#she has all the world in time and a whole village of hostages and sure Duck Team are new players but theyre three fucking people
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one-little-nerd-stayed-home · 4 months ago
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Time once more for 11:30pm thoughts with Jo.
Anybody else think about. Calder and Gowan mirroring eachother and how Calder took the deal with Ultrus to save his friends lives
And Gowan took the deal with Alexandrite because she took his friend’s life?
Cause uh. I do. Apparently.
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littlemisspascal · 3 years ago
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Little Red’s Shadow Part 1
Pairing: Werewolf Pero Tovar x Female!Reader
Word Count: 8000+
Summary: I posted an idea about werewolf Pero and this fic grew from there. Hope you like it 💖
Warnings: no beta all mistakes are my own, language, werewolf/shapeshifter AU with little red riding hood elements, pining, angst, Reader has a crush and is oblivious to the obvious, Pero’s got a secret so he’s a bit grumpy, injury description with blood, death of a rabbit, setting and time period? who knows lol it is what it is
Author Note: First time writing Pero and there’s been a lot of interest in this fic so I’m nervous posting cuz this is super self-indulgent. Originally I wanted to post the fic from start to end, but this week hasn’t been a good one and posting fics always makes me feel better so yeah. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2 is a few scenes away from being done.
Part 2
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“The gaze of the wolf reaches into our soul.” – Barry Lopez
Twilight is fast approaching as you walk along the forest trail between your village and the neighboring one to the north, glimpses of a dark purple and red sky visible overhead through the branches of pine trees bracketing either side of you. There is a chill in the air, the last lingering side effect of the winter season, and you adjust your scarlet-colored cloak tighter around your body, fighting back a shiver. 
Being in the woods this late isn’t a wise choice and you’re sure to receive a lecture from your father when you get home about time management, but in your defense once Mrs. Tate starts talking, it is virtually impossible to make the widow stop until she talks herself into a state of unconsciousness. You were held hostage in her living room for hours listening to her prattle on about a variety of topics ranging from a drought that occurred forty years ago to a new recipe of cake she’s eager to try baking. 
Fortunately you’d had the forethought of completing your other deliveries before taking Mrs. Tate her new sewing kit, otherwise you would be making the walk home completely in the dark.
Although twilight isn’t much better, you think to yourself after tripping over a stick obscured in shadow, accidentally untying one of your shoelaces in the process. You bite back a curse, knowing that walking through the woods with untied shoes is a guarantee you’ll wind up with a sprained ankle. A lesson you’ve unfortunately learned the hard, painful way more than once over the years. 
Sighing, you bend down to retie the knot only to freeze when it occurs to you just how quiet the woods have become. The air has frozen still, not even the faintest of breezes ruffling the tree branches. You strain your ears to hear anything over the anxious thumping of your heartbeat, but it is as if the whole world has been turned on mute.
The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you become very uncomfortably aware of someone’s gaze watching you. You swallow thickly, dread forming a heavy stone in your stomach, regretting dismissing your father’s advice of carrying a knife with you for protection. 
“There’s nothing dangerous out there,” you had told him, pulling the hood of your cloak over your head while concealing an eye roll. “Just rabbits and squirrels and deer.”
What is that saying about hindsight? 
The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to take off running, to try and put as much distance between yourself and the threat as possible. But you’ve always been a slave to your own curiosity, that insistent pull in your chest telling you to investigate, and right now it wants you to turn around and find out who or what is about to potentially kill you.
Mentally counting to three, you slowly twist your shoulders to look behind you, trembling like a leaf about to be blown away from its branch, and scan the foliage for unfamiliar shapes or shifting shadows. 
Nothing immediately stands out as dangerous or suspicious looking. You start to think your imagination is playing tricks on you, only to gasp when a twig snaps, echoing like a gunshot. A bolt of fear strikes your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins, and every instinct you possess is on high alert.
The wind picks up again, nearly knocking you over with a strong gust, and as you struggle to maintain balance you think you hear a quiet huffing sound right before a clump of bushes shake in front of you. Like something brushed past them.
You wait a few more seconds before finishing tying your shoelace, no longer feeling eyes upon you. Whatever it was watching you had left, apparently deciding you weren’t worth killing. 
There is barely enough sunlight left to guide you home, but your curiosity has not been sated yet, pulling you in the direction of the bush. You crouch and push away the branches, squinting to make out the shape of pawprints in the dirt, a bit messy and overlapping like the animal had backed up quickly. 
“Oh my God,” you murmur, stunned to realize a wolf had been spying on you. No way a regular dog could leave behind tracks larger than the width of your hand.
But what is a wolf doing so close to the village? You can’t remember hearing about sightings of one in the area anytime recently. It’s probably just a rogue passing through, you think as you start walking again, but the sensation of its intense gaze upon you continues to linger the entire journey back, replaying on loop within your mind.
When she was still living, your mother taught you not to believe in coincidences. There are some encounters too strange and remarkable to have occurred by random chance. They are instead controlled by the strings of fate, as inevitable as the changing of seasons each year. 
When you reach your village at the end of the trail, you pause for a moment to look over your shoulder into the dark depths of the forest. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest, burdened by a sense of certainty you can’t ignore.
The wolf was intended to cross your path. 
And you can’t shake the feeling it will happen again.
“Wolves in shells are crueler than stray ones.” ― Gaston Bachelard
When you’re not out delivering orders, you can usually be found behind the counter as the cashier of your father’s trading depot. Years spent helping your father has made you a master at recognizing faces. Whether the person is a frequent visitor or they only swing around every few months, you take pride in recognizing each customer and trader that comes through the door, greeting them by name with a smile. 
You’re in the middle of reading a field guide on woodland animals you’d plucked from the shelf of mishmash genres in the corner when the bell over the door jingles, signaling a new arrival. You look up, a welcoming remark ready on your tongue, only to be caught off guard by the haggard appearance of a stranger.
The man is a couple of inches taller than you, broad-shouldered and thick with the sort of muscle mass that comes only from harsh work conditions. His dark brown hair is long and in desperate need of a thorough washing, and the bottom half of his face is concealed by a thick, bushy beard of the same coloring. 
He carries a bundle of pelts with him, slamming them down upon the counter in front of you with a heavy thud, confirming his employment as a hunter. Up close you notice a nasty looking scar dissecting his left eye, the mark slightly raised and pinkish red. A couple months old, maybe. You wonder what caused the injury, if it was an animal or another human.
“I didn’t come to be stared at,” he says bluntly, accented voice rough and scratchy with disuse, almost like a growl.
Embarrassed, you avert your eyes to the pile of furry pelts. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any offense.”
The stranger walks away wordlessly, perusing the stocked shelves with a scowling face like he’s dissatisfied with everything he sees. You keep a subtle eye on him as you start sorting through the pelts, identifying all the creatures in the collection. The majority are rabbits and squirrels, but your father will be happy when you show him the few badgers and foxes that have been skinned in perfect condition.
“I’ll need your name to complete the transaction,” you tell the bearded man when he returns to the counter and sets down a handful of items, including a new knife and pair of leather boots. 
“What are you reading?”
You blink at the non-sequitur, then follow his gaze down to the open book in front of you. “A field guide,” you say, moving to push it aside only for him to snatch it away with unexpected swiftness.
Impossibly, his scowl seems to intensify with every line of text he reads, lips twisting into what you can only label as a snarl. Coupled with his shaggy hair, he resembles more of a beast than a man at the moment.
“Careful,” you tell him mildly, the corners of your lips curling into a teasing smile. “You might get stuck with that face.”
The stranger’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise, dropping the book as if it burned him, before he lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “If only you knew,” he mutters cryptically. Then he gathers up his selected goods and heads for the door, only pausing long enough in the entryway to say, “It’s Pero,” before he leaves as mysteriously as he came.
It takes you an embarrassingly long moment after he’s gone to realize he’s given you his name. 
“Nice meeting you Pero,” you say to the empty room, scribbling down the name. It’s as unique as the man himself, easy to commit to memory.
You reach to shut the field guide and then change course, instead pulling it back across the counter to look at the page Pero had been reading. The way he’d scowled and glowered made you think he wanted to set the whole thing on fire if he’d possessed the power.
The eyes of a gray wolf stare back at you, sending a shudder down your spine. You trace your finger along the outline of the triangular shape of its ears, its sleek and furry torso, all the way down to its bushy tail. 
How strange and remarkable, you think, closing the guidebook and putting it away. A thorn of disappointment digs into your chest when you wonder if this was the second encounter with the wolf you’d been anticipating. 
A paper wolf crumples in comparison to a real one. 
Literally. 
“Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.” ― Nikita Gill
The ground beneath your boots is muddy and slick from the overnight rain. Every step threatens to send you tumbling to the earth, making you exceedingly cautious even though the consequence is your delivery trip is taking twice as long. A thin layer of fog has settled over the forest this morning, giving your surroundings an almost mystical appearance. Everything is a bit blurry, like looking through your father’s spectacles, forcing you to rely on the mental map of the trails etched into your brain to keep you from getting lost.
A low, rumbling growl has you stopping dead, heart lodging in your throat. 
There is no mistaking the wolf’s presence even if you can’t see it. No other living thing inhabiting the woods could produce such a fierce and throaty sound. Clutching the parcel tighter against your chest, you peer into the dense undergrowth, searching for signs of movement.
Another growl weaves through the trees, but this time there is an audible note of pain laced within it. The wolf is hurt, you realize, a wave of worry crashing into you. 
After a beat of hesitation, you set the parcel on the ground and step off the path, ignoring the warning bells in the back of your head, angry with you for disobeying your father’s strict instruction about never veering away from the trail. The trail meant safety and certainty, the quickest route from Point A to Point B. By entering the woods, especially with the present fog, you risk never being found again.
But it is not in your nature to abandon someone in need of help. Even if that someone is a wolf of all creatures.
You push through a tangle of thorny bushes, muttering a curse when they snag on the fabric of your cloak, and stumble into a small grassy clearing with all the clumsiness of the village drunk. 
Then you see the wolf.
Describing it as big would be offensive. It’s colossal, hackles raised and ears drawn back against its skull, all its teeth bared in a threatening snarl. The color of its fur is a shade of brown so dark it could pass for black, except for around its right hind leg which is coated in a sickening amount of crimson blood.
The metal spikes of a hunting trap embedded in its flesh keep it from lunging at you, slicing through muscle and sinew right into the bone. Blood seeps out of the wound, staining the blades of grass beneath the wolf’s leg, and it takes all your self-control not to gag at the disturbing sight.
“Damn it,” you breathe, unsure what to do, fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly. You have no medical expertise, especially not for helping massive predators who can tear off your hand with one bite of its sharp fangs.
You inch closer a step, only to immediately tense when the beast’s low growl intensifies in volume and it snaps at the air in your direction. Raising your hands in a pacifying gesture, you slowly crouch down low, trying to appear as non-threatening as physically possible. It isn’t a challenging feat considering you’re about as dangerous a threat to the wolf as a baby deer has the potential to be.
The wolf’s growling ceases, amber-gold eyes glinting with suspiciousness. You never knew animals could express human emotions so clearly, almost as if there is a human soul trapped beneath all that fur. You toss the ludicrous idea out of your mind instantly, shaking your head at your own foolishness. 
“So you stepped in a trap, huh,” you say, biting your lip as you study the ugly piece of metal, convinced whoever invented it is a sadistic monster. “That’s not good.”
The wolf huffs through its nose and tilts its head, looking at you like you’re the biggest idiot it has ever encountered. 
You stare back at it incredulously. “Wait. Do you...understand me?”
For a long moment, the wolf just stares at you, nose faintly twitching as it scents the air, then eventually dips its muzzle in a nod. 
Honestly, you don’t know whether to be amazed or frightened by the confirmation. Or perhaps even a mixture of both. You’ve read wolves are intelligent creatures, capable of learning new skills to help them survive, but learning human speech beyond simple commands is a talent you never could have guessed was possible.
“Well, alright then,” you say, wetting your lips and trying to find the right words. “If you really can understand everything I’m saying, then…” You look at it straight in the eye. “I want to help you get out of here. But to help you, I’ve got to move closer, okay?”
The wolf remains wary, hackles still raised with alarm, but it doesn’t try to lunge at you again when you creep forward and you think a tentative bridge of trust is starting to form.
There is an iron chain attached to the trap wrapped around a nearby tree trunk acting as an anchor, keeping the wolf from escaping with the hunter’s equipment. The wolf silently watches you unwind the chain, loosening the tension of the trap, then looks between its still-ensnared leg and you as if to ask, What’s next?
“My father used to take me hunting when I was a kid,” you explain, moving in close enough you feel the heat emanating from the wolf’s body. The stench of blood floods your nostrils and your stomach clenches with nausea. “I know how to get you out, but it’s going to hurt. Please don’t rip my face off.”
One of the wolf’s ears twitches in acknowledgement, but the gesture doesn’t inspire much confidence. What the hell do you know about wolf communication though? Maybe an ear twitch is a promise of good behavior.
Mentally bracing yourself, you drop onto your knees next to the trap, the pool of blood seeping into the fabric of your pants. You swallow a noise of disgust, closing your eyes briefly to focus and bring to mind the details of your father’s explanations about the mechanics of a foothold trap. There are two coiled springs exerting force onto two levers which hold the trap’s serrated jaws closed. To free the wolf you’ll need to depress the levers and release the pressure on its leg. 
Simple.
The metal is slick and warm with the wolf’s blood, and your fingers struggle to keep a tight grip. You curse under your breath when you accidentally jostle its leg, a stream of scarlet oozing out of the shredded wound. The wolf’s breath hitches, muscles shuddering along its flank, but it doesn’t snap at you.
You try again, carefully grasping the levers on each side of the trap, and pull with all your strength, arms burning with strain. Slowly, groaning with reluctance, the jaws open little by little until there is enough space for the wolf to slip its leg free. You turn away, not wanting to see the mess of torn flesh, and toss the trap aside with a grimace. 
A wet nose touches the side of your neck, just under your ear, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You stare straight ahead, lips pursed to hold back the whimper in your throat, as it scents you, snuffling softly. And then that nose becomes a warm, rough tongue licking a long line from the base of your neck up to your jawline.
You’re unable to keep from gasping. “You—you’re welcome,” you stammer, all the thoughts in your head dissolving into static. What do you do? Should you turn around and face the wolf? Or push away its snout first? You don’t think it will hurt you, but the risk of losing a finger or two makes you hesitant.
Before you can make up your mind, the wolf moves away and goosebumps rise on your arms as it takes its warmth away with it. You tilt your head towards your shoulder, wiping away the spit with your cloak. 
“Look,” you start to say, turning around, “I—”
The wolf is gone. No sign it was ever there except for a trail of blood drops disappearing into the foliage. 
“The wolf changes his coat, but not his disposition.” — Proverb
The blacksmith’s workshop is distanced from the other buildings in the village due to the risk of causing a fire from its blazing forge. Its owner, William, is the type of friendly man who has never met a stranger in his life, eager to help anyone who asks him to create weapons or horseshoes or even cooking utensils. And as long as he’s lived here—almost five years now—he’s always worked alone.
Which is why, when you arrive at the shop early in the morning to pick up supplies for the depot and come face to face with a different dark-headed man wearing a leather apron and gloves while hammering away at a horseshoe, you raise an eyebrow of suspicion and confusion.
For all your pride when it comes to your talent for recognizing faces, it’s not until the man’s lips twist into a scowl at being stared at that you realize he’s not a stranger at all.
“Pero,” you say blankly. He’s cut his overgrown hair since the last time you saw him a few days prior, and also sports a neatly trimmed mustache and a faint dusting of scruff along his chin instead of an unkempt beard. 
Oh, good Lord, you think, taking in the sight of his sharp jawline and the flexing of his biceps as he adjusts his grip on the hammer. He’s gorgeous.
Did the temperature suddenly rise a thousand degrees? 
His brown eyes glow golden, reflecting the firelight. “You remembered,” he says, mocking your bland tone. His brow furrows when he looks at your cloak, a flicker of an emotion you can’t identify crossing his face. “What are you wearing? You look like the stupid little girl in the fairytale.”
“Does that make you the big bad wolf?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest and simultaneously fighting back a wince when you realize how sweaty your underarms have become in the mere minutes since your arrival. 
Pero smirks then, mean and teasing, making you feel like prey about to be consumed. When he speaks, the rough edges of his voice send a chill down your spine despite the intense heat pressing down on you from all sides. “It just might.”
You roll your eyes, unamused. “What are you doing here anyways?”
“Mr. Tovar needed a place to stay and I needed a second pair of hands. It’s funny how life is sometimes, isn’t it?” William shuffles in from the doorway connecting to his house at the back of the shop. He slaps Pero companionably on the shoulder as he passes by, eliciting a grunt from the Spaniard.
“Hilarious,” you agree, looking between the two men, different as night and day from each other. You estimate the arrangement lasting three days. A week, at most.
“His skills are almost better than mine,” William admits. He pinches his index finger and thumb together. “Almost.”
Pero shakes his head, mock reproachful. “Careful pissing someone off who's holding a hammer, amigo.”
“I thought you were just a hunter,” you say, an accusation laced within your tone. 
He turns back to you, a shadow of that same teasing smirk making a reappearance. “Can’t a man be two things at once, little red?” 
You tell yourself the sudden burst of warmth inside your stomach is a side effect of possible heat stroke and not because of how the nickname rolls velvety smooth off his tongue. “Anything’s possible, I suppose.”
He grunts, as if he expected that response, and returns to his abandoned task without another word.
You’re starting to think the man actually likes coming across as odd and mysterious.
William attempts to reclaim your attention by gesturing towards the corner of the room. “I have your father’s order ready, if you’d like to take a look?”
You nod, but instead of listening to the blacksmith’s excited rambling about the tools he had crafted, your gaze keeps being pulled over your shoulder to look at Pero as he moves to grab tongs to handle the horseshoe.
He’s limping, you realize, immediately noticing the odd way his right foot drags along the ground and how he barely leans any weight upon it. His injury reminds you uncomfortably of your wolf, alone and hurt, somewhere out there beyond the pine trees. You hope it's alright.
Against your own better judgement, you find yourself mouthing a quiet prayer of healing for both of them.
And then immediately wonder when the hell did you start thinking of the wolf as yours?
“The wolves in the woods have sharp teeth and long claws, but it’s the wolf inside who will tear you apart.” — Jennifer Donnelly
A month passes and you do not see your wolf again—it’s officially your wolf now, if only to properly distinguish it from any other wolf in existence—but not for lack of looking though. With every delivery that takes you through the forest, you keep your eyes peeled for the slightest of movements and examine every animal track you come across. Except you’re only met with consistent disappointment when every rustling bush is caused by the wind and the marks in the dirt belong to the local creature inhabitants. The hunters passing by the depot haven’t reported any news or rumors of a wolf in the area either, living or dead.
In a way, you’re glad your wolf has seemingly vanished. It probably means the beast has moved on to find somewhere devoid of cruel hunting traps. You try to keep a positive attitude, although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t stay up late worrying. Is it eating enough? Is its leg bothering it? Is it safe? 
The only thing interesting enough to distract you from these questions swirling round and round in your head is Pero. 
You catch glimpses of him throughout the village, buying groceries and delivering orders for William and handling other day-to-day tasks. He’s quiet and more than a little intimidating, but he’s also polite to the village elders and doesn’t bother anyone by causing unnecessary trouble. His injured foot seems to no longer be an issue, but when you try asking him about how he hurt it he brushes off your concern, says he wasn’t watching where he was going and he won’t make the same mistake again.
Whenever you stop by the blacksmith workshop to pick up orders and supplies, you’re continuously surprised to find William actually seems to enjoy Pero’s sarcastic quips and gruff countenance. Listening to their banter quickly becomes something to look forward to and sometimes you even find the courage to toss in a witty remark of your own, enraptured by the dimpled smile appearing on Pero’s face as a result.
There is something magnetic about Pero that makes you want to be near him. You’re curious about Pero in a way you’ve never felt about anyone else before—certainly not the other village boys. And you hope, more than anything, this crush you’re developing isn’t totally one-sided.
William isn’t at his shop today when you arrive to collect a box of hardware pieces needed to make some repairs around the trading depot. Without his presence, there is fortunately nobody around to witness your horrible attempt at flirting.
“So,” you drawl, rubbing your palms on your pants. “You’re not from around here.”
Oh God. You grimace, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you.
“Was it the accent that gave me away?” Pero asks sardonically from across the room, back facing you as he double-checks the contents of your package are all packed. “Or my roguish looks?”
“You know, when we first met I pegged you as the silent and brooding type,” you say, aiming for coyness while looking him over from head to toe as he approaches the counter. “But surprise, surprise you’ve got quite the sharp tongue too. What else is there to learn about you, Pero? You seem like a man who conceals many secrets.” 
You mean to peer at him seductively through your eyelashes, only instead you’re caught off guard by the way Pero suddenly appears...young. Expression raw and open, lips slightly parted. A tuft of his dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Then he blinks and shakes his head hard enough you fear his neck snapping.
When he finally looks back at you, his searing gaze burns through your clothes, setting your skin ablaze, and you nearly choke on your spit as he says, “If you want to see me naked you’ll have to do better than that, little red.”
Did he...really just say that?
“I…You...” Your mouth opens, then falls shut with an audible noise, incredibly flustered.
And then he lets out a low, raspy breath of laughter, shoulders shaking and crow’s feet appearing at the corners of his eyes, amused by your naivety. Hurt slices through your body as if he’s stabbed you with one of the weapons lying about. You can’t believe you thought for even one second that maybe he could be different from the rest of the village assholes. God, you feel like such an idiot.
“Fuck you, Pero,” you spit at him, grabbing your package and spinning on heel towards the exit.
You don’t look back. Not when he pleads for you to wait, not when he calls your name, and not even when you hear an angry curse followed by the deafening clang of metal striking metal.
“Even a wolf knows how to be polite when animalistic humans have no clue about politeness.” — Munia Khan
You hum quietly a few notes of a song your mother used to sing, weaving together wildflowers you’d collected on your walk into a crown. The forest is quiet around you, leaving you to work peacefully in the same grassy clearing you’d encountered the wolf over a month ago. 
Still angry with Pero, you’ve started spending longer hours within the sanctitude of the woods, the only place you feel you can hide from him. Not that he’s even tried to seek you out at the depot or your home to apologize which is just further salt in the imaginary wound leftover from the incident. 
Sunlight filters through the overhead branches and your red cloak lays discarded at your side, too hot to wear the extra layer. If Pero were with you and saw it, he’d say some stupid line like About time you used what little common sense you possess because he always scolded you for risking heatstroke by wearing it in the forge.
But Pero isn’t here with you. 
“And ain’t that a good fucking thing,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring the tightness in your chest.
A twig snapping to the right of you has you freezing as you’re reaching for another flower. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a shadow of movement and you slowly turn your head to look just as a familiar, gigantic wolf steps into the clearing just a few feet away from where you’re sitting.
Your breath stills in your lungs. That’s your wolf.
It stares back at you, silent and unmoving with its head slightly ducked, almost like...it’s nervous? Your gaze roams over its body, noticing the wound on its hind leg has mostly healed since your last encounter, just the faintest bit of scarring the only evidence there was ever an injury at all.
“You’re back,” you say, needlessly pointing out the obvious. Its ears twitch at the sound of your voice. “It’s good to see you’ve been staying out of trouble. I’ve been worried about you.”
Your wolf perks up, tongue lolling out of its mouth and tail wagging as if it’s a puppy and not a two-hundred pound behemoth. 
You are unable to resist cooing at it, finding the attempt at smiling adorable despite the sharpness of its teeth. And then that coo shifts into a gasp when the wolf closes the distance, a few feet becoming a few inches until it’s close enough to nuzzle the side of your face, cold nose rubbing against your cheek.
You hesitate to move or breathe, thinking of all the violent stories you’d heard growing up from hunters and trappers who said wild animals couldn’t be trusted. It’s a dog eat dog world and predators will always choose to go down fighting to the bloody end. 
But then, almost like an unseen force is controlling your limbs, you lift a shaky hand to brush against the thick, dense fur of its neck. Your wolf practically melts at your touch, a pleased growl rumbling from deep within its chest, and all but collapses across your lap, burying its face against your middle.
Laughing, you start scratching along its shoulder and flank, and the smile on your face grows wider when your wolf tilts its head to lick at your chin, as eager to return affection as it is to receive some. “You’re pretty adorable for a ferocious beast,” you say, awe and wonder slipping into your tone. “How did I get picked to be so lucky to meet you?”
Your wolf lets out a low half-whine, half-grunt in response and licks at the veins along your wrist.
An hour passes with your wolf lying pressed against your leg, massive head resting atop your thigh, watching you craft a few more flower crowns you hope to sell at the next Market Day for some extra pocket money. For your own entertainment, you gently set one of the crowns upon your wolf’s head. Its ears swivel a bit, grazing the petals, and a heavy sigh passes through its nose like it’s exasperated with you, but otherwise the animal doesn’t seem to mind the accessory.
If you could, you'd spend another five hours in the woods with your furry companion, but the sun is starting to descend in the sky and your father will be expecting you soon.
“I’ve got to start heading back home.” You stand up and stretch your legs to get blood flowing again after such a long time spent sitting. Your wolf’s golden eyes follow your every movement as you pack away the flower crowns and slip your arm through the basket’s handle to rest it in the crook of your elbow. You pet its head one last time. “Hopefully we meet again soon.”
Not even twenty steps away from the clearing, you spin around when you hear movement behind you and find your wolf sitting in the middle of the trail, obviously following you.
“Are you going to be my shadow all the way home?” you ask incredulously. 
A nod.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
A grunt.
You shake your head at its antics, but a smile tugs at your lips, betraying your inner amusement. You could never really be upset with someone so adorable. “Well, come on then, Shadow. Let’s at least walk side by side as equals, okay?”
Your wolf trots forward, snout grazing against your elbow as softly as a kiss, and doesn’t leave your side until the trail’s end.
A new routine develops over the next two weeks between you and your wolf. Shadow becomes your new delivery escort, greeting you when you enter the forest with a toothy grin and then spends the next few minutes nuzzling and rubbing against every inch of your body. You realize after the third time that he is scent marking you, claiming you as his own by making sure you smell like him. You don’t mind the aggressive cuddling session, thinking it is a much better experience than being peed on everyday.
The more time you spend with Shadow, the more you start opening up and sharing your thoughts and secrets with him. You’ve always been a lonely soul, feeling like nobody truly understood you, especially after your mother passed away, but with your wolf at your side you don’t feel quite so alone. He listens to everything you have to say, responding in his own quirky way with growls and whines, so eerily humanlike with his expressions.
You want to know more about him, where he came from before entering your life and how long he’s been on his own. According to your books, there isn’t a single good reason or explanation for a wolf to be traveling without a pack. But whenever you try to ask him about his past he gives you the silent treatment, pointedly turning his gaze away from you until you change the topic.
Whatever happened, clearly the pain is still fresh for him.
“I don’t like to talk about the past either,” you tell him, your mother’s face flashing through your mind.
Shadow makes no noise, but licks at your hand in acknowledgement, coating your fingers with saliva.
“Aw, wolf spit!” You wipe your hand on your pants, face scrunched up in exaggerated disgust. “Gross!”
He circles around you, quicker than your eyes can follow, and catches hold of the hem of your shirt.
Your eyes widen. “Hey, no, Shadow don’t you dare—”
One strong tug and your balance is lost, falling backwards onto your rear at the same time the fabric rips. Shadow wastes no time pushing his face against yours, noses briefly smooshing against each other, wagging his tail when you start giggling. His lips pull back into a grin, tongue lolling out, and it’s your only forewarning before he starts licking you in earnest. Unthinkingly, you bare your throat when he dips his head to lap at the tender patch of skin right above your collarbone. 
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you sensitive and giant furball,” you say in-between bouts of laughter, shoving at his chest to push him away. The effort is pointless, like trying to physically push against a brick house, but Shadow takes pity on you, rumbling a noise not unlike a raspy chuckle. 
A sense of familiarity pricks the back of your mind, but the feeling doesn’t linger long, dismissed as easily as a thrown away splinter.
You look down at your torn shirt with a sigh. This will be the fifth piece of clothing you’ll have to mend with your sewing kit. Your father’s been suspicious lately of your extra spending on thread and your list of plausible excuses is dwindling alarmingly quick. 
“I could probably blame Pero somehow,” you mutter to yourself, but there is no real heat in your tone. Instead there is just a faint pang of hollowness beneath your ribcage. “Can you believe I actually miss talking to that asshole? I thought maybe he liked me, but I found out the hard way I was wrong.”
Shadow whines, sensing your change in mood.
“Love is easy for wolves. You find your perfect match and then you’re bonded for life,” you say quietly, running a hand over his head. “But it’s different for humans. It can be so beautiful and sweet, but it’s also messy and difficult and confusing...” Your voice trails off as a connection is made, two puzzle pieces clicking together in the back of your mind.
“Maybe humans are meant to experience both. The dark and the light. Love isn’t skin deep, after all. If you fall in love with someone, you’ve got to be willing to love their inner monster too.”
"Have you seen what wolves do to their prey? But they do mate for life." — Donna Lynn Hope
Spring always seems to bring out the best in nature and people. Flowers start to blossom, as if eager to greet the humans who have been tucked away within their warm homes for so long, and your neighbors in the village wear friendly smiles upon their faces, reveling in the sunshine. 
During Market Day, the village square becomes a hive of activity with people coming from dozens of nearby towns to check out the rows of vendor stalls. You’ve been shopping less than an hour and already your basket is full to the brim of a plethora of unique goods.
The crowds are always thick once the last stubborn traces of winter have finally disappeared and you’re having to nudge people aside with your elbows in your quest to reach a seller known for their honey buns. Your goal is within sight, closer with every step, and you can practically taste the sweetness on your tongue only to instead collide face first into a broad chest appearing out of nowhere.
You let out a quiet oof of surprise, stumbling backwards on your heels. Large hands reach out and hold onto your upper arms to steady you.
“Careful, little red.”
You straighten up in an instant, eyes wide, and choke out a hoarse, “Pero.”
It’s been weeks since you last spoke to him in the blacksmith workshop, but he’s still just as unfairly attractive as you remember. He wears a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, baring his toned forearms to the world, and dark trousers. On his feet are the leather boots he traded his collection of pelts for when he first arrived. 
He looks nervous, you think, watching the way his tongue swipes at his bottom lip and how he seems reluctant to maintain steady eye contact.
“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he says at last. “You stopped coming by the forge.”
“I’ve been busy making deliveries elsewhere,” you reply stiffly, clasping your basket in front of you with both hands. Pero’s expression spasms, as if he restrained himself from wincing.
You don’t like it—this whole kicked puppy look he’s conveying. Pero’s the one who hurt you by behaving so mean before, laughing at you like you were the last person on earth to have a chance with him, and yet you can’t help feeling guilty for being cold towards him. 
He clears his throat. “You’re mad at me.”
“Yes.”
“Because I was an insensitive ass.”
“Two for two, do you want a gold star?”
Pero’s eyes flash, either with anger or hurt, you can’t tell. He crosses his arms, glancing around the square like he’s wary of anyone overhearing your conversation. You keep staring at him, knowing everyone is too caught up in their own shopping to pay either of you any attention longer than a passing glance.
He clears his throat and says with all the bluntness as a punch to the sternum, “You’re too good for someone like me.”
You blink once, twice, then arch an eyebrow at him. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he says slowly, like he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to ask him, “I’m not someone you should waste your time on. You deserve better.”
Realization clicks in your brain, followed shortly by a burst of anger, red hot and boiling.
“I’m a grown woman, Pero,” you say despite fighting the childish urge to stomp your foot. “I can handle rejection. If you don’t have feelings for me then just tell me so.”
Pero runs a hand through his hair, mouth twisting with frustration. He probably had hoped you’d just take his excuse and carry on with your life, but you refuse to let him get off easy. He’s not wrong: you do deserve better.
“I didn’t say that.”
Your whole body goes still, because if that means what you think it means then—
Pero won’t meet your eyes, his discomfort clear. “I just...can’t be with you, little red.”
So it hasn’t been a one-sided attraction all this time. He has feelings for you, but he made the preemptive choice to crush them rather than let them keep growing and evolving into something potentially serious. 
And he also made that choice for you.
“Hell no,” you blurt out, startling him. “I’m not letting you give up on future us with that piss poor reason. I deserve better than you can’t.”
“Future us?” Pero echoes, head tilting. “You really think…?”
You wait a beat for him to finish the trailed off sentence, but he seems incapable, staring at you like he’s having trouble believing you truly exist. 
“Yes.” You take pity on him, nodding your head. “Yes, I think you’re different from anybody else I’ve ever met. Yes, I think you are grumpy and sarcastic to prevent people from getting to know you. And yes, Pero, I think you and I could have a future if you’d quit making bad decisions trying to push me away.”
Pero’s lips purse into a thin, angry line. His brown eyes have turned hard, frigid cold. “You think I’m different from everyone else? That’s because you don’t know shit about me. I’m a liar and a thief. There is blood on my hands, little red. More than you could possibly fathom. I have become something no one—not even my own mamá—could ever love.”
He’s looming over you now, breathing hotly against your face, and you can only stare straight ahead over his shoulder, unable to think of something to say. 
“You don’t belong in my world. Is that a fucking good enough reason for you?”
You swallow, carefully arranging your thoughts before answering. “It’s better,” you admit, because it’s true. For the first time you’re aware of the possibility he could be dangerous. That he’s someone you should run away from instead of chase after.
Unwittingly, Shadow comes to mind. You think about how he’d snarled at you when you first approached him, when he’d been trapped and cornered, lashing out instead of accepting the help he needed. You think about how you’ve developed a bond with him now, the way he smiles instead of growls, protecting you against nonexistent threats on your walks. You’d never have that bond if you’d chosen to run away from him. 
“My choice hasn’t changed though.” You tilt your head up and he’s close enough your noses lightly graze each other. It takes all your self-control not to smirk at his sharp inhale of air. “I still want to take the risk, even if it’s true I’m not fit for your world. Just, tell me one thing, Pero. Are you going to break my heart on purpose?”
Pero’s already shaking his head before you finish, looking lost and pained. “What? I—That’s not—” He cuts himself off, looking away to gather his composure. When he looks at you again, he’s not quite as panicked, but the pain persists in the lines of his expression, “No, never purposefully. But—”
You press a finger over his lips, silencing him. “I’ll see you tonight at the tavern. You better not keep me waiting for our first date or I’ll tie you to a tree and let the wild beasts eat you.”
Pero stares at you, expressionless and frozen still, and just when your anxiety is about to consume you, he smiles, a soft, precious little curl of his lips. He takes your hand and presses a featherlight kiss upon each of your knuckles, maintaining steady eye contact the whole time. Your heart starts beating so fast you feel it in your throat, the sweetness of the gesture sending a pulse of warmth throughout your whole body.
“I’d prefer your company over any wild beast’s, little red.”
"There is no greater love than the love the wolf feels for the lamb-it-doesn’t-eat." — Hélène Cixous
You’re grinning like an idiot as you enter the forest, eagerly looking forward to your date with Pero later that evening. You can’t remember ever feeling so giddy before, like your blood has become electric, and you swear there are literal sparks shooting off your bare arms. 
You expect to see Shadow waiting for you at your usual meetup spot by the grassy clearing, but there is no sight of him as you approach. Your steps slow to a stop, telling yourself not to worry just yet about his absence. He’s a wild animal, not a pet, and there are dozens of justifiable reasons for him to be missing. 
But still...This change in routine is more than a little unsettling. Shadow has always been the one patiently waiting for you to arrive.
You hesitate for a moment, torn between waiting a few minutes longer for Shadow or carrying on with your task, when you hear a noise behind you. Thinking it’s your wolf, you spin around with his name on your tongue, except your heart nearly leaps out of your chest instead.
Shadow lopes up to you with a bloodstained muzzle and a dead rabbit hanging from his mouth. He looks as smug as a wolf can be as he drops the prey at your feet and puffs his chest out, clearly expecting praise.
Gross, you think, biting your lip to refrain from grimacing. The kill is fresh, blood still oozing out of the gaping wound on the rabbit’s neck where Shadow’s teeth tore into it. 
“Is that your lunch? It looks, um, tasty,” you say before the silence stretches too long. “My mother used to make rabbit stew, but when I try to copy her recipe it never tastes the same, you know?”
Shadow tips his head with a low whine, like he does understand your nostalgia for the past, and then nudges the carcass closer towards your feet with his nose.
You look from Shadow to the rabbit, then back again. “Are you...giving this to me?”
His happy bark of confirmation has your stomach feeling queasy. Not just because the offering is disgusting, but also because of what it represents.
This is step one of a wolf’s courting ritual. You’ve read about it in field guides where a male wolf will present a fresh kill to a female in order to prove himself as a strong and suitable mate. 
But a male wolf presenting a courting gift to a human girl? You doubt there’s any book out there that will guide you through this scenario.
“Shadow,” you begin, nervously holding the package in your arms tighter against your chest. 
Your wolf’s happiness fades, tail drooping and going still. His eyes narrow with wariness as he senses the impending bad news. Your heart crumples at the sight.
“I know what this gesture means. And it’s sweet, really.” You reach out your hand slowly, threading your fingers through the soft fur on top of his head. To your relief, he leans into your touch rather than ducks to avoid it. “I can’t accept it though.”
He whines, a heartbreaking sound that cuts right through you, and his ears fall flat against his head, as if to quit listening to the rejection. 
“I love you,” you say, your voice shaking, the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “But what you want, it won’t work.”
Shadow’s entire body seizes up as a ripple of some unseen force washes over him from nose to tail, and his eyes close shut. He pulls away from your hand, shaking his head hard enough you worry about him hurting himself.
“Shadow?”
With his head hung low, he peeks up at you, eyes flickering in the sunlight from amber to a soft shade of brown. What the hell, you think, wondering if you’re imagining the change.
Then he’s gone, sprinting off into the trees, leaving behind the dead rabbit and you feeling far more lost and confused than you’ve ever felt before.
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raveneira · 3 years ago
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Im tired of this, and its time someone said it.
Naruto forgave Sasuke and still called him a friend after he nearly ended his life
Naruto forgave Gaara despite him aiding in the invasion of his village, was crushing the love of his life at the time, nearly killed his best friend, and helped cause the death of his Hokage
Naruto forgave Obito and called him the coolest guy despite him causing his parents death and is the reason he became a Jinchuriki and was miserable his whole life
Naruto spared Nagato who killed his sensei and destroyed his entire village and killed a ton of innocent people and tortured his friend right infront of him
Naruto's dream was to become Hokage yet he refused to achieve it if he couldnt save one friend
Narutos dream was to become Hokage yet he became good friends with Gaara who nearly helped destroy that dream
Narutos dream was to become Hokage yet he spared the man who nearly destroyed that dream by nuking his whole village and killed his sensei and only family
Narutos dream was to become Hokage yet he spared the man who was actively trying to take that from him during the war by putting everyone asleep
Naruto's perception of Hokage is someone who saves people, who sees everyone in the village as family, who wants to create a safe haven where anyone, even people like Kawaki can feel safe and at home, and most of all if he cant even save one friend then he has no right to be Hokage
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Stop this BS about Kawaki destroying the village so Sarada could never forgive him for destroying her dream, thats a danm lie and its literally presented over and over and over how understanding and forgiveness is Naruto's Hokage way, ya know, the guy she admires and wants to be like.
And before anyone tries to say 'Yeah but thats Naruto not Sarada' even if you try the shes more like Sasuke argument, last I checked didnt he admit he lost and that Naruto's way was better? isnt he now following Naruto's morals an ideals? and did he or did he not forgive and is now loyal to the village that caused all his suffering? and lastly, did or did Sarada NOT say she wanted to follow a different path than her father? and before you say she meant just his job, she literally asked Boruto something basic as which direction do he thinks her dad would go and went the opposite way. So lets not play these games.
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When Sarada said she was going a different path from her father she meant in ANY capacity, even something as simple as an exam test.
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THIS WAS HER REACTION TO SASUKE ABOUT TO CUT DOWN A TOTAL STRANGER. She cried literal tears for a kid who tried to kidnap her and held her mother hostage, she showed mercy and empathy for her literal enemy, begging Sasuke not to kill him, and yall think shes gonna be ruthless like that towards Kawaki?
A key thing Sasuke says here says it all, “Im not as soft as Naruto” meanwhile Sarada stares in horror and in tears as he says this. Even if she doesnt try to kill him and you argue that Boruto will, theres no way in hell she wouldnt intervene, ESPECIALLY for a former friend. If she’d beg for the life of her enemy to be spared, she’d danm sure beg Boruto to spare Kawaki’s.
Im tired of yall actin like you didnt watch the same show that preached nonstop about forgiveness and saving people from darkness and the most important theme of REDEMPTION for even the worst of the worst people. 
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And yall think Kawaki is Irredeemable?
Yall know danm well Boruto is not gonna be THAT dark and just completely abandon 15 years of messaging and all of a sudden become this depressing, nihilistic, unforgiving, irredeemable, seinen lvl BS when the show is clearly heavily targeted at children and young teens, ya know, the Shounen genre. 
There will be dark themes yes but not THAT dark. "Yea but this isnt Naruto anymore" what show are you watching? this is literally Naruto with a fresh coat of paint and new characters with very few differences, in fact its Naruto but done worse. 
Cut the BS, we all know where Boruto is headed, it'll get darker and yes there will be tragedy but Boruto is the star of hope who we all know will ultimately succeed in saving everyone, including Kawaki, and defeating the big bad. They'll rebuild the village again and it'll be a mostly happy ending minus the losses along the way. 
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Toneri literally gives Boruto this prophecy and its a positive one, meanwhile Momoshiki implies a negative fate in store for him, 2 Otsutsuki’s but 2 completely different prophecies. Which essentially means Boruto’s fate could go either way, meaning just as Boruto could LOSE everything like Momoshiki envisioned, he could also be the light that’ll dispell the darkness and save the world from destruction. For a shounen manga and a shounen protagonist, which one do you really think is more likely? come on now. 
Just as Naruto was the child of prophecy, Boruto is essentially the same thing, he could go down the wrong path or the right one, and we all know hes gonna go down the right one.
This gotta be a two parter cuz apparently all the pics cant fit in one post so continue here
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sevenofsorts · 4 years ago
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Monday:
She’s started baking again. The other members of the Syndicate drop by sometimes to taste-test her recipes, and she shows them the progress she’s made in the construction of her underground city. They compliment the flower paths outside the city, the bridges and floating lanterns and the gorgeous high ceilings and furnishings within, the little subterranean forest and the waterfall, the decorations and details that make the cavernous space cozy. They see what she’s built and they praise her for it and it is exhilarating. She’s grown stronger day by day with the Syndicate in her corner; they pull her up to stand on equal footing with them, and when she expresses her concerns, they listen.
There are days, however, when she can’t bring herself to bake; on those days the heat of the furnace crawls uncomfortably against her skin and the knife block rattles in the corner with each item she sets down on the countertop. On those days she’ll climb. Buildings, mountains, trees—anything that’ll get her to a height where her lungs strain from lack of oxygen and the ringing in her head eases. She jumps, sometimes. They don’t know she does this. They don’t need to know; she’s strong enough to deal with that herself.
Yesterday was their leader’s birthday, and she’d left the party with leftover cake and cookies and brioche. Today is a good day; maybe she’ll share the cookies with Jack.
Tuesday:
He’s called the harbinger, the omen, the angel of death. Crows perform at his bidding and the great, lumbering bears of the north shake the ground as he directs them. He emerges from impossible battles with nary a scratch on his body. People across the earth have speculated that he’s a demon, or contracted with a demon, or one of the acolytes of the Blood God like the Blade. He likes to collect these epithets and rumors; when his crows perch on his shoulder to recount the news of the land or messages from his allies they update him on the tales they tell of the angel. They’re all wrong, in the end. Death herself graced him with her favor long ago to act as her representative on the mortal plane.
She’s been dormant recently; her absences had never affected him so strongly before, but ever since he’s entered this land, he’s felt weaker, more fragile. He watched his son destroy the country he founded with a haze across his vision, and then he killed his own son, and the act of it didn’t register until days later. Months fly by in a blur and the only person who can enforce any sort of focus is the Blade and so that simmering anger became his own and it fed into his own pain. There was something rotting in the land and it killed his son and he felt it his duty to purge it with the same TNT that destroyed his wings. He doesn’t regret it.
Today, he finds some measure of peace in building his training room. His son is back and everything is not-quite-broken and his body still aches.
Wednesday:
There are too many variables, too many uncertainties. He’s placed his fingerprints on too many projects and lives, and the guilt of his cooperation and his associations claws at his lungs. Dream, neutrality in the midst of war, Dream and his prison and the damned prison rules, Quackity, Las Nevadas. He doesn’t know what he considers his worst fuck-up: Tommy’s death, the torture he’d permitted in his collaboration with Las Nevadas, his betrayal of Ponk’s love and trust, or his inability to save anyone during the banquet.
The hotel stands as a testament to his failure to protect the youngest resident of the land. He plans detours around that plot whenever he travels between the bank and the prison; the little robot stationed by the hotel tells him the boy doesn’t come by anymore, and he knows automatons don’t feel emotions, but he grieves for it anyway. He sees his valentine walking along the wooden pathways and his heart aches to see the damage he had caused. He checks the prison’s security footage and he tells himself guilt has no place in his heart for what happened. He’s surprised the captain and the god and all the rest of the banquet victims still talk to him. But they do, and it gives him hope. His friends are back and free and even though one of them is trying to start a little scuffle with a god, today he’s having fun throwing weednip around and sliding down the pyramid with his closest friends.
The present’s a gift, and he intends on cherishing this moment.
Thursday:
He’s building a pub because Wilbur owes him a pint. He knows that man can’t be completely trusted, not now. Not since he died by his crossbow. But it feels good to be acknowledged as someone worth an apology, someone important. He has been abandoned and pushed aside and pushed into lava pits and into hell all within the span of a few months. No one cared. He hates it, he hates the way he’s been made irrelevant and a shadow of his friends’ stories. Even his plans for revenge had been inconsequential, unfruitful: the boy had lived and his accomplice had left him to brood in his own anger.
He’s held his grudges close to his heart and he’s let them fester and he won’t admit he’s tired of it all. If he lets go, then it all disappears and he’s really, truly dead, and if this is his afterlife, if all he can do is lag after the people he cares for, then it’s a fucking shit deal. So today, he’s continuing his work on the pub because he burned down his own home and because the hotel feels too sterile and empty, because he wants to have a space built with his own two hands where he can speak and someone will finally, finally listen. It’s not quite moving on. He’ll take it anyway.
Friday:
She tries to live by the code of kindness and reciprocity; that’s how she lived on the high seas of her youth, or so she suspects, based on the journal she found at the site of the shipwreck. Since the day she joined this land, she has made friends and found love and taken the young residents under her wing and vowed to fight against evil. She gives stacks of items to those who need them and she fixes up the holes in the road and offers therapy on difficult days.
The world isn’t as kind as she is. A country was erased from the map for grudges she still doesn’t understand, and no one will tell her the why discs, of all things, are so important. Two boys would have lost their lives to a monster she housed, had it not been for the money Tommy paid a mercenary for his aid. She mourned the loss of Tommy’s life as she fought to keep the hotel in his name, and when he requested therapy upon his resurrection, she was horrified at the effects of trauma he’d exhibited. The friends she’d tried to pull out of the Egg’s influence celebrated a young boy’s death and killed her son. And now this man has taken her friend’s turtle hostage for no reason she can comprehend.
She’s tired. She’s breaking; they’d presumed her kindness was a weakness and maybe it is. Today, she plans on destroying the red menace on the edge of her son’s land. It’s her turn.
Saturday:
He’s not sure how many sandstone blocks he’s carved out of the desert at this point, nor how many quartz chips and gold nuggets he’s pulled out of the Netherworld. The villagers know him by name and chat with him when he stops by to trade for emeralds and other goods. His hands bleed gold ichor from the opened blisters dotting his hands, and burns line the edges of his fingertips. Lately, his whole world is rushing by in colors of beige and yellow, green and white and blue. The color red started it, the scramble to build more and more—and it stopped it too, if only for a little while. Ponk asked him for permission to build on his land, told him it was a gift: a peace offering and an apology and a new beginning. It’s a silly build and it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of his summer home, but it warmed his heart, to see the giant red refrigerator rising up from the top of the sand dunes for the first time. Ponk built it just for him. Quackity told him he was alone, and that he didn’t matter if he didn’t assert his powers like he did in the past, and he was wrong. Ponk stays, loves him for who he is now and not for the destruction he wrought.
He doesn’t know what to do now; his father destroyed the build for some grudge she holds against his friend, and he’s exhausted. He’s tired of being pulled into conflict. A vacation from all the tension occurring on his land would not be unwarranted, at this point—a few days, a week. It sounds relaxing—and he’ll do it, he’ll take a vacation, and he’ll tell Ponk that he’s in charge of the summer home later today. He has some packing to do.
Sunday:
He likes to splash around the pools and fountains in Las Nevadas when he has to visit. Sometimes he’ll climb up the needle and lean on the bannisters to feel the fresh air ruffling his hair and he thinks about jumping—the air turns hot and stale and the ground burbles up in orange and red—but his brother pulls him out of it, usually. Otherwise the place is boring. He’s not allowed in the gambling den or the club, so he hovers around the forests away from Las Nevadas when Wilbur and Quackity want to speak alone.
Today is one of those days. It’s fine by him; dealing with the two of them together makes him uncomfortable, with the way they push and pull him to their sides. The cigarette smoke lingering on their breaths remind him of the ravine, the explosions from the first war-second -Logstedshire-doomsday-nukes-prison. He’s escaped, for now. The air of the forest is crisp; he can spot flowers in the meadow ahead and he plucks them to form a careless bouquet. Alliums, lilies-of-the-valley, daisies; poppies and cornflowers and dandelions. He threads them together to form crowns and rings, places one on his head and cradles the rest to his chest to stash at home. It’s been a while since he’s made them; before he moved to this land he’d make them for his brother and his brother’s father, the dogs and cows and sheep around the farm. He feels like a child again and his lips twist at the bittersweetness. He’s found himself a bubble and soon Wilbur will barge his way in to speak of his loyalties and Dream and whatever the fuck he’s stormed up with Quackity, but for now, he’ll pick flowers and make chains and chains and chains that, for once, won’t drag him down.
  Monday’s child is fair of face.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace.
Wednesday’s child is full of woe.
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Fridays’ child is loving and giving.
Saturday’s child works hard for a living.
And the child born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe, good and gay.
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ryttu3k · 3 years ago
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Doctor Who - Village of the Angels, or "I'M STRESSED": The Episode.
"Division uses everything and everyone. Every species. Every world. Every moment. They are everywhere. Present and unseen. Division is unstoppable."
So the episode starts with a Weeping Angel hijacking the TARDIS and gets mORE STRESSFUL from that point on. Which is absolutely fun cool cool we're good. God I don't much like Moffat as a showrunner but the Weeping Angels are legitimately scary.
The 'straightforward' story - village in the 60s, little girl has disappeared from her frankly odious guardian who I admittedly felt quite satisfied seeing bite it, young woman from the present has been zapped back in time and is being Experimented On, mysterious old woman with ominous warnings. I did pick that the old woman was Peggy pretty quickly, and the rest felt like a fairly solid Weeping Angel story - location under siege, lots of jumpscares, spooky ways to get through.
There's also the continued story of Bel and Vinder. Bel meets another survivor and we get to see the state of the universe. She's able to help one person, but Azure has been taking advantage of the situation to fill up Passenger with hostages. Who knows how many she has, or why? Bel is able to leave a message for Vinder, but conveniently, the message cuts out just before leaving coordinates, and apparently the concept of writing stuff down is a bit beyond them at this point XD Like damn girl just carry a USB!
And then, of course, there's also the overriding plot of Flux and Division, and that is where it gets interesting!
The village is totally cut off. The village is a trap. Claire is a psychic who has become the unintentional host of an Angel fleeing Division. Division is far bigger, and far scarier, than anything we've really seen before.
(Given that they seem to be everywhere, I'm actually wondering if this will tie back to the apparently-abandoned plot element of the Kasaavins, who I suspect may have been working for - or have been taken over by - Division in order to keep an eye on everything. Interesting that they end up stuck with the Master at the end of Spyfall, who we know has that personal history with the Doctor and whose next appearance goes straight into the Division / Timeless Child arc...)
And. Well. The Doctor turning into an Angel is. Horrifying. I'm kind of hoping that it's something like... I don't know, a physical replacement in time and space? And her actual body has been transported, safe and unharmed? Or, she really did turn to fucking stone and her mind was dragged out. That's gonna be fun!!
Some cool visuals. The tunnel with all the arms sticking out. The Angel made of fire, that was nice and alarming!
Professor Eustacius Jericho is an amazing name. He's now back in 1901 with Peggy (who we know has to go the long way back, at least she now has someone who cares about her), and Yaz and Dan, who will apparently be there for at least three years. I guess that's where the rest of the village goes? The Angels do... something in 1901, empty it out. Then, when everyone in the village disappears in 1967, it's because they've been zapped back to 1901. Suddenly, a functioning village which has effectively been thrown 66 years back in time. What about people who had been in the village their whole lives and who were older than 66, did something happen to their younger selves? And if the entire village had been displaced, surely that would be momentous enough to get some really interesting plot elements out of it? Like I can see someone who had gone from 1967 to 1901 going, "You know what, I'm going to try and prevent two world wars and a depression." The older ones would have already lived it once already! Or were the villagers (from 1967 and 1901, aside from Peggy and Jericho) zapped elsewhere, and it's just the two of them (and Yaz and Dan) in this isolated village where everyone has disappeared until people start moving back in, and why the fuck would you move back into a village where something like that happened... we may get this next week, given that Yaz and Dan are still there, because damn, interesting!
Who knows about Claire's fate, I can't see the Angels letting her just go free with the Rogue Angel still in her head :-\ I can see them being like, well, we have the Doctor, and it's not like this one human can escape when she's surrounded by everyone...
Den of Geek had an interesting note here:
"The ending credits music is missing the 'da-da-da-dum' – perhaps because now that she's an Angel, the Doctor's hearts are no longer beating?"
Finally, reverse the polarity of the neutron flow :D
Next week: Yaz and Dan take the slow road, an Ood sight, Karvanista has some bad news, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart vs the Great Serpent FUCK HIM UP KATE (and there was a filming photo that showed a UNIT logo at one point on location!), the old tunnel dude reappears, Swarm is Pleased, and the Doctor doesn't appear once in the trailer.
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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago
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Resurrection | 12
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Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: Sorry this took so long. February really is the worst month.
By the flight manifest, we’re half an hour behind Wallace, and I feel every minute of it on the plane ride from London to Benghazi. Prior to joining the team, I’d only been assigned to Libya once and it was from the comfort of the Whitney parked off the coast of Italy. This will be my first time with boots on the ground, and the history of spec ops in the country isn’t lost to me; it’s just one more reason why I’m glad I no longer have to wear a uniform.
“Ten minutes out,” the pilot calls over the comms, everyone prepping their go bags, ready to make up for any head start Wallace has. 
Benina International Airport barely registers in my mind as we pick up two vehicles that were prepped for us courtesy of Uncle Sam, my mind’s sole focus being on saving the hostage and capturing Wallace. All of us want our pound of flesh, none more so than those he’s directly injured over the course of the last few weeks. 
“I need everyone on their A game. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers again. His behavior is escalating and since he’s so well-connected to the who’s-who, it stands to reason, he’s going to throw everything he has at us. Above all else though, we leave no one behind. Understood?” Rick’s voice is firm but warm over our comms, making it clear that despite the gravity of the situation, he cares about our well-being first and foremost. 
“Do you think he’s trying to do a shot-for-shot remake?” Jake asks as we roll into Benghazi proper, grateful for the tinted windows on the late model G wagons no doubt left over from Gaddafi’s rule. 
“If you mean do I think he’s going to go to the same village we were patrolling? No. I don’t think he’s that sentimental about things. I think he’s going to pick a spot that’s overlooked by the country and blow it to high hell after he finishes reenacting his sick fantasies. Remember, had we not stopped him that night--”
“I know, he’d have committed war crimes,” Jake cuts Dom off, his sickened expression making it clear that he doesn’t need to be reminded. 
“Has intel found him yet?” I ask, hoping we don’t have to waste any more time in tracking him down. 
“They don’t have a lock yet, but they are tracking a BMW that came out of Benina half an hour ago. Reports of a blond woman without a hijab and a red-haired man poured in the second they landed.” Rick explains, all of us shaking our head. 
“Muslim majority country and she already sticks out like a sore thumb by being blond, but he didn’t bother to make her wear a hijab? If we don’t get to him, the Libyan police will,” I snort, finding little humor in the recklessness with which Wallace treats the lives of others. Like any good narcissist, he cares only for himself and if others get hurt in the process of him getting what he wants, so be it. 
“They’re going to attract attention no matter what. All of us are. Keep as low a profile as possible, and with any luck, we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow,” Rick adds, all of us hoping for the outcome that’s eluded us since we reunited. 
Our hideout in Benghazi is simple, yet beautiful. Like most places, it’s heavily fortified, a solid metal gate closing behind us and men standing watch on all four corners as we make our way towards something that resembles a Roman villa of old. Outside, the heat hits me and for a second, I’m brought back to the op that nearly took my life, hoping that this time, things will end differently, at least for our team. Max’s cologne brings me back to the present, and I fall in step with him as we make our way into the blissfully cool war room. 
“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do!” Jake enthuses as he takes note of the tea and finger foods laid out on the table. Shaking my head, but nonetheless pleased, I take a seat and let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding. Max’s hand smooths over my hair as he sits next to me, his gaze still eyeing my bruise with concern. It’s endearing to say the least, and not the kind of treatment I’m used to in any part of my life. 
“Okay, fuel up, but pay attention. Intel has an eye in the sky and they’ve found the BMW. We’re tracking him now. Gonna let him get settled in, then we’ll pay him a house call. He’s also traveling light; only two body men and paid local team which means--”
“Which means a bunch of teenage human shields. Fucking great,” I mutter.
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Stephanie Pierce had been dumped half an hour before getting to the airport. Doing her best to save face, she’d made it through security and was intent on getting a little drunk before boarding, if only so she could sleep on the flight. American by birth, she had come to London for school, and had, up until the breakup, been having the time of her life. 
Now it's all spiraling into a nightmare. 
“Please, just let me get back to the airport! I don’t have anything to do with this! I didn’t do anything! I’m just a student! Please!” 
“I can’t do that, darling. For one, you’ve seen my face, and two...Well, you’re my insurance policy. You see, the people that I’m after, they have a soft spot for those they consider innocent. Problem is, no one’s ever truly innocent, are they? No, not even you, dear Stephanie. It only took a few moments for me to do the numbers, so to speak. Young, parents are middle class at best, no real money for school, especially abroad, but here you are in designer clothing, taking vacations whenever it strikes your fancy, and not a dime in debt. Do your parents know what you do on the internet, my darling? Didn’t think so. No, that deep, dark secret won’t be revealed until after you perish, which...will be soon, I’m afraid.” 
Her screams make her captor laugh, almost as though he’s delighted by the reaction. It chills her to the bone. Now she understands that this isn’t some wannabe who hijacked a plane and has no real plan; far from it. Whoever he is, he has calculated each and every move leading up to this point. 
She wishes she could talk to her mom one last time. 
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“Night Train to Alpha, confirm visual.” 
“Alpha to Night Train we have visual. We count 12 signatures, including the hostage. You are a go.”
We’re no stranger to David and Goliath fights, and 12 is on the smaller side of some of the groups we’ve taken on, but no matter the number, we approach this one with extra precaution, only because of Wallace’s M.O. None of us are looking to be anywhere near another one of his bombs. 
The compound he’s made his hideout is run of the mill for this part of the world. Like our own, Wallace’s has high walls, a sturdy gate, and a simple floor plan. It leaves us with two options; come in with a bang, or creep in with a whisper. 
“There’s two gates,” I remind the boys, knowing full well that while they all prefer coming in with as much firepower as possible, it opens the door for Wallace to get away in the commotion, and I, for one, want to end this once and for all. 
“Alpha, how many signatures on the exterior?” Dom asks, all of us hidden in the shadows, waiting for the deciding factor on how we proceed.
“Looks like 2 on the south side, patrolling the far gate. If you’re going in quiet, now’s the time to move.” 
We all nod and immediately get to work. Strapping on my gloves, I grab my wire cutters out of the pocket on my kevlar, and wait until Flip has gotten into position. The tallest of the team, he bends over, providing me with the flat of his back to stand on so that I can cut the razor wire off the top of the wall. Carefully, I peek over the edge, relieved when I find the courtyard empty. Though there are lights on in the compound, every window is covered with an opaque blind, making this way of entering far better suited to our needs. 
I cut enough wire away to allow all the boys to climb over, making sure to throw it away from the compound not only for safety, but to reduce the chances of us being heard. Satisfied that everyone has clearance, I pocket my multitool and quickly hop over, landing softly in the dirt. 
Rick and Benji are quick to follow, the three of us taking up post so that the rest of the guys can come in safely. It takes less than five minutes for all of us to breach the perimeter, and after a moment to regroup, we move towards our target. 
“Alpha, we need your eyes,” Rick whispers, taking point as we position ourselves flush against the nearest wall of the compound. We could clear the place blind, but that increases the chance that someone will sound the alarm as they die, and we can’t take the risk. Though they said they had to wash their hands of it, after Rome, the DOD extended their resources; while they can’t send those currently serving, they can provide a helping hand to those who are willing to risk it all to capture one of our own.
“Two at 3 o’clock, in the first room. There’s two at the back gate you’ll want to handle first.” 
Nodding at one another, we split up. Rick and Dom position themselves at the first room, Flip and Benji take up post across the villa in front of another room, while Max, Jake and I edge around to the back of the compound, intent on taking out the two men guarding the rear gate as silently as possible.
With Jake on one side, Max and I move around to the other side, all of us needing to get eyes on the men. As I predicted, they’re young, but I find cold solace when I see that they’re not teenagers, bought out to act as human shields. Checking my gun, I make sure the silencer is on tightly before leveling it into place to look through my scope. At less than 50 feet, it’s an easy shot; it just has to be timed correctly. Max counts us down using only his fingers, and when the time is right, both Jake and I take double-tap shots, killing the men before they have a chance to make a sound.
Over comms, I can hear Rick and Dom breaching their first room, and as we move back towards the center of the villa, Benji and Flip do the same. My relief grows with every room that’s cleared, the body count growing as we approach the spot where Wallace is holed up with the hostage. 
“Last room has the prize. Good luck, and godspeed.”
The room in question lies at the heart of the villa. Protected on either side by anti-rooms, We have to work our way through two more sets of men before finally being able to come face-to-face with Wallace once again. 
A bright smile is the last thing we expect when we finally level our guns to his head. 
“Nice of you all to finally join me. Thought it would take much less time for Uncle Sam to track me down. No matter, you’re here now, we can get to it. In your haste, I’m afraid none of you noticed...” Wallace’s gaze goes to the floor, and as my own eyes follow, I can’t help but feel my heart sink. My eyes dart quickly to Max and Dom, nausea overcoming me as I find that every single one of us has stepped on a trip wire. 
“It’s like Russian Roulette, except I’m the one holding the gun.”
Wallace’s laugh will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life.
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sanjuno · 5 years ago
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how do you reckon things would change if Obito and Kakashi remembered their past lives as Izuna and Kanna? (And have you given a past incarnation of Rin in the Warring Era?)
… @deverickracoma you mean, like in canon? Huhhhh…
Well first off before Rin was Nohara Rin she was Senju Touka. Which makes this situation super fun because both Izuna and Kanna died before Hashirama strong armed Konoha into existence and Touka only went along with it because Her Stupid Little Cousins Need Some Common Sense. XP
In her lives as both as Touka and as Rin she holds the single (1) braincell for this Disaster Trio.
So Izuna dies via Tobirama’s sword. And then Kanna kinda… revenge rampages with Madara until the critical angst threshold is reached as Kanna just… explodes both theirself and the battlefield. 
There’s a whole lot of background stuff behind the suicide run such as Kanna’s Hatake side suffering from mate-loss depression and their Uchiha side suffering from Makengyou Madness and also Really Bad post-partum depression compounding it and yeah. Unfortunately Madara is just as wrecked from Izuna’s death so he can’t really support Kanna and it all goes to shit because we all know canon is a shitshow.
But anyway Touka is there to see Izuna die and she is well aware that Tobirama has just made a horrible decision driven by unacknowledged jealously and overzealous paranoia. Then Touka barely manages to save Tobirama’s pasty ass from the screaming revenge demon that she later learns was Izuna’s wife. And then Touka stands witness as Hashirama forces peace at sword point.
So Touka is just there like, “Oh for fucks sake we’re all going to die horribly.”
And, of course, Touka was right everything is horrible and everything hurts. 
Only now it’s plot-twist time and Touka, who was investigating certain questionable sources about the ongoing breakdown of social order in Konoha gets killed by Zetsu in order to cause even more tension against the Uchiha in Konoha and hey guess what? Yeah, that’s right Rin remembers the creepy plant-demon thing gloating about stealing Uchiha Madara (aka the only one vaguely strong enough to combat Kaguya at that time given he had naturally manifested the Rinnegan) for his own use before Zetsu killed her in a suspiciously ambiguous manner.
Shit.
Fuck.
Four year old Nohara Rin has a vendetta and the ability to kill a grown man. 
So obviously given that the Plant Demon is trying to kill off the Uchiha using shadowy assassinations and rumour mongering the Plant Demon is afraid of the Uchiha. Ergo the Uchiha are a threat to the Plant Demon otherwise it would confront the Uchiha more openly.
So.
Rin therefore needs to make super-duper ride-or-die best friends forever with at least one (1) Uchiha. And then, on the first day at the Academy, Rin runs into an absolute dork wearing Madara’s face.
Ah. Says Rin, channelling canon!Madara. That One. That’s The One I Need For My Plan To Succeed.
Cue the Rin and Obito Bonding Moment ™ that will repeat as a flashback every time their history is at any point mentioned in the narrative.
As for Obito, well… when he was Izuna he loved his Clan but then when he was reborn he read the Clan Histories from after his death and the public history of Konoha and Obito knows his Clan are a bunch of fucking traitors who stabbed his big brother in the back and that’s why Obito is both disgusted by the Uchiha and overprotective of the Clan’s reputation because Madara still loved their Clan even after they turned on him.
I may include Obito unearthing Madara’s private journals from a hidden cubby in the Naka Shrine that only Izuna would have known to look for. Just for the sake of an extra knife and also so that Obito can find proof of Zetsu’s sabotaging his brother’s mental health. 
Obito is more than a little weepy and sentimental over the fact that Madara honoured Izuna’s last request to the point Madara destroyed himself and his connection to the Clan. Obito can’t blame Madara for giving in when Hashirama forced peace to try and protect the few loyal Clan members who remained. Obito decides to protect Konoha and the Uchiha because he won’t let Madara’s last wish go unfulfilled but he’s going to become the fucking Hokage and tear out all the Senju-inflicted rot infecting his Big Brother’s Dream.
Obito is openly disdainful of the Clan Elders and the only people he even vaguely respects is the Head Family. Mostly because Mikoto is descended from Izuna’s daughter and even though Izayoi married “Tobirama’s student Kagami” she was still his baby girl and Mikoto is his great-grand daughter and he loves her because she’s his family.
Mikoto, Obito, and Shisui are all descendants of Kagami and Izayoi’s kids so they’re second-third cousins. Obito spends a lot of time pondering the overlap of self-care and I-love-my-grandbabies. It’s a fun little exercise in existentialism.
In the meantime Kakashi is still a little shit-disturber of the highest order. Kanna was taught all the fun Uchiha Clan Skills as Izuna’s wife and now Kakashi has learned all the fun Hatake Clan Skills from Sakumo and the little bastard is even more terrifying than canon. Kakashi is more gender-fluid than agender the way Kanna was though which is a fun new flavour of dysphoria-through-reincarnation that I’ll probably enjoy exploring.
Now, this does mean that Kakashi starts wearing his mask before Sakumo gets scapegoated which is a minor yet still significant change from Kakashi’s canon characterization-and-motivations.
So Kakashi blitzes their way through the Academy in like, 6 months because Kakashi has negative chill and an understandably paranoid focus on keeping their dad alive this time around. The only people Kakashi respects are the Military Police and their Dad everyone else can perish. Minato is A Constant Despair because he cannot control this sassy hell child Sakumo-sempai pls tell your son to l i s t e n t o m e.
Sakumo-sempai goes “LOL nope” because Sakumo is also a troll but is better at hiding it than Kakashi is.
So Rin and Obito are BFFs then Kakashi rips through their class like ground lightning and the sparring scene happens but the kickback of Uchiha-memories manifesting as body action means the spar is a familiar dance and so Obito is like “OMG K a n n a” and cue Obito stalking Kakashi like a schoolgirl with an obsessive crush and no concept of personal boundaries.
Enough shenanigans occur to 1. make Team Minato a cohesive and functional thing instead of a train wreck, and 2. keep Sakumo alive because Kakashi recognizes their Dad’s suicidal tendencies for what they are and so they set their ninken up as watchdogs to make sure Sakumo doesn’t do anything stupid. Because Kakashi’s biggest regret is leaving Madara and Izayoi to suffer grief without them and they refuse to let that sort of despair take away anyone they care about again.
So now Team Minato is bonding, and they are friends, and they are all slowly coming to the realization that they all remember their previous lives. So they start to share information and gradually piece together where Zetsu’s influence has been applied as they try to figure out what the Plant Demon’s endgame is.
Which means that Team Minato is 100% more paranoid about mission intelligence than they were in canon and also Rin more than ready to gut the Iwa-nin who tries to kidnap her during the Kannabi Bridge Mission so that’s fun. Team Minato has also made a point system for rooting out moles, spies, and traitors to hand over to T&I. 
Sarutobi had a lovely headache when the knowledge that Sakumo’s mission had been sabotaged “accidentally” got leaked. (Kakashi had given the old man more than enough time to fix the rumour mill so it’s on Sarutobi’s own head that he didn’t take action before Kakashi did.)
Also Team Chaos Gremlins Minato manages to charm Orochimaru over to their camp via one of Obito’s rage fuelled rants about dismantling the hypocritical indoctrination of the institutionalized status quo. Specifically, the fact that the Hokage is supposed to be a public service position voted on by the people who only really has complete executive power during war time. Instead of a unilateral dictator chosen by the previous Hokage’s undisguised bias and favouritism.
Also because they’re all proof of the reincarnation cycle existing. Orochimaru is living his best life especially when Team Minato trash talks the other two Sannin. 
Rin is the Most Offended by Tsunade fucking off and abandoning her responsibilities. Tsunade basically inherited all of Hashirama’s worst traits without any obvious redeeming qualities to balance it out. Because, let’s be honest, the only reason Hashirama got any level of respect is because he was Over Powered to the point of ridiculousness and because Tobirama plus Mito were in charge of his public image.
Kakashi and Obito are both hyper-loyal so having Jiraiya decide to just not come back during wartime and for Tsunade to abandon her responsibilities as a healer and Clan Head has destroyed any possible respect they might have had.
Obviously Orochimaru is the best Sannin so he’s the one they’re going to make friends with. Also they drag Orochimaru back to the Hatake Clan House to commiserate with Sakumo about being the target of a Village wide smear campaign. Which strengthens both Orochimaru and Sakumo’s spirits enough to resist their Bad Endings from canon.
All of this basically allows Team Minato to have the leverage to track down Zetsu’s creeper cave and they find Madara trapped and blinded and leashed to the Gedo Mezo, and Obito nearly has a world-destroying breakdown. Rin stands guard while Obito and Kakashi have a tearful reunion with Madara and there’s a lot of dramatic apologizing and sobbing.
They all know that they can’t leave Madara here with Zetsu, but detaching him means he’s going to die. Eventually Madara makes the decision himself to break the connection because he refuses to be used as a hostage against his little brother. So Madara tells Obito where his eyes are (which means that the Ame trio are going to get kidnapped by Team Minato eventually) plus a run-down of all the subversive plots Zetsu has had a hand in, and then Madara outright smashes the statue.
Normally nothing would be able to destroy the Gedo Mezo given that it’s basically the fossilized corpse of a god but Madara is currently part of it which means that the statue’s defences don’t realize Madara is a threat. So, statue goes boom, the cave starts to collapse, and Team Minato runs away with Madara’s body so they can give him a respectful burial.
Zetsu has approximately ten thousand aneurysms in the space of one (1) second.
From here the kickback really starts to pile up because Obito now makes a habit of dropping in on newborn Uchiha to check and see if Madara’s been reborn yet. Which means that Sasuke has a really invested older cousin hanging around to take Itachi’s place when Itachi make dumb decisions.
Rin is grumpy because basically every Clan who joined Konoha had a bunch of Senju marry into their Clan so finding Hashirama’s reincarnation is basically impossible. (And then, of course, Naruto is born and Rin faceplams 1000 times because of fucking course.)
Kakashi is laughing at both of them. Right up until they take command of Team 7 and notice a hated familiar chakra under the skin of a pink haired little girl. (All three members of Team Minato nearly die laughing because Tobirama is a pink haired little girly girl heeeeee~)
Anyway aside from all the family drama Team Minato also manages to dispose of Danzo and exposes his “plot against the Hokage”, boosting Sakumo’s public image to the point he gets named as the Fourth, fixing the stigma Orochimaru faced despite being the only loyal member of the Sannin, and basically terrorizing Konoha with Political Activism.
Zetsu probably goes a bit around the bend thanks the Team Minato destroying all his hopes and dreams plans. Also they keep putting the pressure on and exposing Zetsu’s schemes and eventually that gains enough momentum that the other Villages are taking a good hard look at shit that’s going down and hey wait w h a t t h e f u c k …
Obito eventually takes over as the Fifth Hokage and tears apart the corrupt government systems like a Tasmanian Devil going through a rotting carcass because Big Brother’s Dream Will Become A Reality B E L I E V E I T !
The End. XP
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crimsonrae · 4 years ago
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A Matter of Degrees
Chapter One
Summary:  Dr. Emil Hamilton had been fascinated by Superman, but not afraid. Five years after his death Clark finds out why.
Clark Kent x OC
Rated: Mature
A/N: I’m not a big Superman fan, but after watching Snyder’s films and Henry, I wanted to explore a more broken/healing Clark. Slowish build on this. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :)
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Somewhere in the California Desert
He wanted to laugh.
It was an inappropriate reaction to the situation at hand, Emil knew this intrinsically, but he still wanted to laugh... mostly in disbelief. He had just watched as an alien and a human were taken hostage - as a Kryptonian spacecraft disappeared back into the sky. More than that, he had watched it happen with an entire platoon of U.S. military personnel. To say that the last few days had been surreal would really just be an understatement of biblical proportions.
He wasn't unaccustomed to weird situations, by any means, but his threshold had definitely just found a new level.
He snorted quietly to himself and focused on the hilarity bubbling in his gut, knowing that if he didn't the panic that lurked beneath would take over. Some part of him was terrified that this whole thing wasn't going to work, that handing over Kal-El – Superman- whatever-his damn-name-was and Ms. Lane was a giant mistake and he felt sick that he had just stood there and let it happen.
"Dr. Hamilton?"
What if General Zon annihilated the Earth anyway? Did he really have what he wanted?
"Dr. Hamilton, sir?"
Emil blinked as a hand grasped his shoulder and began to push him toward a waiting caravan. All around him the soldiers had begun to disperse, following new orders he assumed. General Swanwick ducked his head down and continued to prod the shorter man forward as he spoke hurriedly, "There's nothing for us to do here. We'll get you back to base to monitor the situation...with any luck, this General Zod will head back to whatever Godforsaken planet he came from."
"You really think that's what's gonna happen?" Emil questioned cynically. He wasn't really expecting a response as he clambered into a Humvee and pulled his phone from his pocket.
"I can only hope." The general murmured quietly before disappearing from the scientist's side.
Emil shook his head and dialed a number he knew by heart. He barely noticed when the car lurched forward as he listened to a familiar ring, he had the sinking feeling he would get her voicemail, but that was okay. Another moment past before he heard her voice.
Hi, you've reached Rebecca Hamilton. Leave a message and I'll get back to you when I have a free moment.
Beep.
Abrupt. To the point...yeah, that was his little girl. He smiled faintly, "Hey kiddo, it's been a few days since I've talked to you. I know it's probably nighttime where you're at right now, but I just... I just wanted to talk to you. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen lately or maybe you would. I met a young man that reminded me of you. Well, a young man and a reporter actually...it's a long story. I just want you to know, honey, that I love you and I'm proud of you. Give your old man a call when you get a chance, huh?"
He ended the call and tried not to frown sullenly as he turned his gaze to the passing scenery. The sergeant driving the Humvee shot him a side glance as he curiously asked, "Daughter?"
Emil jerked slightly, not expecting to be pulled from his thoughts as he glanced briefly at his phone, "Yeah...yeah, she um she's working somewhere in Southern Asia right now. Couldn't pronounce the name of the village even if I wanted to."
The sergeant nodded politely, "She a scientist like you?"
Emil huffed a small laugh, "No... no, she's a freelancer. One day she'll be a tour guide for some cruise-line, the next she's trekking through a jungle as a research assistant. She has this blog about her travels, it seems to keep her fed."
The sergeant raised a brow, "That's exciting...and worrying, I bet, for a father."
"Like you wouldn't believe." The doctor muttered ruefully, "She's always had my curiosity, but sometimes I wish she had gotten her mother's instead. Andrea was more inclined to sate her curiosity with books in a library. I was always the one that needed to be on-site somewhere. Becky got that from me and I'm sure somewhere Andi's laughing at the many heart attacks that our daughter has given me as a result."
The sergeant chuckled quietly as he navigated them through the base's gates, "I think that's just a child's prerogative, Dr. Hamilton."
"You're probably right." Emil agreed warmly as he thought of his daughter, he could practically see her mischievous smirk, "You have kids?"
"Two. A boy and a girl." The sergeant answered with a proud grin, "My girl just turned six and she bullies her big brother something awful.
He pulled up before a plain stucco building and slid a photo from his inside pocket to hand to Emil.
"Old school. I like it." The sides were crinkled, but it was a photo that probably went everywhere with the man. Two cherubic faces peered back at him and Emil smiled, "They're beautiful."
He clicked the side button of his phone to show the sergeant the photo acting as his wallpaper. It was him and Rebecca before she had disappeared off for lands unknown again. She had wrapped an arm around his neck as she made him take a selfie with her. It had been a good day.
"I break my phone on a regular basis. Photo's easier to keep around." The sergeant explained as he took Emil's phone and raised a brow, "You guys must be close."
Emil shrugged as they swapped back, "It's just been the two of us for a long time. She's my world, even when she's on the other side of it."
He slid his phone back into his pocket as he pushed the car door open and stepped outside. He leaned back in and offered his hand, "Thanks for the ride Sergeant...Haskell. It's been nice chatting with you."
"Aaron Haskell, sir. And you as well." Haskell replied taking the offered hand.
Their conversation was mundane at best, but Emil recognized it for what it was- a brief distraction from the horror the world had become in the past forty-eight hours. That there is still a possibility of there being no tomorrow. The two parted ways from there and Emil drifted through the next few hours as he watched the screen in the situation room. General Zod was still hovering outside Earth with no word from either Ms. Lane or Superman.
It was just as a faint buzzing vibrated through his pocket that movement was detected on the screen. Emil bit his lip as his daughter's face flashed across the screen of his phone and he glanced once more at the group of tensely strung soldiers and scientists. They could do without him for a few minutes. If this was the world ending, he was damn well going to talk to his daughter.
"Hey, kiddo. Give me one second." Emil said hurriedly as he moved for the hall. No one paid him much attention, their eyes still glued to the screen.
"Hey, Dad." Rebecca said tiredly once he was settled somewhere somewhat privately, "I didn't like that message you left...it sounded too final... too goodbye-ish. You're okay, right?"
A fond smile crossed his lips, "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm fine. I'm just missing you. I wish you were here. What are you doing up? It must be late there."
"Super early actually. Are you sure, you're okay? I've seen the news, Dad." He heard her sigh quietly, "Aliens exist – the world may be ending. And I'm guessing that you're probably in the middle of it."
"You get news in the jungle?"
"Dad."
"Becky -" He started calmly, to anyone else they would have heard a weary, but confident young woman, but he heard the fear, the worry in his little girl.
"Don't tell me, you don't know what's going on, Dad." A dryly amused lilt entered her tone, "You seem to forget I know who you work for and that you have a tendency of leaving classified files on the kitchen table. I know what a big mucky-muck you are over there... Just tell me you're safe, okay?"
"I'm safe. I promise." He shook his head in exasperation, "I'm surrounded by guys with guns, can't get any safer."
"Yeah, right." She murmured quietly and he could almost picture her tugging at the necklace she always wore, "I've changed my flight. I'll be home the day after tomorrow."
"Oh, sweetheart, no. You were supposed to be in Nakhomi Ticakwok for another month. Don't cut your trip short, this is nothing." He cringed both relieved that she was coming home, but hating what was bringing her back enough to protest.
"Oh God, Dad, you weren't even a little bit close. Just say Malaysia, it'll keep you out of trouble." She muttered as she stifled a laugh, "And if it's nothing, then Malaysia isn't going anywhere. I can always come back."
"Becky..." He sighed.
She huffed on the other end, sounding for a moment just like her mother, "You know I hate it when you call me that."
Emil rolled his eyes, "You know, there was a time you hated being called Rebecca."
"That's because it usually meant I was in trouble, but I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. Becky is a name for a little girl with pigtails and the tendency of being covered in dirt."
"Yeah well, you're my little girl, no matter how old you get and I bet you all the money in my wallet that you have your hair in braided pigtails right now and are covered in dirt."
Emil grinned at the stymied silence from the other end of the line. She was probably checking herself over, but he knew his daughter.
"...It's not dirt, it's clay." She stated defiantly and he snorted.
"Twenty-seven years old and still a walking tornado." He murmured affectionally, "Don't you ever change, kiddo."
"Yeah, yeah." She muttered quietly, "Tell me about this guy you mentioned in your message. You said he reminded you of me."
Emil swallowed a sigh as he looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was listening to him. Even still, he cordoned himself into a small side office, "He's... special, honey. Kinda like you. He can do things that quite frankly are astounding."
"Ah, you mean he's a freak like me."
"You're not a freak." Emil rebuked tiredly, "Being different, doesn't make you a freak."
"Hmm."
He knew the apathetic grunt was her placation for him, but it set his teeth on edge, "You're not a freak."
"Dad, just move on." Rebecca murmured quietly, it was an argument and an old one.
This time he let the sigh come, "He's strong and he was putting on this determined front for me and the General, but I could see he was worried, scared. All I wanted to do was tell him it was going to be okay, but I couldn't. Made me think of you. How brave you are, how strong..."
There was a moment of silence and then she asked, "Was this the alien? Did you guys find him?"
"Becky -"
"You did." She breathed, "Holy shit... Dad, do you think my abilities are-"
"You're human, Rebecca Josephina. I watched your mother give birth to you and there is no doubt that I'm your father, so don't even go there."
"Oh, the full name. Haven't gotten that in a while."
Emil rolled his eyes, "Oh kid, you're gonna be the death of me."
She snickered lightly before asking quite solemnly, "How'd you know he was scared?"
"Father's instinct." He murmured just as the door to the office swung open.
A bright-eyed tech peered at him worriedly, "Dr. Hamilton. You're needed in the sit -room."
Emil nodded and watched the tech run off as he sighed again, "Listen, honey, I have to go, but I'm glad I got to talk to you today."
"Me too."
"I love you so much, kid."
"I love you too. Dad, be safe please." Her voice sounded so small, despite the steadiness of it and he frowned.
"That goes both ways. I'll talk at ya later." Emil stated softly as he listened to her parting and quickly end the call.
It wasn't until hours later when Emil was aboard the C-17 and his fingers were reaching to push down the key that he thought back to his daughter. To the last words of their call. He prayed that this hairbrained scheme worked and it would save the world and his little girl, because it sure as hell wasn't going to save him.
Goodbye, kiddo.
Next Chapter
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terrorhqs · 4 years ago
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[tw: blood, major character death]
A week after the takeover, the Promethean is well on its way to finish its trek. Cutting through calm and complacent waters, the crew and guests note that the ice that had once held them hostage has dissipated overnight with the dark and the gloom. Perhaps the deaths of the soldier and the girl sated the beast, some whisper — it’s leaving us alone. No, their comrade scoffs. Too easy. You heard the French - the thing killed a boatload of them before it left them alone! Two people are nothing but crumbs to it. It’ll be back.
“You’re all buffoons”, another chimes in. “The Agathe? Mutineers all along. It’s as Estrada said. They killed their crew and are killing ours too.” 
Amid the new tension borne of the mutiny, suspense heavy as wool hangs over the ship as it resumes its course. Lookouts are silent as they watch the ice, dread fraying their nerves, the same thought trawling across their conscience. Surely, it will reappear. After everything, it will come back.
But nothing parts the ocean, not even the breeze. An uneasy quiet descends upon the ship as those with an interest in completing the passage outnumber those who seek to return now that the waters promise an easy journey. An end to all of this is feasible — the only question remains: will all that’s been lost have been worth it? Is there any end that justifies the means?
It’ll be weeks, months yet before the Promethean reaches Hong Kong, but a call rings out in the midst of the morning. Wick and Bastien, high atop and on lookout, wave down wildly at the deckhands below. 
“Land! Land ahead!”
A seaman relays the message, bursts into the captain’s quarters where Marcus waits, in covenant with Hugo. Both men snap their heads at once, when they see the rallied cry that’s being picked up among the ranks. Both men, yes, to the slack curl of their jaw, can hardly credit it. It cannot be, their dark eyes say, pupils flashing. Even down to their mannerism, they have begun to look the same. 
“Land, sir. Lookout’s caught sight of land. Of a city - and its harbor!”
The vice-admiral-made-captain starts in his seat, brow furrowing, skeptical. “You’re joking. Even you must have looked at a map, we’ve got quite a way before even—”
“I swear it!” In his haste, he doesn’t mind his manners. As frantic as anyone’s ever seen, even Estrada cannot deny the truth from his eyes. “The lads are calling for you up-deck, Sir. The whole world is. A port awaits us.”
The rest of those onboard join the watch on the upper deck, curious clamoring seizing even those under the watchful eye of a musket barrel. There is no mistaking it - an oceanside city perched on low, rocky stone worn by lapping waves is clear through the spyglass. Slender, shimmering buildings of white spiral towards the sky in spires; others buildings are lower to the ground, and all are built with the same stone upon which the city sits and all are half-hidden behind a mist. 
“Make plans to dock.”
“Don’t stand up, Dowling. It’s only me. I come bearing news.”
Silence. In the space between the bottom of the floor and the door, Malachy’s silhouette shifts. 
“Too much of a coward to face me, Estrada?” Ragged voice tears through the air like a dagger, muffled through the door. “State your peace and leave.”
“Is that an order, captain?” A humorless, hollow laugh. “This is a gesture of goodwill, Dowling. I’d mind yourself until I’ve said what I’ve come to say.” He pauses. Perhaps to hide his own disbelief. Perhaps to spite Malachy. “We’ve fucking crossed it, Dowling. We think we’ve found the passage and we’ve found a way through. Hell, we might have already crossed it. We’ve got a city in sight and we’re making plans to dock in their harbor.”
A long pause. “No. No, that can’t be. It’s far too soon. A week, that’s not enough.”
“Say it as much as you want. By the time we lay anchor, you can come see for yourself. I reckon, see, that it won’t even be a day. As a truce, I’ll let you out—supervised, of course, and never too far from my sight. But freedom, Dowling. You’re to partake in it as well.”
“Thrilled, are you?” A soft thump on the other side of the door as Malachy leans against it. “How neatly this all transpires for you as soon as you seize the helm. Should’ve mutinied sooner, I bet you’re thinking.”
“Not here to question it. For your sake, I hope you don’t either.”
— 
Up close, the mist that cloaks the city shifts with every step taken. Appearing transparent once, then cloudy with a thin, greenish film next, then shimmering with an opalescent, abalone sheen. It is cold, but not cold enough for the thick coats that have proven imperative for standing outside in the Arctic. A strange humidity permeates the air - it is thin and thick, at once, and one feels a shortness and a swelling in every inhale - not painful, nor is it natural. The luster visible from the sea is procured from shells embedded into the foundation of every building, in between the stone and plaster - old and weathered, they glint in the light that parts through the mist. Perhaps the first thing that can be glimpsed, like a maroon carpet of colour, is the red sands on the eastward beach. Ground to a fine point, blanketing uniformly around the village until the paved streets begin to stretch on, it resembles a carpet of leaves or clipped gems as much as a natural phenomenon.
No other ships are docked at the silent harbor. Cobblestone lines the path up the crumbling seawall and into the city where townsfolk mill about in the marketplaces and town square, a vast space eclipsed by grand, towering edifices - a spindly cathedral demarcated by an unfamiliar brass symbol of the very tallest of its spires; an ancient, squat tavern; an inn with patrons streaming in and out like shoals; a surfeit of various shops of every variety, marked not by words or names, but by images painted into the overhanging signs. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, one realizes there is an absence of gas lamps that dotted London in abundance. Instead, white wax candles spill over every ledge, every crook and cranny, their bases melted into the stone and bedrock and wood. 
Townsfolk cast strange, curious glances at these newcomers, but their gazes never linger long before they carry on with their businesses. The accents are implacable, though they speak English - not even a mishmash of any known dialects, but entirely unfamiliar. Not even the Promethean’s most well-traveled guests can narrow their tongue or the origin of their accents down. 
The shops and inns here refuse currency - one takes what they need, and they carry their debt with them until it's repaid, metaphorically or literally. 
— 
Malachy emerges from the boiler room a fragmented man, gaze trained on the multiple barrel ends that follow his every movement. Every breath he takes lifts his entire body in a heaving pulse-thrum. Hair unkempt and eyes wild with animal fury, his lips lift into a sneer as he finds Marcus in the crowd of muskets.
“Is this where I’m supposed to thank you for your mercy, Estrada?” He appraises the armed crew. “And your lackeys, for their restraint?” 
“Chin up, Dowling.” The vice-admiral’s lips curl into a grimace. “Even you cannot deny this good fortune. Certainly this justifies some of the trouble.”
“It justifies nothing. If you’re wise, you’ll not let me out of your sight.”
No more is exchanged between the two men before Malachy is ushered up the main ladderway, up to the upper deck and onto the dock, one armed escort in front and behind him. The rest of the crew begin to disembark, all who aligned with Malachy closely followed by another who wasn’t. 
The dock creaks beneath their feet, and the procession is slow, tentative, upon reaching this new port. Everything is familiar, and yet nothing is - not even the screech of a gull to announce their arrival.
Then, a scream, feral and hoarse. 
Behind them, Jules takes advantage of the momentary awe and sweeps the legs of her captor, knocks them into the harbor waters. A musket fires. The narrow dock doesn’t allow much in the way of room, and those who have not yet made it out of the ship clamber back on. Captors shout for their captives to STAND STILL, MOVE BACK down into the lower deck, but the chaos and the overlapping shouts overpower them. Smaller squabbles break out as the rest milk the opportunity given to them by Jules’ commotion. Ahead of them all, Malachy slams himself into the guard in front of them, tackling them both to the ground. His second escort scrambles for a clear shot, musket trembling - only to lurch back, struck in the shoulder. Behind him, Ephraim had broken free and wrestled the gun from his warden, his aim true then and now as he holds it steady on Malachy’s escort, who wordlessly surrenders his own weapon to Malachy. 
On the boat, chaos descends. Roi has easily overtaken his guard, pinning them to the side of the boat. Before he can hurl them into the water, Mariah throws himself onto his back, pinning the steward’s neck into the crook of his elbow. A flash of silver in his free palm - but then Laurents is on him, twisting their arm back until the knife drops to the ground with a clatter, and drives his fist into the mercenary’s gut, allowing Roi the chance to break free. Elias dives for the dagger and slashes at the ankles of Fahra’s guard, who had her wrists firmly in their grip. He cuts deep, cuts an unthinkable and irreparable gash over both calves; enough to maim, perhaps, if another one of Estrada’s hounds had not stepped in. The second man, bigger, wrangles the steward into a deathgrip. They both take the fall, tumbling several paces across the teak. In the somersault, the snowfall of movement and limbs, Ayla Dowling steps in with a lifeline. A physical rope, no time for metaphor, no time for anything but the hard gnashing of the present. The doe loops the rope around the guard’s neck, and, with a vicious tug that no one would’ve wagered on, pulls him off Elias and onto the planks. She waits no second before helping Elias up, and together they join Jack, the sergeant’s dagger blocking Violet’s aim on August.
Some paces away, Noemie leads the rest of the Agathe survivors through the skirmish and off the ship - they start down the docks, but Katja blocks their way, and it’s her musket to their none. She grabs Tristan by the arm, presses the musket to his stomach - if you want him alive, you’ll do as I say. A gun close by goes off, causing all of them to flinch. In that instant, Nyima breaks from the hostage group to lunge at Katja. The two scuffle, until Nyima gets a grip at the barrel of the musket, shoves it into the air - it goes off. Tristan tries to pin Katja down, and she hisses, points the gun at him - Nyima yanks the barrel back. It goes off again - whether by accident or as a result of the scuffle or by intention, it finds its mark. 
A wail cuts through the air, and for a moment, the bedlam stills. Nyima clutches a weeping wound on her chest, collapsing into Tristan’s arms. Ever the protectress, she is restless still even with her grievous wound, tries to force herself before the rest of the Agathe survivors as they fall to her side. This is one of the last attempts, the last slingshots of action in her muscles and spirit: to interpose between her friends and Katja. The translator backs away, wide-eyed, but still in possession of her wits - weapon poised to fire again if they tried to seek retribution. 
“Call Jonathan! Casimir! Help her!” Emma begs to no one in particular. She is quick to kneel, had already torn off half the scarves she was wearing, and is pressing dry palms, wet cloth, crimson sash to Nyima’s blooming chest. The petal spreads, swallows the entire front of the amulet’s dress. For all her time spent in gardens, for all that she turned stem and stalk to see the wonders of the world, this is a flower Emma cannot understand. Cannot weed out, or stall, or even conceive of. The blood flows, pours, goes over easy; a swell like the motion of waves, on what was once a ferocious, then a frozen, now an utterly becalmed sea. Nyima’s hand raises to Emma’s cheek, and, like the curl of a gentle claw, wraps around the jawline. Tristan falls to her other side. She whispers something to both of them, a voice that doesn’t carry, a wisp already flattened into velvet by the winds. Then she presses her own face into Tristan’s thigh. Her Judas, her Captain; it’s hardly appropriate, isn't’ it, that he’s the one that has been betrayed again—that he’s the one left behind. Perhaps this is why the cook smiles to him, last. To assure, as much as assuage. To promise there is another turn to this story, even as her own is already fading. 
By now, Malachy and his officers and Marcus and his loyalists have found the source of commotion and gathered, wordlessly. Jonathan weaves through to reach Nyima - there’s shifting, the subtle sounds of men taking aim,  and Ephraim immediately raises his gun to Marcus. It takes his own Captain’s voice to make him lower it, hip level, eyes murderous.
“Let them go. Let her…” Malachy pauses, swallowing through his hoarseness. There is no doubt as to the injury’s severity - the bleeding has not abetted, thick rivulets seeping through Emma’s fingers and pooling on the fallow ground. Malachy Dowling was a man of many wounds; some borne within, some hidden, but most of all witnessed. He knows what a death mark looks like. Nyima’s body is a canvass of carnage.
Not much for Jonathan to do, no, not much for anyone to do at all. Doing has led them here; the rough, loud, prideful fall of it. The impossible tally. The Captain, the former Captain, rises his voice once more. “Let them care for her in peace. You’ve had the upper hand, and now - now neither of us do.”
It’s Tristan’s cry that announces it; the death, the finality. Emma’s face is as white as the sky above them. Hands as rusty as the sands on this beach, on this strange place of salvation. Ayla and Noemie huddle closer to lift her up, lift her away from Nyima, but she won’t go. It seems no one is going anywhere, anymore — the whole possibility of it has been culled. Bones resting as slack as burlap; as unconscious as the flotsam left after a flood. 
Behind him, Edward and Jaya usher those they knew to be aligned with the old command off the docks and into the city. Marcus watches, impenetrable, his own musket held limp at his side, unmoving, unspeaking. 
Then he extends a hand to Katja, like a faraway tyrant, the stone hewn statue of one, calling home its acolytes. He waits until the thief, once-translator, now trembling toll paid in blood, comes into his shadow. Lays a hand on her shoulder, protective and proprietary all at once. Lays a gaze, then, like the snag of a chain; drags it over all of them that remained up deck. Only then he begins to speak.
“So that is how these things end: the pointless brutality of it. Man’s obsession to keep a code of honour that has long stopped serving. Has everyone seen it, looked their fill? Good. I am nothing if not prophetic, hm? Now. Now. Let us make sure no other prediction of mine will see the garrish, gruesome light of day. Have you all had enough of mutiny and cockfights? Are you ready to make something of your life?”
His body turns to the rest of the crew, a full recoil, almost a repose.
“Seems to me this is as good a place to start as any.” 
To his own, Malachy offers his own words. Exhaustion permeates his words, weighs them heavy as lead - the fight is over, all there is left to do is rest. Regroup. Loss, they all know by now, regardless of their alignment, is consumptive. It eats and it steals and it offers nothing in return. “Let us not forget the dangers that have led us here. Betrayals. Mutinies. Guns at our heads as we lived and slept. A beast that knows not of compassion nor mercy. Just because we are alive does not mean we are safe - do not let your guard down. Rest, and we will regather. Salvation, whether it be here, or home, awaits us in unity.”
OOC: We hope you enjoyed today’s plot drop, lovely members and lurkers! The Promethean has landed in strange new lands where nothing is at it seems, with tension aboard boiling over into a chaotic climax. The crew has mostly dispersed into the city, with each side of the mutiny looking to gain their bearings and regain control. 
A poll will be posted in the discord so that you can choose if your muses retreated with Malachy Dowling or stayed anchored with Marcus Estrada. Please remember that everyone who helped Mal/Jules stage the insurgency is no longer a crew member. However, if your character has motives for staying (a loved one, a status as double agent, suddenly undecided etc.) you are welcome to have them remain on the Promethean. Just be sure to keep us up to date if any major loyalties have shifted, and, as always, to have a blast writing & plotting through these little rats’s conflicts. 
There is, of course, much to explore in this nameless port city, including NEW LOCATIONS, listed below, and new NPCs with which to interact as sideblogs. These will be ran by the admin team: K., Venli, and Rhi, and will be strangers to the rest of the crew, each bringing their own motives, mysteries, and intricacies into the interaction. Keep an eye out for the follow post within the next few days! More locations will also be added as the plot and exploration of the area progresses. As of now, THE CAPTAIN is an active muse and may interact with the rest of the characters. Have fun, and happy writing!
AT HANGMAN’S TRINKETS.  
At the other end of the port, pushed far enough from the seaside that it almost looks like any other village, splays the tight, narrow venue of the store. If most buildings on the docks look comely, a peace that alludes to most corners of the world where the ocean laps the shore, this one has a marked touch to it. It draws the eye, the firm painted a gaudy russet, as red as the sands that litter the eastward beach. Despite its hue, the sign has been battered into something closer to dried blood by the gale, and the marks on it are illegible. Could be any human language, or not at all. Perhaps what makes the shop stand out even more is the absence resounding in the harbour. The maroon posts are entirely devoid of any other ship, not even small fishing vessels anchored at half-length on the wharf. It should make the Promethean loom, but instead it diminishes it; could be soothing, could be dangerous, the way the quiet waves knock it about, with very few inhabitants coming to stare at it, to help tie it to the pier, or even to barter. Yet there is plenty of bartering to be done further inland. The rest of the expanse might be barren, but the shop is bright and bundled up, like an old woman sat by the fire. A string of fairy lights are hung over it in a diagonal row, the sash of it lolling slack enough to catch a taller sailor’s head and dapple it with warmth. At the counter, a young, plucky clerk spreads their arms in welcome. Behind them, vials, jars, and tinkling bottles litter the entire front wall. It is such a kaleidoscope of size and color that any customer might be more dazzled than tempted to purchase. From camphor oil to whale teeth necklaces, from silk handkerchiefs  to beads of black glass, everything seems ready to be displayed, bartered, and doubted. The clerk is nothing but exhilarated to have someone to talk to at last. Their bronze face is dappled with the hanging lights, and a nose ring stretches from their septum to their ear. That golden chain makes them look both older and younger at once — as they chuckle and lapse into chatter, already ready to soak up all the information visitors might bestow, it becomes more and more difficult to gauge their age. Or their intentions…. How much will you share?
HIGHWAYMAN’S REST.
Perhaps the most striking front belongs to the port’s hotel, a polished three-tiered complex that occupies the main street. Oddly enough, despite the fact that the port seems all but deserted, the building has the most upkeep in the area. The outer walls are painted olive green, in a stark contrast with the houses’ cream-colored front and the greyed, saltwind-bitten outstretches of wood along the pier. The double doors allow a glimmer of light to cross the threshold, since its glass panels are painted with scenes that resemble the stained glass on churches and temples all over the world. Once inside, the vista opens on a waiting room decked with paintings and sculptures, with works of art that don’t seem to resemble anyone in particular. In order to ring the receptionist’s bell, you have to wrangle your hand through a number of small statutes. One bust on the receptionist’s counter, reads king sylvester stuart. Another, an effigy that seemed carved in filigree, depicts josephine robespierre.  On the usual, there is no one in the waiting room, and no noises pour from above. For all intents and purposes, it feels as if the entire establishment is deserted; or perhaps never used in the first place, simply spruced, polished, and displayed for the hollow beauty of it. On the fourth clanger of the bell, the receptionist finally walks into view. A door in the wall opens, and they step through with a merry gait, not allowing anything to be glimpsed behind them. At once, they are ready to sort the visitor with the best sets of chambers for their disposition. They try to strike up a conversation, one hand already on the ledger, and do not even presume to ask for money until after the end of the stay. Their demeanor might almost foster the sense of a homecoming; only their remarks, and the parental, proprietary style of their speech, makes it feel more like a transaction instead. For all the luxury that defines the hotel, a visitor may wonder if, in fact, they’re being sold something else underneath. However, after such a long journey of darkness and water, who can say no to even a few hours in an ivory bedroom—for a dalliance, a tumble into unconsciousness, or just to experience the decadent beauty of those who’ve had easier lives?
THE SIREN’S SORROW. 
Coming up from the docks, the hard-teak stairs lead into a bulky tavern, a building more squat than inviting, which carries a barrack’s efficiency about it. The place’s foundation looks rooted into the scaffolding itself, the moldy, barnacled pillars somehow supporting the weight of the place. At the ground level, the dingy, round windows open up into the street, but it’s difficult to peer through the grime crusted over the glass pannels. At the upper level, which the two-storied construction seems to be bowled over, the blinds are drawn shut, their velvet dusted a bile-yellow even from afar. Yet through it all, what actually grabs the visitor’s by the throat, is the strange allure of the place. Not a disparaged charm, mind you—most of these sailors have spent their pay and day in shindigs far worse than this. It is not much, in way of grotesque, just as it is not much in way of poetry. But a certain shimmer permeates throughout, like mist gathering over the shingles, and it renders the place noble and faraway. One might almost expect to see a lighthouse cave around it. When the doors open, the interior is low-ceilinged and vast, the chambers burrowing further than the outside lets on. Depending on how the sunlight, which is still paltry further off the Arctic glare, the main room of the tavern looks both too hollow and too overcrowded, all at once. Truth be told, no one can be certain if it’s not the most beautiful place they’ve ever seen; if only because it peals out to a sense of humanity, a sense of being rooted down. It takes a while to realize that the humanity, for all its urgency, is slightly skewed at the corner. Takes a while to gather up the questions, rather than just gawk at a bar stool that isn’t nailed down into the ship’s timber floor; at a glass that isn’t canister, but actual earthenware, tangible and frail. When the questions do gather, the barkeep is there for the tending. Jaded, old, he seems to have borne both the glow and the gloom of the place, allowed it to mantle them from brow to navel. They seem, also, like the kind of man who has heard a story for every life the sailors wished upon, for every lie they cast over dice. What will you ask him?  
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thepeanutbutterwizard · 5 years ago
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Back on my AU making BS!
Edit: (Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)
I was finally able to watch A:TLA for the first time in my life (I haven’t finished the series yet, I’m on mid-S2, on Tales of Ba Sing Se) and I was, of course, struck by an A:TLA/Ninjago au. So I’m gonna talk about it.
So the FSM is the Firelord (He’s like an Ozai/Azulon combo) bc screw him. Omega is his dad and was the one who started the war. The war goes about the same as in A:TLA, with the Air Nomad genocide. Garm and Wu are the two Fire Nation princes (both are benders), until Garm basically pulls a Zuko and gets himself banished. Haven’t decided if I want the circumstances for Garm to be the same as they were for Zuko (speaking out in a war room meeting and the Agni Kai and all that) or if Garm ends up with a scar (it wouldn’t be exactly like Zukos if I do end up giving him one, but it will be very noticeable) but he is sent away on the same wild goose chase after the Avatar.
(Side-note, in this world the Air Nomad Avatar was killed in the genocide, and at least one Avatar has lived and died completely unaware they were the Avatar. Y’all can probably guess where I’m going with this. Shush.)
So Garm, a traumatized disgraced teenager, sets out to find the Avatar. It goes about as well as you all have probably guessed. I debated over whether or not to give Mystake an Iroh-like role, but ultimately decided against it. Years go by, and Garm does eventually realize that his father gave him a fools errand, but what else is he supposed to do? He cant go back to the Fire Nation, and if he tries to go anywhere else he’ll be imprisoned and killed bc he’s y’know a Fire Nation royal. So he just stays on the boat, and actually ends up befriending a new, very young crew member (only a few months older than Garm when he gets assigned to the ship. They’re like, 17ish at this point), a Fire Bender named Ray.
And then, when they’re sailing near the South Pole, a huge storm hits. Ray, who can’t swim, gets knocked overboard, and Garm, being an impulsive, ride-or-die idiot who just got a friend for the first time since he was banished, jumps after him. They get swept away, and are presumed dead by the rest of the crew on the boat, which returns to the Fire Nation with the news that the Prince and a crew member have perished. If we’re being honest, the crew should have spent enough time around Garm to know he’s too stubborn to die.
Garm and Ray make it to the Southern Water Tribe. And by that I mean they wash up on the shore of the Southern Water Tribe half drowned and frozen and clinging to consciousness. The Southern Water Tribe isn’t as decimated as it is in A:TLA since the war hasn’t been going on for a whole century and the men haven’t gone off to fight and there are still some waterbenders, but it isn’t nearly as prosperous as the Northern Water Tribe. The two boys are found by Maya, a waterbender, and her friend Koko, a nonbender who has a fascinating backstory I’ll get to eventually. 
(I’m going to make this worlds Misako/Koko a sort of mashup of her show and movie versions, which basically means Koko but she likes history and archaeology and she has glasses. There are glasses in A:TLA, right?)
So Maya and Koko find Garm and Ray, two half dead Fire Nation soldiers, and don’t know what to do. Bc they’re Fire Nation, but they’re injured and there doesn’t seem to be any other soldiers, and looking closer they cant be much older than the girls are, and crap I don’t think that ones breathing!
Maya saves Ray while Koko easily holds an injured Garm back bc he doesn’t know what she’s doing but she can’t possibly be helping him, can she? Things are at an awkward standstill at that point, bc Garm and Ray don’t want to be taken to the tribe, but even if they were in any shape to fight they wouldn’t exactly last long in the South Pole without any supplies, and there’s no way the girls are going to let them just, go free, so the boys get tied up and awkwardly walked back to the village.
There’s a period of chaos in the village as they try to figure out what to do with Garm and Ray. Garm is completely honest about how they got there (banished Prince, Avatar hunt, storm, etc. He doesn’t mention that his father straight up mutilated him tho) bc he thinks that he an Ray have a better chance of not being killed if he lets everyone know that they haven’t actually done anything in the war. Garms been on a boat sailing in circles for like, five years, and even though Ray was trained to be a soldier he was sent straight to Garms ship instead of into combat.
Some people want to hold them hostage, some people want to chuck them out and let the elements take care of them, some people want to straight up kill them. Eventually its just decided by the chief (mb that Sorrla lady from the Never Realm in S11?) that the boys are just going to be kept as prisoners and kept under constant supervision. After all, they have no idea if the Fire Nation has written Garm and Ray off as dead like Garm is sure that they have, and killing a Fire Nation Prince, banished or not, could bring a world of hurt down on the already hurting tribe.
So Garm and Ray are under constant supervision, banned from firebending under any circumstance, and basically put to work helping the village. Years go by. Ray and Garm learn about how the war has been hurting the world, and realize all the propaganda that they were being feed since they were young, and that the Fire Nation and Garms family especially are kinda the bad guys. And as the tribe members (and Maya and Koko especially) get to actually know these two Fire Nation boys, they learn that yeah the Fire Nation as a whole is kinda terrible, but its full of people who are under a tyrannical regime where not even the Crown Prince is safe from the wrath of the Firelord. And these guys are actually pretty good guys considering where they’ve come from!
Eventually Garm and Ray go from being captives to being a part of the tribe. There are still some people who never trust them, but overall they just get adopted by the Southern Water Tribe. And yes, Garm and Ray marry Koko and Maya.
I know that more stuff goes down in the Southern Water Tribe with Katara and Sokka’s mom, the Southern Raiders, and Hama and stuff like that, but all i know is from vague Tumblr osmosis bc I haven’t gotten to that part in A:TLA, but when I do I will revise this part of the au as I see fit. I’m probably going to avoid killing Maya bc I like her.
Life is as good as it can be during a war. At any sign that anyone from the Fire Nation could show up Garm and Ray hide bc they dont want to risk being recognized. And you guessed it, when the kids finally come around, Kai is a firebender, and Nya is a waterbender. I’m also making them Irish twins. Lloyd is three years younger than them. The men of the tribe go off to fight, and Ray goes with them. Garm wanted to go, but the risk of him being recognized as the dead Fire Nation Prince was too much of a risk, so he stayed in the village. 
(I might come up with something to get rid of Maya and Koko without killing them, but idk right now)
More time passes, and when Lloyd is about 10 they find out that he can waterbend to when he was trying to copy Nya. But wait, Garm is Fire Nation, and Koko was originally from the Earth Kingdom, Lloyd shouldn’t be able to waterbend. And then Lloyd accidentally kicks up a small windstorm.
And thats when Garm realizes that he’s finally found the Avatar.
(I’m gonna make a part two bc this got long and I have more to say.)
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ariainstars · 5 years ago
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Star Wars: Fatalism Against the „I Wish” Moment
Here it goes again, the question as to why The Rise of Skywalker sucked. Sigh. It just can’t leave me alone, can it?
After the first two chapters, honestly, I was expecting the sequel trilogy to become as good (or almost) as the original one. But precisely the last chapter set the seal on one of its worst problems: the lack of agenda. 
I love musical theatre. And one of its most beautiful sides is that it teaches you so much about storytelling. Now what makes a story, a character truly compelling? The conflict. Without a conflict, something that has to shift the narrative from A to D going through B and C, nothing makes sense. And in a good story, the conflict is set up right from the start. We meet someone and we are supposed to identify with them due to their agency. 
  Heroes With An Agenda 
To name an example, there is “Into the Woods”, one of my favorite musicals which retells some classic fairy tales with own interpretations and unexpected twists; and it opens with an iconic ensemble number called “I Wish”. (If you’re unfamiliar with it, you might want to check out the 2014 film.) We get to know a bunch of people who all want something, and we follow them through the narrative as some of them get their wish (though not exactly the way they expected it); then are confronted with the backlash, the consequences, the price to pay for the things they wanted. 
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With Star Wars now belonging to Disney, it is only legitimate to make a few comparisons with Disney movies.
In The Little Mermaid, Ariel’s song is “Part of That World”, setting up her character as someone who wants for something that fascinates her: the world of humans.
Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, wants to leave his tower and live among other humans, even if only in for a day.
Belle from Beauty and the Beast is introduced to us explaining how she wishes to explore the world outside of the small village she’s living in.
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A somewhat disappointing Disney heroine was Merida in Brave: despite the films’ title, the story fails at making its protagonist compelling due to her lack of agenda. Merida knows what she does not want, i.e. becoming like her mother, because she’s a different kind of girl: but she does not know what she actually wants from life. It is quite fitting that in the end she manages to restore and improve the relationship to her mother but does not really change her, or her family’s or her kingdom’s situation. Merida does not grow up. Her story is nice enough, but not really compelling.
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Disney “princesses” are often criticized for wanting nothing but a partner from life, and sometimes settling down with a man even if that was not their main goal at the start. But we have e.g. Moana, a girl who wants to help her family and her people and to restore balance in nature. Not surprisingly, her story is interesting and convincing.
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Antiheroes With An Agenda 
Perspective is hugely important for a narrative: authors can use it in order to manipulate the audience’s perception of a story in order to make us identify with someone although he is a negative character. Two examples I came across with lately are Joker (Arthur Fleck) and Hannah from the Girls TV series. Both these characters have personal agendas that in the end don’t get their fulfilment. 
We know from the beginning that Arthur will become the Joker, but the film follows him and his social background so closely that we watch everything from his point of view, which makes us sympathize with him despite what he becomes in the end. 
Arthur is poor, mentally ill, in charge of a sick mother, friendless; but he believes he can make a great breakthrough as a comedian. He is at the bottom of the social scale and still believes he can make it to the top; it is only all too clear that he is deluded and that none of the people he admires would move a finger to help him. Though he becomes a criminal, his story is a tragedy; he was born and raised under circumstances that hardly offered him room for a simple, satisfying life. His dreams were all he had. Which is why we feel with him, even if from a moral standpoint we know we shouldn’t. 
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Hannah is a toxic personality if I ever saw one onscreen; but she officially is the protagonist, she’s female who wants a career, she has “friends”, she is “sexually independent”, so as female viewers we will automatically identify with her, or at least try. (Personally, after a while I came to the conclusion that about 75 % of the other character’s problems would quickly find an end if they simply shot Hannah and buried her without a funeral, with a few silver crosses to make sure she never comes back.) 
However, Hannah is not from a poor family, she has an education, she has friends. She has things she wants, nothing she desperately needs, like Arthur needs employment or medication. Her whole attitude is subject to her desire to become a famous writer, so her story is about exploring and observing other people’s weaknesses, often even eliciting them for the worse. I find it interesting that when we learn how she first met Adam, he caught her stealing. Apparently, Hannah never understood that you can’t simply take but also have to give something back. Their relationship is so typical for the story because it looks like Adam is using her (mostly sexually), while she is using him in order to make “experiences”, playing with his feelings instead of giving him the chance to grow and mature into a responsible man. Girls always had a bleak undertone; but by manipulating our perspective making her the pivotal character, the authors made us care about Hannah although she is someone who did not deserve it in the first place.
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My guess: what makes these two antiheroes in the first place, from a moral perspective, is perhaps the fact that both feel entitled to their dream and won’t settle for less. Disney heroes usually get their wish fulfilment because they go through the moment of openly and innocently admitting their dreams without Arthur’s or Hannah’s latent arrogance.
Now to Star Wars... The Classics
One of the reasons why we so easily identify with Luke Skywalker in A New Hope is because he is introduced to us as someone who dreams. He has a personal wish - leaving his home planet, meeting new people, living adventures and contributing to the future of the galaxy. The “Binary Sunset” scene is not iconic without reason: in a musical, this would have been the moment where he would have broken into song. 😊
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Don’t kill me, but Disney’s Hercules reminds me a little of Luke in his first grand scene: he also looks at a sunset, saying that he would go most anywhere to find where he belongs. (Maybe Lucas knew well why he sold the rights to Star Wars to the Disney studios of all places.)
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This continues through his other two films: Luke always has a strong agenda. He learns the ways of the Jedi through Obi-Wan (who interestingly never actually questions whether he wants that at all) and Yoda, but his first priority always are his friends. Saving who he loves is what drives him on all of the time, even if this may seem foolish at times - like traveling all alone to Bespine where Han and Leia are kept hostage, or wanting to save his father although he is a dangerous criminal. 
  Star Wars In-Between
Rogue One and Solo are well-made, interesting films, too, because the protagonists know what they want. The Clone Wars is one long story explaining Ahsoka’s development from a Jedi to someone who relinquishes the Jedi’s ways. The Mandalorian wants to follow “The Way”, i.e. his code of honor, in order to help as many war foundlings as he can. This is what you need to do in order to make a story compelling. 
  Star Wars Prequels 
One of the weaknesses which I see to this day in the prequels is that we so rarely witness someone’s personal agenda; the stories are more driven by the plot than by the persons. A few desires are hinted at and never pursued. 
“I’m going to be the first to see all of them” (the stars). - Anakin in The Phantom Menace
“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we will have revenge.” Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace 
What became of Anakin’s desire to explore the galaxy? And revenge from what, if you please? I can understand that the Sith were a byproduct of the Jedi’s rejection of the Dark Side, their weaknesses all projected unto them: but this also is never explored. 
What did Anakin, Padmé, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon etc. want, after all? When did they ever say or show clearly what they wanted, and what they would do for the purpose? Qui-Gon wants to train Anakin by will of the Force, Obi-Wan wants to train him because Qui-Gon asked him to. The Jedi want to keep the status quo of the Republic and the Jedi Order. There is no actual heart-felt wish from their side. The only person relentlessly pursuing his aims is Palpatine, the mastermind behind the stage. 
Padmé has her political aims, but they are not a really personal agenda for her. She wants to help people who were enslaved or hungry or otherwise suffering, but she does not know such situations from own experience. Her personal wish is having a family, but in her case it is not as passionate as in Anakin’s, who had lost the only family he had with his mother. Add to this that the scene where she talks with Anakin about this desire of hers was unfortunately cut out from Attack of the Clones. 
The compassionate and protective Anakin wants to keep the ones he cares for safe. Interestingly though, the films rarely show us his perspective, we usually rather see other people reacting to him; and since the Jedi always brainwash him not to “let his personal feelings get in the way”, Anakin comes over more as a whiny brat than as a conflicted human being we can sympathize with.
Revenge of the Sith is, though a terrible story, a very well-made film and emotionally very demanding because Anakin finally takes his destiny into his own hands. But it is also not very satisfying, because he wants to prevent things from happening and doesn’t actually have a definite, positive aim in mind. Still when he speaks to Padmé on Mustafar he tells her that he would overthrow Palpatine for her and rule the galaxy according to their wishes; but even in this moment he sounds insecure and confused, and his ideas are everything but clear. 
  The Sequels
The same procedure all over again. Finn wants to get away from the First Order, but where does he want to go? It is only hinted at that he wants a girlfriend (“Do you have a boyfriend?”), and not thematized again. Poe already is a Resistance fighter from the start, no personal aim there either. Rey wants her family back: she does nothing but waiting. On Takodana, we literally see her running from her fate after her vision with the Skywalker legacy sabre. In The Last Jedi, she says she needs someone to show her her place. She says to Luke that she is afraid. Again, she has no agenda.
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Kylo was pursuing Luke, but why? What exactly had happened between uncle and nephew before the fatal night at the Temple, why was Kylo’s resentment so deep? He killed his father because he was coerced; he did not actually want it. Later he wanted Rey, but why, if she was almost always aggressive towards him? 
The Last Jedi finally seemed to make up for all of these lacks. Rose was such a powerful character because while she always did everything in her power for the cause, she never forgot or let go of her personal feelings and desires, like keeping Finn safe, inspiring hope in the Canto Bight children, freeing the fathiers. 
The moment Rey ships herself on the Supremacy, Ben kills Snoke and then both team up against the Praetorian Guards is so powerful because both of them, at last, have an agenda, and they pursue it together. It’s a moment of relief for the audience, what we had been waiting for all along: finding out what all of this was about - the Force working in balance. Naively, many of us then assumed this trilogy would be about Ben and Rey finding balance and a happy ending together.
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Then The Rise of Skywalker made our frustration flare up again. Rey wants to become a Jedi because Leia expects her to; she kills Palpatine because he wants her to do it; the voices of all Jedi encourage her… great. No personal agenda all over again. Ben saves her from death because he loves her, very well. Then he dies. Han, Leia and Luke all wanted him to come “home”, i.e. back to the Light Side, and they died for the purpose. It seems wanting something is dangerous in itself in this galaxy. And Rey ends up alone on Tatooine. Again, what does she want there?
So It Was All... Fate?
Han, Leia and Luke were much more compelling characters than Rey - their aims were sometimes misguided, but at least they had them and they were clearly defined. Even Palpatine has an aim: it is veiled (typically for him), but it is there. He knows that his spirit will live on in the person who manages to kill him. So, he is still more powerful than Rey. It looks like Rey defeated him, but the truth is that he used her naïve faith that she could erase him by killing him in order to reach his own aim: living on in a younger, more innocent person who believes that being a “Jedi”, she is doing the right thing. 
We may of course argue that the Force is behind all of this; but as intriguing as the Force is, it is not a person. When we follow a story, we want living persons to think and feel and suffer and be hopeful and joyful for. It is all very well if characters want different things or maybe want the wrong things; but at least, their wishes ought to be understandable, and if they don’t come true, we would like to know why, instead of being left with... “reasons”. It is hard to identify with a character if we never learn what drives them after all. I daresay it would be more satisfying to see them pursue an aim and fail, than never to understand what they’re about, what their heart’s wish is. 
I have argued over and over that the ways of the Jedi, i.e. sacrificing everything to a cause, and individual aims are naturally opposite to one another. If there will ever be Balance, future Force-sensitive creatures must find a way in between. But again, this is not openly said and the audience has to either resign to the fact that the films are badly made, or to scavenge them for months searching for messages. Of course, there is nothing wrong with using ones’ own brains. But I would like to leave a cinema after a Star Wars film feeling satisfied. The Rise of Skywalker did not only leave many questions unanswered; in many instances, it did not even start posing the questions.
“Into the Woods” is not a story with a happy ending. One of its messages is that you need to be careful about what you wish for, but I think that’s all right if the moral implications of getting one’s wish are explored. Which with the Star Wars prequels and sequels was not the case - people suffer and die for decades, and in the end, the story goes nowhere. The events of the prequels took place because “they were meant to”; same with the sequels. Anakin turned evil because it was his fate, his grandson the same because it was fate, Rey took over the Jedi mantle although she is not in the least suited for it, but it was her fate so we have to accept it. No wonder everyone is disappointed. 
Star Wars saga, what do you have in store next? After more than 30 years, I dearly hope, someone who actually has an aim and purses it this time. And doesn’t have to die in the process, thank you very much.
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flightfoot · 5 years ago
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In defense of Alya and Nino asking Marinette to babysit
I see them salted on this occasionally, and I don’t think it’s warranted.
For context, this has happened on two occasions, both times so that Alya and Nino can go on a movie date, in Timetagger and Chris Master.
In Timetagger Alya asked Marinette to babysit, but she declined so Alya made other arrangements.
Alya: (begin phonecall) Hey there! Ladybug: Alya, it's Marinette! I'm sorry I won't be able to look after Chris and your sisters this afternoon. I— I hadn't finished my presentation for Monday, I hope you're not mad at me. Alya: No, of course not, no biggy. A friend of mine said she'd take care of them, so Nino and I are going to see a movie. Ladybug: A friend? Alya: Yeah, don't worry, she'll take care of everything. Ladybug: Perfect, enjoy your movie then. See you later! (end phonecall) (Scene transition: Césaire apartment.) Alya: Okay, we're going. Nino: Thanks again, Lila. (they leave)
In Christmaster we see the tail end of Marinette’s babysitting, with Alya and Nino picking Chris up a couple minutes in.
Alya: Marinette, we're back. Nino: Did you guys have fun? Marinette: Sure we did. How was the movie? Nino: Awesome. Thanks for watching my bro, Marinette. What's wrong, little dude? Chris: (Chris starts crying) AH! I want it to be Christmas right now! Marinette: I have absolutely no idea where that came from. Alya: Okay, I guess we'd better get going. Bye, girl. (Marinette looks at the snow globe) Nino: See you at school tomorrow. Marinette: Yeah, bye Nino, see you soon Chris. (She closes her door)
Usually I see Nino and Alya salted on a few points regarding this:
They don’t tell their parents that they’re having Marinette babysit and are basically sneaking around behind their parents’ backs in order to go on dates. This one I really don’t get. It’s POSSIBLE, of course, but it’s not confirmed or even really implied. Alya and Nino DO appear to be the ones making arrangements here, but it’s not clear whether they ran those arrangements by their parents or not. It’s not even clear that they need to; the kids in ML seem to be fairly free-range, it’s reasonable that their parents may just trust Alya and Nino to make appropriate arrangements regarding babysitting for their younger siblings. I especially don’t see any element in these two exchanges to suggest that Marinette or Lila babysitting was in any way something they had to keep quiet about or weren’t allowed to do.
Marinette is too swamped to babysit so they shouldn’t have asked her. This one I can sort of see, but consider; they don’t know HOW swamped she is. They don’t know she’s Ladybug. They don’t know that she might have to leave at any moment to go fight akumas or sentimonsters, or that she needs to patrol or ANY of that. Alya might know about how busy she is with schoolwork and any commissions and extra stuff she decides to take on for one reason or another, but it’s not like these two times that she was asked to babysit happened during Gamer 2.0. She may not have been as busy during these two times. In fact, there’s good evidence that she WASN’T all that busy during Christmaster, which was the only time she actually ended up babysitting, since she had time to spend the rest of the day making Adrien’s 50th birthday gift, which isn’t exactly time-sensitive. Also in Timetagger when Marinette DID end up canceling babysitting on short notice because she was too swamped, Alya was completely cool with it.
They don’t pay Marinette for babysitting. Now for this one I’m going to need to bring up some other incidents. Because yes, there is no sign that money exchanged hands. But that’s because that’s not the currency here. I’m pretty sure Marinette did this as a favor - and not a one-sided favor. See, Marinette has her own little hellion that she’s regularly asked to babysit - Manon, Nadja’s daughter. But several times Alya has ended up either helping Marinette babysit her or taking over the babysitting entirely. Stormy Weather, for instance. 
Alya drops by Marinette’s house to tell her that Adrien’s having a photoshoot in the park, but discovers that Marinette is currently stuck babysitting as a favor to Nadja.
Manon: Uh, who's she? Marinette: Whoops! I forgot about this little detail. Alya: And who's she? Marinette: This is Manon, one of my mom's friends' daughters. I'm watching her all afternoon. (Gasps) Oh no! I can't go out! Alya: Let me guess. Another "you couldn't say no" favor? Marinette: No, I just couldn't... say... no... Alya: Look, no problem! I'll look after your little detail for you. (Manon runs off) Marinette: Thanks, but I'm responsible for her... Besides, I couldn't do that to you. She's... an absolute angel! (A crash is heard. Marinette screams and runs after Manon, who is carrying a pot and a spatula.) Manon! Put that down! Ugh! Come back! Alya: (Marinette continues to chase after Manon until Marinette and walks back to Alya and Manon continues to pull on her arm) You're just a pushover, Marinette. I have to babysit my sisters all the time, which makes me an expert in dealing with angels. Manon: Who are you, anyway? Alya: I'm a mythical unicorn from the world of Reespa, disguised as a totally fabulous human girl! I grant magical wishes, but only to little monkeys who behave! Manon: (laughs) No, you're not! ...Are you? (Alya grabs Manon in the air, and puts her on Marinette's shoulders.) Alya: Okay, let's all go to the park! Manon: Yay! Marinette: Okay!
When they go to the park and Marinette’s conflicted, wanting to try to get closer to Adrien but not wanting to abandon Manon when SHE was the one who was asked to babysit, Alya helps out.
Alya: They need an extra to pose with Adrien! Marinette: What? Seriously? Manon: Is that boy your boyfriend? Marinette: What? No, I mean, yes? No! Alya: Go on! What are you waiting for? Marinette: But, what about Manon? Alya: (Alya wagging finger towards Marinette and hand gesturing her move aside) You take care of Prince Charming, and I'll take care of Miss Unicorn here. You don't know how to control her anyway. Manon: No way, Marinette's my babysitter! Alya: Trust me. Unicorns unite! Let's go to Rispa and find us some sad little village kids and grant those wishes! Yee-haw! Manon: Yee-haw!
Alya volunteers to look after her so that Marinette can do what she REALLY wants to do. She even ends up looking after Manon for quite awhile since Ladybug had to go fight Stormy Weather and Alya and Manon were trapped. Honestly it’s a REALLY good thing Alya came and was so up for babysitting, or when Stormy Weather arrived Marinette would’ve been up a creek, since she would’ve still needed to leave to take care of the akuma but wouldn’t have had anyone to look after Manon.
Then in Prime Queen, Marinette ended up calling Alya over to babysit for her on false pretenses since she’d accidentally agreed to babysit during the same period of time that she was supposed to be interviewed, but she couldn’t exactly TELL anyone that.
Alya Césaire: Super Manon to the rescue, woohoo! Manon: To the Eiffel Tower and beyond! Marinette: Glad you could make it last minute, Alya. Alya: Of course, it's way more fun watching your favorite superhero on TV with my favorite girls. Commentator: (Marinette watches the live broadcast on air and gulps anxiously.) When we return from commercial, Nadja Chamack will be joined by Ladybug and Cat Noir for an incredible, exclusive interview. Manon: (Points at Nadja on the monitor.) Mommy, there's mommy! Alya: Why can't I get an exclusive interview like that for my Ladyblog? (Sighs.) Marinette: (Stutters) Oh, I forgot to err, tell my bakery something. They're in the parents downstairs. Do you mind keeping an eye on Manon while I'm not here? Alya: Don't you mean tell your parents something in the bakery? Marinette: (Continues stuttering.) Err, right. Well, err, sometimes, it can take a while - they don't always understand even when I explain. Err, actually, it's not their fault, they... Alya: Marinette? Marinette: Yes? Alya: Go! Marinette: Right! (Marinette then leaves with running down the stairs and starts talking to Tikki.) Alya's such a good friend, I feel so guilty for inviting her over just so I can leave her with Manon - then again, Alya is Ladybug's biggest fan - she'd be crushed if her favorite superhero didn't turn up for her favorite TV show.
Alya was completely cool with coming over last-minute to watch the interview with Marinette, and even totally fine with Marinette ditching her, leaving her to watch over Manon. She was even pretty cool afterwards, even though Marinette was missing for a LONG time.
Marinette: (coming up the stairs) I'm so sorry Alya! I had no idea it would take so long to talk to my parents! Alya: (walks over to her) You won't believe it, I was taken hostage by a supervillain! Marinette: (faking surprise) What? You're kidding! Alya: No joke! You missed everything! Luckily, Ladybug saved me! Marinette: (smiles then hugs Alya) I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you. Alya: (pats Marinette's head) No biggie, girl. But the next time we decide to spend an evening together, you're not allowed to go anywhere near your parents. Marinette: (laughs) Deal.
Alya’s fine with being called over last minute, even though she basically just got babysitting dumped on her. But she’s fine with it. She’s not upset or even annoyed about it.
In Puppeteer 2 Alya AGAIN volunteers to look after Manon, though that one’s not as prominent since she basically sets the whole thing up in the first place, knowing that this would probably be needed. She and Nino look after Manon (though not all that well) while Marinette tries to work up the nerve to talk to Adrien.
Marinette occasionally babysitting for Alya and Nino so they can go on dates just seems like an exchange of favors, since Alya has covered for her babysitting several times, and often are very short notice too. And when Marinette DOES need to say no, Alya’s cool with that too.
I understand why people might write fics where Marinette IS babysitting for Alya and Nino a lot even when sees struggling to keep up, where their parents DON’T know about the arrangement and are upset about it, where Alya guilts Marinette if she says no or implies that she can’t. It’s not totally out of the realm of what might be possible with their characterizations.
But don’t confuse Fanon for Canon and salt Alya and Nino for Fanon actions.
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kichimiangra · 5 years ago
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So... an imaginary episode of the 1983 D&D cartoon...
It’s a Meta episode.
The kids wake up to their average normal everyday lives.  Nothing weird or anything.  Have breakfast, do a few chores, say good morning to their parents, head out to school, etc.  Normal shit. 
While at school they kinda bump into each other a lot though and they get a weird vibe off of the others. But... why?  I mean, they know of these other kids, some are friends-ish with others but they’re not particularly close?  Bobby is Sheila’s kid brother, Diana is that girl who does gymnastics after school, Presto’s that dork who gets picked on for his crappy card tricks, Hank does sports or something, Eric is the haughty son of that CEO they keep seeing on magazines at the grocery store.  They’re not really super close friends, they have nothing in common really but... they get a feeling from each other?
On top of that they occasionally get a strange flash memory in their heads.
-Diana is about to do a cool gymnastic demonstration for a new team member at the request of the teacher.  Halfway through she bungles it when a memory of being surrounded by monsters flashes in her head.  Her coach approaches to see if she’s okay and on instinct kicks the teacher’s feet out from underneath them, easily taking them to the floor without hesitation before realizing what she had done.
-A card trick goes array in the lunchroom causing a bully to be wearing his lunch and turn his sights on Presto. The bullies cap fall onto Prestos head prior and he finds himself impulsively start a rhyme about taking out the ugly fucker, reaching into that hat and pulling out-- nothing?  What did he think that was actually going to do? I’m mean... he did insult the bully more so I guess it’s gonna get him punched?
-Eric happens to have lunch period with Presto and sees the whole thing go down as he is walking by to his usual table of more affluent “Friends”.  Heh... kid’s gonna get beaten up. That’s what happens when you insult your bullies mom or whatever. Not Erics problem. He doesn’t even know this kid.  Does seem Familiar though. The bully swings his fist back to hit that kid with glasses and Eric feels utter terror, like life or death fight or flight terror and before he even realizes he’s moved he finds himself between Presto and the bully, lunch tray blocking the fist and bully now wearing more lunch than before. Crap... what the fuck did he just do?!?! And why?!
(Not gonna come up with one for everyone I’m tired you guys decide what happens to Hank, Sheila and Bobby)
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At this point the audience knows somethings wrong so why hide it from THEM anymore?  It turns out through an untold adventure before the episode began some bullshit happened and the kids find themselves trapped in some kind of magic sleep caused by this dream master monster wizard or something I don’t care what he is. I’m vague on this part but He’s either
-gonna sell the kids to Venger so it’s like that time Dungeon Master got captured and took a nap and that very homosexual fairy showed up and helped the kids save him.
-OR He’s already working for Venger and they’re picking the kids brain for something while in the magic dream sleep. Like their Untold quest prior to the ep. involves them hiding their weapons so venger can’t get them and the Dream wizard guy is keeping their brains loosey goosey and complacent while he searches through them for the weapons locations or something like that.
-OR He’s working for Venger and the kids are hostages to convince DM to turn himself over and he’s having his own B plot of the good of the realm vs the good of these kids?
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“Ehhhhhh....... Nah!  I’m sure they got this... Not the first set of kids I ruined.”
-OR He’s gonna rewrite their brains and turn them evil so they work for Venger and he can sick them on DM AND Tiamat! “If you can’t beat them, take over their brains and recruit them!“ (I like this one but that’s just cuz I like Mind control trope....)
-OR any combination of the above.  It really doesn’t matter you know he’s gonna fuck up.
Anyway Mr.Dream over here is having a little trouble because DMs disciples COULD realize they’re dreaming and shock them selves awake and fuck up the Evil Plan (tm)  And unfortunately the kids having flashbacks, vibes, and triggers is not on the menu, so he needs to come up with an in-universe explanation for the kids in the dream to be having these funky feels so they don’t question the funkitude going on...
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Back in dream-school DMs Disciples are a little gonked up over the whole ptsd trigger flashbacks they’re having, some of which involve kids that they have almost no connection to! But before they can ponder further they notice the time, or their watch or alarm or someone mentioning the time alerts them.  They have a THING to get to!  They pack up their stuff and we follow a POV character (Probably Hank) as he makes his way to a specific classroom, or he leaves the school and heads home or to another house.  Matters not.  As he arrives he opens up the door and there everybody is!
Oh yeah!  That’s how they all know each other!  They play a fantasy tabletop rpg board game together! [Good idea Mr.Dream!  Now they can explain away Their vibes!]  Diana even considers maybe she should quit playing with them if it’s so immersive that it’s effecting her normal everyday life.  But it atleast explains where they got these random memories from!  It’s just their campaign!  They sit down and shoot the shit and start playing.
“What sort of adventure are we doing this time?”
*They begin to play out one of the episodes... Let’s do the Prison without Walls one for example... but things aren’t... right*
*Rolls dice*  Presto DMing: “17! Hank lets his arrow fly, piercing through the chest of the shambling monster!  It trumpets in pain before laying in silence!  The band of adventurers has defeated the monster and the gnome village has been Saved!”
Hank has a flash back... this... isn’t right...
Hank: “No... no I didn’t fire my arrow!  That Monster was Lukyan!” Hank explains.
Presto protests. “But Hank... there was no Lukyan in this campaign???”
Eric: “He’s probably just salty over the last time we played when he opened that box and let all the evil out-- wait...” Bobby: “Didn’t YOU open that box Eric?”
Eric: “... The evil box or Zinn’s box?”
Presto: “It was Zandora’s box.  Where’d Zinn come from?”
Diana: “Zinn was that Queen Eric Married when that Sorlarz monster poisoned Bobby and we slayed him for the antidote!”
Sheila: “SORLARZ?! No Bobby was Poisoned buy the turtle dragon! Sorlarz was a cursed king!”
Eric: “A WHAT?!”
Their bickering becomes too much for Hank and enough reminders of everything wrong with their adventures triggers his memory and slams his firsts on the table silencing everyone else.
Hank: “ENOUGH!!!!” They stare at him in shock and silence. Hank was never angry like this... not that they knew him well enough... “We-- Guys we... never made it home... We’re still in the realm!”
This triggers the kids memories and they realize just how wrong everything is and that all of these vibes they’ve been having are their REAL memories.
They are commended by Mr.Dream who fucked up because he’s very bad at keeping the continuity of his own story down but chastised because it would have been so much easier for them if they just stayed unaware and complacent.  Now the dream world is turning against them and they need to figure out a way to wake up.  But where better to hide the end of the dream than at the beginign of the adventure: At the Amusement park.
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butterflydm · 5 years ago
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The Untamed Rewatch (ep 3)
Previous Episode | Index | Next Episode
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aka they are all babies and I can't protect them
What stood out on rewatch (contains spoilers for entire drama);
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We get several introductions in this episode. The first is to Mian Mian. I love Mian Mian both for herself and as a parallel for Lan Wangji. For now, I will talk about how their introductory scenes parallel but it happens with them a lot, so this will not be the last time.
Both Mian Mian and Lan Wangji are trying to abide by the rules of their sect and do what their sect would want them to do. Wei Wuxian would like to talk them into making an exception, please. In both cases, Mian Mian and Lan Wangji do consider his arguments and accept his case (Mian Mian in the same conversation and Lan Wangji going up to talk to his brother after the path introduction). Mian Mian and Lan Zhan are both generally rule-abiding but also reasonable. 
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Jin Zixuan doesn't actually speak much in his scenes. On the heels of the Mian Mian scene, he is coming across as a second parallel for LWJ but a different side of LWJ. He does still come across as arrogant but in my rewatch, I'm wondering how much of that is genuine vs him just not speaking up when other people assert how they believe he's feeling. Which is something LWJ certainly also does.
Also, WWX's blatant disrespect of Jin Zixuan both as a person and for his position really stood out to me in rewatch. He's very deliberate about it, both in words and actions.
I also wonder if JZX might have been deliberately wanting to talk to Jiang Yanli before she left, but he wasn't able to come up with words before his attendant 'helpfully' arrived to tell him he went to the wrong room. Same attendant does a lot of talking for JZX in the earlier confrontation too.
Then WWX arrives and takes over the situation again. 
Much like LWJ, JZX seems to have a difficult time expressing himself in words, and he has no idea how to handle WWX's entire personality. 
Also: is it possible that, like his mother does later, JZX wonders here if there's potential romance vibes between WWX and JYL, since WWX kind of dominates the conversation? I'm going to keep an eye on JZX's future reactions to WWX and see what I see.
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Okay, so they start to set-up the additional drama-only scenes early, from what I've read, in the original novel, the Emperor's Smile scene is Wei Ying and Lan Zhan's first meeting.
So, what purpose does this brief intro scene serve and why add it? I think part of the reason is narrative cohesion — they aren't going to flip and and forth between the past and the present so they need to set out a clear storyline. And it creates that parallel between Mian Mian and Lan Wangji. Plus, it begins the set-up of the corrupted metal storyline. We get to see the beginnings of the interactions between WWX and LWJ but it's a very different vibe than their later solo talk, because they're in public. LWJ reacts to WWX a few notable times in the conversation  — he hears WWX say the body is cursed, not dead, and that's what makes him turn around. He also hesitates on the path once he's out of sight, making the decision to go talk to his brother. 
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The campfire scene with Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng has two particularly interesting moments — we do have Jiang Yanli mentioning that WWX won't keep messing around once things are serious, and we have Jiang Cheng saying WWX might be spending time with either a 'Mian Mian' or a 'Yuan Dao' which… is pretty heavy subtext that both that WWX is bisexual and that his siblings know about it which, for the purposes of the drama specifically, would inform how I might read the scenes where Jiang Yanli or Jiang Cheng react to WWX and LWJ's interactions. So, I'm going to take that interpretation into account in the future. That is also, as I understand it, a departure from WWX's characterization in the novel during this time period, but given that they couldn't do a 'queer realization' on-screen due to censorship concerns, this seems like a really clever side-step.
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Then we have WWX breaking into the Cloud Recesses and the rooftop fight and it is… so gorgeous. It's a dynamic and beautiful scene that is filled with little character moments and interactions that will matter down the road.
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Lan Zhan. Omg bb. Not every problem needs to be solved with your sword. The image of LWJ putting his sword in front of WWX is going to be very common, so it's fun that the first time is a threat and not protection.
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WWX trying to bullshit/charm/bribe LWJ to let him in. I love it.
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WWX tries so hard to save his alcohol.
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The boys each learn that they've met their match, talent-wise. The implications we get at various points are that there isn't a lot of real competition for either of them, until they meet each other.
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It's just… it's just really good. Poor LWJ has never felt so simultaneously annoyed and turned on by someone before, I’m pretty sure. Who can blame him tbh?
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Also, so: rooftops. They have their ‘first’ fight on a rooftop and their ‘last’ fight on one as well. I’m gonna think about that for a little while.
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Oh, man, the punishment assigning scene is also priceless. Lan Xichen finds WWX both charming and intelligent and is intrigued by how much WWX affects his brother's normally calm attitude. Lan Qiren can tell WWX is smart but you know he's thinking "but at what cost?". The moment when WWX clunks his sword down against Lan Qiren's desk and is glared at is hilarious.
You can just really see how different the expectations are for WWX in Yunmeng than the expectations are in Gusu. WWX is good and smart and kind, even this young, and from his perspective, the Gusu rules are so rigid and arbitrary. But for people who thrive on structure, having rules can be helpful. It depends. The rules will definitely come up again.
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Then we met Wen Qing!
I mean, Wen Rouhan is also introduced but w/e, Wen Qing is the important one here and we all know it. So, this will come up later and in more detail, but my reading of Wen Qing and WWX's interactions as a whole is that they remind each other of their respective big sister/little brother sibling relationships, so that's the lens I look at them from most of the time. If I recall correctly, they each get at least one scene where they look at the other one and explicitly flashback to thinking about their sibling. 
Here, we establish that Wen Qing is under WRH's thumb and is not thrilled about it, but is made to feel grateful (she’s also not thrilled about that), and even when I was watching the first time, I didn't think she would end up permanently on WRH's side.
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The scene with Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji is a good follow-up to the punishment scene earlier -- LXC has noticed that LWJ has a strong reaction to being around WWX and encourages LWJ to explore that potential friendship. I love how genuinely concerned LXC is that his brother might be lonely and overworked.
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Our last introduction this episode is to Xue Yang. Here, he’s mostly interesting to me for how his lack of fear contrasts against Wen Qing's concealed terror in her scene with WRH. Xue Yang has no positive connections, nothing he needs to protect or shelter. He doesn’t have anything to lose, so he can play hardball against WRH without any concern. Wen Qing has her brother and her village, both of which are essentially being held hostage against her good behavior. 
Xue Yang also mentions here his lack of ambition for power, which contrasts him against WRH but is one of the ways he is a parallel to WWX. Xue Yang was happy enough living in a city of corpses with no real luxuries. WWX is perfectly happy being a lotus farmer or rogue cultivator. Neither of them need the trappings of wealth and power, because both, perhaps, are so aware from their childhood of how easily that can disappear?
It's something about WWX that most of the Sect leaders have a hard time believing, that WWX doesn't want to be wealthy and powerful for its own sake. WWX uses his power but doesn't hoard it just for the sake of having it. He was never interested in challenging Jiang Cheng for the position of heir or to displace him as Jiang sect leader.
Which isn't to say that Xue Yang and WWX aren't competitive — they enjoy flexing their power and enjoy being 'the best' but there's no power-based endgame they care about. They aren't interested in ruling the world.
What people value and how that affects their choices is definitely a big theme in the series as a whole -- do you value your family name? Your reputation? Wealth and power? Helping people? Staying true to your own convictions? And whatever you pick affects whether or not you can keep the other things. WWX didn’t give a fig about his reputation and so he ended up with a very negative reputation that impacted both his relationships and what he was able to accomplish in the world of cultivation politics. Reputation is social currency, and WWX ended up losing all of his.
But that’s a while ahead.
Next time: more introductions!
Previous Episode | Index | Next Episode
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10blue10 · 5 years ago
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50+ Problems with HTTYD:THW
50+ Problems With HTTYD: The Hidden World
The Books  
1. “That’s how the books ended!” No, it actually isn’t.
A) The dragons left when Hiccup was an old man, over a long time.  
B) The movies diverged from the books from the very beginning.  
C) Dean liked the first line of the prologue and stapled it to his own work, like trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole.  
2. It’s a world with dragons, historical accuracy went out the window.  
3. This ending is only ‘foreshadowed’ in the 3rd movie itself.  
The Logistics  
4. How is Berk this freaking overcrowded?  
A) Grieving or not, an in-character Hiccup wouldn’t hoard dragons like this.  
B) They’re building up one tiny part of one small island.  
C) Hiccup says “we have the Alpha!” as if that makes it okay.  
D) The art book says dragons stayed after paying tribute to Toothless. The alpha is making things worse.  
5. The Hidden World makes no sense!  
A) There can’t be a giant hole in the ocean that never fills up.  
B) Plate tectonics and a worldwide network of caves don’t mix.  
C) How will the dragons have enough space? Or food? Or fresh water?  
D) Moving animals out of one ecosystem into another is a BAD IDEA.  
6. An entire village packs up and leaves their island (of 300 years) overnight.  
7. A huge fleet of huge ships can keep up with a flying dragon.  
8. How much time has passed? They get an awful lot done in a few days…
The Characters  
9. Most of the supporting characters are flanderized like hell.  
10. Snotlout has devolved as a character from the previous movie.  
11. Astrid is reduced to ‘protagonists fiance’ and supportive Love Interest.  
12. Valka gets no development because they wanted Stoick flashbacks.  
13. Stoick now believes in a mythical home of dragons that he wants to ‘seal up’ (not destroy) so dragons and humans won’t fight.  
14. Hiccup makes terrible spur of the moment decisions that affect everyone around him based on his own emotions and insecurities.  
15. Grimmel is an incompetent liar who succeeds through plot convenience.
A) He gets the Light Fury onto Berk…and then just leaves her there?  
B) No way in Helheim one guy wiped out a whole species of dragon.  
C) Especially a species as OP as Night Furies.  
16. Toothless is dumbed down, a terrible leader and completely OOC.  
A) He’d rather play fetch and court the Light Fury than lead his pack.  
B) As soon as a female he can mate with shows up it’s like Hiccup (his best friend) is nothing. She almost kills Hiccup and he barely reacts.  
C) Toothless makes his flock go into cages and slavery when the Light Fury is held hostage.  
The Plot Devices and Holes
17. The LF represents the ‘call of the wild’ which must be “Breed.”
A) She’s deliberately designed to be as feminine as possible.  
B) She barely has any discernible personality beyond ‘wary’ and ‘cute’.  
C) Despite saving Hiccup’s life she’s apparently untrainable.  
18. Deathgripper venom does whatever the plot needs it to right then.  
19. It makes no sense for one dragon to be the King of all of them.  
20. Shouldn’t the Hidden World dragons already have an Alpha?  
21. The LF camouflages by heating her scales up to give them mirror like qualities, but…
A) Being reflective is not the same thing as being invisible.  
B) She’s muzzled at the start of the movie and yet still camouflaged.  
22. Now Toothless can turn invisible? Using lightning? WTF?  
23. Toothless’ new auto-tail holds up against lightning and lasts 10 years. Maintenance? What’s that?
24. Boy it sure is convenient that every dragon in the world heard that one roar!  
The Separation  
25. The characters just give up. After all they’ve accomplished.  
A) The riders - by themselves - wipe the floor with that armada. So much for being a major threat.  
B) After defeating Drago, Hiccup’s resolve is stronger than ever…after defeating Grimmel, suddenly it’s too hard?  
C) No one even tries to protest! Do they not even care about this?  
26. New Berk is all but inaccessible by boat and has plenty of room.  
27. It ignores perfectly good parallels and foreshadowing for the dragons to welcome the humans as the humans welcomed them.  
28. The Hidden World dragons are made overly hostile to humans in an attempt to kneecap any chance of them living there, despite Toothless being the ‘king’ and the Berkians having six years of practice at befriending and training dragons.  
29. Who says there aren’t cultures (like China) living in peace with dragons already? What happens to them?  
The Epilogue  
30. Hiccup and Astrid are bad parents, giving their children a taste of what it’s like to fly with a dragon and then forbidding it forever.  
31. Toothless and his family are just conveniently outside when they get there, what are the odds of that?  
32. Toothless displays hostility towards unarmed humans that’s worse than when Hiccup first earned his trust in the first movie.  
33. According to Hiccup, all of the dragons have disappeared. And their eggs? Their skeletons? Did they take those with them?  
34. Dean has confirmed that in his mind, the reunion was…
A) A ‘final joyride’ to show that they’re both ‘thriving’ with wives and kids (cos that’s the pinnacle of life, right? Marriage and babies?)  
B) The first time they see each other in a decade during which time Toothless ‘kind of’ forgets his old life despite wearing the auto-tail.  
C) The last time they see each other ever. Because drama.  
The Themes and Implications  
35. The movie prioritises romantic love over platonic friendship.  
36. It uses Toothless’ attraction to the LF to drive a wedge between him and Hiccup.  
37. “If you love them, let them go” only works if it affects solely the individuals involved, not the whole freaking world.  
38. Hiccup already let Toothless go in GOTNF and he came back.  
39. He wasn’t keeping Toothless prisoner or diminishing him by being his friend. If anything he was making Toothless’ life better.  
40. It’s possible to ‘stand on your own’ and still have a support network.  
41. Hiccup and Toothless’ relationship is not clingy or co-dependent.  
42. The movie just says “Toothless is gone so now he has to ‘stand on his own’, ha ha!”  
43. Grimmel wanted a world without dragons. Now, thanks to Hiccup, that’s exactly what happens. The villain gets a posthumous victory. His other goal of killing off the Night Furies has also been achieved before the movie even starts, apparently.  
44. If dragons represent the ‘other’ (or the ‘them’ of ‘us versus ‘them’), then Grimmel’s rhetoric is reminiscent of a facist - and he wins.  
45. The idea that the world will change for the better without anyone actively making an effort to change it is ludicrous.  
46. How are the dragons even going to know when humans are ‘ready’ for them?  
47. How will humans ever be ready if dragons have faded into myth?  
The Rebuttals  
48. “It’s just a kids movie/your opinion!” The thing is…  
A) Plenty of ‘kids movies’ don’t mess up this badly. There are standards, animated film or not.  
B) My opinion is based on facts and an understanding of how to write.  
C) I’m not saying you can’t like it, but it’s still a badly written movie.  
49. “The dragons are animals/need to be free!”  
A) Humans are also animals. And why do dragons get their own world?  
B) Yep, now they’re free to live underground in caves forever. Oh wait.  
C) The dragons were never not free when they lived with the Berkians.  
50. “This movie is good cos it made me cry/humans are terrible!”  
A) There’s this little thing called ‘emotional manipulation’…  
B) According to this movie, because some people do bad things, we shouldn’t try to make things better for anyone ever.  
C) It is not a profound message to say “life isn’t fair”, and suggest we shouldn’t change things.  
June 27th, 2019 4:30pm httyd 3httyd thw
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edelest · 5 years ago
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blue lions recruiting plot fix!
hey fe3h fans! it’s been a while... sorry!
previously on this ongoing series: i made a post trying to give reason to why the students would join black eagles, because some people just couldn’t settle for “they’ll follow byleth anywhere.” someone requested a similar post to this, where i’ll be justifying why some black eagles and golden deer students’ll still be in blue lions post-time skip! my next post will be lions + eagles with golden deer :) please enjoy! and Yes, i DO stan edelgard.
here’s the link to my black eagles recruiting plot fix ~
petra: it took me a while to actually figure out why petra would join blue lions—hence the writer’s block that prolonged this post—but then i remembered the support between shamir and petra, and it hit me: petra doesn’t like the empire. and you might be thinking, petra doesn’t like them empire but trusts edelgard! see, that’s the thing. she TRUSTED edelgard. to be in a foreign land, completely vulnerable, she put her whole trust in edelgard (and others as well) only to find out that edelgard had been plotting to start this war behind her back all this time would crush her. she’d be hit with the memories of her people dying by the hands of the empire’s soldiers, only this time she’d witness the slaughtering commanded by edelgard, who broke her trust. in one of her conversations after war during battle, she says that she used to be a hostage (not sure if hostage, prisoner, or something else) but that it wasn’t the case anymore. she Admits that she was a captive of the empire through that conversation, which all the more supports my theory.
dorothea: dorothea makes me heart break, whenever i recruit her into blue lions/golden deer. dorothea went through a lot growing up, and went through a lot jusy to get into the officer’s academy as well. she puts her (incomplete) trust in her classmates and professor and hopes for a peaceful (with a rich noble in mind). even in her support conversations, she hints that she wouldn’t mind a future with edelgard. but dorothea is scared. scared of bloodshed, battles, and war. she doesn’t outright say it, but in a ton of her support conversations or any conversation you have with her, right before time skip and post time skip, she often finds herself wishing for peaces and she’s often sentimental over past memories. even when she levels up post time skip: "Feels like fighting is all there is." "I'm growing, but at what cost?" "All this power just to survive." dorothea hates the war, and it’s taking a toll on her happiness, of course she’d be afraid to join edelgard, the one who started the war.
ferdinand: ferdinand’s always wanted to one-up edelgard, probably due to either his father or his competitive spirit. so when the war breaks out and ferdinand loses everything because his father is stripped of his rank, ferdinand of course would want nothing more than to defeat edelgard and stop the war, to stop the unnecessary bloodshed caused by his self proclaimed rival. ferdinand would join byleth to save fodlan and at the same time prove his self worth... for years, trying to prove to himself that he IS as stronf as he says and that he’s strong enough to protect people. it’s always him trying to prove his worth; he says it himself when you battle him at the great bridge of myrddin. he says something along the lines of “maybe now edelgard will see my worth.” instead of trying to prove his worth to himself, he tries to prove it to edelgard. which only shows that he still cares for edelgard’s opinion after all these years, just that it changed to wanting recognition and acknowledgement.
linhardt: linhardt is scared of blood, and unnecessary fighting. his own morals are changed through the battles he goes through at garreg mach (i.e. remire village.) linhardt doesn’t want a war, he wants to nap and research about crests, and other things that interest him. he’d follow byleth and dimitri because he at the start knew that byleth would want peace and to stop the bloodshed, and he’d be glad to hear that dimitri was changed and now wants to protect fodlan as well. linhardt may not seem like he cares about much (he really doesn’t,) but he knows when something isn’t right. he knows that these people don’t have to die.
caspar: caspar grew up to protect people, not hurt them. in more instances than one, he gets angry for not being able to join certain missions or gets angry at certain people for simply being evil. he has a heart of gold, and a sense of chivalry that puts him right in with the blue lion class. his sense of righteousness is what pushes him to believe that dimitri can change, and that dimitri will change fodlan. he believes that blue lions is where he belongs, because it’s where people are most like him. hearts of gold, hearts of bravery... all around him. he’s welcome there. and he knows they can stop this reign of massacre.
bernadetta and marianne: i put these two in the same category due to similar reasons, both are shy and tend not to speak up for things and would rather not be involved in a war. imagine them out there, fighting edelgard’s fight when all they want to do is be at peace with life and live life in mundanity. they’re pushed into this world of madness against their own will, and are forced to kill or be killed. bernadetta literally says “Wish I could've at least died at home...not in this big, stupid field...” and all edelgard says is thank you for everything or something like that. bernadetta deserved better than that, she deserved to at least die happy. and marianne deserves a life where she doesn’t need to live in fear of the unknown everyday. let my shy girls live and be happy, for goddess’ sake!
leonie: we all know why leonie would join blue lions. leonie is against this war, she lives to protect those who can’t protect themselves, just like jeralt did. she will fight for what is right, and she’ll fight with those she knows will fight. claude tried to stay neutral for 5 whole years of the war. this is of course madness, as leonie is the type to believe in the ideology of helping those who can’t help themselves if you know you can have the power to assist. leonie would be mad at claude for staying neutral, because being neutral is being nearly as bad as the one causing turmoil. in cases of war, neutrality is ignorance, and leonie will do nothing other than fight for what is right.
lysithea: she would join the cause of faerghus for one crucial thing: her freedom. and you might be thinking, “of course everyone is fighting for their freedom it’s a goddamn war, op!” but here’s the thing, lysithea spent her childhood trapped in house ordelia, her and her siblings being tested on by those who sliter in the dark, her parents being powerless in the situation at hand, causing her to live her life being tortured in a prison-like environment, everyday wondering if this is how her life will be, or if she’ll die like the others. she was trapped, and pre-timeskip we see her do so many activities and try to quickly learn so many things. why? because she wants to catch up on all those years she lost in house ordelia. that’s why i sympathize with her when claude teases her for being young even if it’s only done in a humorous manner, lysithea has been through so much that she at least deserves respect (and yes, i know claude was unaware of it pre-timeskip, let me be emo.) when lysithea finds out about the war, she’d be struck with fear of being imprisoned by the empire again (at the time she didn’t know that TWSITD weren’t soldiers of the empire.) she’d join the cause of the rebellion, choosing to fight instead of staying neutral. her position (house ordelia) is of course a threat to her as well, they can be easily captured by the empire at any time any time, and she can’t help but flee for her life.
raphael and ignatz: both are sons of merchants, difference is raphael’s parents are dead, which makes raphael the one who has to provide for his sister. they, in my humble opinion, would join faerghus during war for no reason other than to protect their families and business. while i do believe that they want to save fodlan as well, how will they even provide for their family in a failing economy where war tramples over merchants? we know this happens because the merchants at the monastery constantly talk about how business is hard during war. raphael and ignatz need to keep their families alive and fed, not dying because of their pride.
hilda: hilda’s always been ‘the lazy one’, as we all know. but this, too, brought me to a halt. why would hilda join the faerghus rebellion? in the start of azure moon, if you recruit hilda she mentions something along the lines of edelgard is crazy and so is dimitri or something like that. so i kept digging and digging in my brain until i realized that the reason she would join blue lions is because of fear. fear that if she stays neutral in the leicester alliance that her position would cause her to die much easier than if she were to join byleth and dimitri and the rest. neutrality was a problem for the alliance, some wanted to join forces with the empire and some didn’t, which already made her a targer for assassination for the other houses in the alliance (to start conflict/to make a solid point.) and of course, staying in goneril territory would be terrifying too, because there are almyrans who would try to kill those at/near fodlan’s throat to take advantage of the weakness of this part due to the war. hilda is scared, even if she’s completely capable of protecting herself. strength doesn’t always equal bravery, and her whole life she’s gotten free passes to things due to her laziness, and now she has. to protect herself in a kill or be killed place, her instincts would tell her to go where she is safest, in the hands of her classmates from the blue lions, and in the hands of the professor.
lorenz: lorenz is a man of virtue, how ever absurd those virtues may be. depending on route, lorenz is either the cower in fear and succumb to the enemy to survive kind of guy or the fight for what you know is right and fight for those who can’t kind of guy. which leads me to believe that due to claude’s neutrality and wanting to protect the people of the alliance, (especially those in the gluocester region,) he’d join the cause of faerghus to stop the war once and for all.
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