#showing the weight of rebellion by what's *not* shown

[faceofpoe]

I know we (collective "we" fandom "we") have discussed the progression from Nemik's "you sleep like a stone" to Cassian lying awake the night before the prison break scheme but have we discussed the broader arc from ep 4 and

"It's better to live. Better to eat, sleep, do you what you want" and not sleeping ahead of the prison break and "kill me or take me in" and then the logical follow-up question:

Will we no longer get squirrelly "Can I eat my food?" Cassian actually sitting down to eat in-script/on-screen in season 2?

This contemplation brought to you by trying to envision Kleya & Luthen's day to day Coruscant lives and how I simply cannot even picture either of them just eating a meal, and then sent into overthinking orbit by @ceruleanphoenix7 's observation a while back that, while we see Mon quite frequently in settings surrounded by food, we never actually see her eat any of it.

[crustyfloor]

IM SHAKING I'M ROCKING BACK AND FORTH AND HITTING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL...

I initially thought round 7 would be something emotional in the sense that it would be more gloomy and depressing, but no--this is literally some crazy ass upbeat techno-disco rave-themed music....in other words, It feels like a concert this time.

The atmosphere is so energetic I WASN'T EXPECTING IT.

It's interesting how they stand on a stage that symbolizes themselves equally in a meshed sort of way, blue and green, in equal distance and on equal footing, unlike round 5 when Luka used elevation to his advantage a lot, it feels different here. Round 7 feels like a mix of their styles; even the song has a soft tempo with a mix of Till's roughness in there, but the idea that they'll fight for the stage feels somewhat pushed here. They both stand on the stage like they own it, and given their nature, Luka's manipulative personality allows him to dominate the stage with his presence, and Till's unwillingness to be overshadowed and made inferior this feels like on the flip side this round will be a real, and intense competition.

Round 7 is very different because, unlike the other rounds, Luka and Till are rivals. They have no chemistry of any sort. The reason why I say round 7 will be a real competition is because all the rounds before weren't, round 1, 2, 3, and 6 focused on the intimacy and relationship between characters, they were telling a story, pouring their hearts out through their songs, while round 7 will be made into a true death match.

In typical fashion, Luka establishes himself with a sense of superiority as he spreads out, fills the arena with his presence, absorbs the energy of the stage, and captivates the aliens' attention. It's because he's confident, at least outwardly. He sets up the illusion of power this way, but truthfully, he is more controlled than ever. The strings on his costume look akin to puppet strings to me. That kind of symbolism has been shown in his other costumes before, but this feels overbearing, and trapping.

Till is more reserved in the teaser, at least in this example, he's hidden in the shadows, and how he's feeling is ambiguous, though obviously, it isn't anything good, given that he was just thrown on the stage while he's mentally unstable and confused I'm sure that's an understatement.

When Vivinos mentions Till's emotional journey...what mindset Till will bring to the stage...this round is gonna be chaotic as hell

To me, Till looks all sorts of things, and anger is most prominent. He's flashy and loud, and the colors he's represented with are his own, Till embodies rebellion, and symbolizes that he's fighting to push the barriers of his cage, while Luka embraces his. after everything he's been through I'm sure his mind is a thunderstorm of mixed emotions, even just the look in his eyes.. so considering that--his side of things will probably be a lot more messy, but there is a good sign here that shows he seems to have regained his fighting spirit he doesn't look like he'll be going down without a fight at all.

And their body language here in the last frame--The lighting in this frame looks intense, like the weight of those lights is gradually bearing down on them, Till looks strangely slouched over like he's out of it (I believe he may have been drugged by the aliens again..) while Luka, for once, isn't even looking at his audience, he's looking to the side, seemingly distracted. It's notable just how detached they look from their performance and the moment. The detached and performative nature of round 7 highlights how this performance is all merely a high-budget spectacle, entertainment for the aliens as it always was. It's a fitting vibe for Luka and Till, who had gone through the most to make it here just to have every aspect of their personalities marketed, and to be paraded around like trophies by their guardians.

(they don't want to be there, basically.)

And now the title--FOUL. Is how i'd describe it based on my reading of it.

"Blink gone" could be connected to the other teaser, "Never come back again" as in --> "blink gone--and never come back again" is maybe a reference to the things (or people) they've lost in their lives, in seemingly the blink of an eye.

In general, blink gone is related to something fast-moving. So how will that sentiment be expressed in round 7 through their perspectives?

And YET AGAIN. I come back to this official art for another more parallel, I have no idea what the bands around Tills arms are about, but these two seem to correlate. (Or they could mean nothing at all. absolutely nothing at all. But fun fact: wearing black bands on your arm can be representative of mourning)

And Luka's design here, Luka still hasn't changed his aesthetic, so nothing noteworthy other than the fact that his outfit just got more revealing, I can probably see why, if there is an alien equivalent of fan service in the universe of Alien stage. There are lines on his chest that I assume are meant to be scarring? Luka has been said to have had surgeries and experiments before so that little detail they included...ughhhh.

And Mizi will seemingly be showing up for another rescue attempt, but as expected, the area is heavily guarded, more so than in round 6, so this may be a little tricky, and I have no idea how they'll pull it off this time with the atmosphere so intense and the aliens so close to them...

(ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT TILL'S ARMS- *gets shot*)

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 23

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

As I walk into the courtyard, riders are making their way down from battle brief to head to lunch. Despite my initial rush away from Melgren, I had taken my time on the walk back to the quadrant, in no rush to feel the eyes of every rider on me as I walked back into battle brief. But even with that I can feel every rider look at me as I walk into the courtyard. They had all seen Melgren either walk in and request my presence from Devera, or had seen me walk through the halls behind him. I mean they had all seen him throw me in the middle of the rotunda on conscription day. Everyone knew I was linked to him in some way.

I barely have time to scan the riders around me before large arms wrap around me, pulling me into an embrace. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around the large solid torso I’m pulled into as the smell of leather, musk and cinnamon washes over me. Garrick. He doesn’t say a thing. Just holds me against him, an arm wrapped around my waist, his other hand cradling my head into his chest. His heart hammering loudly in his chest a giveaway at the stress and worry that consumed him. I feel the eyes of every rider on us. Garrick and I didn’t hide our affection, but we weren’t open about it either. Choosing to keep that part private, choosing to be selective in our touches while out in the college with him being my section leader. But right now, in the middle of the courtyard, every single rider watched as Garrick embraced me in his arms. Rushed foot steps stop next to us, I don’t have to look up to know Xaden, Bodhi and Imogen stand there. My signet picking up on their presence. Garrick reluctantly lets me go as Xaden pulls me from his arms and places his hands on my shoulders as he looks me over. His face shows no emotion, but all the colour is drained from it and I can see in his eyes as they frantically scan me that he’s just as worried as Garrick was. Both of them had watched as Melgren had come and grabbed me. Taken me away from them. I realise they had essentially relived five years ago in that moment.

”What did he want?” Xaden finally asks after he deems me unharmed, his voice strained as if trying to keep his emotions in check.

I reach up and point at Xaden’s hand that covers the newly acquired patch on my jacket. His eyes narrow before moving his hand, revealing the compass patch that now adorned my jacket. All of their eyes go wide, clearly not all having heard the news from the other cadets. Or at least not the news that I had the patch that only Dain Aetos had till now.

”Holy shit. What the hell did Mealladh give you?” Imogen asks as she pushes in front of Xaden to look at the patch up close.

The only other rider in the Quadrant that currently held this patch was Dain. No one else had it. And none of the people around me we’re exactly close enough to Dain to have a look. Imogen is the only one out of the four that stand around me to look excited about the patch. Clearly the boys had not deemed it necessary to tell her about my signet. Not yet at least. But the three boys that stand behind her look terrified. Clearly none of them had thought Carr would deem my signet classified. Which only confirmed Melgren’s words from earlier. I was only scratching the surface of what I could. What Carr suspected I could do. What Carr could never know I could do. He had shown his allegiance to Melgren today. Meaning I could not trust him. I had another target on my back. One way larger and more dangerous than the unbonded cadets.

Imogen looks at us when none of us respond, her excitement fading to concern. “Why do you look like someone’s died? Is it that bad?”

Xaden sighs, his shoulders slumping as if a weight has been added to his shoulders. Me. I’m the weight. Yet again I have a target on my back. One we can’t do anything about.

”Bad might be a bit of an understatement.” I tell her with a sad smile.

Imogen opens her mouth to speak but Xaden jumps in as if he knew what she was about to ask. “Not here. There’s a reason for that patch. Later.” He tells her with a stern look.

Imogen just nods, getting the hint from Xaden now was not the time or place. But eventually she would know. And that seemed to please her for now.

A few hours later those who Xaden trusts to know my signet are sat around the training room. A silencing ward cast incase anyone were to come by and hear what was being said. Liam and Imogen are looking at the four of us confused. The only two in the room not in on what had happened, what my signet was. And why the three boys stood either side of me looked like I had been handed a death sentance.

”So you going to tell us what the hell happened today? And why her signet has you three looking the most terrified I’ve ever seen you.” Imogen demands after a few moments of silence.

Imogen may have been one of the more patient people in the room, but right now she wanted answers. Wanted to know what the hell was going on after having it dangled in front of her today after battle brief. Xaden, Bodhi and Garrick look between each other. All unsure on how to approach this somehow. Which for them, was a first. Usually any one of them would know exactly what to say. But today had rattled them. Melgren had gotten to them. And I had no doubt in my mind he knew he had.

“My signet isn’t one that’s been seen before. At least from what we’ve found. And sadly it seems to be a signet Carr has been hoping for.” I start, my eyes focused on my hands, grasped firmly together in my lap. “And it seems Carr might be in league with Melgren. He went and told him instantly after his class this morning.”

“So anything you do, any progress you make, Melgren will know?” Imogen asks.

I look up at her and nod,

”So what exactly can you do that has them so interested in you?” Liam asks

I hesitate, looking at Xaden for what to do. But even he looks stumped. Do we tell them everything? Or do we give the basic version? We had the issue of Aetos. Imogen and now Liam fell under Aetos. There was a higher chance of him using his signet on them. Which I had recently learnt was reading memories, but only via touch. So as long as he didn’t get his hands on one of us, we could keep the information safe. But there was no guarantee of that. And no guarantee that any of us could block him out with shielding. It would be a gamble, and one we could not take. Xaden’s eyes flicker to mine. His gaze intense. I didn’t need to reach out with my signet to know he was nervous and unsure which way to go. He would be torn on the weakness of more people knowing, or the strength in numbers of being able to watch out.

Trust in your friends. It is risky for them to know, but they can help. And in time you will be able to protect them. Mealladh says in my mind. She had been rather quiet for most of the day.

Protect them? How? I ask.

Just trust me. You are only skimming the surface of your signet. There is a lot you will be able to do. But it will come with time and training. She assures me.

Clearly Mealladh had a lot of knowledge on what I would be able to do. Despite the fact not having a rider before me, and my signet being one of the first of its kind. Mealladh and I still had a ways to go before she would fully trust me and let me in. So I would have to take her word on this. Trust that I would be able to protect my friends one day.

”Mealladh called it Psionic. But outside that we don’t know much.” I tell Liam and Imogen as I return my gaze to them. I catch Xaden and Garrick stiffen out of the corner of my eye, realising I was not going to hold back. But they didn’t interrupt. Trusting this was the right thing to do. “It seems I might be the first for this type of signet despite Carr being highly interested in it. So far all I can really do is move things with my mind. I have been able to do something else but I don’t know how to really describe it. I can sense peoples strengths and weaknesses. Or at least what is on their mind at the time. I even managed to project an image of it once.”

”An image? Like an illusion?” Imogen asks.

Xaden steps forward and nods. “She managed to project Aretia to us three a few days ago. If it wasn’t for the sheen on it I would have thought it was real.”

Imogen and Liam go wide eyed as they stare at me. I can sense their emotions going wild as they try to piece it all together. I can almost sense the possibilities running through their heads I’m sure Xaden and Garrick would have had after it happened. If I could project whatever I wanted and without that sheen, the possibilities could be endless.

”You said so far. So that means you can do more?” Liam asks, his eye brows furrowing as if deep in thought.

”From the way Mealladh, Carr and Melgren have talked I would assume so. But we are yet to find any texts to state what. But Melgren did let slip that there are stories and fairy tails. I assume there is more as well.” I tell him.

”Why not just ask Mealladh? She should be helping you.” Imogen demand.

Instantly I feel Mealladh’s rage race through my mind at Imogen’s words.

Calm down. I tell her.

How dare she question my intentions with you. You are not ready for your full power. Your body will give you more when you are ready. She sneers.

”She isn’t happy with what I said is she?” Imogen asks nervously as if noticing the shift in my face as I spoke to Mealladh.

”Not exactly.” I tell her, causing chuckles from the boys. “There is more I can do, but I need to trust that I will learn when needed and as my body is ready. So for now this is all we can work with.”

She nods in agreement. Every signet worked differently. And even those who had same signets could often do things the other couldn’t. So even if Mealladh knew what I could potentially do, there was a chance I might not be able to do it. No point trying to do something I might never be able to do or even grasp.

”So what do we do? Just hope Carr and Melgren believe what ever we feed them and hope it keeps them at bay?” Liam asks, his question more directed at Xaden.

I watch as Xaden’s shoulders sag slightly. Honestly it was the only option we had. Just feed them enough to keep them happy , and hope they didn’t start demanding more from me. Hope it would be enough to keep their attention souly on me.

”That’s the plan as much as I might hate it. But as well as strength and combat training, I want to shift some focus into signet training. Get some better control and maybe learn more about our signets. Especially those of you who do not have physical signets. The mind is a powerful tool. And I’ve seen what mental signets can do.” Xaden’s last words directed at me, earning a chuckle from Bodhi and Garrick. Both of who are probably remembering the cadet I sent flying from my room, or the weight I had nearly taken them out with.

Imogen launches into asking the two questions about why they were laughing, leaving Xaden and I in our own little world as we look at each other. Today had put an even bigger and worse target on my back than I had before developing my signet. A target that now affected all of us. Any training I could get outside of Carr was going to make or break us going forward.

Part 24

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd

[amywritesthings]

about you. (cassian x you)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: You are a rebel spy working as an escort at Canto Bight's cliffside casino. When Luthen cannot meet you for an intel exchange on New Year's Eve, he sends his best asset. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that meant you'd reunite with your former childhood best friend, Cassian Andor.

Warnings: New Year's Eve, Spy Thriller, Escort Service, Romantic Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Reunions, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Mentions of Sex Work, Wall Pinning, New Year's Eve Kiss

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I had a fun holiday one shot idea and wanted to try my hand at writing Cassian Andor. I am wishing you all a happy & healthy new year, and I can't wait to continue writing in 2023.

( Read on AO3 )

Canto Bight is always bustling at New Year’s Eve.

It’s why Luthen Rael has shown up on your doorstep for the first time in months. In his not-so subtle way, the man requests (see: demands) that you float back to your old haunt, the one within the glittering halls of their monument cliffside casino, and do what you do you best: entertain as a partner experience escort for the rich and powerful. 

The partner experience operation has been your designation from the very beginning of this rebellious calling. Your contribution to the rebellion, as he claims, is valuable — because the whispers in the night by decorated Imperials that feel safe in your company are priceless.

Whispers bring intel, and not even gold is as priceless as Imperial intel.

Luthen claims he knew of your potential the moment he laid eyes on you in a seedy dive bar on an Outer Rim moon. The little lamb far from her home planet Ferrix, looking fearful yet enraged all the same; starved, but most importantly willing to do anything to take down the Empire one domino at a time.

It was the type of spunk the older man needed in a claustrophobic world.

So you struck a deal: under trained supervision, you would run the casino circuits and red districts — never quite getting close enough to sleeping with the enemy (who knew the Empire thrived on humiliation and edging?) but enough to drug them, learn from them, then report back to him for the next move.

Rinse and repeat for six successful years.

And right now, you were supposed to be done. Find a small shack in the middle of nowhere knowing you did your part in the small but mighty agenda. Perhaps, eventually, you would find a way to make peace with your past and your present.

Then Luthen fucking Rael shows up at the stoop of said shack only six months later with a new opportunity.

A new strategy on the chess board.

(The rebellion, as he so candidly puts it, is never final.)

“Did you hear about what’s going on with Life Day this year on Canto Bight?” Luthen grunts, opting to stand by the doorway rather than a seat at your makeshift kitchen table.

You drop down unceremoniously with your arms at your sides. You know — and you know he knows — there is a blaster taped on the belly of the steel table should this be an unpleasant visit.

“You mean the Wookie holiday?”

“Hmm,” Luthen sounds, caught between a yes and a no. “Supposed to be the Wookie holiday, but it seems the Empire has allowed the casino a profitable chance to participate until the new year.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you muse in return, surveying him. “When you say profitable, you mean—”

“Everyone who is anyone will be visiting.” Luthen never makes any sudden movements; always trapped sounding bored with this life he leads. It’s also a tactic not to play his cards too far from his chest. “They’ll be running the gambit for paid time off.”

Smile bland, you nod once. “Which is code for… you need someone on the inside.”

“For the season,” he agrees, shifting his weight. “A gift to the faces who may have missed you.”

“Missed me?”

“I hear about the Diamond quite a lot.”

Their precious Diamond.

Maker, that nickname always made your skin crawl.

You huff, rubbing your nose with the back of your thumb. “Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Luthen, you know that.”

He takes a pause, small eyes observing everything that you do. Updating a mental database logging your quirks and your discomfort to cipher for a later date — that’s all he’s ever done, study and download people, and he’s done so without error yet.

(It’s why he’s never been caught.)

“It isn’t flattery,” he finally says. “It’s an opportunity.”

To do everything we couldn’t the first time, is what he really implies.

It’s feeding an addiction no amount of dead fascists will be able to quench.

“And how do I tell them why I want the job back after I quit?”

“Your mother was very ill. You needed to help with her expenses,” Luthen fabricates from thin air. “It was easiest to part ways without the low note on your record. But the credits have dried up, and their clientele will be thankful of the casino’s decision to allow you back on the floor.”

It’s your turn to pause — to study. He gives away nothing. You lean forward to rest your elbows on the tops of your thighs.

“You think that’ll work?”

“You’ll sell it,” is all he gives back like you’ve already said yes.

You’re supposed to be out.

(Do you want to be out?)

.

.

.

.

.

No.

No, you don’t.

.

.

.

.

.

Getting the job back at the casino as a specialized escort is easy. The difficulty lies in remembering how to fall into old, subtle habits when all you want to do is cause chaos. Staying engaged while chatting up Imperial scum as they spittle in their expensive liquors and moan about the woes of their occupations and agenda can only go on for so long.

Yet you laugh with the rest of them once they’re kissing your feet and your hands, because everyone in this rebellion has a part to play.

(Our loveliest of diamonds, back to see us once again.)

Luthen, of course, never leaves you to your own devices for long. Gifting a hefty sum of credits and a bag of dissolvable sedatives every time he passes through Canto Bight as his alter ego is about as noble as the illusive man gets.

You fill small briefcases with voice memos and holovideos of nightly conversations, drunken manifestos and slippery plans.

It works.

By some miracle, you have never been caught.

New Year’s Eve is filled to the brim with Imperial guards enjoying time off from their grueling schedules. Some of the higher commanding officers already have their arms draped over people inviting them to a great time. Others chase after the debauchery promised by scantily clad creatures inviting them into the halls and out of their money.

You? Have a booking in advance: a high-ranking officer, but not within the Inner Circle.

According to Luther, he’s a valuable asset double-crossing their superiors.

A plant.

You are to deliver the intel to him under Luthen’s command and trust.

(Ironic. You always believed Luthen trusted no one.)

At the final half hour of the year’s end, you round the corner from the main entertainment room and down the hallway towards the private event spaces. A multitude of sounds are muffled by the doors — some good, some not so. Your focus is set on the twelfth door where your officer awaits, and suddenly you feel nervous all over again.

Meeting one of Luthen’s other operatives feels all too daunting.

After a moment, you place your code into the code box by the door and wait for the durasteel to slide, revealing the plush crimson meeting space. It's staged with a convenient king-sized bed and a vanity for refreshment, inviting comfort and suggesting the obvious.

What greets you as the door opens — a silhouette at the edge of the bed, dressed in Imperial formals — is not what you envisioned.

The man’s hair is what you notice first: disheveled brown locks are combed back neatly, smoothed by gel to keep the unruliness at bay. The jacket’s shoulders are a little too pointed, as if he’s not grown into his uniform quite yet — or like he’d stolen it on his way into the venue. The lines on his faces aren’t new, but aren’t old. He’s tired — so fucking tired, but he sits taller the second the door opens.

The blank expression on his face is purposeful, almost doe-eyed, with a feigned, smug-like innocence only an Imperial officer would wear.

Then his gaze travels from your open-toed shoes, up your bodysuit dress of sequins, and locks onto your face.

Just like that, the façade is broken.

What once was blank now hardens, wholly confused, before the lines on his prominent brow smooth with recognition.

Cassian.

Of all the idiots in all the galaxy, Cassian Andor is dressed as an Imp in your meeting space on the eve of the new year.

And you thought, with this rebellion, that you’d seen everything.

While the officer in disguise is much older than what your memory recalls, you could never forget that face even if the Empire tried. The feeling of dirt under your fingernails, the scent of rubber burning, the spark of an electric charge from a stolen piece of property — it all floods back in a tidal wave, almost knocking you a step back into the hallway.

On Ferrix, Cassian Andor always ran around with different people — sometimes it was Bix when she wasn’t punished for entertaining teen scoundrels; sometimes it was other boys in scrappy brawls and mended machinery; most of the time, however, it was you.

Hand and hand, causing mayhem in the bright suns and the full moons. He'd shown you what it meant to stand up for yourself. To want what you want and not apologize for it. To be bold, even at the expense of disruption.

And then he’d pummel whatever wayward eye looked at you the wrong way.

Trouble. 

Cassian Andor was so much trouble, and you were mad for it.

Your last memory of him is as vivid as the neon lights lining the ceiling: you're both sixteen years old and shoulder-to-shoulder on an inclined metal slab, staring up at the stars. He's wearing that jacket from his father and hasn't combed his hair in days. You're lost in telling him about your dreams of a better tomorrow, of one day leaving Ferrix for good and making a difference in the vastness of the galaxy despite how small you feel. He laughs, a hum more than anything else, and takes your hand in his.

You're too afraid to squeeze back.

Having Cassian poke fun of the idea of doing much of anything in the galaxy never felt like he mocked you for wanting to try. More than anything, his laugh was one of envy: he couldn’t afford dreams, so you dreamt for the both of you. He couldn’t handle intimacy, so you were satisfied with resting your hand in his the entire night.

Nothing was said. Nothing had changed.

He gave what he could, and you understood.

Childhood friendship has a funny way of feeling that simple.

Cassian, however, never truly chose to change with you. He never truly chose anyone, not really, not when he had so much to give — to his mother, to his scrapyard confidantes, to Bix.

You fit somewhere in the chapters of his life, but Cassian Andor could never tell you which ones. He could not, and would not, promise someone tomorrow.

An unfinished book.

You never did tell him where you were going after hitching a ride on that stock transport to get the hell out of Ferrix for good. Not a single holocard or a note.

Just… gone, into the galaxy, to dream.

Now he sits in front of you at the edge of your meeting space bed, threatening to ruin your calculated cover in one-fell swoop.

Before Cassian can implode your operation, you turn on the mask: with a bright smile and squared shoulders, you gesture to the plush furniture of the room. “Is it to your liking, Mr. —?”

You trail off on your question to give him a chance to speak.

Cassian blinks a few times, only to remember himself.

“Raoul,” he blurts without dismissing his accent, eyes widening with an unspoken question: what are you doing here? “Sargeant Murl Raoul.”

Maker, you haven’t heard that voice in so long.

It’s deeper now. Rusty. Scratched.

“Sargeant,” you correct pleasantly, taking a step into the bedroom to toe the perimeter. Cassian pulls the geometric gray hat clear from his head, balling it in his fist, but you raise a palm at the hip when his mouth opens: don’t.

He listens, pressing his lips together with purpose.

“I asked if this room was to your liking," you repeat.

Cassian struggles with an answer, studying you with concern. You hate it. You hated it back on Ferrix when he tried to play protector, and a decade and a half apart doesn’t dilute the emotion.

Your brows rise, and he clears his throat. “I— yes, I am quite comfortable.”

“Good,” you conclude with a small nod. “Now before I join you and get more comfortable, do you have any questions for me?”

“More comfortable?” he asks a little too fast, so you recover with a glide of your hand along your sparkling thigh.

“Can’t do much when I’m in this old thing,” you coo, that stage performer voice now sounding so phony to your ears with a known audience. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Cassian runs the tip of his tongue along the seam off his lips, shifting his seat on the mattress. “I suppose I could ask how… uh, how long have you been doing… this?”

You don’t know if he’s asking about the escort arrangement or the Informant position, which further complicates the game. The odds of Cassian showing up on Canto Bight should be slim. Cassian wearing an Imperial outfit on his own ought to be slim to none. 

But appearing in your private meeting space, fake alias and all?

Your blood runs cold with truth between the lines.

(Luthen never does anything by accident.)

This meeting — reuniting Cassian and yourself — is his test, a judgment call, but you refuse to let Luthen win the game with this surprise hand.

“Years,” you answer honestly, to both.

You continue to face him as you skirt around the left side of the sparkling vanity, not taking any chances with your former friend. Your manicured fingers glide along the mirror’s back, searching for the planted Imperial wire.

(Not only are they cruel, but perverted in their efforts to catch spies.)

“So then you are... experienced?” The question comes out rougher than you believe he intends. Gruff, like he’s embarrassed to even ask.

(The question almost — almost — makes your face burn.)

“If you’re worried that you won’t have a good time, Sergeant, then I promise they sent you to me for a reason. I’m going to take great care of you.”

Cassian’s expression darkens at this as he rises to his feet with purpose.

You rip the microphone from the back of the mirror, holding the device between your index and middle finger for show. 

This stops him from moving ahead, eyes locked on the microphone before flickering back to you. You shake your head.

I said don’t.

He nods once, and you take the microphone between your hands. With two clicks, the wire cover pops open, displaying a multitude of tiny wires. You fidget between two, pulling, until the red eye at the center of the device dissolves into black.

The room is blanketed with silence.

Now it’s just you and a ghost here.

“We’re clear,” you tell him after another beat, dropping the seductive aloofness in your tone.

Cassian’s shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. “That was fast.”

Your brow picks up that fraction, raising high. “You have to dismantle them fast."

“Let me take a look at it,” Cassian replies, tossing the hat twisted in his hands to the mattress. "Are you certain it's off?"

“Positive,” you say, sheltering the item closer to your chest. “You don't need to look at it. Easy to disable and reassemble at a moment’s notice, so I’ll turn it back on when you depart.”

“What about lost footage?”

“Chalk it up as faulty equipment they’re too stubborn to replace in a shithole like this.”

Cassian mulls over your answer, taking a cautious few steps forward to observe the small device in your hand. “Imperial-grade wires are tough to work with. A five-second warning doesn’t give many people time to disable the alarm,” he informs in a whispered afterthought. “Where did you learn to do that?”

In your bones, you know it’s a trick question.

Fifteen-something years of reuniting in a moment like this comes with immense drawbacks. When he asks, it is not out of curiosity — it is out of the desire to see if you are truly you.

(Because he remembers your face, too.)

“On Ferrix,” you reply.

He gives no reaction, continuing to deadpan. “Where on Ferrix?”

“You want me to remember from that long ago?” you laugh, placing the microphone on the vanity’s surface and following up with a thick blue cloth to drape over top of it.

“Humor me,” he reasons, flexing his leather-clad fingers at his sides. Now that he doesn’t have a distraction, Cassian doesn’t stop looking at your face.

(The same intensity as the boy without dreams.)

“The old Slavyard. There was that one incredibly rainy month when those prim and proper freaks—”

“—installed the spyware on the back door in the middle of the night,” he interrupts, finishing the story with a misplaced awe under his breath. “You played lookout while I disabled the devices.”

You don’t answer, not really, as you offer a half-hearted smile. “Say what you want about that place, but you learn a lot of things when you watch restless boys who never know when to stop getting in trouble.”

The return smile is small and fleeting, but the corner of Cassian’s lip upticks. His brows knit together, contemplating before a huff of a laugh exits. “Not a very good lookout, then, if you were so busy watching me.”

“You never got caught, though, did you?” you joke.

You swear he almost laughs.

The silence settles at your ankles and rises with each passing second, encompassing you both in a shroud of possibilities: pleasantries are nice, but the popping of bottles and shouts of celebration passing by your room brings you both back to a reality where you’re playing pretend.

Cassian huffs once more, running a hand down his face and around his neck before dropping it in a gesture towards you. “He cannot be serious.”

He.

You catch that pronoun with intrigue and tilt your chin.

“Serious about what? Who’s ‘he’?”

His voice softens, shrinking in size, as he nears half a step closer and into your bubble. “Don’t tell me it’s you.” You maintain eye contact — maintain dominance of this situation — and stay in place. “When he said to wait…”

“...for the Informer, you didn’t think you’d run into a ghost?” you finish, and he’s polite enough not to nod. “He only told me the person he was sending in his stead was one of his best assets. This reunion isn’t my doing.”

“No,” Cassian agrees, low and certain. “It isn’t.”

Because Luthen knows.

Luthen knows, and that’s dangerous in and of itself: his little lamb on Ferrix knew his most trusted asset long before the mastermind was in the picture, and this sabotage is meant to figure you out.

(To figure you both out for his own gain: to make sure you were both up for the task, history aside.)

Your jaw clenches as you nod with assertion, mindful of the train of your body-tight dress when you shift around Cassian to create some space. He turns his torso, following.

“Did he force you to do this?” When you pause in your steps to quirk a brow, he struggles with verbalizing what this means. “Entertaining these low lives while they piss their credits away.”

“Very strong words for someone dressed as an Imp.”

He completely ignores you, hyper in his budding rage. “Because if anyone has touched you—”

“No one’s forcing me to do anything, Cass,” you reply, hateful that the former nickname leaves your lips so fluidly; as if no time has passed. “We’re all cogs working for the same machine.”

“That doesn’t mean he should be having you do this on your own,” the man argues. “He’s not even on the planet, for fuck’s sake. This is dangerous work.”

“You keep saying this or that, but you’re not really asking the real question.” Your nose scrunches, maliciously playful. “I don’t fuck them. It’s pretend, Cassian. My honor is intact.”

Cassian squints with a scoff. “That isn’t what I meant—”

“It isn’t?” you challenge.

“No,” he responds just as fast and just as intense. A smirk plays on your lips, slow and growing. “Fuck whoever you’d like to fuck. One or a dozen, I don’t care, but not them. They don’t deserve you.”

“And who does?”

“I don’t know, but not Luthen or the pieces of shit out there or anyone on this planet.”

“Not even you, right?”

He stares down at you, hard. You snort in disbelief.

“I never thought I’d see the day where Cassian Andor is jealous of a body count, but I guess stranger things have happened for both of us.”

Cassian’s jaw sets, nostrils flaring with an anger he refuses to bury completely. He searches your face, lost on a response, before sharply inhaling through his nose.

“I need information on your regulars.”

Ah.

No more games. 

You roll your eyes, absently waving him off as you turn to walk towards the crate-like nightstand. “I have the files on a drive.”

No more games, or so you thought — Cassian follows close behind. “Drives are easily corruptible or lost or stolen. You could just tell me.”

Your hand hovers on the drawer when you turn your chin to look at him. “Yeah, sure, let me just… tell you about a mission I’ve spent years finessing so you can get the details wrong when you relay with Luthen.”

“Do you think so little of my memory skills?” he says and it’s a joke, but it teeters on the edge of an argument.

Just like old times.

You don’t need this type of deja vu before the new year.

“Whisper down the lane only goes so far,” you answer, turning back to the drawer in front of you. Your hand lifts the edge of the bottom plate, removing a small box from the center of the hidden compartment.

You only pause when you feel his presence right behind you as soft puffs of air tickle the back of your exposed neck.

He says nothing, not at first, in this proximity. Then a syllable sounds:

“Why?”

The question is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it whisper. His voice flutters along your skin, causing a shiver down your spine. Deep down you know he’s not asking about the drive or your distaste for his preferred method of relay. Why — the one word you hoped to never face.

If you concentrate hard enough, you can smell the scent of his cologne.

It smells nothing like Cassian.

You stay focused on a miniscule dot on the wall, too afraid to turn around.

“We can’t do this here,” you murmur, barely audible in return.

“I paid for the hour,” he replies. “If I were to leave ten minutes into your company, then there would be questions.”

(He’s right. As much as you hate it, your former friend is right.)

You raise your chin to the ceiling, closing your eyes. Contemplating. Seeking anything, everything, to say to avoid what’s to come.

You open your mouth to speak, but Cassian gets there first.

“I looked for you.” A vulnerable statement from an impenetrable man. His chin leans forward, the warmth of him spreading to your aura. “In dozens of quadrants—”

“Cassian.”

“—and about a hundred planets—”

“Stop.”

“—but you left nothing.” The final word emphasizes with raw emotion, causing your throat to swell. His gloved hand rests on your tricep, but you turn to finally face him. The closeness of him is a surprise — piercing brown eyes meet yours with mere centimeters between noses. “No note, no goodbye, no telling where you might have headed. Nothing.”

Frowning, you don’t realize that you’re shaking your head. The lines on his face are too distracting. He is distracting.

“You were never supposed to see me again.”

“And I never understood why.” He steps forward. You step back. When you think he won’t advance, he continues to step once, twice, until the third lands your back to the corner of the room. “So I am asking — now — while I can still have you: why?”

While I can still have you. You know the implication isn’t there, not truly, but your heart aches for it. The tension makes you feel so small, as if you’re eighteen and flying all over again.

You’re supposed to be over this; over him.

“I had to start new,” you answer after a considerable pause, forcing yourself to look him in the eye in what little space is held between you. “I was always going to leave Ferrix.”

“I knew that,” he argues softly. “I was never going to deter you from—”

“No. No, you were never going to,” you agree, nodding. “But you were always off and on the planet, doing what you had to for everyone else. If I didn’t cut Ferrix out of my life, then I wonder if I would have had the same fate as my parents or my friends: getting stuck there. And not just getting stuck, but waiting.”

“Waiting?” Cassian asks with confusion, brows knit.

You relax against the wall with a humorless laugh. “How did you not see it? The way I always waited for you.” Anxious, you turn your cheek to check the main door as you mull over your next few words. “I would have waited my whole life for you.”

The air in the room shifts.

Although he remains in your peripheral vision, the man stays staring at you without a discernible expression. The gravity of what you’re admitting drags lower, lower, until he says something that forces you to look at him head-on:

“I thought you were indifferent to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Indifferent?”

Cassian nods, short and quick. “You had all these big plans. I listened for hours. Not one of them involved me.”

“Because I didn’t think you’d want to be a part of those plans.”

“Maybe I didn’t think I couldn’t make a difference, not in a… rebellion, though the irony is not lost on me now,” he admits with a huff of a laugh, “but I wanted to be a part of you. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I still had you.”

You stare at him as he stares back at you, totally dumbfounded with this brand new information. Cassian swallows thickly, shifting his weight yet again from one leg to another. The loud party continues outside of your room, drowning these confessions in the excitement for a nearing midnight.

You had all these big plans.

Memories warp at a second’s notice as your brain tries to understand what he’s laid at your altar.

Not one of them involved me.

He shouldn’t be saying this.

He shouldn’t be saying any of this.

Closing your eyes to find a pause in your racing thoughts, you try — try to find where perhaps this is fabricated, designed to see if you’re easily swayed by the past that you so desperately let die in this rebellion.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Cassian is watching with something close to concern.

(Something, maybe, closer to fear.)

You gently shake your head. “This is a test.” 

“I know.” 

“Luthen did this—” 

“Fuck Luthen,” he breathes out, eyes dropping to stare at your lips, and your heartbeat quickens. 

His brows meet in the middle, concentrated yet lost — as if he’s back on Ferrix, scrawny and scrappy and calculating the gravity of the risk should he decide to steal or trespass —

Or do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Cassian.” 

Your voice is gentle with a warning. His eyes do not raise, but he does answer.

“What?”

“You have that look on your face.” 

“I have a look?”

“When you’re contemplating doing something stupid? Yes.”

He snorts, amused. “You remember what that looks like after fifteen years?”

“It's very hard to forget it.” 

He mulls the moment over, flickering his attention back up to your eyes and nodding.

“You’re right. I am thinking of doing something stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Incredibly.”

A beat passes.

Finally he blinks up to your eyes, searching for an answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet. You wait, just as you’ve always waited, to hear his voice.

“It’s almost midnight,” he says, flexing the leather gloved hand at his side. “I should go.”

Everything sinks.

The crowd outside grows louder as people depart from their private rooms to celebrate in the middle of the casino. Everyone begins the unison countdown of the final minute until the new year rings out.

The device in your hand grows heavy — a reminder of why he’s here in the first place, what Luthen will be looking for, yet your arm cannot rise to give it over.

(A few more minutes and he’ll be gone.)

To find a reason to keep him here with you would be selfish.

Instead of protesting, you nod. 

“Yeah. You should go.”

He nods, too, and his throat bobs with a swallow.

Outside your door, their laughter and shouts reach a collective ten, nine, eight, seven…

Yet he doesn’t move. 

Neither do you.

Six, five, four, three…

“Cass?”

Two.

Cassian speaks with broken finality, rushed and wanting. “I can't go without—”

You beat him to it.

Canto Bight’s cliffside casino roars with excitement of the new year while you grab the lapel of his Imperial uniform, dragging him in as he simultaneously launches his lips to yours.

The force of him smacks your head into the wall, but the stars behind your eyes aren’t from impact. It’s from the way he presses his mouth to yours, desperate to pour years of frustration and wonder into a long-awaited kiss. You whimper into it, eager to dissolve any space between you.

Cassian Andor cages your head into the palms of his gloved hands, holding you with a tenderness and strength only he can have. He groans into your mouth when he tastes you, tongue dragging along your lower lip — the neediness of it is enough to make your knees give out.

Except he drops his hands to your shoulders and spins you, pressing your chest into the wall. Using your hands to balance yourself, Cassian wastes not a second more to place his hands over yours, pinning you in place.

“We should have — opened with a fight,” he murmurs breathlessly into your ear, kissing your earlobe before bringing it into his mouth. 

You bite back a moan, dropping your forehead to the wall. “If I'd known you wanted to kiss me after all this time, Cass, then I would have — gone straight past a fight and went for it.”

He chuckles behind you, letting go of your earlobe to travel kisses down the side of your neck.

“There is a lot I wanted to do back then, but I was too chickenshit to try it.”

The imagery of a lot burns into the back of your skull.

“And now?” you ask, but it’s wavered.

Cassian slows down, but his lips remain against the crook of your neck. You mourn the loss of speed, pushing your hips back to connect with his.

A hand shoots down to still your waist as his thumb runs soothing strokes into the skintight dress.

“Not here,” he decides, but it isn’t regretful. It’s determined. “When I see you again—”

“When?” you interrupt.

“When,” he enforces, squeezing your waist, “I see you again, I’ll do what I’ve been too chickenshit to do and it won’t be under a watchful eye.”

When I see you again.

You smile small, delirious in the haze of him.

“Is that a promise?”

“As good as I can make one,” he responds in earnest, turning to leave a small kiss on your cheek. “You’re not losing me so easily this time.”

And you believe him.

Misunderstandings, miscommunications — all of that hardship to end up here, of all places.

You have so much to learn.

(He has so much to hear.)

Even if this was Luthen’s doing, even if this was a test of faith, you cannot find a reason to care. Not when your lips still tingle with the kiss you’d only dreamt about your entire life.

Reaching for his arm, you gently bring his free hand to yours and place the small drive in the middle of his palm. Cassian’s chin drops to observe the tiny metal, jaw setting to its unreadable clench.

Because at the end of the night, you both still have jobs to do.

A new year.

(A new horizon.)

“Until next time,” you say, removing your hand from his.

Cassian curls his fingers over the drive, shoving the small device in his coat pocket. He flexes and raises his hand to bring it up to your cheek, cradling your face once more as he leans in for one final kiss. This time it’s softer. Timid.

The closest Cassian Andor can ever get to a promise.

He pulls away, nose to nose, and mirrors in reply.

“Until next time.”

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

HH Critical- Alastor thoughts

Critical of Hazbin Hotel, if you do not want to hear critique, do not read.

As time has gone on and I have heard multiple takes on Hazbin Hotel, I have gotten some ideas about exactly why Alastor feels so flat to me.

The show spends more time propping Alastor up than challenging him. Up until the last episode, Alastor is treated mostly as a powerful badass who can beat up anyone. Only Zestiel and Lucifer seem more powerful, and even then we never see any sort of conclusion to the Lucifer vs Alastor fight.

Alastor is a main character and basically the mascot of Hazbin Hotel. Yet he mostly serves as the devil on Charlie's shoulder in the first season. This would be fine if he served as a static character like Monokuma or Kyubei, but he clearly is meant to have depth.

Suggestion: Have Alastor pick more fights he can't win. We are shown that he is a sociopath who enjoys the suffering of others. Sociopaths who murder often get caught because they lack fear and get too arrogant. Alastor should have to fight to get back his overlord status and lose some fights due to arrogance.

Alastor's race and faith are window dressing. There is absolutely no weight to either Alastor being a mixed-race person from the 20s or him practising Voodoo. Both exist mostly to justify his shadow powers. Alastor also seems to get his power for 'free' as he does nothing in the series that even hints of worship.

Suggestion: Actually address both aspects. Voodoo especially (with the right research) could be interesting to tackle as the faith is a combination of Catholicism and African Diaspora faiths mixing. What does it mean to be a non-Christian in hell? How is his relationship with the pantheon? Does Alastor feel abandoned by his Loa?

Alastor doesn't have anything to do for most of the series. Aside from trolling Vox, Alastor basically leers in the background for most episodes until the very end. He has no goals or anything driving him but amusement. While at the end we know he HAS an overarching goal, it is in the last minutes of the last episode.

Suggestion: Alastor is most likely doing what he is doing because Lillith is pulling his leash. Give him moments of small rebellion and show him trying to find ways out. At first, it might seem he is just stealing for lolz, but every item is chosen as a way to get free.

General suggestions;

Show how meaningless it is to be an overlord. Hell has a lot of opportunities for its citizens, different ecosystems and cultures to live in and chances to make it big for everyone. The Sinners get none of that and are stuck in the Pride ring. Overlords are just slightly bigger fish in an aquarium, they have more power but are as much prisoners as the regular Sinners.

This should be shown more clearly with glimpses of Goetia nobles, the Deadly Sins and the like. Both Alastor and Vox should lose their audience to Verosika or Fizzarolli, nevermind Asmodeus.

Make Alastor's main goal a quest to leave the Pride Ring. Relating to the above, Alastor wants real power, he doesn't want to be chained in any way. Being close to Charlie and her being in his debt are stepping stones to true freedom in hell.

Showcase the lines he won't cross, then make him suffer for them. One of the tried and true ways to develop a character is to challenge their morality and resolve. Especially with characters as powerful as Alastor, it is important to know what could actually hurt them. Put his quest for power against his care for Mimzy and make him choose. Offer him what he wants but at the cost of his morality. The point is not to break him but to challenge him.

These are just a few suggestions I've had, but I feel they cut to the root of my problem with Alastor.

[emblemxeno]

I know Azura and Corrin get a lot of flack for not having shown the orb to the Nohrian Royal but ... weren't they supposed to conquer Hoshido either way ?

Pretty much.

Hypothetically, showing the orb to the other siblings and successfully getting them to fight against Garon relies a lot on unrealistic occurrences going their way:

1) The siblings believing Corrin and Azura are telling the truth. Elise would probably believe them, but wouldn't have the power to stop things by herself. Camilla could go either way in terms of believing, but ultimately she cares more about not dying. Xander and Leo though? Good fucking luck lol.

2) The siblings believing the orb isn't a trap or a falsehood. Leo only entertains this aspect in BR because he was beaten before Azura gave it to him. The other three literally can't use it, so even if Leo does, if he isn't convinced that the orb isn't a Hoshidan trap, why would the others go along with it?

3) The siblings getting over their fear of Garon to fight back. Even when the truth is on the throne in front of them, the siblings aren't gung-ho to kill their dad. Even after all the things he put them through, it's not easy cuz he was their fucking dad and to expect them to flip the switch is to expect poor writing. It's only when Xander inspires them that they're able to do so, and Xander is the hardest one to convince.

4) Having the power to effectively do anything. Azura comments that half of the Nohrian royal army is loyal to Corrin, Xander and Leo, and the other half is loyal to Garon, Iago and Hans. She says this in chapter 23, 8 chapters after the orb is relevant. Safe to say, there wouldn't be enough manpower to rebel against Garon at that point.

5) Doing something that's effectively believable to the player. When the orb comes up, the war has been underway for a while. The Cheve rebellion has been put down, with Scarlet, Orochi, and Reina dead. The Cyrkensia townsfolk are in danger. Corrin has crossed blades with the Hoshidan army more than once. Realistically, what could Corrin's group do to Garon, that also takes into account the war going on? Joining Hoshido isn't an option (and shouldn't be one cuz that defeats the purpose of joining Nohr in the first fucking place), especially when Ryoma is the way he is and Takumi is already possessed. And you'd have to be an idiot to think that Hoshido will just sit on its hands while Corrin rebels against Garon, as if they wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity to take all of Nohr out in one fell swoop. There's precedent for this already, with Hinoka, Ryoma, and Takumi willing to use Nohr's negative reputation to their benefit.

Do you guys know the Rhetorical Triangle of persuasive writng? It's ethos (showcase of author authority through citing of sources or taking care to establish a base argument), logos (building up a logical audience), and pathos (appeals to audience emotions). Most storytelling is persuasive. For your story not to be utter dogshit, you need the central theme/argument to be believable, the logic of a story's circumstances and context in order to believe it, and the emotional weight to get the reader to care and invest in it.

The above "solutions" to the orb issue, would sacrifice the ethos (Corrin sticking to their path, the Nohr siblings being consistently written) and logos (not having the power to start a rebellion, Hoshido canonically taking advantage of Nohr's internal troubles) established in Conquest before chapter 15, in order to maybe satisfy the pathos of some of the audience. I say maybe and some because only a fraction of the fandom has this double-think thing going on where they hate that Corrin gets worshipped and followed for "no reason" but also that Corrin should be totally believed and, in fact, followed earlier to topple the king while there's a war going on. Another subsection also hates Corrin for being a "spineless, whiny coward" so those people might also like this alternative better.

But again, that's a fraction of the total. What about the rest? How would they feel about this change in this story? How can you guarantee that they'd care when you've sacrificed two other major persuasive tools to possibly achieve one for a small and annoyingly persistent group of wannabe story writers? It'd look amateurish and erroneous, not to mention the script's prose in the English versions is already scuffed thanks to Treehouse.

The only thing left for them to argue would be "well, they shouldn't have added the orb in the first place, because it just results in these questions being asked" which... okay! Yeah! In the grand scheme, it doesn't serve anything more than getting Corrin, a character known for his trust, to trust Azura's word. But that kind of critique is useless, cuz it boils down to "well this story should've been better", which can apply to every damn story in the world, and has been said about FE stories in the past. Robin's fake Gules plan was the magic orb of Awakening, same with the blood pact in Tellius, same with effectively every villain dialogue in previous FE games (like Ursula in FE7) that betrays what their ultimate goals are, same with the Turnwheel, Divine Pulse, and the Time Crystal in the future FE games, and countless other examples. At some point, you gotta roll with the punches and accept what the game is trying to tell you, rather than deride it constantly, cuz eventually you'll just hate everything in every story.

Hell, why do you think people say FE stories have never been good? Not cuz they're actually bad, it's cuz people refuse to set aside their biases and faulty evaluations/expectations in order to appreciate what the writing is doing in the grand scheme. It's a lame excuse more than it is a meme, IMO.

[seat-safety-switch]

A couple years ago, back in the before-times (you can interpret that however you want,) my friends and I used to go to the auto show. At the auto show, the dealerships set up little booths and then demonstrate all their new cars by pulling some off the lot. When you buy your new car, maybe it’s been bounced in a few hundred times by toddlers, or had all of its buttons pushed, or been ever-so-slightly scratched by a dude with keys on his belt at this auto show.

That would definitely annoy me, if I were capable of purchasing a new car. All of mine come pre-scratched, from a hardscrabble life of being sent to the junkyard and escaping at least once. In theory, any one of my cars might have been shown at an auto show. Late 1973, early 1974, some asshole would have looked at my Satellite, and gone: yeah, it’s pretty, but the paint doesn’t match. And then things just went south from there.

I’m getting off topic. Here’s the thing that’s important: if you go to the auto show, now, and you go look at the new cars, it gives you a preview of what used, high-mileage garbage you’ll get to choose from in a mere thirty or forty years. Some of the things they bolt onto new cars these days are really cool, although I am sure that the stereo system will stop working once the government finally shoots down the last of the trucker-radio satellites, following the Comedy Radio Rebellion of 2046. In particular, I keep finding myself diving under the electric cars, trying to figure out where I should apply a sawzall to maximum effect in order to “green up” my shitbox fleet. I am told that they are especially competent at burnouts, these lightning-based barge rockets, and surely shaving about three thousand pounds and all the airbags off of the curb weight will only make them more so.

If there’s one downside to the auto show, it’s the crass commercialism. And if there’s two downsides, it’s that every sales rep wants to talk to me. Why? Because when they’re at the convention centre, they’re not able to go into the break room of their respective dealerships and see that blurry photocopy of my face with the words “DO NOT APPROACH” written underneath. I still think it’s kind of unfair that the auto dealer association pulled that shit on me, just because I tried to help myself to some metric bolts over at the Nissan dealer. It’s not like they were using them: based on this Leaf, they mostly hold the thing together with plastic clips anyway.

[rruhlreviews]

Book Review - Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

I finally read the book everyone was talking about.

I found it average. Solid 5/10. It wasn't as bad as I expected, but neither was it as good as some sources, such as the NYT bestseller list, made it sound.

This book is getting a long, detailed, passionate review because I found it so very average. It's been on my mind since I first heard mixed reviews of it last year, and I finally sat down to read it. Buckle up. This review was a ton of fun for me to write.

Introduction

Let's begin by saying, I know why this is a bestseller. Fourth Wing hits all the popular marketing metrics for YA fantasy and romance. There's a magic school, there are dragons, there's a rebellion plot, the love interest is a bad boy, the main character is a girl trying to prove herself. Furthermore, the book is bringing some new things to the table, like a disabled protagonist, and it's in the burgeoning subgenre of romantasy. Newness attracts attention. I won't rehash my rant about booktok for the third time, either. You know what that audience is like: drawn to tropes and flashiness more than technical skill and substance.

The part with Violet meeting her dragons, and the last 50-70 pages with the fight at the border village, grabbed my attention and made Fourth Wing not a completely terrible read. I was pleasantly surprised that the fantasy version of the American imperial machine is being set up as the villain (but also, the author doesn't get bonus points for fulfilling a genre expectation with the fantasy rebellion plot). It was interesting to read about Violet having to mentally unpack the nationalism she'd been fed her whole life. I could tell the writing about the trauma of military life came from the author's experiences and that was meaningful.

My favorite part, hands down, was the dragons. Big creature that headbutts you like a cat. It was an expected trope for them to judge by inner strength instead of external strength, but it's a good trope. (Though the dragons using colloquial dialogue was a turn off.)

However, the writing style and handling of disability in the narrative strongly brought down the book's score for me. There was a major issue with telling instead of showing, in which a lot was told that contradicted what was shown. The blending of genres, while not a bad thing, at times made it feel like too much was happening at once.

Let's dive in.

Style: word choice, pacing, and voice

1. Every time I started to get invested in a heavier scene, the style immediately drew me back out of it. The excessive swearing grated on my nerves. I don't mean this in a prudish way, but it made for a sloppy read that diminished the weight of any significant scene or emotion. How many times can you say someone is "F---ing beautiful?" Do the characters know any way to express happiness, surprise, love, anger, fear, or sorrow that isn't the F-word? It was repetitive and got old fast. Also, the book didn't get the memo you can just use 'said' as a dialogue tag. I was distracted by the amount of 'argued,' 'exclaimed,' 'refuted,' 'groaned,' and similar tags.

In regards to the writing style in the sex scenes, I'll be professional and just say the dialogue and descriptions grabbed my interest much more than the actual loving. 10/10 score for those scenes, solely for making me laugh.

2. I compared the pacing to what I remembered from the H Potter books, which isn't a compliment to either. There are 400+ pages of long, meandering detail about the school year and interpersonal conflict, which can be entertaining, but does little to make me want to turn the pages. While we're talking about comparisons, Fourth Wing even had a contest between four different groups of students. But I digress. 400+ pages of slow pacing, interspersed with minor action moments and the progression of the romance side of the plot, followed by 50-70 pages of compelling action. The climax of both the fantasy and romance plots were decent, but honestly I skimmed entire pages of the first and second acts.

There were virtually no transitions in this book. A scene started slow and then all of a sudden after a break was fast with major plot info incoming. Or, a scene ended fast and then jumped right back into slow school-year pacing with little follow through. I had whiplash.

The beginning of the climax was rough. Violet and Xaden work through the separation beat of their romance plot, nice, then they get roused from bed because the kingdom is under attack. Oh, something is finally happening and this has been foreshadowed! Nope, it's just a training exercise. I put the book down and went to bed when this happened. The payoff comes later, but the fakeout here was frustrating. Tension was not consistent or maintained in the story.

3. The voice was juvenile. I kept forgetting the characters were supposed to be 20-23 years old because they spoke and acted like 15 year olds. If you told me this was a fantasy roleplay to cope with gym class, I would have believed you. I almost got the sense this was intended to be YA, but the characters were aged up so they can have explicit sex, without changing other behavior or dialogue. Every antagonistic character sounded like a playground bully. I can't imagine any 20 year old talking like Jack. On this topic: characters who are nice to Violet are the good guys, and characters who are mean to her are the bad guys. That's a boring morality system, to say the least.

There's a part where the dialogue tag says, "I blatantly whine." That's 100% of the book. I would not like Violet if I knew her for real. I don't think I'd like any of these people except Liam. There's also a part where Violet is pensively reflecting on how normalized death is around here and how it's troubling that people move on so quickly after brutal happenings, but then in the next sentence with no transition moves to thinking about how sexually frustrated she is with attraction to Xaden. Girl, where is your self awareness?

Disability: intent vs interpretation

I have EDS and have much to say about how it was represented in this book. I know Yarros also has EDS, and I have no argument with her writing from her own experiences. The descriptions of how the ligaments don't work and the chronic pain were pretty accurate, as well as the dizzy spells triggered by strong emotion from POTS. "We need to strengthen the muscles around your joints" was painfully familiar. The way disability was handled as a narrative device, however, left a bad taste in my mouth. There's a lot of telling and not showing. Everyone tells Violet, including her inner voice, that she's weak, she's small, she's a delicate little flower, she'll shatter like glass, she's so frail and tiny. I got tired of this after like, two pages. We get the point. This goes along with my earlier note about the voice. It's so repetitive. I got angry by how much they kept calling my chronic pain condition a failing.

The characters say the theme is that Violet's mind made her strong while her body was not strong. But that is not shown. What is shown: Violet only has worth to herself and others when she gets physically stronger. This bordered on inspiration porn for me. If you don't know what inspiration porn is and why it's not good for the disabled community, think of those videos of people struggling out of their wheelchair to walk at their wedding. If a disabled person wants that as a goal, cool. But it should not be the expectation. Inspiration porn sends the message that you only have worth if you push your body past its limits to prove to everyone else you aren't weak. As if disability can go away if you only "try hard enough." Now, the narrative does indeed present these ideas as flaws of the mentality of Navarre's culture. "Kill the weak" is a terrible judgement system and it's clearly shown as bad. However, I get the feeling the author has some internalized ableism to work out. It reflects in the story. The idea that you must push your body past its limits to succeed was present in my interpretation of Fourth Wing, even if that was not the intention. Sure, Violet is stronger than other people because she overcame more pain, but she should realize that she didn't have to do that to be worthy, and she doesn't, at least not in this book. There's a scene towards the end when Violet is reflecting on how much stronger she's gotten since the beginning of the school year. She's going up a staircase and remembers when she used to be afraid because it didn't have a handrail, but now she's strong and doesn't need handrails and feels it was silly to ever worry. What? Just because you don't need it now, Violet, doesn't mean you shouldn't have had it before, or that other people don't need it.

Sure, maybe the author and some readers want a fantasy where the disability actually can go away. It didn't work for me though. I have EDS and could never do what Violet does. Does that make me weak or mean I'm not trying hard enough? No. Pain medicine is not bad, and using it does not make you lesser. I wanted to say, "Get out of my way, Violet, and let me have the magic medicine you keep refusing, maybe this will finally fix my shoulder." The part with the braces on the saddle was cool, but Violet's reaction got on my nerves. Someone spent days making you custom mobility aids! Stop being stubborn, Violet. If someone did that for me, I would cry. At least she did accept them and acknowledge how she was stronger because of the aids.

Here's the main point. Violet's disability only shows up in the story when it's an obstacle to overcome. People bully her for her disability and it's there to contribute to an emotional conflict and self worth issue. Dain sees her as weak but Xaden sees her as strong, and it's a tool for the love triangle. She's tiny, she's frail, yadda yadda yadda. But this doesn't actually stop her from doing anything after the midpoint of the book. In the third act of the book, her disability vanishes when it's no longer plot relevant. She still uses braces, but she channels a ridiculous amount of magic without burning out. In real life, chronic pain doesn't go away even after physical therapy, and it certainly doesn't go away after you reach an emotional breakthrough. My biggest grievance is, what happened to her hypermobility during the sex scenes? Girl, how didn't you dislocate your hips immediately with some of those positions? How can you even walk the next day after going for five rounds? You broke all the furniture in your room with rough loving but didn't have any pain from the physical effort, how does that even work? Violet's back miraculously survived the sex scenes, but mine did not, because I pulled it from laughing so much at the absurdity.

Thus concludes my list of grievances. Let's discuss where Fourth Wing fits into genre trends.

The Romantasy Subgenre

The blending of genres made it feel like Fourth Wing was trying to balance two main plots and wasn't able to fully go in depth with either.

One, we had the romance plot between Violet and Xaden which, in my humble opinion as someone who doesn't specialize in the romance genre, followed romancing the beat pretty soundly. It was overall enjoyable (ignoring the writing style and pacing). I will say though, I don't think the book knew what 'enemies to lovers' is. We have yet another incident of telling that contradicts showing. Violet keeps talking about how Xaden is bad for her and how their families are enemies and he's scary and she's such a bad girl for having feelings for him. What is shown: Xaden is the only character to consistently respect Violet. He never hurts her, and despite being abrasive, is kind and gentle with her. He makes her mobility aids, bends over backwards to prioritize her, and is great in bed. Another nitpick: at one point, Violet thinks of him as 'controlling,' just because he installed a lock on her door after someone tried breaking in. Girl, if you saw the 'controlling' characters I write about in horror romance, you wouldn't believe it.

Two, we had the fantasy plot, which in my opinion was the weaker of the two. We have a clearly epic fantasy setting, with dragons and a magic college and a hearty amount of worldbuilding (which was injected at weird times like dumping the country's history during a fatal balance beam trial or interrupting a sex scene to mention they have magic birth control). However... what happens in this setting? Typically from the fantasy genre, one expects some sort of quest. Much of the story felt like a YA school romance that happened to be in a world with dragons. There was a little foreshadowing to the fantasy quest throughout the school year, with censored information and border attacks. It could have used more foreshadowing. The parts where the fantasy half of the plot shone through were my aforementioned favorite parts: the scene with Violet bonding with her dragons, and then the 50-70 final pages with the reveal about the Venin and the ensuing battle. It was in these scenes that I felt the story was truly beginning, even though one was the ending.

It felt like the fantasy half of romantasy didn't begin until the romance plot was 2/3 complete. Additionally, there were times when the romance half took a backseat to the worldbuilding or foreshadowing what would happen later when the fantasy plot began, which made chapters drag on. Much of the book felt like neither plot was advancing. The two main plots made each other weirdly paced and some balls were dropped in juggling.

Final note on the genre blending: having magic tied to emotion is pretty run of the mill for fantasy but I couldn't get over Violet's magic being tied to arousal and how her libido skyrocketed when her dragon was mating. This reminded me of shifter romance without actually being shifter romance. (Didn't help that when Violet was angry, the narration said her hackles rose.) (And mind you, I say this as someone who enjoys shifter romance.)

Some people criticize romantasy for having romance. This misses the point. Audiences and markets change, and there are still countless options for epic fantasy with no romance for the people who are clutching their pearls. I criticize Fourth Wing for having a writing style that made it impossible for me to take the romance seriously and for struggling to balance two plots in way that didn't inhibit each other's development.

New Adult vs Young Adult

Fourth Wing simultaneously feels like young adult and new adult. Young adult: it has a coming of age narrative, and the characters' behavior and voice make them seem like teens. New adult: the characters are in college, and there's explicit sex and violence. It felt like the book couldn't commit to either YA or NA. I'd call this book YA written for people in their 20s who grew up reading YA fantasy and want to keep reading YA but with college age characters now.

There's nothing wrong with any of this, but Fourth Wing is indeed trying to be many things at once. I wonder if this contributed to the strange pacing and voice. Blending genres is a relatively new phenomenon, as is the new adult category. I don't think these are necessarily bad, but I think as we move forward, people will look at what worked and what didn't work in books that pioneered new adult and romantasy in order to refine future entries. I'm excited to see how it evolves, even if I don't write the genre or age range.

Conclusion

Yep. That's about it. 5/10. Some compelling plot points with a dubious writing style. I don't understand the hype but whatever. It wouldn't be the first time a book of this genre and quality blew up, became a NYT bestseller, and got movie deals.

Am I interested in how the rebellion will play out with Violet unpacking the nationalism she was raised with? Yes, that was cool and surprising. It felt gutsy for an author who spent her whole life in military culture to do. Will I be reading the rest of the series? Nope! I was not invested in a single character to care what happens to them next. The book never showed me a reason to care about them besides telling me I should root for an underdog. Nor do I think I could handle reading one more page of that "f---ing" style.

Mainly, I read Fourth Wing so I could use it in a bigger project about disability representation in genre fiction. Do I think it was good disability representation? Not really but I respect the author writing from her own experience and the part with Xaden making her mobility aids was sweet. The shown message that Violet only had worth after getting stronger despite what the theme about brain > brawn might have told, and the way her disability pretty much stopped being an issue once it no longer served her emotional conflict, really bothered me. And I gotta reiterate: Girl, you are not pulling off that rough sex without breaking your body.

I've been haunted by mixed reviews of this book for a year, and now that I've read it, I can finally say "I thought it was average" instead of "I heard it was average." I am finally free. I'm at peace.

Oh wait, I almost forgot to mention. Before reading, I saw this interview with Yarros.

What? There are two genders: romance and dragons?

I'm baffled. Speechless.

The end.

[murkycran]

Unpopular opinion, but I’m still withholding pity for the Collector until episode 3 of season 3. I don’t trust him.

Not because I think he’s really evil and hiding some evil scheme, but because he’s a godchild with the immense power to change reality and he hasn’t show the capacity to become more grounded yet. Being lonely and locked up doesn’t excuse his extreme apathy for the people he uses like toys. That was clearly going on far before he was locked up, because as he said himself, King’s father locked him away because he wanted to play with egg/baby King. Then, when he was helping Belos, he knew what the Draining Spell would do and was more than okay with it! He thought it was funny that thousands of people were going to die! He sang that little rhyme about it in Hollow Mind, if I remember correctly, while miming it in shadows over the portal door.

He may be different from the other Collectors (as shown in the murals from FTF), but he still has the same problem that they do! Which is a completely alien mindset from the species they’re “collecting”. They may be unfeeling and ruthless when it comes to any sign of rebellion, but so is the Collector, just in a different fashion! Where the more mature Collectors commit genocide (as it was implied), the Collector chooses to enslave. He thinks it’s fine that his toys don’t have free will anymore; more than that, he thinks he’s worthy of being the one to decide who gets free will and who doesn’t.

He reminds me a LOT of that kid from that one Twilight Zone episode, “It’s a Good Life”. He’s less angry and purposely sadistic than the kid in that show, but still just as temperamental and powerful, willing to bend the people around him if they don’t comply because he sees himself as More than them.

The only one the Collector showed even a shred of empathy and respect for was King (he specifically singled King out to be his best friend and talk to him one on one, he actually took the time to listen to King when he didn’t want the Collector to have Francois, let King visit Eda, etc), because he considers Titans to be more equal to himself than the people of the Boiling Isles.

So yeah, to me, the whole “poor thing was lonely” doesn’t really cut it. Sure, I’m sympathetic, but I’m not going to be happy if his behavior is just waved away with “oh he’s a lonely kid, poor thing is taken advantage of by Belos” excuse. I want to see him realize the weight of his actions. I want him to MATURE. Give me character growth, not the blanket excuse that just because he has a kid’s mentality his actions are excusable.

[renfriscreyden]

The problem with Blood Origin

The biggest problem Blood Origin faces is that it was cut too short. Though Blood Origin presents an interesting cast of characters, and sets up the witcher universe, none of the events and emotions feel deserved. What once was a series with six episodes, has been cut down to four, forsaking a third of its origin plot and backstory. The characters presented are vibrant, interesting, and diverse, and their backstories, past, and personalities are used to propel the plot forward.

Yet, these backstories seemed to have been cut down so dramatically that none of the resulting action or emotions feel deserved. Éile and Fjall fight to avenge their clans, their previous way of life, and their family members, despite their flaws, yet none of the avenging feels vengeful enough. We barely know anything about these clans, which are so important to the story. We see them protecting, but that is all we know, no further depth. Then, we learn that the character’s relations to these clans are filled with pain and regret, too, which begs the question if they are worth avenging at all, though this drives part of the story. We get flashbacks in the misty marshes, leading up to the meeting with Zacaré and Syndril, suddenly fleshing out the characters, showing us there is much more to these characters than might meet the eye.

However, we never really learn much more than surface level details about any of the Seven. The characters feel incomplete. Much of the weight given to these characters and their bonds is unexplained. Little elaboration is given about Éile as the Lark, for example, which makes it appear as if her power to inspire rebellion is without base, though flashes of her power are shown in the episodes, they are rarely elaborated upon. Likewise, there is suggested to be weight to the name Brother Death, but this weight is only ever hinted at, never elaborated upon.

Similarly, many character relations are underdeveloped. Fenrick is supposed to be very close to Balor, literally being his heart, as he himself says, yet they are seen a handful of times together, and their relationship is glanced over quickly, without any focus or detail. Éile and Fjall, too, have an intense relationship, but it feels very cut and dry, their love mostly unexplored, going from tension to love in no amount of time at all. 

Many aspects of the society are unexplored, too. There is much talk about a lost elven culture, yet this is barely fleshed out, just shown via shimmering white architecture, and books, though the world, especially the war raging, reminds much of the Witcher, barely differentiating from the Continent we already know. There is SO much potential, so many interesting aspects to explore, yet nothing is fully fleshed out, leaving everything underdeveloped, nothing really living up to its potential, even the lore. The conjunction of the spheres just happens, and we only ever see its cause, but no detail as to what exactly unfolded. The concept of celestial twins is barely expanded upon despite its heavy use. Had the series been six episodes, much of the underdeveloped interpersonal relationships and worldbuilding would have been much better. 

For a series, there is little development, just the achievement of a goal: bringing down an empire. Such a lack of depth and development would have worked much better as a movie, for a problem, conflict, and resolution format would be much more satisfying for a two-hour movie than a three-hour series. The cutting of the episodes suggest a lack of commitment to choice: either to the format of a movie, with the showrunner admitting to cutting down the episodes to have the format be like that of a movie, or to that of a show, which requires more depth and development. 

Pace cannot be all, especially not in a production that has already been divided into four parts, slowing down the watching experience. Blood Origin should have been a movie, or stuck to the six episodes, but as it is now, it lacks in motivation and backstory, making the plot and lore superficial, and much of the action and emotions undeserved, without base. Rooting for characters is difficult when the characters are not fleshed out, when the potential is there and was there, but has been cut, leading to an action-filled show that lacks in its promise of lore and character. Not everything needs to be expanded upon in detail to enjoy a show, but the lack of detail leaves too much open to interpretation.

Had it been formatted as a movie, the lack of backstory and worldbuilding might have been excused, even though the show was meant to expand upon the lore of the world of the Witcher. Yet, as a series, Blood Origin lacks depth, development, and decision. 

[thatninjacat27]

Out Of Touch

Bad Ending Future Au

Angst

Nine goes to a bar to drink regular juice from a juice box (no underage drinking going on)

Slight Spoilers

Major Character Death

Nine is also around 15-16 here.(I heard he was like 12 in the series so time skipped)

(the ao3 link above and the bottom is just what’s in the link)

It was around that time of year again. A time when Nine has the perfect excuse to get out of the lab and experience freedom of movement again. Even if the pink cyborg hedgehog was required to be by his side at all times.

This day was very special because New Yoke City was celebrating the third anniversary of crushing the Rebellion and traveling to other worlds. The Chaos Council had made it required that everyone celebrate the fact it had been three full years of Eggman domination across dimensions and still expanding by the minutes.

Nine goes to a dingy bar in the worse part of the city. He went there at random, decently often, particularly whenever he was having a rough day. But today was a day he could be trusted to come in like clockwork. The fox would make sure to go to the bar the hour before the festivities would die down and everyone else would settle somewhere to sleep. He didn’t feel like dealing with a lot of people. 

Nine sits on an empty stool hidden in the left hand corner of the bar with Rusty standing right beside him. His “bodyguard” was always on guard as if someone would dare to attack him after what he did all those years ago. The fox waits for the bartender to give him his usual drink.

The bartender wordlessly hands him his favorite juice box brand and walks away to attend to the other customers. Nine watches as she helps out the other people in the bar. As usual no one bats an eyelash to his or the cyborg’s presence. It was like they weren’t even there. And that was fine with him. The last person to so much as tried to interact with him was a drunk and got their teeth knocked out after saying some things to him that he rather not repeat. It was that incident that became one of the reasons he “had” to be under Rusty Rose’s protection.

Nine knew that it was just a way for the Council to keep watch and exert control over him. The fox had continuously proven himself to be a valuable resource, one that they couldn’t afford to get rid of. So to prevent anyone from trying anything stupid, they assigned Rusty Rose to watch over him.

It wasn’t all bad but he didn’t care much about his new “babysitter”. She apparently did though. Rusty helped out a lot around his lab, acting as his assistant in just about anything he needed, she listened to him when he went on a rant, and took care of him when he was sick. But whether it was all genuine or for show was up to debate. Any concern she had shown for him was probably either due to a glitch in her programming or the council had ordered her to. And neither option was not something Nine wanted to think of.

He gently stirs the juice box around not drinking it yet as if he was a cultured rich person with wine and thinks about Sonic. Specifically on how he died and the after effects of that course. 

You see, not only was today marking the third anniversary of the Chaos Council’s victory against the Resistance and the start of conquering of other worlds, but also Sonic’s death day. And Nine was the one to shoot him down, effectively letting the Council win.

The fox looked at the blaster around his waist, the one that he always carried since he was a little kid. He knew that he was imagining it but it felt much heavy than it typically does despite of it being made of light weight material. But that feeling always occurred during this time since it was the same gun that killed Sonic.

The blue hedgehog was fast enough to dodge a bullet shot from long range but not fast enough for one shot from extremely close proximity and by a replica of a beloved family member.

The funny part was that Nine had warned him but still Sonic hadn’t seen it coming. And the shock made his reflexes slowed down enough for the bullet to do its job. The bullet was a biological weapon developed by the Council to make Sonic stop moving. There was some unforeseen side effects which were the actual cause of death.

The scientists were more used to dealing with the mechanical and not biological. So they got something mixed up and that led to several organ failures and other gruesome stuff. Nine had stood over Sonic and watched as the hedgehog choked on his own blood.

Nine took a sip of his juice.

The fox didn’t know what to do to save him. He stood still as the blood rushed out of the wound and Sonic’s eyes became duller. And Nine never shook off the look of betrayal that the hedgehog gave him while he died. It was a look that haunted him in his nightmares everytime he fell asleep. It was so bad that the fox purposely tried to not sleep for days until Rusty had to force him to take his required minimum 8 hours of rest.

The council hadn’t been super upset with this development. At least he wouldn’t be a problem anymore with interfering with their plans. With Sonic gone and the council gaining more and more Shards, the resistance had been wiped out completely with the rebels having been arrested and reprogrammed.

Nine remembered how they all got mind wiped. He had watching it all happen through a one way mirror and saw the first victims, Rebel and Knucks, get reprogrammed by the machine. It was one of the things he pushed down towards the deepest darkest corners of his mind.

He should have felt better about it all with the power he gain from working with the Chaos Council. The protection he got for fully working personally with the members of the Council. It shouldn’t have, it didn’t matter that he was branded as a traitor to the resistance fighters or that he was more hated now than ever before but he kept remembering Sonic, his first real friend and his brother.

Sonic had entered his dull, full of misery, and painful life out of nowhere and made it his mission to stay there. Even if it was all fast paced and sometimes difficult to keep up with but it was real and it made an impact.

Before Sonic, Nine hadn’t given a damn about anyone. He built those seven other tails to protect himself and make anyone who thought of crossing him, fear him. It wasn’t until the hedgehog had shown him what he had been missing that the fox had unknowingly let someone else inside his heart.

Sonic really made him hope for a brighter future and Nine had thought that his new future would have the spiky blue hedgehog by his side. But he knew better after what happened in his “new home”, The Grim. And that was without talking about the events that happened after that with his capture and being force to work for the Council.

Nine gulped the rest of the juice in one go.

Well, what was done was done and what could have been will always be what could have been. There was no used in crying over spilled milk. Nine had cried those tears away a long time ago.

The fox squeezed the box to make sure that he got every last drop of juice out of it. There was no use for weakness in this life. The city had taught him that. The Council had shown him that. And Sonic… Well he only proved it.

Nine payed what he owed to the bartender and left. Rusty Rose quickly followed behind him. There was work to do and there was no use thinking about the past or on old memories.

[theprayerfulword]

October 23

Psalm 121:1-2 I lift up my eyes to the hills — from where will my help come? My help comes from the LORD.

Psalm 51:10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

1 Peter 1:8-9 …and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls.

Isaiah 41:10 Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

Isaiah 49:13 Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

Romans 5:10 For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life.

May your heart be prepared in humility and desperation to know and obey God's will before you ask for leading and seek for guidance, because to know what to do and do it not is sin and rebellion. Jeremiah 42

May you wait on the Lord for His direction and spend time in His presence giving Him praise and worshiping Him, trusting His promises and relying on His mercy, for He has declared His love and shown His compassion for you, allowing you to cast out and overcome the baseless fear that attempts to drive you into premature and faithless action. Jeremiah 42

May you not stand in pride against the word of the Lord which He sends to you for your own good, but step down from arrogance and stand aside from self-defense, moving apart from fear, turning in trust to the immutable promises and eternal wisdom of the Father Who is willing to accept you as you are and bring you deliverance and liberty by destroying the powers that have influenced you. Jeremiah 43

May you not provoke the King to anger with the works of your hands or the intents of your heart, but humble yourself and show reverence to the Lord by following His leading and obeying His direction, for it is better to be led by God into captivity and be separated from idolatry than to rebelliously flee to Egypt to maintain your willful choices. Jeremiah 44

May you encourage others in the body of Christ to do what is good and to obey God's words, standing against disbelief in purity of worship, letting the gentleness of the Spirit soften the hardness of the hearts that have been influenced by the enemy. Jeremiah 44

May you be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus and endure hardship like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 2

May you die with Him that you may also live with Him; may you endure with Him that you will also reign with Him, for if you disown Him, He will also disown you; if you are faithless, He will remain faithful, for He cannot disown Himself. 2 Timothy 2

May you not quarrel about words, but focus on the essential truths of God, doing your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth, avoiding godless chatter. 2 Timothy 2

Even when you have an abundance, your life does not consist of your possessions, My child. You must be on your guard against all forms of greed and "self"-ishness. How can the righteous merchant, who deals fairly with his customers, paying a living wage to his employees, honoring all the taxes and regulations of the government, compete against other tradesmen who cut corners, use false weights, cheat their employees and steal from their customers? The little that the righteous have is still better than the abundance of the wicked, for with the fear of God and by being content with food and covering, godliness brings peace that the great treasure and turmoil of the wicked will never see. Understand, My dear, that your life is so much more than merely food or drink or clothing. Would My blood and suffering have been required for your redemption if the needs of your body were all that had to be purchased? I have paid the price to regain the legal title to you, My most precious creation, and I have defeated the enemy at every level and on every battlefront he has attempted to fight. You have been reborn of water and the Spirit, and brought into new life from death; I have wrapped you in the swaddling cloth of My robe of righteousness. You did not purchase it, neither could you make it; it is My gift to you, willingly and lovingly. I have seated you in the heavenlies, I have placed you in My Body where you can be cared for by those who have My heart, and I have sent My Holy Spirit to indwell you as an evidence and assurance of My intention to fulfill the rest of My promises. I have equipped you with My armor and My weapons so that I may be both your defense and your offense against the spiritual wickedness that battles against you because of My name and My nature that you bear. Is it possible that having received all this from My hand, that you still have concerns about how much I care about your daily, material, earthly needs? Having seen My provision in your life in times past, can you not see how it is another trick, another lie of the enemy to undermine the faith in your life that is so pleasing to the Father? Let your heart refresh itself in My presence, My love, and let your thoughts dwell on My Word. Let your mouth give utterance to the praise that expresses the thanksgiving swelling your heart as you consider all I have given you, and realize again Who I am to you. Rest yourself in the strength of My under-girding arms and know that I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you. You will lack no good thing that you have need of, for you have Me as your loving Lord and caring Master.

May you be confident that the Lord knows those who are His. 2 Timothy 2

May you understand that everyone who confesses the name of the Lord must turn away from wickedness. 2 Timothy 2

May you cleanse yourself from what is dishonorable so that you may be a vessel of honor, sanctified, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work. 2 Timothy 2

May you enjoy the goodness of praising the Lord and making music to the name of the Most High, proclaiming His love in the morning, and His faithfulness at night. Psalm 92

May you sing for joy at the works of the Lord, as He makes you glad by the deeds of His hands, for the works of the Lord are great and His thoughts are profound. Psalm 92

May your eyes see the defeat of your adversaries and your ears hear the rout of your foes as the Lord brings you victory over the spiritual forces which have fought against you because of your obedience to God. Psalm 92

May you rejoice that the statues of the Lord stand firm and holiness adorns His house, of which you are a part, for endless days since He is robed in majesty and armed with strength, reigning from His throne which was established long ago. Psalm 93

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Ok okhay bc i have So Many Thoughts gnnnnnnnnn

I do agree with the "surprise reveal" on Chani's end very much. I have my own uhhhh version of events for all of them I'm cooking up, but in regards to what could Actually Happen in the Actual Movie, I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't really shown at all for the first little while? Maybe there are whispers of rebellion amongst the Fremen or early assassination attempts etc. that are kind of hinted at to have something to do with her, but we don't know until she shows up partway through and it's confirmed that those things were led by/related to her. Also I loved your idea in an earlier post that she and Paul might meet again on opposite sides of a battle...parallels to the way they met in the first movie (aka masked, pointing guns at each other etc.) much???? (also opens up the idea that she could become a political prisoner of sorts which could be ??!?!???)

I also wonder if Chani will somewhat take over Scytale's role in the book --- and/or possibly even Ghola Duncan's? Though I want him there and I feel like they'll probably include him, the thought of her being the one sent to infect Paul's mind or whatever is juicy...

I love the thought of Alia replacing a lot of the emotional weight book!Chani's character filled...I also thought her role in Messiah was sorta thin, like she was discussed as a character by other characters more than she really did all that much. Sensing some possible parallels with her to both Paul's relationship with Chani *and* his relationship with Jessica, having Alia kind of fill both roles?

Whatever happens, I'm stoked.

Said I was not gonna make Dune Messiah predictions but here I am making Dune Messiah predictions. Because I've been thinking about how smartly Part Two used all the characters around Paul to embody the different forces pulling on him, and I wouldn't be surprised if we see a similar thing in Dune Messiah.

I think Irulan's role will be more or less the same as in the book--she'll be plotting against him. She represents the interests of the Bene Gesserit and the other Great Houses--all the various other imperialist powers that Paul pissed off by upending their carefully laid plans.

Chani will definitely be there but she will not have spent the intervening years with Paul. It's much more of a punch in the feels for her to pop up as a plot twist partway through the story and for us to see their reunion happen in real time. I've seen some predictions that try to like...bend Paul and Chani's relationship back into a shape approximating what's in the book and I am saying now that that ain't gonna happen. Spending years hanging around the imperial palace trying to get pregnant and soothing your dictator bf's existential angst makes no fucking sense for movie Chani. She will be organizing against him. If she "forgives" him and spends any amount of time with him it'll be a ruse in order to spy on him or something like that. I think it would be a great source of internal conflict for her to discover along the way that she still harbors some compassion for Paul as a person, but there is no way she will compromise her political principles; that is the bedrock of her character. She will serve much the same role as she did in Part Two: she gives voice to Paul's conscience, his better instincts, and the interests of the Fremen independent of what various imperial powers want from them.

The twins will still be born, because that is central to why Paul does what he does at the end of the story, and that is part of "leaving the door open" for any fool who might take a crack at directing Children of Dune. (I think Children of Dune can work just fine as a movie but anyone who does it will be Not Denis and therefore setting themselves a formidable task.) But like...Paul and Chani only have to have sex once for that to happen.

The role that Chani plays for a large chunk of the book, of being Paul's loyal confidante and the person he allows himself to be most human around? That role is gonna be filled by Alia.

Alia...doesn't really have a lot to do, plot-wise, in the book of Dune Messiah, and this is the perfect place to put her. She is the only person in the Known Universe who maybe sort of a little bit understands what Paul's experience of reality is like now. She's the perfect conduit to voice all the philosophical stuff about prescience that's in the book but hard to work into casual dialogue. The book is full of people saying stuff about how Paul and Alia are so close they seem like two halves of the same person but we don't really see it that much on the page, and this is the perfect chance to add that stuff in. (I could very much see them borrowing not necessarily the actual plot points but some of the weird incesty vibes from the Children of Dune era.) I wouldn't be so surprised if some of the moments that happen between Paul and Chani in the book get handed off to Alia (blind ornithopter ride maybe??) and Chani gets a whole new storyline, independent of Paul, that's not in the book at all.

It kinda fits with the rhythm of the films, too. In Part One Paul's most important interpersonal relationship is with Jessica. In Part Two, he's in conflict with Jessica and his most important relationship is with Chani. In Messiah, I think he'll be in conflict with Chani and his most central relationship will be with Alia. (And ghola!Duncan probably, but I think that will be another surprise reveal that happens later in the story.) And at the end of Messiah, he won't end up in conflict with Alia exactly. But he will leave her behind.

[matth1w]

Tribulations

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Catching the eye of the interviewer, you face trials of temptation and faith.

Associated Verse: Blessed is the one who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and heeds the things which are written in it; for the time is near. Revelation 1:3

Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, Nightmares, Mental Manipulation, Blasphemy (Michael Langdon and all his fuckery)

Rating: All, but it’s a darkish fic

Word Count: 3,070 Words

Note: I very intentionally did not use his first name

Note 2: I’m not back... just finally finished & edited something for once 😅

Forever Tags: @captainrogerss // @banditthewriter // @fics-not-tragedies // @commander-writergirl // @zodiyack

Tag Lists Are Open / Requests are Closed

D O  N O T  R E P O S T  M Y  W O R K

The crackling embers calmed you and guided your heartbeat to slow to a steady tempo. The warmth that radiated from the fireplace threatened to bring a slew of memories from what felt like a past life.

You knew you should turn to face your interviewer, that you probably seemed rude ignoring him to instead stare longingly into the warming fire but something kept you there.

You felt... safe.

For the first time since the sirens sounded, you felt safe.

That thought brought you peace and you finally sighed in content and smiled as you turned to face the man who claimed to be your savior.

Mr. Langdon simply raised his eyebrows at you, not commenting on your actions of the past few minutes. The only other movement was his fingers slowly stroking the underside of his chin. They seemed to sparkle from the light catching the shining stones and golden metal.

He seemed more at ease as well, like he was able to experience the thoughts of peace and happiness that had been running in your mind. Or maybe the fire brought its own kind of warmth to him as well.

The sound of a log crumbling into ash turned your attention back to the fireplace. Your eyes only rested there for a moment but when you turned back the man in front of you had changed.

No longer a beautiful man leisurely sitting by the fire, Mr. Langdon instead had a furrowed brow with a matching grimace and leaned forward the moment your eyes met his once more.

You found yourself wondering what could have brought this sudden change. Before your thoughts could spiral any deeper into questions, you saw him open his mouth to speak. The low timber and plush lips brought an unwilling blush to your cheeks.

“How are you... enjoying things at the outpost?” Mr. Langdon’s pause and scrutinizing eyes made you nervous. Like he was a seasoned hunter laying a perfectly placed trap and he had no true care for your enjoyment, and instead was hoping you fell for the trick.

Despite the countless warning signs blaring in your mind, for some reason you wanted to tell him the truth. How much you hated Madam Venable for ruining an already depressing situation, how you wanted to scream every time a petty argument broke out over dinner, how many nights you laid awake wondering why you were facing this tribulation. Were you chosen or simply damned?

Oh, many times you wished you could escape this sadistic stone tomb.

Recalling his assurance, rather threat, that he would know if you dared to lie to him, you settled on the truth... just more simple.

“This isn’t how I imagined the apocalypse would go.”

A weighted statement full of multiple meanings but the truth nonetheless.

At that, you saw his lips flick up into a quick smile and his eyes glimmer in the low light dancing around the room.

“Is that so?” Mr. Langdon leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his knee, the simple movement somehow seductive.

A flutter in your heart brought warmth to your body. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed to amuse Mr. Langdon, got him to smile in a way that didn’t seem malicious. Made him turn into the man you had seen just moments before.

You let yourself smile in return. For some reason, your tense body relaxed as if you were two friends casually conversing over a shared humorous experience.

Instead of laying out your reasons, something reckless inside your soul emboldened you to taunt him with a vague truth. Something about his pretentious demeanor intrigued you, especially after Gallant mimicked his line about being able to sense the darkest things about a person. You were desperate to see what he was hiding in the shadows of his own being.

“Yes.”

You looked him in the eyes, watching as he stared back blankly, his mask of aloof superiority now back. You knew it then to be a mask — you could feel his genuine self itching to be shown.

He was genuinely pleased to have someone make him feel something. For a moment, you wanted to continue your thoughts, share every thought and feeling and secret, but you wanted to see how far the game would go.

Your rational side knew it would likely end with you being left to rot in the outpost. It didn’t matter much. You accepted your death long ago and this entertainment finally brought some life back into your veins.

After nearly a minute of a scrutinizing glare, Michael removed his hands from his knee and laid them flat on the arms of the black leather chair.

Your attention was brought to the ringed fingers drumming lightly, as if he was pondering his next words. Something inside you didn’t quite believe him. As if it was an act for show. That he knew exactly was he was going to do next. He was simply... waiting.

Toying with you.

Seeing if you’d crack under the silence. Fill the lack of noise and if so, how you’d do it.

With an apology?

An insecure question?

A babbling attempt to say what you think he wants to hear?

Or something... else?

You thought forcing Michael to speak next would surely annoy him but instead when he opened his mouth, he seemed as if he was amused by your resolute rebellion. His teeth shined from the flickering fire, making him seem like a hungry beast.

The warmth seemed to increase from your side, like the flames were growing, intensifying, as you pressed on. You wondered if your words or his were the fuel.

“Venable told me you caused quite a ruckus when you got here.”

You grimaced, recalling your punishment of starved time in the cell below.

“Is that a question?”

His eyebrows raised at your snarky retort, his mouth a thin line. He must be getting impatient. You didn’t like this look of him.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured out with a well placed sigh.

“I just... didn’t, and don’t, agree with that rule.”

He hummed noncommittally.

“This outpost has a quite extensive library. So why bother yourself with stealing something as silly as fairytales?”

There was an challenge in his eyes as he continued speaking as he stood.

“Now, at least it wasn’t some cute version, I’ll give you that.”

His steps resounded as he moved to circle behind you. Daring you to follow him with your eyes or a turn of your head but you stayed still.

“How many days did Venable keep you in that cell?”

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning over to encircle you even further. His presence smothering you as the heat suffocated you even further. You couldn’t tell if it came from him or the fire.

“Hmm? Tell me, was it worth it?”

As his last words left his mouth in a whisper, he leaned in so his mouth was brushing against your hair.

Your breath hitched from his proximity, your skin raised in what felt like a strange mix of fear and anticipation. Your mouth felt dry as you forced yourself to swallow.

“Yes.”

The simple response and all its weight hung heavy in the air as only the sound continued to be the still lively fire to your right. You knew it to be no ordinary thing. Mr. Langdon made no movement, staying torturously close.

After what felt like an eternity, he took in a deep breath through his nose, seeming to breathe you in as much as he was refilling his lungs. You wondered if he even needed to breathe.

You could sense the satisfied smirk and feel the hot air as he leaned in to the shell of your ear.

“Good.”

You were unsure how to respond. Even more unsure if you should.

Mr. Langdon stood upright again, the soft brush of cool air hitting the back of your neck, relieving you as it sent shivers down your spine.

His left hand came into your view and you finally looked up at him, hesitant to instantly take it as much as you wanted to. There was still a part of you that was weary and unsure. Unwilling to not question.

Seeing a polite, disarming smile on his lips, you placed your hand in his, surprisingly warm and soft, and rose from your seat.

He turned your body towards him, the proximity once again sending mixed signals throughout your body. More so excitement now, but still laced with the ever present tendrils of trepidation.

He took his hand from yours but then moved to place it under your chin. Not cupping it in a romantic manner, but like how an adult would do to a pitifully naive child.

Your skin flushed where it met his, like he had the same power as the fireplace before. Something in the back of your mind noted how it had simmered once more. The flames calming as you accepted his extended hand.

Mr. Langdon cocked his head and let his eyes be overrun with clear pity. He even sealed what felt like the overly faux emotion with an empathetic sigh.

“Although life isn’t the fairytale you wished for, try to make the best of it, princess.”

You had to control every muscle in your face to not scrunch your nose at the words that stung like a patronizing slap despite the show of emotions that accompanied them.

Not trusting your tongue, you silently nodded. His fingers dug in for a moment like he was dissatisfied you maintained your composure and was about to lose his. He ripped his hand from your chin with a snarl and turned around to step behind his desk, his eyes roaming the wooden surface as he flexed his fingers, perhaps your touch had pained him.

He pulled out the thin black chair before he paused and looked back up at you, once more a different man than moments before. A Cheshire grin was clear on his face and that same glimmer of mischief back again.

“Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?” you forced out evenly, trying your best to control the whirlwind of emotions pounding on the door inside your chest to be let out.

“Remember, heed the warning of Snow White. Never trust witches or beautiful apples.”

His sing song voice sounded light like another taunt with his dismissive wave but the look in his eyes turned dark and intense as he lowered himself into his chair. Like he was spurring, no demanding you to remember his words, this moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The somber warning that felt like a thinly veiled threat haunted your bones. He made no other comments to you that day or any other, didn’t even bother to look at you when you two were in the same room or hall.

You thought he had forgotten about you. His amusement snuffed out and attention passed to the others... until the night before Halloween. Or simply, what you were told was Halloween.

You opened your bedroom door to find an unfamiliar book lying open on your pillow. Its golden edges shined in the candlelight as you cautiously stepped forward. A Bible - open to the first page of the Book of Revelation.

Blood red words stood out, written in the margins. You leaned over to get a better look, not daring to touch the holy object that felt tainted with darkness.

‘Was this how you imagined it?’

There was no name nor did you recognize the handwriting but you knew for certain this had come from Mr. Langdon. The smallest amount of heat tickled at the back of your neck.

You laid down, unsure how to react, still unwilling to touch or even close the book. Your skin prickling as though it could sense the heavy feeling of dread in the air.

Once you finally succumbed to an uneasy slumber, you dreamt of the bombs.

Sirens wailed from above as you trekked across an endless forest. Calling for help, voice hoarse as none came. The land turned barren with every step, an ashen land of death. Each moment, the sirens twisted more and more into tormented wails. A torrent of winds coming from each direction, bitter and sharp as knives against your skin.

With a pain in your chest that you could only describe as your heart being torn out piece by piece, you finally crumbled - broken and unable to continue. Weak and unwilling to fight any longer. You looked to the sky to beg for mercy when you saw an open door, its glowing insides the halls of the sanctuary promised to you. As you ran with energy anew, the sultry voice you heard was like a holy instrument carrying through the air.

Mr. Langdon came into vision, still blurred around the edges, you were unable to see him wholly. His forehead and golden locks bloodied from the thorns that encircled his head. One hand extended to you, another behind his back, his words coming to you clearly now as the thorns twisted into sharp horns.

Let me save you.

Let me save you.

Let me save you.

As you reached out your hand to his, the light faded from behind him, instead bringing forward his hidden hand that held a beating, bloody heart. Its steady tempo drowning out his plea as you felt a seeping emptiness consume your chest.

You woke with a start, body drenched in sweat as if you had been hugged by the sun itself. Your mind spun, consumed with a single thought - if the dream had progressed, would you hesitate to take his hand, despite what he had turned into before your eyes?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your heart was beating so fast you barely heard a word Venable was sprouting, only snippets of sounds came through between the coursing blood that filled your ears.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sweet smell, the feel of the smooth skin in your hands, the taste you knew would be yours if you only took a bite of the shiny red treasure held within the palm of your hand.

But that voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you, back away into the shadows slowly and whatever you do, do NOT eat the forbidden fruit. It will bring no knowledge, only suffering and agony beyond compare.

Something even further hidden away is telling you to run. Run as fast and as far as you can from this evil place and never, ever look back.

You hear Mr. Langdon’s words over and over in your mind. So powerful, you can almost feel his breath tickling your ear once more, his enticing warmth overtaking your body.

‘Remember, heed the warning of Snow White...

Never trust witches or beautiful apples.’

In what felt like the final step of a test, you decided to pause before sinking your teeth into the apple alongside all the other residents and instead slowly backed into the shadows of the hallway toward the kitchen.

The silence hung in the air, and you were a moment away from turning around when you heard a cough, then another and another, the sounds of shared agonized death building in a crescendo confirmed your fears.

It confirmed that Mr. Langdon somehow knew. And if he knew... why didn’t he stop it?

A thought ran through your head, a darker one biting at its heels, so fast you were unsure it was your own.

Why didn’t I?

...Because they deserved it

You desperately shook your head to rid yourself of the thought and suddenly realized the truth with resolute finality. There was no where to go. No where to run. No one to run to. No matter where you fled, it would be a dead end. Even if you escaped this cave, you would only be thrust into another wasteland, wandering the purgatory above.

You found yourself in the kitchen, unaware your feet had even brought you there. In what seemed to be a final act of mercy, or perhaps penance, you spotted a large butcher knife hanging on the wall.

The metal held tightly in your hand felt like an extension of your body from your place in the corner of the darkened pantry. You had locked yourself in, backed yourself into a corner. But where was there to run - truly, to escape to?

A desperate prayer silently fell from your lips. Not for peace nor forgiveness. But for Mr. Langdon’s capsule of pain free salvation.

Nonetheless, you figure even a knife to the heart would be better than suffering the death forced upon the other residents. At the first sound or sign the killers have noticed your absence, you’ll take yourself out. Death was no longer fearful. It was the undeniable ending you had accepted many months ago.

The sounds of steady steps broke through your contemplation. Your hand stilled as you raised the blade above your chest. Your body was unable to move for some unknown reason even though everything inside you begged you to move already.

This was the end.

Accept it.

Instead, all you could focus on are the sounds of the footfalls. Light but purposeful. Steady and strong, unlike Venable’s wavering trio of steps.

Calm, almost casual. As if they were taking a stroll in a park or admiring paintings in a museum. Unlike the rushed, quick steps of an always determined Ms. Mead.

As your mind caught up with what your heart and instincts knew, a smooth voice broke the silence, its undeniable comfort charging your body with its light.

“You can come out now, Princess.”

You looked up, a mixture of wet and dried tears on your cheeks, and saw a magnificent sight.

There was your savior, a circle of candlelight cradled his golden locks and danced around like a halo on fire. Tears sprung from your eyes once more. Not out of fear, but out of pure awe and admiration.

The knife fell with a loud echoing clang in the now empty stone halls. You could only stare on as Mr. Langdon shifted to lower himself to you.

He brought his right hand from behind his back, and extended it to you.

Without hesitation, this time, you accepted it.

You accepted Him.

[emblemxeno]

Fire Emblem Fates: Personal Arcs and Thematic Parallels for the Royal Siblings

Introduction

As we all know by now, the royal siblings of Fates are all mirrors and contrasts with one another.

Xander and Ryoma are the wise and kind elder brothers who have the weight of their kingdoms’ futures on their shoulders, however Xander is an anxious stoic entrenched in state of denial who worked hard to get as strong as he is, whereas Ryoma is a charismatic natural talent, a huge hothead and has major prejudice issues.

Camilla and Hinoka are the caring elder sisters, with Camilla being overbearing and feminine and Hinoka being stubborn and tomboyish. 

Leo and Takumi are the intelligent younger brothers who face massive self esteem issues (in regards to their older brothers) and jealousy (in regards to Corrin), but while Leo’s problems are hidden under a layer of cold pragmatism and isolation, Takumi’s are front and center since he is very emotionally volatile. 

Elise and Sakura are the sweet and compassionate little sisters, with Elise being excitable and cheery and Sakura being shy and timid.

However, these aren’t the only parallels that exist between the siblings. More parallels are discovered when you look at the story closely. Especially when you lock down each of their personal arcs. Furthermore, close analysis reveals other interesting parallels, namely for Leo and Hinoka in regards to their brothers, Xander and Ryoma.

Themes, Arcs and Developments: Hoshido & Birthright

The development for the Hoshido siblings and the Birthright path is belief in others, collaboration and tolerance. The siblings start off separated from each other, with Takumi and Ryoma going missing and Hinoka having already left to go find them. 

Corrin’s belief in others gets tested through being double crossed by Zola, and the possibility of there being a traitor in the party. Nevertheless, his doubts don’t consume him, and his belief in himself and others gets him through tragedy. Many times in the story, trust and working together gets brought up, like during Chapter 14 where Corrin asks if anyone’s reluctant to move forward with the invasion, but his siblings reassure him. The same thing occurs when Corrin learns about the Rainbow Sage; at first he says if he needs to go alone, he will. But again, his siblings make sure to come with and support him. This dovetails into how the siblings personally develop as well.

Through Corrin accepting Sakura’s pleas to come with them, Sakura goes from meek and unsure princess to a strong willed young woman who’s able to punch Iago in the dick. Through being reassured and believed in by his family, Takumi goes from a prickly skeptic to a confident and heartfelt prince. Through learning of Nohr’s plight and accepting that he can’t do everything alone, Ryoma goes from a stubborn and prejudiced high prince to a tolerant King who seeks to break boundaries and misconceptions, walking hand in hand with his former enemy. The siblings enjoy their newfound perspective and the peace that comes with it; the peace their mother cherished.

Themes, Arcs and Developments: Nohr and Conquest

The development for the Nohrian siblings and the Conquest path is moving on to the future, where justice lies and change. Nohr and the siblings are set in their ways; doing what needs to be done to survive. Upon his return to Nohr, Corrin seeks to change that necessity and bring an era where Nohr can seek glory through mutual respect, not oppression. His willpower gets tested constantly; at times he succeeds in settling things peacefully, at other times he fails or his plan backfires. Still he moves on, working behind the scenes toward his own path of justice, along with his siblings who have done the same for much longer than he has.

Through Corrin’s leadership and conviction, Xander is shown the truth, and from that leaves behind his entrenched way of thinking. He grows from a scared crown prince set in his ways, into a benevolent King promising to bring prosperity to his kingdom through his own sense of justice. Camilla is able to cut away from the same mindset, no longer being afraid of the monster her father has become. Her love for her family outgrows her fear of Garon, the fear that was established during the aftermath of the Cheve rebellion. Elise starts out naive and innocent, but playing a part in the tragedies that unfold gives her perspective. When she first meets Sakura, she’s childish and selfish, but later comforts the Hoshidan princess during a time of great pain. At the end of the route, the two are fast friends as a result of Elise’s compassion. The siblings enjoy the light they are able to bring to their kingdom and the future they seek to walk towards.

The Outliers

But in all that, there remain two siblings whom I didn’t really name specifics for: Hinoka and Leo. This is because, other than the general development of the siblings as a collective and the themes of their routes, they don’t really change too much. Leo starts as the pragmatic executioner who imparts the course which Corrin begins to take, and remains as such later in Conquest. Hinoka is the stoic and determined princess whose concern is the protection of those she cares for, and she remains as such later in Birthright. Neither seems to have personal growth to accomplish other than the general themes of their routes. 

That is, until you look at the routes in which you oppose them.

In fact, a new form of development occurs for all of the siblings when you oppose them, and with that, come new parallels.

Opposing Paths and New Parallels

Xander and Ryoma remain each other’s mirror and contrast. On the respective paths that you oppose them on, they are the notable threat to overcome later in the game. You encounter both of them in earlier chapters as well, and both of their maps are escape objectives; this shows in gameplay how much stronger they are compared to Corrin and how it is the smarter decision to pull back and regroup. They both can’t forgive Corrin for betraying their kingdom and family, but while Xander accepts Corrin has turned traitor, Ryoma is intent on bringing him back by any means necessary. Upon Elise’s death at his hand, Xander falls into despair and forces Corrin to strike him down. Ryoma on the other hand, sacrifices himself to spare Corrin the hardship of striking him down when he realizes his brother is still the kind soul he thought he was. 

The elder brothers are the ultimate test of Corrin’s resolve, to see if he’s ready to finish the path he started. The loss of these two are a tragedy, and the impact is felt in many ways.

Takumi and Elise gain new mirrors and contrasts with each other. For starters, each of them get inflicted with illness and reveal a truth they wouldn’t otherwise have awareness of during their delirium. It’s the suffering of these two that gets highlighted the most on routes you oppose them. Elise is miserable from her family being broken apart, and has to escape her home just to find some semblance of joy. Takumi meanwhile, lashes out more and more against Corrin, becoming more volatile and suffering from constant headaches. Elise only fights you once (and even then she’s an optional fight), while Takumi fights you the most out of any other sibling. Both of them end up losing their lives through indirect means; Elise throws herself in front of Xander’s sword in a bid to get him to stop fighting. Takumi throws himself off the Great Wall of Susano-o, blinded by rage, frustration and sadness. 

Takumi and Elise are major victims of this war and the path Corrin chose, victims who expressed their misery in different ways.

Camilla and Sakura are each other’s mirror and contrast. These two probably have the most difficult parallels to pin down, but they are there nonetheless. When Corrin chose Hoshido, Camilla lost her security; her family is broken apart and she can’t do anything to stop it. She is forced to accept that Corrin has left her to join Hoshido, and finally comes to terms with it after her second encounter. When Corrin chose Nohr, Sakura lost her solace; her country is being invaded, she had just lost her mother and now her older sibling is choosing to go back to the kingdom responsible for her suffering. She is forced to suck it up and defend her home on the from the front lines. Instead of development coming naturally due to positive reveals and encouragements, both sisters are forced to change in order not to break entirely. 

Camilla and Sakura are loving sisters who now have to accept a harsh reality during and after a war they had no control of.

Bear the Crown, Bear the Development

That leaves Hinoka and Leo, and this is where they each get major development as opposed to their native routes. 

Hinoka and Leo were spared by Corrin after thinking they were gonna be killed, and eventually the thrones fall to them when the war concludes. After all, Hoshido favors kings over queens so if it wasn’t Ryoma, it would be Takumi. Nohr has an age based inheritance, so if it wasn’t Xander, it would be Camilla. Leo and Hinoka never dreamed it would be up to them to lead their kingdoms. When they bear the crown, they bear the weight of a responsibility they never expected.

However, when looking at it closely, it seems they also bear the character development their older brothers would’ve had.

Leo has battled feelings of inadequacy and jealousy in regards to his siblings already, but Corrin choosing Hoshido causes those feelings to surface. He’s angry and hurt over it all, but hides that under a layer of cold-bloodedness. Leo, promising to kill Corrin at every turn, thinks of his brother as dead to him.  However, Leo later finds himself. When talking with Corrin and seeing the truth about Garon, he realizes that Nohr doesn’t have to remain the way it is in order to survive. 

Leo at the end of Birthright begins to feel similar to Xander at the end of Conquest.

Hinoka has dealt with the guilt of Corrin’s kidnapping for over a decade. She became strong by choosing the path of the warrior as opposed of the princess. When Corrin chooses Nohr, she is in disbelief; after all, why would her brother return to to his kidnappers? She resolves to defeat him, and thinks of her dream of being a family again as a fantasy that will never come to fruition. However, Hinoka later believes otherwise. When talking with Corrin and seeing him and his Nohrian siblings work to end the war in a different way, she realizes that Hoshido’s beliefs about Nohr are wrong and that those misconceptions must be cleared. 

Hinoka at the end of Conquest begins to feel similar to Ryoma at the end of Birthright.

Conclusion

Leo and Hinoka each become the rulers that their kingdoms needed. They fill the space left by Xander and Ryoma. They don’t have personal arcs on their native routes nor on Revelation because there’s no absence to be filled; they can remain as they are, rather than be bound by the weight of the crown. Their rule as monarchs is bittersweet, for it’s a role neither of them expected, but they perform said role well nonetheless.

That’s, at least, how I feel about all of this. Of course, this whole thing isn’t a perfect interpretation, nor does the game handle this aspect as well as it could have. Hinoka still lacks in number of notable appearances compared to pretty much every other sibling; hell, there are even scenes in Birthright where every sibling except Hinoka appear. Leo, meanwhile, has many more scenes of importance, especially since he wields a divine weapon and his big hero moment triggers the Yato’s transformation during Conquest. The negative effects of Hinoka’s later addition are still very present, and it’s something that I hope would be done better in a possible Fates remaster. 

As it stands now though, I still think all of this is done well enough for everything I described. Fates’ story is smarter than one might think, and I believe all of this is an example of that.

[agirlunderarock]

Hi! For the (relation)ship bingo, how about kataang? Also kanera because I know you love them

I'm realizing I don't think I reblog a whole lot of shippy things here 😅

I mean I have very few ships that I'm crazy about BUT Kanera is one of them

But you asked for Kataang first so‐!

I know you didn’t ask for an explanation BUT I really like Kataang. I think they grow together really well. Aang matures a lot in being friends with Katara, and Katara is reminded that she’s allowed to take time to be a kid. I think their childhood trauma compliments each other well. Aang doesn’t want the responsibility of being the Avatar, Katara has responsibility thrust on her by her village. They’re both the last of their people in some capacity. Katara being the last waterbender in the south pole, Aang the last airbender. Theres a lot of similarities, but they’re very complimentary of one another and I’ve been thinking about them a lot actually because I’ve been seeing some jedi attachment discussions across my dash. Just about every time, my mind comes to these two, specifically Aang’s visual representation of what non-attachment means. I’ve been thinking a lot about Aang recently.... But anyways I love that its a light hearted ship. In a show with so many big and complicated things, they show that love doesn’t need to be complicated. There are times when things get difficult and romance isn’t a cure all, but its the sort of thing that takes time and has to be given freely.

And for Kanera

I don’t talk often about romantic relationships often here okay. I’m demiromantic, but I want to be romanced okay. I want what these two have. Heres the thing theres a lot of romantic pairings in Star Wars. Theres not a single character who hasn’t had at least one romantic interest- and the with the way things pan out in Star Wars thats pretty interesting to me- BUT If here was one couple I think really gets romance like really gets it like REALLY if you look at them you’d know what love is, its Kanan and Hera. I’m just starting the book where they first meet so most of my opinions are based in Rebels- but my goodness. What I love about Hera and Kanan at least the first time I watched Rebels, is that it was two adults, very in love, and i was shown to be a mature love without it having to be “mature” in nature. I mean of course, we have Jacen, so we know it was, but none of the characters seemed to shy away from it.  Fuck I don’t think Hera said she loved him on screen until S4, but who know right from the first two seconds on screen interacting that they have history, their love has weight. We see them argue, we see them be happy and continue to grow together and as individuals. Kanan is doing what he can to help her build the rebellion, Hera actually helps him process some of his grief and the difficulties of training Ezra. They’re a team in every sense of the word, they’re equals. Their love is so light, but carries so much weight- its heartbreaking. In my opinion they are the most functional and well balanced Star Wars couple.