in the phrasing there.

Those eyes that always had seemed to know too much. What better way to hide than as an unassuming Brown, constantly dismissed by the other sisters because of your distracted, scholarly ways?

Indeed. Who looks too closely at the absentminded scholar? Who suspects duplicity of a plump older woman with ink smudges on her dress? Who thinks too hard on disturbing comments made by a distracted Brown with little attention to tact? Verin, and people like Verin, are so easily…not even overlookedso much as set aside. I wonder, sometimes, why we’re so quick in times of crisis or uncertainty to disregard those who have made it the subject of their life’s work and study. Why we hold so strongly to this notion that scholarship means setting oneself aside from the ‘real world’, even when, without the real world, there would be nothing to study.

It’s my whole thing with the ‘lol the mapmaker can’t actually navigate’ nonsense with Roidelle a few chapters back. Like listen, fuck you, I can read and use just about any map you give me. I can navigate by the stars in either hemisphere. You think I spent my Ivory Tower Years studying the earth without getting my hands dirty? I did not haul a literal bucket full of shit through a jungle in volcano-melted shoes for this.

(Yes, there are parts of academia that are, to put it kindly, Out Of Touch, and whose publications are more self-referential and inbred than your average European monarchy. But the ease with which we write off ‘scholars’ and ‘academics’ as hopeless in all matters relating to the Real World is kind of mind-boggling.)

Anyway. Rather than diving headfirst into an essay on the insidious nature of anti-intellectualism, I’ll just say…Verin really did have the perfect disguise.

Not quite as much to the reader – it’s been very much made clear that she was up to something and that the distracted-and-muddled act was very much an act – but in-world? Even in ourworld, without the insight given by the narrative, who would have looked twice?

Verin, of course, just responds to Egwene’s shock with possibly the most English thing she could possibly say aside from ‘shit weather we’re having, isn’t it?’:

“My, but this is good tea.”

I love her.

What a troll.

She just SHOWED UP IN EGWENE’S ROOM, DRINKING TEA, AND ANNOUNCED THAT SHE’S BLACK AJAH. AFTER ELEVEN BOOKS. OF GIVING AWAY NOTHING. EVEN IN HER THOUGHTS.

She is, truly, On Another Level.

I’m also just running through everything she’s ever done or said or thought in the last eleven books with the certainty of hindsight and my brain feels a little bit like one of those flipbooks you play with as a kid.

Just…*shakes head* well fucking played, Verin.

“I would offer you some tea, but I sincerely doubt you want any of what I’m having.”

Even I don’t mention tea as frequently as it’s been mentioned in these last two or three pages. What exactly is in that tea, Verin?

Egwene’s still in panic mode, and I love the way this is played out, with her thoughts scattered and frantic, juxtaposed against Verin’s calm, collected, and utterly shocking matter-of-fact, conversational, mild statements.

But while Egwene – I suppose understandably – sees Verin immediately as a threat after that admission, I…don’t.

“I compliment you on what you’ve done here, Egwene.”

‘I’m Black Ajah, but more importantly, I love what you’ve done with the room! Such a good eye for colour, and the minimalist style is so in right now. Tea?’

When you get an opportunity like this, you don’t squander it. And she is making the absolute most of her chance here, and I honestly don’t even blame her. She could say something reassuring, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, Verin has always dealt in truths, not platitudes.

I love her, you guys. I love her so much.

“It was more important to continue my research and keep an eye on young al’Thor. He’s a fiery one”

TOO. SOON.

That was rude. Fuck. Wow. Okay.

“I’m not certain he understands how the Great Lord works. Not all evil is as…obvious as the Chosen. The Forsaken, as you’d call them.”

Two things here. One: there is absolutely no way Verin is truly aligned with the Shadow. Two: she gets it. She understands what’s going on, with Rand and even, I think, with how the Shadow is manipulating him without ever having to truly turn him.

“I’m convinced that it isn’t intelligence, craftiness, or skill that makes one Chosen—though of course, those things are important. No, I believe it is selfishness the Great Lord seeks in his greatest leaders.”

YES. THIS.

THIS, EXACTLY.

Of course Verin is the one to put it into words so clearly. With one exception, they are so focused on their own power and their own promised rewards and their own plans and successes and positions of favour that they don’t even see the game they’re truly playing. They serve themselves, not a cause, and because they are intelligent and crafty and skilled, they become incredibly effective pawns in that game, set on a board they hardly understand and let loose to serve a purpose they never truly consider because they are so hell-bent on their own. And so they will destroy the world and themselves with it and never notice until their own flames consume them.

It’s also an interesting statement to consider in the context of Rand, given that Verin has just voiced her worries that he doesn’t understand how the Great Lord works.

Because Rand has an…interesting relationship with selfishness and altruism. Especially now. He has pushed himself into a state of literal selflessness – total denial of the existence of a self – but for the sake of self-preservation. He did it because it hurt too much to hold on to anything of who he was, to let himself feel. So it’s a selfish motivator…and yet, the motivation behind that is a layer of altruism, because that need for survival arises from a need to fulfil his duty to a selfless cause.

And so we go around and around in circles; is he selfish or selfless in his choice to leave his humanity and life and redemption behind? Is it more selfish to seek death or survival, to martyr himself or to endure, to live for something or to die for it?

Listen, I’m a scientist and a programmer and an atheist, and also I cannot get enough of spiralling questions of eschatology and metaphysics and fate in fiction. It’s a thing.

(And that’s not even getting into my obsession with divinity as an entire concept).

But back to the Forsaken. I think Verin has it absolutely right here – power and cunning and other abilities are all well and good, but if you want a group of people you can control and predict and move around like the pawns they are (while they believe themselves to be the players, and masters of the game), selfishness is a perfect trait to select for.

Wise of Verin to see that.

And, back to Rand for just a moment here, maybe that’s part of where he struggles: he’s too close to the Forsaken in his knowledge of them from Lews Therin’s memories to take that step back and view them as an outside observer, yet at the same time he’s so far on the other side of the spectrum in terms of motivations to see this unifying trait and understand how it works and how to use it.

“The Chosen are predictable, but the Great Lord is anything but. Even after decades of study, I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it.”

Because, unless you’re Moridin, I think it would break your mind to truly understand what it is he wants. None of the Chosen seem to fully understand it either, because if they did, would they still fight for it? Total destruction of everything, a world remade in the image of chaos, wouldn’t serve any of their goals. And yet because of that selfishness, they are made to serve precisely that cause, and are kept blind by their own narrow ambitions to what end they truly work towards.

“And what does this have to do with me?” Egwene asked.

“Not much,” Verin said, tsking at herself. “I’m afraid I let myself get sidetracked.”

In which Verin’s tangents are more insightful than many character’s introspection. Not to mention about a hundred times more communicative, suddenly. I love when an enigma of a character finally decides it’s time to spill her secrets. It’s so satisfying.

Verin’s so proud of Egwene for what she’s done with the Tower. It’s lovely to see, not just to have someone in a position to recognise and appreciate what Egwene has managed to do, but to have it be someone who’s known Egwene since even before she went to Tar Valon, someone who watched her first learnings and chided her for her early mistakes, and also who knows and understands what’s going on, on a level that seems to be far deeper than most Aes Sedai. Verin sees. And so her praise is worth far more than most. Especially now, when she seems to be so sure that time is short, when she’s making her final play.

Egwene’s still trying to figure out what the hell is even going on here, and…

Oh.

“A number of years ago, I faced a decision. I found myself in a position where I could either take the oaths to the Dark One, or I could reveal that I had actually never wanted—or intended—to do so, whereupon I would have been executed.”

ALL THE SECRETS COME OUT.

DOUBLE AGENT VERIN.

So this was the mistake she alluded to in her thoughts. This is why she’s thought so many times about how sometimes you just have to make the best of the situation you’re given.

“Many would have simply opted for death. I, however, saw this as an opportunity. You see, one rarely has such a chance as this, to study a beast from inside its heart, to see really what makes the blood flow. To discover where all of the little veins and vessels lead. Quite an extraordinary experience.”

“Wait,” Egwene said. “You joined the Black Ajah to study them?”

YES!!!!!!!!!!

VERINNNNN!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The scholar driven by a desire for knowledge, faced with the consequences of that search, and choosing to push forward anyway, to sacrifice herself not by dying but by living, and swearing herself to a cause she never wanted to join, and seeing it as an opportunity. To keep studying them. HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS SHE?

“Tomas. Does he know what you’ve done?”

“He was a Darkfriend himself, child,” Verin said. “Wanting a way out. Well, there really isn’t a way out, not once the Great Lord has his claws in you. But there was a way to fight, to make up a little of what you’ve done. I offered that chance to Tomas, and I believe he was quite grateful to me for it.”

No man can walk so long in the Shadow…I wonder if Ingtar knew.

It’s such a lovely little addition to this whole reveal; Tomas is a fairly minor character, but it adds that extra bit of depth to an already fantastic scene that she found a way to offer him some small form of redemption, by joining her in hers. It ties everything together just that little bit more. There may not be a way out, but there is a way to go forwards, a way to fight.

Verin was a Darkfriend…but not one at the same time.

It’s not so different from Ingtar’s choice, really. It’s just the timeframe that’s different.

“You said he ‘was’ quite grateful to you?”

And, like Ingtar’s choice, I don’t think there’s much chance of this not being a fatal one.

“The oaths one makes to the Great Lord are quite specific,” she finally continued. “And, when they are placed upon one who can channel, they are quite binding. Impossible to break. You can double-cross other Darkfriends, you can turn against the Chosen if you can justify it. Selfishness must be preserved. But you can never betray him.”

I just love the way she gets so cleanly to the heart of it with her observations of the role of selfishness. It explains so much, so neatly. And yet they are all bound, though they claim to set themselves above everyone else; all of them must serve, in the end, but they are so easily manipulated into believing that they rule.

She looked up, meeting Egwene’s eyes. “‘I sear not to betray the Great Lord, to keep my secrets until the hour of my death.’ That was what I promised. Do you see?”

…oh.

Oh, Verin.

The tea is poison and this is her final play. Killing herself in order to betray all of her secrets, because it’s the one loophole open to her. The only way to share the knowledge she spent decades collecting.

Decades of secrecy and evasion, of hiding behind that distracted scholarly mask, of observing, unseen, from within. And it all ends here, in a single hour of honesty, with the captive Amyrlin she can look at and be proud of.

VEEEEEERRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

She joined them to stay alive because the alternative was death and now she’s choosing her own death as a way of allowing herself to betray them THIS IS TOO MUCH.

“A curious hole in the oaths,” Verin said softly. “To allow one to effect a betrayal in the final hour of one’s life. I cannot help wondering if the Great Lord knows of it. Why wouldn’t he close that hole?”

Because no one selfish enough to serve him would ever think to use it. Because to use it would be an act of absolute altruism, anathema to any in a position to do so.

Except Verin.

“Perhaps he doesn’t see it as threatening,” Egwene said, opening her eyes. “After all, what kind of Darkfriend would kill themselves in order to advance the greater good? It doesn’t seem the kind of thing his followers would consider.”

What she said.

Or…maybe it’s almost meant as a taunt, a cruel reminder of the cost of betrayal. A way of saying to those who might be considering it, who might be regretting their choice, ‘you can betray me but to do so demands your death’. A loophole kept as a warning sign, and a way of making any who might be wavering turn back.

Egwene shook her head. It seemed such a tragedy. “You come to me to confess, killing yourself in a final quest for redemption?”

Not quite, I don’t think. She wouldn’t waste all those years just to gain peace of mind in a confession. She’s come to share knowledge.

IN THE FORM OF HER NOTEBOOKS.

ALL HER NOTES.

THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD.

“Every woman in the Brown,” Verin said, “seeks to produce something lasting. Research or study that will be meaningful. Others often accuse us of ignoring the world around us. They think we only look backward. Well, that is inaccurate. If we are distracted, it is because we look forward, toward those who will come. And the information, the knowledge we gather…we leave it for them. The other Ajahs worry about making today better; we yearn to make tomorrow better.”

That, right there, is a perfect and utterly lovely redemption of the stereotype of the scholar. Thank you for this.

The desire to leave something lasting, to not just know but to share that knowledge with those who come after, to lay the foundations for future generations to learn from and to learn beyond. A distractedness that comes not from ignoring the world but from looking to its future. A study of the past or the present for the purpose of that future. This is absolutely beautiful. I want it framed on my wall.

I love Verin so much.

“That tome is the…work. My work. The work of my life.”

The work she is quite literally giving her life for. It’s sad but there’s this sense of absolute triumph to it as well.

“Names, locations, explanations,” Verin said. “Everything I learned about them. About the leaders among the Darkfriends, about the Black Ajah. The prophecies they believe, the goals and motivations of the separate factions. Along with a list, at the back, of every Black Ajah sister I could identify.”

And with that one book, with this one hour, with this single but incredible act of betrayal that should be impossible, she’s just dealt a potentially crippling blow to the Shadow.

It costs her life, but she’s done what so many aspire to: created something that could change the future. All that knowledge she gained, all those years of studying, and now she can leave it in the hands of someone who can use it. She can quite literally hand it to the next generation, leave the knowledge she gathered in the hands of the one who will shape the future. It’s a quite victory, witnessed only by Egwene, but what a victory it is.

I. LOVE. VERIN. SO. MUCH.

I just.

I love this tone of triumphant sadness, of a sacrifice that is the exact opposite of in vain. She’s dying for this, but in doing so she’s achieving the the epitome of her Ajah’s ideals. She’s carrying out the most thorough betrayal the Shadow has perhaps ever seen, and handing Egwene information no other Aes Sedai has even come close to managing to uncover.

Her life’s work is thorough and practical and meaningful and could quite literally help save the world.

“I doubt I caught them all,” Verin said, smiling. “But I think I got the large majority of them. I promise you, Egwene. I can be quitethorough.”

And this is one of those things that could so easily tip over into deus ex machina territory – handing a protagonist a list of everyone in the secret evil organisation that’s been causing problems for the whole series and also several centuries previously, right as we move into the final act? Giving her a list that multiple characters and plotlines have been spent trying to find even part of? – and yet manages to avoid that entirely because of how perfectly Verin’s character has been written since the beginning.

Because this doesn’t even remotely come out of nowhere. This has been seeded from the very start, even if I never would have been able to say that this is specifically what it was going to come to. Verin’s been there almost from the beginning, and she’s been so clearly up to something, yet in a way that never quite reveals exactly what…but the fact that she’s been around, and keeping the reader guessing, makes this kind of reveal work. Because you know that somekind of reveal must be coming. And everything she’s done up until now fits so perfectly in hindsight, and makes absolute sense, and it all feels like a natural and surprising-yet-inevitable end to her storyline.

It doesn’t come out of nowhere; it just finishes and ties off what has been there all along.

Egwene looked down at the books with awe. Incredible! Light, but this was a treasure greater than any king’s hoard. A treasure as great as the Horn of Valere itself. She looked up, tears in her eyes, imagining a life spent among the Black, always watching, recording, and working for the good of all.

“Oh, don’t go doing that,” Verin said.

I mean, if I were someone who cried at books, I’m pretty sure I’d be doing the same.

I’m glad that not only does Verin see and understand and and appreciate all that Egwene has done, when so few others are really in a position to, but Egwene understands just how much Verin has done and sacrificed, and what it means.

“This is worth one woman’s life. Few people have had a chance to create something as useful, and as wonderful, as that book you hold. We all seek to change the future, Egwene. I think I might just have a chance at doing so.”

And I’m glad that Verin herself understands just how much of a victory this is, and sees it as such. This is worth her death, and she knows it, and so there is a sense of peace and acceptance rather than tragedy.

Magic bookmark! I want one.

“I will admit that the poison was a backup plan,” Verin said. “I am not eager for death; there are still things I need to do. Fortunately, I have set several of them in motion to be…seen to, in case I do not return. Regardless, my first plan was to find the Oath Rod, then see if I could use it to remove the Great Lord’s oaths. The Oath Rod appears to have gone missing, unfortunately.”

Saerin, Egwene thought, and the others.

How beautifully ironic. They’re using the Oath Rod to try to find the Black Ajah, but because they have it, a Black Ajah double agent couldn’t use it to free herself of the oaths preventing her from betraying the Black Ajah without killing herself.

Also, the Oath Rod itself seems like a bigger loophole than the ‘hour of my death’ phrasing. Or would a Black sister not be able to voluntarily free herself from her oaths because to do so would be a betrayal of the Dark One? Maybe it only worked with Talene and any others because they didn’t decide to renounce all oaths that bound them; they were forced to? Otherwise it seems like a huge vulnerability, to swear Black Ajah members to these binding oaths but leave them free to unbind themselves should they so choose.

Verin, at least, seems to think it might not have worked, even if she hoped it would.

What are the other oaths they take, I wonder?

“One of the Chosen is in the Tower, child. It’s Mesaana, I’m certain of it. I had hoped to be able to bring you the name she was hiding under, but the two times I met with her, she was shrouded to the point that I couldn’t tell.”

I mean, I think you can be forgiven for not uncovering the secret identity of the Forsaken you’ve identified in the Tower, given everything else you’ve done, Verin. I’m also anything but sure of who Mesaana’s hiding as. I suspected the Brown who helped Elaida with the coup, but now I can’t even remember her name (which is kind of unlike me; I have crap memory for people’s names IRL but I’m great with fictional characters) so that tells you how sure I am.

“So many decisions you must make, for one so young.” […]

“Thank you, Verin. Thank you for choosing me to carry this burden.”

Verin smiled faintly. “You did very well with the previous tidbits I gave you. That was quite the interesting situation. The Amyrlin commanded that I give you information to hunt the Black sisters who fled the Tower, so I had to comply, even though the leadership of the Black was frustrated by the order. I wasn’t supposed to give you the dreaming ter’angreal, you know. But I’ve always had a feeling about you.”

It is a lovely way of bringing so many things full circle here. Egwene being set to hunt the Black Ajah all the way back in TDR, and Verin giving her the information, and choosing to trust her with the dream ter’angreal…and now Verin coming to her, and choosing to trust her with her life’s work and her secret and her redemption, and handing her the key to the puzzle she was set to all that time ago.

And this whole scene has been full of this sense of mutual recognition and understanding and respect between them; Verin of what Egwene has done and Egwene of what Verin is doing here, with her last act, and what it means.

So much trust, and oh, how it is rewarded.

Trust usually is, in these books, on the rare occasions that it happens.

“You will be Amyrlin. I’m confident of it. And an Amyrlin should be well armed with knowledge. That, among all things, is the most sacred duty of the Brown—to arm the world with knowledge.”

HAVE I MENTIONED THAT LOVE THIS? BECAUSE I LOVE THIS. THIS IS SO GOOD. It’s just a slight…shifting of angles, in a sense, on the usual perception of Browns, but it casts so much in a different light, and it’s beautiful. We’ve almost exclusively seen the Brown from an outside perspective, and they almost always are portrayed as distracted, esoteric, intelligent but more caught up in knowledge than in anything ‘useful’, absentminded…and Verin doesn’t contradict that so much as shine a light on everything behind it. She gives the Brown Ajah depth, and with that, purpose and meaning and value. To arm the world with knowledge. That is a sacred duty, and a necessary one, whatever the knowledge may be.

It’s what Rand himself was trying to do, by setting up his schools in order to try to preserve something against another Breaking of the World.

And it’s just so, so nice to see, after twelve books of fond disdain for the Brown Ajah. To have them redeemed this way, illuminated this way. To have the narrative itself illustrate the fallacy of such a limited view of scholarship and knowledge.

“I’m still one of them. Please see that they know, although the word Black may brand my name forever, my soul is Brown. Tell them…”

“I will, Verin,” Egwene promised. “But your soul is not Brown. I can see it.” Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Egwene’s, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Your soul is of a pure white, Verin,” Egwene said softly, “Like the Light itself.”

Verin smiled, and her eyes closed.

Ahhhhhhhh.

What a perfect farewell to such a fantastic character.

It’s a completely different context and manner of death, but it still puts me in mind of Ingtar, and his final redemption. The way his last words were ‘for the Light, and Shinowa’ as he turned at last away from the Shadow, after Rand offered him understanding and his blessing and, through that, redemption. Egwene does something similar here, in promising to let the others know the truth—and what a beautifully sad last request that is, to have done so much and to just want it known that she was truly of her Ajah, that she did what she did in the service of the Light—and in that last evocation of the Light, and the sense of peace it brings.

Goodbye, Verin. You were every kind of awesome and you will be missed. But damn, what a way to go.

It felt callous to double-check, but there were some poisons which could make one appear to be dead and breathe only very shallowly, and if Verin had wanted to trick Egwene and point a finger at the wrong sisters, this would have been a wonderful method. Callous indeed to double-check, and it made Egwene feel sick, but she was Amyrlin. She did that which was difficult and considered all possibilities.

Callous, but good to be certain. She trusts Verin, and admits and accepts that trust…but that doesn’t stop her from doing the pragmatic thing just in case. And yet – perhaps more importantly – her ability to do the pragmatic thing, and her consideration of all possibilities, does not prevent her from trusting. She doesn’t step across that line into paranoia; she’ll check because it’s a possibility she should be sure to eliminate, but she will also trust. She’ll do the callous thing when necessary, but she doesn’t allow that callousness to become her only mode.

Her heart trusted Verin, although her mind wanted to be certain.

That’s a good way of putting it, actually. And she can balance those two, rather than blocking one off. No point not double-checking, but she can use that as a way to affirm her instinctive want to trust, rather than as a way of rejecting it completely.

All in all, they’re each incredibly lucky the other turned out to be worthy of that trust, aren’t they? If Verin were Black Ajah in purpose as well as in name, or if Egwene were truly powerless or incompetent, that could have gone very badly for one or both of them.

And now she has a babysitter again. Good timing, all things considered; she could have shown up five minutes ago and then where would they be? Still, I can absolutely sympathise with Egwene’s annoyance at someone interrupting what otherwise promises to be a solid chunk of reading time.

Slow clap to Egwene for managing to hide a bodyin half-truths.

She would simply have to wait. And read.

And RAFO.

Kind of literally.

She shoved aside the longing to embrace the Power and create a ball of light by which to read. She’d have to be satisfied with the single candle’s flame.

There’s something about this that feels rather…fitting. Symbolic, even. The Amyrlin Seat, the Flame of Tar Valon, dedicated to the victory of the Light, imprisoned and effectively powerless but for a single candle’s flame, with which to reveal the secrets that will help her bring down the Shadow. She doesn’t need enormous power, or a force of light; she will make do with a single candle’s flame. One candle against the Shadow, but it can be enough.

Especially contrasted against Natrin’s Barrow, just before this. Where all the light the Dragon Reborn with the Choedan Kal could summon couldn’t seem to keep the Shadow at bay and, if anything, seemed only to help it.

I just like the contrast of images, and of the moods the evoke. Rand, illuminated to the extent that he looks like little more than Power and light made flesh, and yet everything about it is cold and frightening and ominous. And then Egwene, quiet and unable to channel and alone in a dark room with nothing but a candle, and yet there is a sense of hope and energy and victory, of a much-needed true victory for the Light. Even if it is only a small candle against so much darkness, it is enough.

She’s gone straight to the list of names at the back of the book—I guess Egwene doesn’t share my aversion to spoilers.

Katerine, Alviarin, Elza, Galina, Sheriam…all names we already know, so far.

Steel yourself, Egwene, she thought, continuing to read down the list.

Steel yourself, as she reads through a list of women’s names. How…perfect. That has to be deliberate.

(A list of dead women’s names, one could argue; it seems unlikely most of them will be allowed to live).

She worked through the feelings of betrayal, the bitterness and the regret. She would not let emotions get in the way of her duty.

Here, again, we have a slight similarity to Rand that is actually more of a difference. True, she steels herself against the names on the list, hardens herself to face them. But more accurate, perhaps, to say she prepares herself to face them. She knows it will be hard, knows it will hurt – it already does; some of those names are already shocking or painful. This is not an easy task. And she also knows she can’t let emotion overcome her, or get in the way.

But she doesn’t shut it out. She works through the feelings of betrayal. She allows them to exist, and processes them, acknowledges them before setting them aside. She lets herself feel, even as she reminds herself to not let that get in the way of what she must do. It’s not a binary switch, a complete suppression of emotion to the point where she denies even its existence. She’s just…doing something difficult, but something that must be done. It hurts, and that’s part of it, and she can steel herself against it to some extent, but she doesn’t try to block it off entirely. She just has to get through it.

There’s a difference between setting aside emotion in order to approach something rationally and trying to shut it off altogether in an attempt to avoid the pain it causes.

Her role as Amyrlin demands that she read these names, and deal with the truths they reveal, and figure out what to do about it. And so she will, and she’ll do that even though it hurts Egwene to have to read them. But she doesn’t deny that part of her that is Egwene, that part of her that does hurt. She just works through it and puts it to one side for now, because now is a time for being Amyrlin.

Moria? Isn’t she the one who convinced the rebel Hall to vote in favour of an alliance with the Black Tower? Damn. I liked her; that was a good speech.

Each name was like a thorn through Egwene’s skin.

At least it’s not (yet) a white-hot line of fire across her soul.

I have to say, it’s not easy to make a character reading a list into an interesting or engaging scene, but this is well done. There’s a palpable sense of tension running through this whole section, even if most of it is simply names strung together with brief interludes of Egwene’s thoughts on them. It draws the reader’s focus alongside Egwene’s; we’re seeing these names through her eyes, an relentless assault of name after name that she has to confront, some of which area easy or mean very little, and some of which are harder, but she can’t dwell on them. The fact that we do only get those brief thoughts from her, before returning to the list of names, helps drive this feeling of urgency and also of…Egwene trying to hold herself together, in a way. Of pushing through and steeling herself and having to just keep reading, keep confronting truth after truth, trying to keep herself rational and calm and together.

So Elaida is not Black Ajah. Or at least, Verin was all but sure she isn’t. That’s no more surprising to me than it is to Egwene, but it’s good to have sort-of-confirmation.

Hi Nicola. Perfect timing yet again – both interruptions have come exactly when they’ll be the least incriminating or disruptive. First right after Verin died, and now right as Egwene has finished reading and hidden the books.

Hidden notes in the food; we’re deep into intrigue territory now.

And now Meidani stops by…and the ruse is up. Verin is very obviously dead and Meidani is understandably a bit ‘um what the fuck why is there a dead Aes Sedai in your bed’.

“Verin Sedai was poisoned by a Darkfriend shortly before her conversation with me. She was aware of the poison, and came to pass on some important information to me during her last moments.”

I love half-truths. An elegant lie spoken with not a single untrue word is honestly a thing of beauty.

Meidani paled, then looked at Egwene, likely wondering how she could be so callous. Good. Let her see the collected, determined Amyrlin. As long as she didn’t see a hint of the grief, confusion, and anxiety inside.

She can be that collected, determined Amyrlin…but she also doesn’t deny that the rest exists beneath that surface, even as she maintains it. She can hold a separation that isn’t a true denial or suppression. She can be callous when necessary, but she can also still feel that grief and confusion and anxiety.

And she also doesn’t spend time hating herself for having to be callous when callousness is necessary, because she accepts that necessity. She may not like it, but she doesn’t turn it against herself, doesn’t direct that pain inwards as some kind of punishment. Whereas I think part of the reason Rand has reached a point where the only way he can endure is to deny all feeling whatsoever, and simply accept that he is damned and there’s no point trying to save any part of himself, is that he internalised too much of that anger and pain at what he had to do, turned it into self-loathing and used it to punish himself for what he must do. And so now the only way he can be callous when needed and do what is necessary is by becoming that entirely; otherwise, the pain of his self-hatred at having to do any of it becomes too much. Easier to just accept that he’s damned and have done with it; he still hates himself but now he doesn’t have to fight against it.

Whereas Egwene doesn’t allow necessity to develop into that sharp-edged self-hatred, because she understands that it is simply necessity, and that she, Egwene, is still there beneath it. She can work through the emotions she feels and set them aside when needed, but she doesn’t spend time inflicting pain on herself as punishment for what she must do. Instead she embraces the pain she must endure, because she can hold onto the knowledge that she is doing all of this for a purpose, that there is a reason for both the pain and for the harder things she has to do, and that it will be worth it. That she’s fighting for something important enough to make those things worthwhile.

That all makes far more sense in my head than I can seem to get it to on paper but I tried.

Meidani’s basically here to act as a news feed: Elaida’s still Amyrlin but the Hall is pissed off, mostly.

“They informed Elaida that the Amyrlin was not an absolute ruler, and that she couldn’t continue to make decrees and demands without consulting them.”

Must—not—make—political—analogy—

“[Saerin] also noted that your own insistence that the Red Ajah not be allowed to fall—spread by a group of novices who overheard you—was part of what kept Elaida from being deposed.”

Sucks when doing the right thing makes your life harder. And yet she couldn’t have done anything else; she is here to heal the Tower and she cannot let another Ajah be broken apart if she is to do that. This is just a test of her resolve, really.

It smelled of a compromise; Elaida had probably met in closed conference with the head of the Red Ajah—whoever that was, now that Galina had vanished—hashing out the details. Silviana wuld still be punished, although not as strongly, but Elaida would submit to the will of the Hall.

But at least the government will remain open and the Aes Sedai won’t have to work without pay.

So not a perfect outcome, but it definitely seems as if things are tipping, slowly but more and more, towards Egwene. Though this may have played out too soon; it wasn’t quite enough to push Elaida over completely, and now the issue has been resolved, so there will have to be something else to push them again.

Luckily – for a given definition of luck – Tuon seems to have set something in motion that could do precisely that…

Given just a little more time, Egwene was confident she could get the woman overturned and the Tower reunited. But dared she spend that time?

She glanced at the table, where the precious books lay hidden from eyes. If she staged a mass assault on the Black Ajah, would that precipitate a battle?

Somehow I don’t think you’re going to be given the chance to find out. I’m not precisely sure how Egwene’s timeline lines up with Tuon and Rand’s, but I rather doubt, given the pace this book is setting, that Egwene’s going to be given much time to consider how to proceed before events decide it for her.

“I want you to report to the others. They must take Alviarin into captivity and test her with the Oath Rod. Tell them to take any reasonable risk to achieve it.”

Or not. Alright then. Egwene’s not wasting any time.

She may not be able to act on all of Verin’s information immediately, but she certainly isn’t going to just sit on it and wait for some sort of opportune moment. Fair enough; this is important enough and bigger than any personal goals she may have. Once again she’s putting the Tower ahead of herself: it’s not about becoming Amyrlin or gaining power for her own ends; it’s about healing the Tower and part of that, now, means taking the steps she is now in a position to take to eliminate the Black Ajah if she can. She’s not going to wait until it would give her a strategic advantage if she can do something about it now. And that is impressive. It would be so easy to hold everything back, to wait and make it part of a play for power. And maybe it still will be, but if it is, it won’t be because she’s withholding information or delaying acting for the sake of her own goals. It will be because that coincides with what she can do for the Tower in any given moment.

“It’s well known that [Nicola]’s one of your greatest advocates among the novices.”

It was odd to hear that of a woman who had effectively betrayed her, but the girl couldn’t really be blamed for that, all things considered.

How easily she can brush off that betrayal, now.

It’s growth even from Honey in the Tea, when the thing that broke Egwene’s determined calm was seeing Beonin and thinking Beonin must have been the one to betray her. Now, she’s moved past the point where it matters who betrayed her and why, because because again, it’s not about her, and holding a grudge against a novice won’t help the Tower, so what’s the point?

So Egwene sets Meidani to the task of ensuring that Alviarin is captured…and then just tells her essentially ‘oh and hide the body on your way out’. Bless.

And then she puts herself to sleep for a quick dream visit. Now that her bed is vacated of the corpse. I just…wow, Egwene. Wow. She has things to do and a Tower to heal, and she’s not going to let anything stand in her way. Or lay down and die in her way, as the case may be.

While she waits, she’s following all the possible trains of thought regarding Sheriam being Black Ajah, which basically results in a mess of what-ifs pretty much designed to cause system overload.

I do like the way we get a full three paragraphs of it; it conveys the full sense of both how tangled everything can get when you know even one person is Black Ajah, and the sense of panicked back-tracking trying to find all the possible places that could have had an effect, and also the sheer overwhelming impossibility of doing any such thing…but the difficulty of switching off that line of thinking, once you’ve started it.

What of Egwene’s own rise to power? How many of the Shadow’s strings did she dance on without knowing it?

That way lies madness, Egwene.

This is an exercise in futility, she told herself firmly. Don’t go down that path.

I should have just turned the page. But yes, that. It’s so easy to get caught up in that tangle of hypotheticals to the point where you paralyse yourself in terms of doing anything at all for fear of making things worse…but that’s not going to help anyone. She can’t look back; all she can do is look forward with more information now than she had before, and try to make the most of the situation she finds herself in. Trying to figure out all the possible ways in which she was pushed into it is tempting, but ultimately isn’t going to help her get anywhere. Find the winning move based on where the pieces are now, rather than wasting time trying to figure out how they got there.

For a moment, she felt herself to be the country girl many thought her to be. If Elaida had been a pawn for the Blacks, then so had she. Light! How the Dark One must have laughed to see two rival Amyrlins, each with one of his loyal minions at her side, pitting them against one another.

It is good that she can recognise this, though. She can’t afford to dwell on it, but she’s not arrogant enough to think that she’s somehow exempt from this manipulation. And there is a bit of anger at herself here…but she fairly quickly shifts it and refocuses it outwards rather than inwards, into determination rather than self-destruction:

Whatever his plan, she would fight him. Resist him. Spit in his eye, even if he won, just as the Aiel said.

There’s nothing she can do about what has already happened except learn from it and keep fighting, and find a way to move forward, find a way to turn what she has now into a position of strength.

“Siuan,” she said curtly. “You may want to summon yourself a chair. Something has happened.”

Siuan frowned. “What?”

“First off, Sheriam and Moria are Black Ajah.”

Don’t waste any time there. She did tell Siuan to summon up a chair, I suppose she figures that’s warning enough. I’m with you, Egwene, I hate small talk when there’s shit to be done.

“I need time to plan and think, an evening perhaps.”

An evening to process several decades’ worth of spying and research and a near-comprehensive list of hundreds of Aes Sedai who secretly serve the Shadow and to figure out how best to deal with all of that doesn’t seemlike too much to ask, especially as she’s not even getting any kind of overtime pay, but this genre being what it is…not sure you’re even going to get that much, Egwene. Think fast.

“This could be dangerous.”

And the award for UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE AGE goes to  SIUAN FUCKING SANCHE.

“Are you still captive?”

“Not exactly. Elaida has—” Egwene hesitated, frowning to herself. Something was wrong.

You’ll have to be more specific, Egwene. The list of things that are wrong could fill Verin’s journals several times over.

Oh.

Shit.

She didn’t even get ten minutes, much less an evening.

Nicola shaking her arm. “Mother,” she was saying. “Mother!” 

The girl had a bloody gash on her cheek. Egwene sat up sharply, and at that moment the entire Tower shook as if from an explosion.

And it was shaping up to be such a quiet, relaxing, peaceful evening.

Oh shit she can’t channel, can she? That’s uh….Bad.

It wasn’t Tarmon Gai’don, but it was nearly as bad. The Seanchan had finally attacked the White Tower, just as Egwene had Dreamed.

And she couldn’t channel enough Power to light a candle, let alone fight back.

GODDAMN IT SANDERSON THESE CLIFFHANGER CHAPTER ENDINGS ARE KILLING ME. Have some mercy for those of us who make terrible life choices and decide to liveblog these books!

Next (TGS ch 40) Previous (TGS ch 38)

[cyanpeacock]

Realtalk(tm): Living With Ada Doom

ALRIGHT. so. those of you who have read Cold Comfort Farm know exactly where this is going.

so, when I was a kid, my mum would get drunk, and sad, and tell me about how awful her mum was, all the depressing shit, and she’d cry on me, you know, the works, the kind that should go down with a counsellor, or therapist.

I don’t remember it clearly. I had to like, switch off, you know? Mummy’s sad. I’m sad too. It’s going to be okay. Stroking her hair. That’s about all I remember, apart from the pain I had to hide to make everything better.

Except, it totally wasn’t okay, because I was giving my drunken mother comfort, and the next day she was giving me smacks, and isolation as punishment, and denying me food when I was rowdy, as children are. 

Later, she’d give me a book to read, called Cold Comfort Farm.

It’s a good book. It’s a parody of things along the lines of Wuthering Heights, you know, mopey miserable out-in-the-countryside romance novels where everyone is abusive, but That’s The Way It’s Always Been, Out Here. 

Flora comes along and fixes everything right up.

Some part of her wanted me to be Flora. 

A good, proper, refined young woman. Stately. Observant. Academic. Very sporting. 

I am not Flora.

I was very nearly Ada Doom, the woman who saw something nasty in the woodshed. Well - for a while, I thought I was her, but I didn’t have control over a farm/family. I wasn’t holding all the books. 

This phrase got used against me a lot - “something nasty in the woodshed.” It translated to, “you’re overreacting, be quiet,” in the circles I moved in. Often delivered as a joke, but actually, a warning.

Flora was not, actually, a very nice woman, and she was not, actually, very nice to Ada Doom. 

“Did it see you?”

The point I’m continually making, is.

I didn’t see something nasty in the woodshed, once, when I was a child.

I saw a whole fucking lot of nasty things, all around me, in my own home, that chased me into my bedroom, that physically, verbally, and emotionally abused me, for over a decade. I heard other nasty things going on, in rooms I wasn’t in, but sound carries. I saw and heard even nastier things happening between the only Adult Role Models I had.

This all seemed very normal, until I had an assembly on abuse in primary school, and recognized myself in it.

I told myself, “mummy loves me. It’s not really abuse. Is it?” 

I told myself this for years.

Skip to the future. It’s easier for me.

Later I ran away somewhere a bit cleaner, to live with a racist opioid addict. It was fucking awesome, for a while, but yeah, that’s another post. He’d also use “something nasty in the woodshed” against me, or just say “Ada Doom.”

My mother would chatter things about “he’s brainwashing you! Mind control!” when I did see her at the same time as him, separately. It’s like she didn’t realize he was only using things he’d seen her use on me. She probably didn’t, because they’d probably been used on her, and she hadn’t spotted the conditioning.

So, in this story, what did “Flora” turn out to be?

An angry, inhibited, explosive, snappy, hungry young man, who just wanted to get high, forget about the past, and go to lesson, so he could learn something that would get him out of this shithole, and into a decent home, with a car that runs and a job that pays in the wallet, mind, and heart. 

I hid so much of the pain I was in, because when it was actually expressed, I’d get dismissed, belittled, or outright yelled at, even after the physical hitting had stopped. 

She always said, “you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you?”

So I’d try, like a kid, who desperately wanted to believe that his mother did “love him” - that is, knew how to give emotionally healthy and nourishing expressions of love. 

And time and time again, I’d get, “I think you’re overreacting.” “Isn’t that a bit extreme?” “It doesn’t mean anything.” “They’re just jealous.” “You’re imagining things.” Or, you know, “I think you’re being selfish.” “Selfish little cow!”

So there I was, my self harm getting worse and worse, the pressure my piece of shit school placed on me getting worse and worse, hearing Mark fucking cussing me out again, becoming increasingly abusive towards myself and people I really, deeply cared about, because I had literally no understanding, no framework for internally and mutually rewarding loving interaction. 

I don’t even remember what happened. Shit went down, mother had got a “boyfriend,” they were going to get married, they split up, I was caught in the middle because I was a kid who never really had a dad and desperately wanted one, I got used as a pawn in a game of chess between two emotionally unwell adults who couldn’t agree to break up without causing an enormous fight and dragging their entire circle of Facebook friends into it. It was really ugly. Like, one of the friends died, and shit like “good riddance” was getting thrown about. It was really ugly. I wanted so badly to get involved and break it all up, but yeah, fuck Facebook, I didn’t use it, still don’t.

So, I ran away to live with the one who’d caused me less hurt, the racist opioid addict, because at least he could see me as a son, while the drunk was still transphobic as hell. That’s the other post, for the future. 

But yes, Ada Doom followed me there, and according to them, I was still living in the woodshed.

But I was supposed to be Flora. I was supposed to be good, nice, and orderly, and I was accepted while I was these things. If I wasn’t, I’d get a verbal slap in the right direction, through this insidious fucking phrasology tied in with a long, long history of emotional manipulation.

This all started with my mother, and her mother, and probably her mother before her, and a whole line of absent fathers. 

I’m the one who noticed this, and decided, “no more of this shit. No more of this shit. I am never bringing a child into this world so full of pain, and I have no idea how to fix any of this on my own, and the people who are supposed to help me don’t, and I don’t fucking trust anybody enough to let them in.”

I’m the one who noticed this was abuse. I’m the one who started reading, trying to understand the inside of my head, getting it wrong, getting it right-ish, doubting myself, always coming back and really thinking “fuck, that is so much like me” to conditions that arise as a result of complex, long-term trauma. 

I’m the one who made the jump into homelessness when the racist opioid addict became unbearable. I’m the one who went into a hostel while I was doing my A-Levels. I’m the one who passed them. I’m the one who saw a counsellor every week and just fucking sobbed because there was nowhere else I could cry like that without killing myself. 

I’m the one who read about psychodynamic theory, and fundamental interpretations of the structures of psyche, and thought about it all myself, how it might apply to my brain in particular. I’m the one who read intently about complex trauma, and healing from it. I’m the one who learned about EMDR, and figured out I could do that with good stereo music, and tapping my hands and feet on the bus. I’m the one who studied very specific parts of the DSM V, over and over, circling and circling until I zeroed in on the places that fit well enough to help me understand, find resources, and recover. 

I’m the one who read very, very, very closely about marijuana, the endocannabinoid system, and its relation to trauma. I understood this was drug abuse, and dependency, and that dependency and addiction are almost interchangeable. I’m the one who knew I didn’t really want to smoke until my mind burned away, unless I couldn’t Make It at university. I’m the one who smashed my pipe in July, and hasn’t wanted to smoke again since, and doesn’t really want to go back, but will if he falls/fails. 

I’m the one who learned to meditate, just drop out into a trance, for minutes or hours, with and without drugs in my system, with silence or with music, and now increasingly with background noise, although that one is REALLY difficult for me. I’m the one who learned all those weird skills like “noting” and “radical acceptance” and other things I’ve forgotten the name of but notice as different states of consciousness. 

I’m the one who knew all this psych work was supposed to be very dangerous, you shouldn’t do this if you aren’t A Professional(tm), but I’m also the one who knew I didn’t trust a single fucking “Professional” to do the right thing, make the right referrals, administer the treatment properly, after being betrayed and forced and dismissed by so many so-called Professionals.

I’m the one who decided, in not so many words: well, fuck, it’s less dangerous for me to do all these things, and make mistakes trying, than it is for me to let somebody in, and receive another injury, at my most vulnerable. 

The thing about Ada Doom is, she’s a character in a fucking parody novel. 

You’re not Ada Doom. You’re not Catherine Earnshaw. 

You can’t live your whole life making sad allegories through books that dig up your old pain without actually resolving any of it, because you’re reading ahead and projecting the romantic, ugly, fantasy conclusion onto what really happened, to your body.

It’s really useful! It’s really useful, for a long time, to connect with your pain through fiction. Forever, actually.

But I’ve got to get angry about being expected to be a character from a fucking parody novel.

“You’ll understand later.”

I understand. I understand why you did what you did. I understand you couldn’t control it. I understand why you showed me this book.

It cannot negate, diminish, or remove any of my anger. 

I had to go to a counsellor, for years, research, for years, think and feel, for years, to find the right language and tone to communicate my experiences. I’m still learning. I’m especially still talking, because I haven’t been able to talk about any of this, because my mother wouldn’t let me. All she did was give me strange, roundabout books, that were good, and annoyingly on the nose, and say “You’ll understand later.”

If you’re saying that, if they’re asking the question isn’t it about time you explained?

Isn’t it about time you realized you need help explaining? 

I can’t keep going back to a sad fucking house full of hurting fucking children. It drags me down again every time, although I really do cherish the moments where I could just pretend it was all normal and painless and easy to be a family. I really do. 

And yes, I know, it’s circular, it’s not that fucking easy, because I couldn’t let anybody in, because I was “normal,” as far as my mother was concerned. I know I’m lucky I’m very quick, I learn well, and I’m completely fucking invested in research and execution. 

I had to become these things for a sick, sick woman, who wanted a kid who would save/change her life. 

It’s not a fairytale. I know it feels like one. I know it feels like Prince Charming is just around the corner, it must be soon, just one more page! The Big Bad Wolf is still lurking!

You gotta make Prince Charming. You have to make the person you want to marry inside your head. I’m getting there. There’s no ring on it. That might be the total illusion of self. It might not be. I don’t know what’s happening to my system, yet. 

That voice in your head who yells at you, but isn’t you, but won’t tell you their name? Give them a fucking name. Think them up a face and a body. Go and learn some emotional regulation skills, slowly, because it’s really difficult. Revise them. Pass them along. Talk to them. They’ll stop yelling at you. You’ll be able to turn to them for comfort, and they’ll get all your jokes, because you’re sharing a brain, and the connections do keep coming your entire life/lives. They can be your partner, if you like, and they do too. 

I don’t know what happens after that, and that is just this body/me/us/the irrelevancy of pronouns astounds me. 

So, I’m very stupid.

I really did take the hood off my car at the side of the road with smoke pouring out. I didn’t know anything about what colour meant “get the hell away” or “it’s fine, just call the recovery van.” I just knew there was a problem, it needed fixing, and I didn’t have insurance.

I did it the stupid way. I touched it while it was hot. I tried using stuff I had in the back of the car. I walked to the garage, and they rang my mum? I walked back to the car and slept in it for a while, resolute in my decision not to go back to the garage again. I walked to the tool shop, and bought something to take that bit on the top off. I walked to the library and borrowed a book on cars. I bought more tools. I borrowed more books, this time on engines, because the car book was only about cars, and I had a problem with the engine. 

I kept getting the wrong fucking tools, and the wrong fucking books, because all engines are different, and different tools fit different engines. I just compared what I had to what was in there, then threw the wrong crap into the boot in a huff, or whacked the engine with whatever size spanner I had at hand.

I went back to the garage. They didn’t know what to do, they couldn’t see the car, just somebody who read too many manuals, and was on drugs. I still knew I didn’t have insurance. 

More tools, more books, still showing up at the garage, still getting dismissed, hating them more every time, them getting more and more bored of me. I was getting closer to fixing the car, but still making mistakes.

I found a mechanic, one who didn’t work with the garage. He let me tell him about the car, slowly, the way I’d figured it out. 

He knew a few things about engines. We spoke about the garage. He was very sympathetic. We spoke a lot about the car. He knew more than a few things about engines, actually.

I got better at fixing the car on my own.

Unfortunately, all this walking was fucking my legs. I’d really like to get back in the car again, and go places quicker. All this work is really slowing me down from what I’d like to be doing. It’s also getting me to a point where I can do what I’d like to.

The car still isn’t fixed. I’m not sure what goes where next, or if this is actually the same engine I started with at all, but I have an idea what might work, and a mechanic who knows he doesn’t know the problem, but actually lets me tell him, unlike the garage. 

So yes. Ada Doom is and is not dead to me. 

The fairytale thing is great, but at some point, you gotta stop reading other people’s, and start reading/writing your own. But only if you’re that way inclined, and I said the bit before in a rude tone because I’m frustrated. 

Long post. That’s enough.

I’m not Flora Poste.

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well - - 18

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, PTSD Gabriel, character deaths, canon compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 6k

Here’s the Ao3 link because I don’t know what tumblr is doing with formatting now... it looks fine when I’m editing and all my page breaks are gone after. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429499/chapters/38468501

When Gabriel and Liv reached the camp, Jack was still nowhere to be found. Neither was Lucifer. Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he scanned the area for them, his annoyance at Liv’s urging to the young, very impressionable Nephilim resurfacing. How could she have been so stupid? Did she not understand the implications of those two teaming up? He wanted to walk off and say not his circus, not his monkeys, but maybe this was somewhat his issue. She’d made it his issue. “Hey, did you find him?” Sam asked, Dean and Mary following close behind. “Uh, yeah,” Gabriel admitted, his face falling, “then we lost him again.” “Shocker…” Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes. The annoyance now was only growing at Dean’s reaction. He’d always treated Gabriel like a burden, a fuck up, like everything he did was wrong. He wanted to go home, to get away from his family, the Winchesters, this miserable, dying universe. It was wearing on him, every nerve fraying with each passing second. “So, new plan,” Dean barked, causing Gabriel’s nostrils to flare, “We have a few more people we’re bringing across. We’re gonna go get ‘em a little ways down the road at the main camp and then caravan back to the rift somehow.” “How many?” Liv chimed in. “We got about twenty five more.” “Wait.. what?” Gabriel snapped, pulling himself completely from Liv’s grasp, “Oh no. I didn’t sign up for this. It was get mom, get the kid, go home. That was it. Done deal.” “Mom won’t come without everyone else,” Sam confessed, his face falling. “Well that’s her issue then. We offered.” “We aren’t leaving without her,” Dean growled, his face hardening as he looked at the archangel. “I am. Bye.” “Gabe, wait,” Liv sounded, grabbing his bicep before he could take a step. “No! I’m going home. We are going home.” “I’m gonna help.” Always the martyr. Why was she always so incapable of leaving those three idiots to sweep up their own messes was beyond him. Didn’t she want to go home? They’d literally just spent the twenty minute walk back to the group fantasizing about what was to come in just a few short hours, now here she was offering up both of their lives, again. This shouldn’t matter to her, it never should have. “Liv, this isn’t our mess,” he pleaded, pulling gently on her grip, his voice filled with desperation. “We came here to help, and I’m seeing it through,” she committed, heavy with guilt. “You aren’t even supposed to be here.” “Well, I am now. And I’m staying ‘til it’s done. Are you staying with me?” Gabriel pursed his lips as he averted his gaze. She knew exactly how to play her chips, of course he wasn’t going to leave without her and she knew it. Was everything they’d been planning just a ruse? At this point, he wasn’t really sure they’d ever leave this life of hers, no matter how many times she said she wanted to. “Yeah,” he sighed, “don’t have a choice, now do I?” Rougher than he intended, he ripped his arm free of her grip and stalked off. There was another mess of hers needing his attention. Liv watched him as he left, his posture stiff, and she knew he was angry. Rightfully so, she knew she’d forced his hand, but the thought of leaving Castiel and the Winchesters in their hour of need again just wasn’t going to weigh on her conscience well. Neither was Gabriel being upset with her. This was an impossible situation —one she wasn’t going to win. “Cas, hey. Any update on Jack?” Sam asked, Liv’s heart jumping at the sight of her friend. “He’s back, “ Castiel replied, his voice less than thrilled. “Great. Where is he?” “He’s with Lucifer.” Castiel’s face turned desperate while Liv tried to mask the blame threatening to bloom across her features. “Gabriel is… keeping an eye,” Castiel continued, “Liv can I… can I talk to you?” “Sure, Cas,” she replied, nervous. Did he know? Did Gabriel tell him this was all her doing? That she’d encouraged Jack to talk to his father? She couldn’t bear the thought of Castiel being upset with her, especially not with Gabriel already less than thrilled. “I need your help,” he pressed, pulling her away from the group lightly by her arm, “Heaven is dying.” “And what exactly does that have to do with me?” she inquired, face twisting in confusion. “We need Gabriel.” Her heart fell into her stomach. This explained everything. He had to leave again. Just another disaster pulling them apart. “What do you mean you need Gabriel?” she snapped, harsher than she intended. “He’s the only one who can save it. We need an archangel,” Castiel divulged, “We need him to make more angels. There aren’t enough of us to keep heaven powered. Soon it will shut down, and all of its souls will be forced to Earth. Billions of them.” There was no argument outside of her own selfish desires that she could think of. Her gaze fell away from the trench-coated angel, dejected, tears brimming over. This explained everything. Why he was in such a rush to get home, to get time. He had none. Once they returned, it was back to separation and pain. Again, her naivety had won out, thinking they could have the life they so desperately wanted. Neither one of them would ever be free of what they truly were. Soldiers, pawns, pieces of a puzzle much larger than the both of them. “He won’t go,” Castiel blurted out, Liv’s heart skipping a beat as her eyes snapped back to him, “He won’t leave you.” The revelation caused her mouth to hang agape. The world was potentially in the balance, and he’d chosen her. Cas needed her to convince him to go, but what if she didn’t want him to? At what point did she say, fuck the world, I’m done? How much more could the universe possibly take from her? Just when she thought she’d given everything, it came knocking for something else. How were some given the world and others expected to sacrifice every glimmer of hope they’d ever been taunted with? “I won’t do it,” she fumed, not even needing Castiel to make his request, “I won’t convince him. We’ve given enough.” “I know you have,” he sympathized, “I wouldn’t ask, if there were any other way.” “I can’t, Cas. You understand, right? I can’t watch him walk away again. I can’t, I’m sorry.” “Liv… please. It wouldn’t be forever. He’s safe in heaven-“ “I said no.” The pair stood in awkward silence. Castiel knew he’d met another dead end, she wouldn’t budge. Neither would Gabriel. Liv needed to see him. She didn’t care that he was angry with her, even in his irritation he’d settle the war between what was right and wrong raging on in her head. She knew that he was needed, sending him would be what was right, but she needed him just as much. Her self-interest was wrong, but clearly he wanted this as much as she did. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want the responsibility. He wanted peace. Without another word, she walked off, hoping she was heading in the right direction. She had not a clue where Gabriel was spying on his brother and nephew, but she’d find him. Being alone with her thoughts was dangerous; things tended to skew and over-exaggerate when her emotions were so unchecked. Gabriel was angry with her, Castiel now too, Sam and Dean had thrown triple the amount of weight on everyone’s shoulders and now the guilt of keeping Gabriel both here in Apocaland and away from a dire task all swirled in her brain, and the basin was overflowing. She’d wandered off without even noticing where she was heading, but a familiar mess of dark blonde hair caught her eye, Gabriel. He didn’t notice her, his attention still focused on the two people twenty feet away, sitting shoulder to shoulder as they chatted. “What’re you doing?” Liv asked despite already knowing the answer, approaching him slowly. “Watching Jack,” he responded flatly, not even turning his attention to her. “Why?” “Making sure Lucifer doesn’t win him over.” “Seriously?” “That is a duo we do not want even considering pairing up. Obviously you don’t understand the severity of the situation.” “Are you still mad about that?” Why she was pressing each of his buttons, she wasn’t sure. It was almost as if she wanted him angry with her, that somehow coping with these added burdens was easier if he wanted nothing to do with her. Which of course was the opposite of the truth and what she wanted. “You have no idea what you could have potentially put into motion,” he scolded, his soft tone poking at the anxiety-induced bear waking in her head. “Well it was true,” she spat, one half of her head chastising the other for allowing the words to come out in that tone. “Not really!” “Yes really! You were the trickster, half the hunters on the damn globe were looking for you. And I was fucking you!” “That’s different.” “How so?” “Because one, I’m not really the trickster. Two, the trickster and Satan, not even on the same level. And three, you’re a human. We can’t team up and level the world with a mere thought.” “We could make a Nephilim who could though.” “Irrelevant. I would never let that happen. My swimmers are locked deep, deep down never to see the light of day. Shooting blanks for eons over here, thank you very much.” She was losing this argument and she knew it. A normal person would have given in, apologized and went on with their day, but not her. She considered for a moment if he’d been anticipating this, it wasn’t his first rodeo with her and her skewed mindset, but he was also in his own mental turmoil. This was just a catalyst waiting to go off. “I believe in him,” Liv assured, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jack? Or Lucifer? It’s hard to tell at this point,” he criticized, finally turning his head to look at her. “Don’t be stupid.” “No. You don’t believe in him. You believe in the Winchester’s and Castiel’s influence on him. You think since they ‘raised’ him for a few months he’s gonna be some goody-two-shoes who does no wrong.” “Maybe so. Doesn’t change anything. I’d still tell him the same thing. “Yeah, well you better be right.” “What’s your problem?” “My problem?” His problem was being here. Her making him stay, forcing him by using her own safety and wellbeing as ransom. This place gave him the creeps, it wasn’t right. The sinking feeling in his chest grew deeper by the hour. Every minute left in this wasteland was one minute closer to a disaster he couldn’t foresee, but he knew was coming. “I don’t want to be here, Liv!” he fumed, “I want to go home. I’m so <i>over</i> putting my ass on the line for things that have little to no effect on me. We could walk back to that rift right now and go home. But no, you call the shots.” “You’re free to go,” she seethed. “Don’t. Don’t play these games with me right now. And stop acting like you want me to leave, or I will.” Her tongue caught in her mouth as tears fought to push through. Her eyes finally fell, it was time to accept defeat. “You’re the one who said you wanted out, but here you are dragging yourself, and me, back into every possible shitshow that offers itself up,” he continued, “You don’t wanna stop? Fine! I’ll drive around the country with you hunting every vampire and ghoul we can find ‘til you’re seventy! I don’t care. I just want to do it in our world.” “I do want out,” she maintained, voice meek and wary. “Then what’s the hold up?” “They’re my friends.” “Oh... sweetheart. They really aren’t. I’ll give you Cas, but Sam and Dean? No. They don’t give a shit about you or me.” “Cas told me about heaven.” “Did he now.” “Why won’t you go?” “Because you are my priority! You are! Not heaven, not the Winchesters, not even myself for fucks sake! Clearly, that’s a one way road though. Because here we are.” That did her in. Her bottom lip began to quiver as his words and gaze threw his unspoken blame at her. She felt small and insignificant under his scrutiny, but her decision remained the same. “I gave them my word,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on him although every instinct was screaming to look away. “So what?!” he yelled, “This isn’t about chivalry and bullshit egos! People are dying, Liv!” His raspy scream startled her. It was desperate and impatient, it was the sound of a man running out of options. He turned his back to her again, biting at his bottom lip to hold back his tongue. He wanted to scream again, try and scare some sense into her, but he knew it was useless. This was dangerous. They could die, or get stuck here. Lucifer’s word wasn’t worth a damn, he didn’t care if his brother had claimed the door would stay open for however many hours, he wasn’t buying it. “I’m sorry,” she lamented from behind him, and he could hear the difficulty of her decision in her voice, “I’m not… I’m not choosing them over you, over us. If that’s what you think…” “That’s what it feels like,” he admitted, dejected and broken. Unable to be in this conversation with a level head, Gabriel walked off. He could hear her sigh in frustration, well aware of the strain he was putting on her, but at the moment unable to fight past his own betrayed feelings to care. Expecting her to call out to him, her silence only stoked the fire. So she was just going to let him leave. Good to know. Between defending his brother, choosing to stay in this hellhole instead of going to start their lives together and now, getting nothing but a groan of irritation as he left, Gabriel was furious. He walked until silence overcame him, alone with his thoughts and anger, which was battle in and of itself. Liv dragged herself slowly back to the camp. There was no winning in this impossible situation. One way or the other, someone was going to end up angry with her. If she left, the Winchesters and Cas would be on the receiving end of her abandonment once again. If she stayed, Gabriel was going to be upset for being forced to stay with her. She understood his reasoning, but it didn’t change the fact that she had a responsibility to be here and help. “It’s time to go, where’s Gabe?” Dean barked as soon as she was within earshot. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “What do you mean you don’t know? Aren’t you two attached at the hip? Literally…” “He walked off.” “Well get his ass back here.” Now she was regretting this decision. Home sounded like a substantially better option than being ordered around by Dean fucking Winchester. She trudged off to the opposite side of the decaying building she’d walked through with Lucifer only hours before, hoping that Gabriel would listen so they could get this over with. “Gabe, it’s time to go,” she sighed, not ready to face him, but he never came, “Gabriel?” “What’re you doing over here by yourself?” his voice rang out from behind her as he rounded the corner. “Calling for you.” “Oh… uh, angel radio is a little wonky. I can’t hear you. I found the group, Dean said it’s time to go.” Yeah, she was aware. He kept his distance, his hands in his pockets with his lips tucked up into each other. He looked better, normal, not so furious. She kept her eyes on him until his lifted to lock with hers, her gaze quickly averting in a poor attempt to prevent him from seeing her staring at him. “I love you, you know,” he called out, smirking, “even if you are a stubborn pain in the ass.” That wasn’t what she was expecting. Her heart jumped into her throat at his words, but she kept her eyes on the ground. “I realized that… I’m getting mad at the things I love about you,” he continued, chuckling lightly, “You’re hard headed. You keep your promises. You don’t give up on people, even when they deserve it. You’re everything I’m not. I’m with you, sweetheart, even though I don’t agree with it. I’m gonna fight your fight. But you gotta tell me why. Why does this matter so much?” “I have a lot of guilt, Gabe,” she confessed, and he nodded, he knew the feeling, “I left them, after you disappeared. I can’t do it again. Not now.”

“Okay.”

With her eyes locked on the ground, she didn’t see him approach, but when his arms slid around her waist she sighed in relief. She wrapped her arms around his, hugging him as she pressed her head into his shoulder. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he held her in a silent embrace. “Thank you,” she murmured against him, breathing deeply as a little relief washed over her. “Mhmm,” he hummed, and she knew he was still very apprehensive about the entire arrangement, “don’t make me regret it.” “Once we’re home, I’m all yours. Promise.” “I’ll hold you to that.” Shifting her head slightly, she leaned up to press a kiss to his throat. If she was committing herself to anyone for the rest of her life, she was thankful it was him. He tried. He always had. He took all of her blows with finesse and a patience she was almost certain was beyond a human’s capabilities. He didn’t move, waiting for her to pull away first was always how it worked, especially when she was upset. His stubble pressed into her forehead as she stayed nuzzled into his neck, for a moment they weren’t in an alternate universe with yet another insurmountable obstacle before them, they were just together. Knowing he was on her side made the mountain just a little less steep, but the she knew the hardest parts were still yet to come. “Come on, hop on,” he urged as she began to pull away, turning his back, “I like you all pressed up against me. Keeps me in the perfect state of hot and bothered.” “I think you’re supposed to be focusing,” she chided with a smirk, running her hands up his back and around the tops of his shoulders, “not getting hot and bothered” “I’m an exceptional multitasker.” Laughing, she jumped up onto his back, his arms linking under her knees as hers wrapped around his neck. She couldn’t deny she was happy to be hitching a ride for a little while, her trek through the forests with Lucifer had left her weary, and being curled up around him kept the bite of the cold at bay. Plus, the gentle brush of his hair against her cheek and sway of his bow legged walk calmed the storm raging in her mind. He was effortless, he was easy, and he reminded her that life wasn’t always a battle, sometimes it was okay to roll with the punches. As the group traveled down the paths leading to the base camp, Liv felt herself dozing off, her head lolling down onto Gabriel’s. Every time she did, she felt his grip against her thighs tighten, readying himself to support her should she fall limp and asleep. “You can sleep if you want,” he whispered, turning his cheek into her nose, “I got ya.” “Hmmm,” she whined against him, pecking her lips lightly to his cheekbone, “tempting.” “Someone needs to go ahead and scout!” Dean called from the front of the caravan, “Gabe? Cas?” “Or not,” Gabriel groaned, rolling his eyes. Gently, he placed her back on her feet, keeping a hand on her waist until she was steady. His eyes were intent on her, eyebrows furrowed in concern as she shook the half-asleep haze from her head. She linked her fingers with his against her hip, taking a deep breath in as she nodded, the cloud slowly dissipating. “I’ll be right back,” he bade, kissing her temple, “stay with… Sam and Dean, I guess.” The disdain in his voice made her laugh, his pursed lips and skeptical eyes only adding to the effect. He kissed her quickly, tapping her bottom once before walking off, a goodbye wasn’t necessary. He’d be right back. She watched him walk away, shoulder to shoulder with Cas, his blade at the ready. Her attention then turned to Jack and Lucifer as the group began following the angels down the path. Jack was still intently listening, and she could see the Winchesters growing more and more paranoid as the boy bonded with his father. As Gabriel and Cas walked on, he could feel the awkward silence that had settled between them. Castiel was no doubt still upset that Gabriel was refusing to help with heaven’s impotence, and Gabriel was a little peeved that he’d thought to get Liv involved. “Why’d you tell her?” Gabriel asked, keeping his tone level. “I was hoping she would talk some sense into you,” Castiel snapped back, side-eyeing his brother. “Leave her out of it.” “It’s her world that’s being threatened to go up in flames. A world she’s spent years trying to protect.” “Consider us retired.” “Is that you speaking, or her?” Gabriel swung around, pointing the tip of his blade into Castiel’s chest to stop him in his tracks, “Don’t you dare for one second think I force her into anything. Ever.” Castiel’s eyes softened, he knew that Gabriel had never been coercive towards her, if anything it was the other way around. He nodded, Gabriel pulling his blade away from him as he did. “You head back, I’m just gonna check around this corner,” Gabriel instructed, nodding his head to the heavily thicketed clearing to the left. Expecting to find nothing, Gabriel turned and wandered off around the corner. As he walked, he fantasized about what life would be in less than a day. Sunsets, margaritas and lazy mornings for the rest of their lives. He could practically smell the ocean breeze and see her perfect thighs peaking out from some skimpy summer dress he’d pick out and pray to his father she’d wear. She would, she wouldn’t admit it, but she liked them. A twig snapping turned his attention to the right, blade squaring up as he readied to fight, but the sight instead caused him to wrinkle his face in confusion. Six crows sat pecking at the ground, which was bizarre because he had yet to see one living creature besides the few surviving humans since he’d arrived. He sat and watched in awed reverence as they remained seemingly unaware of his presence only a few feet away, clearly very desensitized, as most were in this wasteland. He ignored the dread pouring into his thoughts, brushing it off as the effect of this world. When a louder snap echoed through the clearing, he didn’t even wait to see what it was. He could sense it. Them. “Shit!” he hissed under his breath, taking off in a run back to the unsuspecting group walking down the middle of the road. His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough, his chest aching as the cold air filled his lungs, branches whipping him as he scrambled through the bushes and brush. He had to beat them there, if he didn’t the entire group would surely be turned to dust, literally. “Angels!” Gabriel screamed as he turned the bend back onto the main pass, his eyes falling to the unscathed group as he went. Liv’s eyes jumped up, seeing Gabriel frantically running towards her, her heart beginning to pound as the group began to panic. She raised the gun she was holding onto her shoulder, aiming at the open space before them. When Gabriel reached the group, he immediately placed himself in front of her, holding one arm out to keep him behind her as his other raised his blade in front of him. “You know I can’t shoot with you in front of me,” she chided, scooting to the side to give herself a clear shot. He glared at her from over his shoulder before both of their attentions turned to the small unit of men dressed in tactical gear advancing. When their eyes fell to Liv, Gabriel swore their faces ticked in confusion. “Hey! Right there!” the leader called out, the two groups pausing for a stare down, “Kill them, on my command.” Gabriel’s heart dropped, as he planned to grab Liv and fly them off before any harm could come to her, the entire group of their enemies disintegrated to dust. Gabriel and Liv shared a confused glance, she looked to him as if he had done it, and he responded with a short shake of his head and a shrug. Their eyes then traveled to Lucifer, who stood smiling smugly, his hand still raised in a snap position. Gabriel’s eyes rolled as Liv groaned, lowering her gun back down to her hip. “Oh yeah, about the cuffs,” Lucifer drawled, “I knew they wouldn’t hold me in this world. Long story short, I didn’t want your impotence to get awkward, so I just went along. You’re welcome. Welcome. Right? Don’t… thank me at once. See. Team player.” As Lucifer nudged Jack with his elbow, Liv’s head fell to Gabriel’s shoulder as she groaned in annoyance. His arm slung over her shoulder as he pulled her away, not wanting to get into it with his brother. Of course he was playing along with games just to reduce Gabriel farther than he already was. Liv could sense his change in demeanor, she saw his shoulders slump forward and his head turn away ashamed. She hated that having his family around brought out these feelings in him, feelings of worthlessness and weakness. He was neither of those things. He’d been the one strong enough to rebel, to love his father’s creation, to fight for them. To die for them. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear, pulling his head down gently to press a kiss to his cheek. Of course she did. She was the lover of broken things. When she touched him, it was akin to when she ran her fingers over the cracked glass of a photo frame, jagged, and one wrong twitch away from scarring. Her fingers moved to the curls behind his ears, mindlessly weaving them between her fingers like the petals of a strewn rose. The haven of the forgotten. He’d never been worth a damn to anyone else until her. He’d give his life to repay that debt. “I don’t know why,” he croaked, her face falling from his response. Before she could find a moment to pull him aside, they were back on their way to main base. They moved in silence, Liv not wanting to have any form of heartfelt conversation with Lucifer within earshot, knowing it would be nothing but cannon fodder at some point. She felt blame, he wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her, feeling this pain, reliving his traumatic family years. The longer they stayed, the more she regretted ever making this choice; for someone who was supposed to protect him she’d done a shitty job of it… their entire relationship. The Singer Salvage sign came into view, welcoming them to another safe zone. Gabriel immediately tore off to the side, heading towards a graveyard of abandoned vehicles, and Liv followed, despite wondering if Singer Salvage belonged to… Bobby Singer. It had to. She found Gabriel tossing stones against the rusted, metal, each ping a little harder than the last. “Gabe? Hey,” she soothed, taking a seat in the back of an old van beside him, “will you talk to me?” “About?” he grunted, keeping his focus on his mind numbing task. “Anything. I just want to hear you talk.” “What happened, Liv? How did you get here?” “Turns out, Lucifer gets a little juice from being angry. Broke the bonds, attacked Rowena. She got him off of her, but kinda caught me in the crosswinds and I shot over with him. He kept me around for leverage if Jack was being held somewhere, me for him. With you.” “Smart play.” All along, she’d known that he would have taken that deal, but hearing him admit it out loud was different. She’d have taken any deal to save him, too; she’d have sold her soul to get him out of hell had she known he was there. “Can we go back to that cabana? In Belize?” she inquired, lightening her tone. “Sure. If that’s where you wanna go,” he answered, voice still flat and emotionless. “How can I help, baby?” Finally, he turned to look at her and he could tell his suffering was waning on her. He could hear Lucifer jabbering on behind them, Jack still in tow, leaving him no opportunity to ease her mind. None of this was her fault, not really, and he wanted to relieve the guilt that he knew she was feeling. “So… thing about Gabe- class clown,” Lucifer introduced, causing Gabriel to clench his jaw as he turned to face them. “And you’re an ass clown,” he fumed, Liv’s gaze hard on the setting as it unfolded. “Ha! You hear that? He’s such a cut-up. I mean, I cant… Yeah, uh, I guess your time with Asmodeus didn’t do you any favors, did it, bud?” It took all of her self control not to lunge at that snarky asshole. Her anger was boiling her blood, this was the last thing Gabriel needed to be reminded of, and here he was jesting about it like it was all a joke. “Yeah, well my time with you was worse. You recall-“ Gabriel continued on, hoping to show Jack the true nature of his father. “I recall, uh, nothing. I don’t recall anything at all. Happy endings. All good, happy endings. Uh, meet Gabriel, your uncle. And that over there, that’s Liv. She’s uh… what exactly are you two? Is she...Auntie Liv? Is that what we’re goin’ with?” Gabriel shot his brother a warning glare before turning away. There was only so much he could take. He began to walk off, needing a second to clear his head yet again and when he heard footsteps behind him he was furious to find they didn’t belong to Liv.

She watched as Gabriel stalked off, Jack and Lucifer in tow, and she debated following behind or catching up with him once his brother had slunk off to his next ruse. When Gabriel’s voice began to raise she shot to her feet, ready to run to him, but waiting for the right moment. She wanted him to say his piece, to get the words out she knew he needed to say, or scream. Lucifer deserved the rage and Gabriel deserved his freedom. Her breaking point was met when Gabriel began to walk away again, his head shaking. “Leave him alone,” she spat as she passed, walking briskly to try and catch up with Gabriel a good few feet in front of her. “Aw Gabe, that’s cute! Need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you? See, not much has changed,” Lucifer jeered, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. Maybe her brain wasn’t working right, maybe it was the exhaustion or the hunger, but something in her made her turn back around, approach the devil, and punch him square in the jaw. Jack looked on, shocked, and Liv kept her gaze hard and unwavering as Lucifer recovered from her unexpected aggression. “Fuck you,” she hissed, her teeth clenched, fist ready to throw another one right into his nose. “Ah, no thanks. I’m not a fan of sloppy seconds,” Lucifer taunted, wrinkling his nose in disgust. She laughed through her nose, nodding as she tried to suppress the ire bubbling in her chest. Gabriel watched on from a distance, a sense of pride ticking his mouth into a smile as he watched her fist colliding with his brother’s face. He wasn’t overly concerned, at least for the moment, with Jack around he wouldn’t do anything detrimental. He was trying to be the goody-two-shoes he’s never been. Thankfully, he seemed to be failing. Jack’s face was skeptical as he listened to his father. Maybe Liv was right, there was a reason to have faith in this kid. “He’s not worth it!” Gabriel called, hoping to reel her back in and over to him; he wanted to kiss her. Of course he was worth it. Okay, maybe he wasn’t worth it, but punching him in the face was worth it. Stabbing him with the angel blade she wished she had would have been worth it. The look on Jack’s face was worth it as he saw through his father’s bullshit act. The thought of him snapping her out of existence didn’t even cross her mind as she stood in front of him. He was the devil, the biggest baddie there was, and she stood before him without fear. It took a lot of willpower to turn away and meet Gabriel down the path, but she did, her concern for him outweighing her own selfish wants to pummel Lucifer’s face into the ground. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, Gabriel looped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, kissing her hard, free hand winding into her hair as he kissed his praises. Her muffled cry of surprise was music to his ears as her arms lazily wrapped around his neck. She melted into him, surrendering her anger for pure adoration for the man in her arms. “I didn’t think I could love you anymore, honestly,” he panted, “but watching you punch that arrogant S.O.B right in his jaw, dad as my witness, I’d write a hymn commemorating your triumphs.” “You’re an idiot” she jested, ruffling the hair on his head, happy to see him in higher spirits, even if it was only for a moment, “Come on, let’s find everyone else. Get the plan, go home, right?” “Yeah.” Slinging his arm around her shoulders, they walked into the main center of the large encampment, their hearts sinking as they took in the living arrangements of these poor people. Gabriel no longer felt angry being here to help them, they clearly needed it. If it took a few hours out of their lives to get these people somewhere safe, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. They spotted the Winchester clan a few yards away, and the person with them caused Liv to tilt her head in confusion. There was no way… “Liv?” the gruff, old man called out as they locked eyes, his eyes widening as if he’d seen a ghost, “I can’t…” “Bobby?” she whispered, loud enough for only Gabriel to hear, the angel passing a confused look between the two. Bobby immediately ran from his spot, pulling her into a massive bear hug, her shock pulling a gasp from her lips. Gabriel debated his next move, should he wrestle her free? Let this play out? She didn’t seem in distress… “And you, too,” Bobby turned and cried, pulling the angel into his arms. “Uh… what?” Gabriel asked, holding his arms awkwardly to his sides. Clearly, they were all missing something.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel @morganas-pendragons

[chillafqueen]

My thoughts on Voltron (especially season 8)

As a collective, the series was great. I’m not going to shit all over it and denounce it for the rest of my life. I’m gonna rewatch it, write fan fiction, follow artists and writers who will continue to do amazing work. I’m still in the process of buying more merch. It’s in my top 5 favorite shows. That said:

I’m extremely disappointed in the show’s ending. From about season 5-6, I feel the writers were way in over there heads. They had so many ideas and characters they wrote and put into the show. Yes, there was some important moments its just uggh.

Imma just get into it.

First off, Takashi Shirogane He’s been through hell and back. He was an amazing character the writers just tossed to the side when they wanted to follow the original plot more. I mean, in the original series Shiro was never the black paladin. The original Shiro was the blue paladin and was killed off. Then was kinda, kinda not Sven afterwards. VLD’s Shiro was poorly planned. They make him the black paladin for what reason? To give us a spacer until the writers were ready to make Keith the leader and then we just push Shiro to the side. His clone doesn’t suffice. Clone Shiro/Kuron is just bullshit honestly. Real Shiro is actually dead/stuck in the inner quintessence of the black lion while his clone is fucking up Shiro’s image. Yes, Kuron is just a pawn in Haggar’s evil plan to defeat Voltron, but before we know that, we just see “Shiro” fight with Keith over how to lead Voltron, and yell at everyone. To make things worse, Shiro never gets to pilot Black again because Allura needs to be blue, Lance red, and Keith black to follow the originial series. The writers just shit all over Shiro. They take away his arm again, kill off his ex fiance, don’t give him anytime to mourn him really, season 8 doesn’t even ever mention Adam. Nothing.  Adam was there just to say “gay rep”. And Shiro is given the Atlas to pilot which is just Castle of Lions and Voltron’s love child. They think they can just take away Shiro’s claim on the black lion and just toss him a new ship to make it up?

Shiro had to constantly fight for the control of Black because Zarkon still had a connection. Shiro earned his right to be the leader. I love you, Keith, but Shiro deserves Black.  Shiro didn’t go through all this shit to hand it over to someone else. They hand him this ship that seems awesome but is overkill. Castle of Lions is gone what are we going to do? Oh, just make a new one except it turns into a thicc voltron. 

Then season 8 comes around and Shiro isn’t given any real new development. In fact he’s just a face at this point. He captains the Atlas but all the spot light is on the current paladins and Allurance. 

Like Keith and him are distant friends now???

And in the end we just throw him a rando to marry and call it good?

Next we have Pidge, who I don’t have as much to rant about. She’s my baby and I will protect her at all costs. The only real problem I ever had about my little Katie is the constant cliche thrown around every time she starts explaining science or math things using smart big technical terms and you get someone to say “in english this time” or “Just get to the point”. Like Pidge, you is smart but too smart omg just dumb everything down for us dumbs is a constant joke thrown into the show. Just let my girl use her big words and be proud of her intelligence. While she has a very great role, she deserves more instead of deus ex machina-ing everything.  

Now Allura. Oh boy here we go.  I love my beautiful strong black girl. She’s smart, resilient, and a fighter. They did her dirty.  I mean we just kill her off? I was rooting for her. WE was all rooting for her. She’s a grounded princess who just wants to end the war and do Altea some justice. instead we throw her into romance like there isn’t the constant threat of the Galra just waltzing in any moment? My girl deserved better. She becomes the blue paladin, and struggles with learning how to work with blue as one. And watching her over come that obstacle was amazing and I’m a proud mom. But we just kill her off? Like Altean Alchemy is a fictional practice in a fictional show. Why did it take both Honerva and Allura to fix it all? Why did it have to take their lives? Why couldn’t Allura just take a deep breath close her eyes like she’s done with everything else and then do her blue glowy stuff and boom, lets go home.

They made the rules so her death wasn’t necessary. They could make easier less mean rules

Was it the writers trying to find a way please more than one ship? Like they wanted Allurance but killed her off to make Lance single and ready to mingle with Keith or Pidge to make fans happy? Did they think after fixing all realities once more that Allura had no where to go? They didn’t want her to help bring all the planets together? Did they not want her to marry Lance? I mean, we ask how do we form Voltron without Allura, and she answers Voltron is no longer needed. Like is there really not going to be any rebellion that needs Voltron intervention? Who says someone in the Galra empire isn’t satisfied with the ending? Or someone in the Altean colony wants revenge? Voltron could still be used. plus just because Voltron is no longer needed why can’t Allura be needed still??  I also can’t stand the writing they did for her. I’m looking at you, Allurance.  Allurance isn’t one of my favorite ships just because of how it turned out. Lotor and Allura was even then a bit iffy, although was healthier than Allurance. With Lotura, Allura and Lotor bonded, had their Altean heritage in common. A common goal. They weren’t rushed together. They were amazing together, until the very end where Lotor goes insane with quintessence. Allurance is just forced. In the very beginning until about season 7 we see Allura ever showing any feelings for Lance. All this time it was Lance being a cheesy lover boy who was hot for the princess and in return Allura rolled her eyes or ignored his advances. Up until season 7 where Allura all of a sudden blushes and whabam, has a full blown crush on Lance. OUT OF NOWHERE. Sure, theoretically Allura could’ve just hid her feelings very well until that point.  This newfound love just mocks Allura’s character. A strong woman who needs no man, but you know that hot suave prince who no one could resist. Then all of a sudden right before a mission, Allura becomes a little school girl blushing and stuttering.  Anyway, Allura deserved better than being a martyr and a rushed relationship.

Next on my list is Lance. My very precious boy who I will end myself to make smile. HE IS A BEAUTIFUL BOY WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING. including Keith  Lance, a cocky pilot, a terrible flirt, a lover not a fighter. He has one of the best arcs in my opinion. He’s a star example of growing up. He is first just a goofy boy with no care in the world except to show up Keith and get the ladies. As time progresses he matures so much. Goddamn should I even write about him because I just love him so much. He becomes a ninja sharpshooter, gains confidence, fucking earns himself the title of paladin.  though, he is constantly used as an object for comedy or plot continuance. He is the stupid one of the group who doesn’t understand anything. He’s the classic funny guy. Makes jokes, big flirt, doesn’t understand the big words the smart ones make. But I gotta admit, I think Lance eventually realizes that character and that’s him. Once “Shiro” comes back Lance thinks someone has to give up a lion. The old Lance would’ve voted Keith off the island, but Lance at this point came to terms that Keith isn’t just his rival. Keith is a vital part of Voltron. Lance has faith in Keith as the leader, and a paladin in general. And Allura at this point made some amazing progress with Blue, the lion Lance prided himself on the one Blue picked. Lance was willing to give up Blue for Allura and give Keith back Red, the lion Lance also really wanted in the beginning as well. Lance questions his own worth. He realizes he’s the goofy flirt. He’s not as smart as Pidge or Hunk. He’s not as skilled of a pilot and fighter like Keith. He’s not a leader like Allura or Shiro. Lance eventually realizes his importance later on when he finally gets some recognition and praise. “That’s why we bring our sharpshooter” Lance also develops a huge real crush on Allura. While he always had a thing for her, he also had a thing for literally any other female being he had come across that was remotely attractive. His not so serious hard on for Allura turns into something beautiful. He sees her for more than her looks. He knows how fucking incredible she is and he knows he’s not worthy. 

But season seven fucks him over as well as everyone else. Forced Allurance. Lance had a big crush on Allura for years and waited patiently. Allura falls for Lance out of NOWHERE. That’s all fine and dandy cause I love my boy and he deserves happiness.  But in season 8 with their relationship, Lance becomes just the boyfriend. A complete opposite of his usual self. He’s serious and at Allura’s side 24/7 being her emotional support even though she really takes him for granted. Allura never really shows this compassion to Lance.  Lance is just the kid who got his feelings returned. But that’s all it is. The whole season is Lance being with Allura there is no Loverboy Lance. It’s just sullen boyfriend who is giving his all for this relationship. And Allura isn’t like this at all. She returns the hand holding, the hugs, the kisses, but she doesn’t give the emotional side back. Which I understand is because she has way more important things to worry about. That’s another reason why I hated their untimely relationship. This is not the time for a blossoming relationship. Allura isn’t in the mindset to give her all to this relationship. She’s busy with Honerva. allura doesn’t have time to be all uwu for some guy. And in the end Allura gives her life to save all of existence. she kisses Lance one last time, and gives Lance those marks which is never explained further. Like are those marks there to signify only the relationship that lasted a few months? Lance’s love for Allura or Allura apparent love for Lance? Do those marks give Lance some Altean abilities?  Lance the sharpshooter fighter pilot ends up just being a farmer on his family’s farm? Like maybe the harsh cold truth of war might’ve made him want to retire the spaceman dreams??? The writers also just plain lied to us about Lance. Lance’s endgame was supposed to be a slowburn? that Lance wasn’t going to be someone’s second choice? And in the end he’s just sad and depressed over Allura. At this point he’s just there to spread the gospel about Allura. I mean who knows? Maybe they left everyone without a significant other (besides Shiro) to keep it all up in the air. Like maybe Lance’s slowburn endgame is Keith but we don’t see it? 

Then my boy Keef.  My boyfriend, my husband, my child.  What a mess. They gave him EVERYTHING. He gets childhood flashbacks, childhood trauma, mommy issues, a loving parent relationship, a backstory, his mom even got a backstory. He’s an amazing fighter. He is a great leader. He has some good connections. He’s smart, an excellent strategist.  He also has trust issues, a lone wolf type of guy, and he has some problems sorting out his feelings. He learns patience, compassion, love, trust. He’s the whole enchilada until season 8, where pretty much everyone is thrown out the window except for Allura and Honerva.  Literally the only problem I have with the writing for Keith was season 8, him and Shiro have literally no interaction for shit?  “Brother, I love you.” Bitch where?

Keith traveled galaxies for Shiro. And season 8 they’re just two co-workers. 

Hunk I’ve had problems with since the very beginning. He doesn’t get enough love. He’s the big guy so he is always hungry, always thinking of food, gets tired easily, has little stamina, scared of everything. Sometimes I forget he’s literally a genius engineer? 

Romelle had more potential than to be one of Hunk’s chefs. I’m sorry. 

Coran is perfect. Don’t ever change.

In the beginning of the series, they weren’t writing characters well enough, and in the middle everyone had something, but in the end there wasn’t enough time to wrap things up nicely. It was rushed. The last season was a poor excuse for an ending.  Lotor deserved better. They hyped us up for Lotor’s return but it was pretty much just his corpse in the sincline??? We get his back story a bit. But in the end he still doesn’t get the mother he deserved?? And Allura and him never got some closure????

Krolia who? We spent all this time getting to know her and build her relationship to make her a background character.  Keith and her have no interaction in the last season?? 

They should’ve made Veronica and Acxa lesbians. Ezor and Zethrid deserved some wlw screentime. More than what we got at least. Not enough Colleen.

Definitely needed more of the mfes. Especially James. Like I wanted some interaction between Keith and James???? Something at least?????

Also, Bae Bae should’ve been made into a main character. 

Though with all my complaints. I’m really gonna miss the show. I didn’t spend as much time with it as a lot of you guys did. I finally watched it right before the 7th season came out. So I haven’t had as much time to analyze it or to experience every season like all of you. But I’m gonna miss this show. I’m really beating myself up over not watching it early on. Like I’d see it on my instagram, or here on tumblr, but never gave it a second thought. It was just some mech kids show that was gonna be hella cringey. But it ended up being a big part of my 2018 and I’m gonna be carrying it into future years. 

I never made any friends because of the show. I’ve never reached out, no one ever reached out. Seeing all of you interact, or reminisce over the times you all had over Voltron moments. While I’ve only known it for months and I’ve never have that time a lot of people did.

I have discovered many great writers, artists, cosplayers because of Voltron and I’m so fucking happy that I was able to find people who express their love for the show so much that they present it to the world in different ways and I get to experience it. 

I loved the show. And I will continue to love it. I want to thank all the cast and the people who made the show. And I’m gonna go rewatch this whole entire thing over and over again even if I’m not 100% on board with how they decided to end it, but who ever really likes endings?

[nowyouowemeafavor]

warning: general mild bitchiness beneath the cut pertaining to the second season of Luc|fer. as i don’t like raining on people’s parade don’t read and think that i am bashing your enjoyment thereof, this is just why it bothers me so much because like i keep trying to write a cohesive thing about the whole situation and maybe it’s better in pieces... ANYWAYS, scroll quickly if on mobile, i know sometimes it ignores a readmore

     first and foremost, i can’t get behind how they’ve turned this into a comedy with only moments of the richness that i’d loved so much in the first season. and the first season was rich as hell, Pluto himself would have been like DAAAAAAAAAAAAYUM about all the richness in the first season they showed us. i was super onboard with Deckerstar as the BrOTP that was originally shown to us, it was something that most shows don’t bother with, it was a relationship without being a relationship, they were important to another without it being romantic and shippy, and gods damn bless that was fucking fantastic. i was even cool with her being immune to his abilities, that she was a danger to him because she made him suffer injury like a mortal. that was a fascinating concept and man i was over here jamming out possibilities as to WHY. i am so beyond infuriated that they turned it into a romance with all these cliche pits and falls, and if you wanna ship it, that’s great, but if you bring Chloe over here expecting canon past season two you’re going to find yourself frustrated beyond belief while i gently riverdance through the entire thing. 

     secondly the other thing that has me grinding my teeth is Charlotte. i don’t mind there’s a mother/goddess of creation. i’m down for a spin and a half on mythology, look at the bullshit i throw at my friends and puppy dog eye. i mean honesty... Divinity as an almost opiate that fucks up angels? c’mon now... but the fact that damn near the entirety of the second season Lucifer seems to genuinely fall for some of the bs coming out of her mouth leaves me in a rage because no. nope! after all the hell, i regret nothing, that he’s gone through with God, and the Fall, and the fact that his Mother did NOTHING, there is no chance that he’d allow her to get all cozy with him unless he was following the old adage keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. given what we know about his grudge holding, and emotional issues, especially with that scene where Charlotte tells him that she was the reason he was thrown in Hell, and he says she can stay.  it is literally the only way that i can even believe he’d let her be around. and the fact that we lost the opportunity to watch the two of them stalk around each other, try to outmaneuver one another, the entire season makes me sad because it could have been glorious. i was super here for these two ancient as fuck beings pulling out all the stops trying to get what they want out of one another. 

     and now is where i lose cohesiveness and just ramble, keep in mind this is all on me and it’s probably best if you dip out now before i start rambling k thanks. if you send me questions i’ll be more than happy to answer them assuming it’s more than just bile and being nasty. my opinion is mine from what i believe, and came to love about the Lucifer i saw. 

     okay so i also cannot freaking believe that they’ve gone and made Lucifer... what second son? third? i don’t understand the logic behind that, it was one of the very first things that soured me on the show. not because i need Lucifer to be all powerful, but because Lucifer as a character throughout my entire life has been that first child, the one just shy of god, it was WHY he was the one to question, it was WHY he was the one to rebel and put his foot down, and it defies belief that he’s not the First Angel. and i was super freaking pissed that they had him break down over Uriel until Pher helped me see it in a different light, kind of like how you take a lamp and angle it to cast different shadows. but i still don’t agree that it was his first kill, more that it was his first kill not driven by his own ideals and rage. you have the war of heaven, there is not a chance in hell Lucifer didn’t wind up killing some of his siblings during the war, that he didn’t at some point have to make a point and make it very clear that Fallen did not mean weak. if anything the Fall made him powerful because he had his own domain, his throne was bolstered by the faith and loyalty of the other Fallen and the demons, and humans. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as God, that too would defy belief, but he’s a ruler of an entire realm with people who offer their faith in him as much as they do his Father. 

     and just for me alone, i would KILL for an Amenadiel to write out Lucifer confronting him on ruining that almost moment, when Chloe ALMOST believed, when she was confronted with ACTUAL EVIDENCE and then oh look blood packs, and bullet proof vests. like gods yes please. but ANYWAYS moving on.

     so his emotional breakdown over Uriel was, as far as i’m willing to take it anyways, was more along the lines that Uriel was just a pawn, he wasn’t an Enemy, just opposition, and Lucifer is already on vacation because he’s sick unto death of the whole struggle, and Uriel didn’t deserve to die. it wasn’t an ends justify the means kind of thing, it wasn’t someone trying to truly harm him, Uriel was only trying to do the job that Lucifer wasn’t going to do because he was feeling very “fuck you, Dad. i found a loophole nananan nanana.” Lucifer had his own plans, and while yes he should have assumed someone was going to come finish the job, he hadn’t realized just how fucking tired he was of the whole thing. 

     another was that scene where they were parading his lovers through the interrogation room, because i about lost my shit that they were trying to make it seem like he was upset that they didn’t love him. but they were all one night stands?? it makes absolutely no sense to me that he’d be so upset over their “oh i don’t love him enough to kill for him” because he doesn’t feel that way either. it was sex, it was release, but he’s not attached to them at all. i hate that they just abruptly flipped it around that he’s bumblingly ridiculously human? he went from Devil who has seen all, done all, to “what? i don’t understand why?” calling Chloe a bad mom was also something i had to work around. if only because Charlotte showing up set him all scramble Hail Mary, what the fuck i am so screwed that he was lashing out. but good gods that was so out of character my jaw hit the floor and i had to duct tape it back into place. the fact that he hadn’t already scrambled back from Chloe for making him vulnerable especially since Amenadiel showed up, and now Charlotte? but no, no he’s falling more and more in love with her and then it comes about that she’s Christ part 2. and he books. 

     at this point it’s like we got this great book, and then someone took that and decided to write hilarious crack fic. and it is hilarious, i laugh it up all the time, but it’s infuriating because all i’m getting from this is that they’re saying yes he’s the devil, yes he’s powerful, but love makes him weak and that is honestly by far the most disturbing. because he loves Chloe he’s suddenly daft as all get out. he’s giving away information on about cases, he’s recklessly doing shit that would have never flown in season one, all because he’s found himself enamoured of Chloe to a point of stupidity. that he’s suddenly little better than a child who constantly has to have his hand smacked so he won’t contaminate evidence. they over did the thing which was occasionally charming, now it’s just... too much of a good thing. 

     and i’m pretty sure i could write this whole season off without a qualm if it weren’t for the random gems in this sea of muck? those random moments where they show the Lucifer that so caught me up in season one. like episode three, when they go to Wobble HQ with the content moderators when he’s talking with Chloe, and he drops that “people don’t arrive broken, they start with passion and yearning, til something comes along that disabuses them of those notions.” i realize that he was partially talking about himself. but i just... i can’t. yes he acts childish, but it’s always to fuck with someone, a malicious sort of teasing, yes his mother showing up would throw him for loop, but the ridiculous lengths that have been done to make him more human, to sell the ship that didn’t NEED to be a ship. it’s like watching a movie sequel where they look at the reviews and go “oh hey! they REALLY liked this! let’s do a lot of it!” and it’s ruined a rich show to make it some goofy comedy with a few random kernels of gold among the brass.