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brockachu · 3 years ago

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I would love to hear more about what’s so special about cherubim/the hierarchy of angels, as someone who grew up Protestant Christian (yes this is about the Jack Eichel tattoo post)

oh boy here it goes. so forewarning that it's been a little while since i Really read up on this stuff, so some of my knowledge is fuzzy & supplemented by wiki, googling, and discussion with o (the person in the screenshots who i was screaming over this with, b/c she is my buddy who screams with me about cross-textual interpretations of hockey with art, the classics, literature, & religions. she also lets me yell about race dynamics and socialism + organizational/corporate structure through the lens of hockey. we have fun lmao). other big caveat: i'm explaining things mostly from the perspective of a believer, which i am not anymore. but i like to play in the sandbox of catholic theology & the cathecism b/c if i've gotta live with that religious trauma and juggle the contradiction of cultural religious artifacts vs living colonialism for the rest of my life, then i think i get to play with the funky little brain worms it gave me.

so first order of business -- as far as i'm aware it's taken less seriously in most protestant christian denominations than in catholicism & orthodox denominations, but we've gotta define an angel. angels are not human. they've never been human. they never can be human. they are supernatural beings, created purely by g-d*, and whose purpose is to serve g-d directly. in contrast, humans are g-d's creations but were given free will by his love. saints are humans who were elevated to the status of direct communication to g-d but are not imbued with the unlimited power of angels. and then there are some cases in which the archangels like gabriel and michael are also simultaneously saints, bc their interaction with humans is so central to their purpose that they become nearly human. in some sects, satan/lucifer was an archangel, prior to the fall; in some, he's just a regular angel, no special class or order; and in others he's a cherubim, which i will get back around to, but it works to introduce the concept here.

so, re:Jack it's notable that he got neither the Mother (virgin, mary, etc names) nor any saints as i first guessed. the Mother is perhaps the most universally revered saint/figure worldwide for all catholics. my understanding is she is also quite revered in orthodox traditions, but i'm not as versed there, and from here forward i'm going to address specifically catholicism b/c that's my experience & knowledge + that's what relates to jack. i'd put getting a tattoo of the Mother as pretty high up there for catholic tattoos (the catholic church does not have an official stance on tattooing, compared to other denominations, & largely b/c the permissiveness of tattooing alongside other localizations of catholicism helped it spread easier & keep deeper roots in its colonized cultures; again, i am an american viet catholic & i delicately balance viet-localized parts of catholicism as a familial cultural practice in my personal identity, while not actually being religious). i have also heavily considered getting a tattoo of the Mother, partially bc i find the genre of religious dedication folk art very beautiful and partially bc i think getting a religious tattoo would get my mother to be more permissive of my attempts to be a walking scribble book.

Anyway -- right after Mother tattoos, the next most common is getting a tattoo of common/popular saints and/or one's patron saint. when catholics go through the rite of Confirmation into the church, which recognizes an individual as an 'adult' in the church (age varies by local parishes or overlap with culture; my parents said in viet nam they were confirmed at age 16. growing up in oklahoma where the age of consent is 14 & i went to a primarily white anglo parish, i was confirmed at age 14. my friends who went to the viet parish were confirmed at age 15. my friends who went to mexican parishes were confirmed at age 15 & sometimes did cross-ceremonies with their quinceaneras), part of the confirmation process includes selecting a patron saint. when children are baptized into the catholic church (usually as infants), their parents will choose a patron saint for them, usually one of the common ones (st francis, who guides the lost; st patrick, who wards off evil; st gabriel the archangel, the messenger; mother/virgin mary, mother of all) or they'll 'inherit' the patron saint of their parents or godparents. some people choose to keep that saint when they confirm, but many choose their own (admittedly, often partially b/c a lot of ppl forget or are never told the saint they were given at baptism). in the catholic church, you are then known by your given name with your patron saint following like a title (quelle surprise, i was one of those kids who took it Very seriously and researched for weeks to choose my saint. officially, my christian name is aily, st dymphna of gheel. she's a martyr who is the patron of mental illness, amongst many other things. i chose her after i was first diagnosed with depression as a teenager.) saints matter b/c they're our communicators to god; think of them like a legislative representative.

ok, so basically what i'm saying is: if jack is presumably at least religious enough to get a tattoo with heavy religious iconography (and 'religious enough' is perhaps a bad attempt at measurement, b/c religiousness is a very weird amorphous spectrum which means we just Don't Know unless we talk to a person directly and hash out their philosophies), then he would presumably be religious enough to kinda give a fuck about his saints or the Mother or other figures of common revere. so it's not just that he chose not to get a common catholic tattoo. it's that he chose Specifically to get something different but also pretty immense in its catholic iconography.

okie dokie, Now it is time to get into the specifics of the cherubim and bring back a couple things i mentioned earlier: so. again. cherubim are Angels, not saints, not spirits, not ever have been human. they are in the first sphere or order of angels, meaning the ones closest to g-d; they are the second tier/rank of that order. this is notable for jack primarily bc it's a 'motif' of his Narrative to be second. it's like a nod to being Good, being so close to g-d, but not being the closest. good enough to be a beloved & regular servant of g-d (hockey) but not quite enough for recognition. it's not a seraphim, the highest rank in the first order, who maintain the holy order of the universe and have the greatest scope of divine knowledge. it's also not an archangel, who are closest to human and in that way depicted as most beloved by god (note how they have names, unlike the scores of other angels) and who are given divine missions imparted from divine knowledge. the archangels are beloved most by g-d of the orders of angels and they are also understood and revered most by humans, g-d's most beloved creations.

in The Narrative, jack is not those who maintain the divine (the seraphim, hockey legends like gretzky, orr, howe), and he's not those who enact g-d's divine mission (the archangels, current stars or fan favorites like crosby, ovechkin, mcdavid), yet he's also not a common angel who exists only as an embodiment to praise g-d ('average' players). he's a cherubim, close to the divine, allowed to attend to the divine (allowed to make hockey 'better') but not given the divine knowledge or a divine mission (not a legend, not a fan favorite, not someone hockey as an institution looks to as a messenger of the gospel). and i get that that sounds very dramatic and severe -- jack Is a very well-known player who only dedicated haters truly believe isn't 'good enough' and the league does like to use his likeness to drum up attention, to some degree. but it's worth remembering that his choice to ransom his own career for medical autonomy (and i genuinely have refused to stop describing it in any other way, bc that is what happened, no matter how we can try to sanitize it) has actually made him into a wildcard that the league does not like dealing without a lot of whitewashing. he didn't make it easier for himself in the long-run by choosing to speak out about his health and decisions like he did. it's a virtue of how good a hockey player he is and how much the league wants to profit off of him that kept his career and story from being buried.

going back to the cherubim of it all -- it's also a little funny when you go into the classical uses of cherubim. the cherubim as depicted in jack's tattoo is a very old style of depicting them, or i guess more fundamentalist/traditionalist. cherubim as they have been popularly depicted, thanks to the overlap of greco-roman art traditions, are what people also colloquially call 'cupids' (in art and the classics, they're referred to by their italian name putti plural or putto singular). they're fat babies with wings. because of the blended cherub-cupid depictions, they've also taken on cupid-like qualities in folk tradition. they're mischievous, playful, and omni-present. in classical art, they're dropped everywhere like little easter eggs, as a reminder of g-d's omnipresence & the plurality of his power. so, it's a little hilarious that jack's tattoo is accidentally and extra-textually winking and nudging at the cheekier parts of his personality, while still acknowledging that he's part of the plurality. again, he's not a seraph, he's not an archangel; instead, in his narrative, he's one small representative, good enough to get close, not good enough to be recognized.

and then of course, there's the even funnier potential meta where, by some sects of catholicism (most notably st thomas aquinas), lucifer himself was a cherub; an angel who was close enough to be a good servant but not close enough to have power and not beloved enough to be near g-d's most beloved, which is how he became enraged enough to attempt to strike against g-d, to fight over creation, to be struck from heaven and more importantly away from the holy presence. lucifer chose a path, lucifer as an angel, a creation of g-d whose sole purpose is to serve and who was never meant to have autonomy, made a choice that was not about/for/in spirit of g-d. and for that he was punished and taken away from all redemption, bc redemption is not an option for angels. they are not humans, they can't be forgiven. no, i am not going further on hitting this nail on the head for how this could feed into the meta of jack's narrative. i think this stands on its own.

and that, friends, is the expanded screeching of why jack's tattoo entirely set me & o off. i'm sure o also has additional notes or clarification. @drartemysia feel free to add on :)

*i'm using 'g-d' in reference to the name of the higher being. for some, it is sacrilegious or even a sin to use/see the 'name' with intent of direct reference to the higher being without censoring. it's a practice across different abrahamic traditions with different levels of seriousness and can be heavily contextual. i tend to censor when actually directly referencing, versus say when i say 'god' as an exclamation or goddamn as a curse, which admittedly is also sacrilegious depending on personal interpretations (taking g-d's name in vain, etc etc). i make the distinction also bc i prefer to use capitalization for emphasis rather than for grammar or titles, so distinguishing the use as proper name vs colloquial expression helps me stay on track of my own train of thought.

#aily talks #asks #dragonsthough101 #long post #jack eichel #apologies to anyone in the jack tag looking for normal behavior but i need to be able to find this in the future #narratives

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

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

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags???#I'll fix that later

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years ago

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Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction.

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

“May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble - but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

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leagueoflegendsimagines · 3 years ago

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| Myrmidon Pantheon | SFW & NSFW | 1 |

Hello my lovelies! While I am still sick, I hope I feel well enough to at least bring out some pieces of writing. This is not request - I've been thinking about writing something that includes Myrmidon Pantheon for quite a long time, as I love the skin and the concept behind it.

I used to be a huge lover of mythology but my knowledge has been getting quite rusty. It's been a long time since I improved what I know on Greek mythology. It's hard to do so when university gets so demanding.

Anyways - the reason why I have chosen this particular topic is because I got my hands on the skin recently, from a reroll. And for the first time in my time playing league, I had the most kills in my team. As a support. It was an incredible experience, to play Pantheon support and actually carry the game. My adc was just behind chilling while I was destroying Yasuo in 1v1s lol.

Enjoy this and more will come soon! Hopefully.

~ Your floral, ethereal town was a modest one. You lived far away from the huge, colorful cities - brimming with life, light and chaos. That's what your father had told you, at the very least. A veteran in many wars. A man who has retreated to the happy little town you lived in now. The town where he fell in love with your mother, a strong and proud woman who refused to leave her home and go to the vain, corrupted lands of the cities.

~ You grew up happy and oblivious to the struggles your parents were forced to face at your age. That didn't make you boastful or spoiled. You were grateful for what you had.

~ For the simple but spacious house built at the edge of the forest, facing the vast and bountiful fields of golden light. For your loving and still youthful parents. For your sweet little siblings, two brothers and a sister. For the good health you were blessed with - long, beautiful hair and dewy eyes, bright with life and sparkling with a thirst for living that surprised even your energetic parents.

~ When you reached your the tender age of 17, they didn't try to marry you off. No - you were their little treasure, their oldest child. They wished for you to have good future, of course.

~ But as a couple who married out of love - not for money or beauty - they were the last parents in the world who would arrange a marriage for their children. In their eyes, love was more important than anything else.

~ To be blessed by the Gods in such a wonderful way - it was pure blasphemy to ignore their gift.

~ To ignore Cupid's arrow. ~ And so you lived on through the early years of your life, blissfully unaware of the cruelty of the world. A child blessed by Apollo himself, smiled upon by the Gods and favored by the everlasting touch of the nature around you.

~ And you loved the Gods. You loved them as much as you loved your own parents. You venerated them with pure devotion, bringing them offerings of fruits and vegetables and flowers, carefully grown by your nimble and soft fingers. Your love for them was that of a daughter, quiet and full of wonder and excitement.

~ You never expected something back. And you would have never guessed that the soft glow of your skin, the endearing beauty of your imperfections - you would have never guessed that their blessings might be so nimbly hidden in the human nature of your being.

~ But those around you could easily see it. They could see the almost divine aura that rested upon you. Not in the perfect beauty the Gods themselves possessed - you were not perfect by any means - but by the beauty that could be found in the imperfect existence of humanity.

~ You were breathtaking through your whole being. And your parents weren't surprised when young boys started gathering around you, trying to court their eldest into marriage.

~ But you never gave them any attention. Like a priestess of Vesta, you proved to be fully unbothered by their growing efforts to gain your attention.

~ They never learned. Old ones would leave, new youngsters would come along over the years of your teenagerhood.

~ But you never gave in to their efforts, no matter how handsome or strong they were.

~ To your mother, it almost seemed like you were waiting for something. Someone. A person you had never met. But such a deep yearning touched your soul... it was impossible to ignore it.

~ You couldn't quench that thirst with the love of another man. ~ And it made you feel ashamed. Yearning for a person you didn't even know, ignoring all the attention you were blessed with.

~ During those times you would pray to Apollo, the God you venerated through your studies and sharp mind - you begged him to forgive you for how ungrateful you were to what the Gods gave you.

~ Your prayers would always remain unanswered. But your heart felt lighter afterwards.

~ When you were 19 years old, the wars started. You didn't know where or when exactly. But it brought worry and wrinkles to your parents' eyes and foreheads.

~ The war made them look old. You hated it for that. ~ As the newly appointed assistant of the town's healer, you saw soldiers pass on the main road. Men and young boys you have known your whole life, full of life and optimism. You hated thinking about it - knowing that they might die out there, alone. On the battlefield.

~ You....

~ You didn't expect them to come. After all, you were only a small town. Prosperity boomed in this small Paradise, yes - but no one was truly interested in settling here, away from the raw power and energy of the cities. Nobles would come during summer and leave after only a few months, ready to embrace the heart of civilization again.

~ Your skin prickled when you first caught sight of them. They were so different from the people you knew. They were...

~ The Myrmidons.

~ A gasp left your mouth as you dropped the large jar of healing balm you were holding. The loud sound of shattering glass escaped your ears. Your eyes remained glued on the marching troops, strong and bigger than any men you've seen up to this point.

~ They were regal. They possessed a sense of strength impossible to match by the simple folk of your people. You trembled in fear and awe at the sight of them. ~ The kind-hearted healer, old but as sharp as ever, came to your side to gently scold you. Even if there was an abundance of ingredients and herbs, it was bad practice to waste any of the blessings offered by the Gods. He stopped when he followed your gaze out the window, a loud gasp leaving his dry and chapped lips.

~ "By Zeus... it's them." His words were a reverent whisper next to you.

~ It pulled you from the spell of their power.

~ "Are they going to hurt us? Why are they here, Argus? What could they possibly want from us?" The words tumbled from your lips, louder than they should've been. They were marching just outside the open door, after all. They were loud - but not loud enough to fully drown your panicked words. " Why would they bring their petty wars here?!" You went down on your knees, shaky fingers gathering the remains of the broken jar.

~ Your teacher didn't give you an answer. You raised your eyes, wishing to continue your little ramble - when you caught sight of the door. A man was standing just outside the house. ~ He was even bigger than the rest of them. Broad shoulders, incredibly well toned - he was the prime example of dominance, authority and godly power. His attire was different. You paled when you realized that he must be of some great importance - a leader, perhaps?

~ The leader?

~ It only made you pale further. Did he hear your words? His eyes were pure magma, staring into your very soul. Impossible to read. Impossible to decipher.

~ His stare made you shiver. It made your breath catch violently in your chest, crushing you with the intensity of his presence. And you didn't talk. You couldn't utter another word.

~ He washed you in waves of heat and ice simultaneously. ~ Then his gaze moved abruptly to your teacher. ~ "We have wounded men, healer. We will pay you well for your services." ~ His voice. Molten lava. Burning amber. Pines and fresh rain. It left a taste of ash and cold, crisp winds on the back of your tongue. It felt invigorating and frightening at the same time. ~ Were they all like this? Were they all so... powerful? Would they all shake your very being?

~ You watched as he gave you one last, lingering look before he followed his men in the same strong, disciplined march. Head held high, spear in one hand and his shield in the other - muscles rippling with tension under skin, taunt and permanently prepared for a vicious fight.

~ His skin... it was grey. The color of ashes. ~ Your working day finished much later than it usually did. On normal days, you'd leave your teacher's house early in the evening. You would pass by the market to buy some fruits and talk to your old friends, most of them swollen with babies or holding toddlers on their hips. You'd play with their children, cooing at them lovingly before you took your slow and patient walk home through the quiet fields. It wasn't a long walk - but it was enough for you to daydream about a stranger that you'd love. About a home and children of your own.

~ But now... by the time you finished patching the wounds of patient and kind soldiers, it was well past midnight. You were shocked by how polite and well-spoken these men were, different from the stories you've heard about soldiers. They didn't rape, destroy or steal. They were disciplined and intelligent. Almost regal in their silent suffering, grateful for your gentle and healing touch.

~ But they didn't compare to that man you'd seen earlier in the day. And you tried your best to ignore the way his memory made your heart clench with tension, the way your whole body would surge up with a nervous energy. ~ It left you incredibly troubled and confused. And you refused to think about it. ~ When you returned to the healer's house to grab the shawl left behind by your younger brother - sent that evening by your parents to search for you after you failed to make it in time for dinner -, everything seemed to succumb to a calm, dark silence. There were few lights on the street. But the moon was enough to guide your uncertain steps as you grew more and more worried at the prospect of returning home at such a late hour. After all, it might be for the best to remain at your teacher's house until morning. He had insisted on it, saying that it wasn't safe for a young girl like you to go running around in the late hours of the night.

~ And then you saw him. Waiting in front of the door. Unmoving. A statue made out of flesh and blood.

~ It stopped you in your track and, for a few long moments, all you could hear was the erratic beating of your heart. Why was he here? Why was he waiting in front of the door? Would he hurt you?

~ The old healer appeared in the doorframe. "Here you are! Come closer, dear child. The general has offered to walk you home - it's not good for you to travel alone in the dark hours of the night. The soldiers are honorable, of course. But there are many men that wouldn't harbor good thoughts." You shivered at his words - and you saw the general tense at their bluntness.

~ "I will take care of her, healer." The words were clipped but still polite as the broad man gave your teacher a curt bow and turned to face you. He was still wearing his armor - his graceful helmet -, holding a bright torch with his right hand. His left one held your basket and the summer shawl made by your youngest sister. The sharp steel of the spear glinted behind his shoulder. The shield was nowhere in sight.

~ You didn't wait for him to tell you anything. Instead, you approached him with unsteady and frightened steps, too nervous to gaze into his eyes again. How could your teacher leave you alone with this man? You'd die of nerves before reaching the comfort of your home.

~ As you reached for the shawl with softly spoken words of thanks, your chilly fingers brushed against his heated ones. It made your insides quiver. It made your entire being shiver. He was so close to you. He radiated heat. He smelled of fire and ashes. Of pines and dirt. Of thunderstorms. ~ You blinked away the sleep settling on your heavy eyes as you wrapped the shawl around your naked shoulders, hiding a soft yawn behind your hand. ~ And you followed him on the empty, quiet road. A hand resting on his arm to keep steady on the uneven path, you could barely keep your fingers from trembling. ~ It was hard to keep steady and calm. Not when he was so, so close to you - not when you could feel the heat of his skin, the strong ripples of muscle underneath. ~ He kept his pace steady, matching yours. ~ And it felt... different. The strong breeze of the late summer night, the soft rustle of the wind through the fields and the leaves of trees scattered around in the darkness. To feel the touch of a man so close to you. To actually feel bothered by such a proximity. No one -boy or man - had ever made you feel in such a way. ~ He made you feel alive. He made you feel like a woman. He filled you with something very similar to anticipation, knitting the nerves in your stomach and chest in such a strange manner. He made your skin prickle with an electric feeling.

~ And you didn't even know his name. ~ You only knew he was their general. ~ The Myrmidon.

#league of legends #league of legends x reader #pantheon #pantheon x reader

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goldeneyedgirl · 2 years ago

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okay, i have some questions about babyverse: we know that baby ollie doesn't grow up fast as renesmee in canon, but will he age like a human or will he just, like, stop aging at some point? also, could he ever go to regular school/preschool since he is 'advanced'? and last but not least, how likely are you to write an one shot about jasper having a babydaddy day while alice is out having fun with cynthia?

anyway, idk if you will answer this but you will probably read so just for you to know that i fucking love your stories and babyverse has now a whole room with a privileged view and fancy windows inside my brain <3 luv u

Okay, so when it comes to Babyverse, I really didn't want to revisit Renesmee as a concept or character (and the reason why is explored in Hybrid) in Oliver. Because Alice is not the hybrid - Alice and Cynthia's mother was.

So Oliver is going to be advanced to a point - a little smarter, a little faster - that is most obvious when he's a young child. He will still age like a human, and he will live out a human lifespan (something Alice and Jasper both have to come to terms with).

Alice is very firm that Oliver goes through school like a normal kid instead of being home-schooled by the Cullens - I think when Alice moves with the Cullens when Oliver is around four, she enrolls him as five years old because he's ready for school. But he's nowhere near as advanced as Renesmee; he's pretty much a normal kid. He'd definitely rather play with Legos than read classic literature. And Alice (and Cynthia) are huge advocates for Oliver having normal experiences like birthday parties and sleepovers. It's not an easy way to do things, but it's important for him.

I can definitely do a Dad-and-Ollie oneshot since ficmas was so light on with Jasper interacting with Ollie. I just can't decide between 'Jasper taking care of baby Ollie alone for the first time' vs 'Jasper taking care of little-kid Ollie whilst Alice is away.' Hit me up with what you'd prefer, anon.

And thank you anon. I am working through old messages right now, and it means so much to me that anyone cares about my weird little universes, let alone messages me. Ask anyone, I have a little wiggle and squeal every time I get messages.

#asks #anon #my fic: hybrid babyverse #world-building and lore

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

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IOTA Reviews: Optigami

For the first time this season, we're actually acknowledging what happened at the end of the last season. Of course, it's the thirteenth episode chronologically, so you can tell the writers really wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

Let's get into the ninth (chronologically the thirteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Optigami.

We start off with Nathalie recounting the events of “Miracle Queen” to Gabriel, where Chloe exposed the identities of the temp heroes, which is kind of odd considering they were both there. Then again, it's entirely possible Gabriel forgot what happened given we're literally halfway through the season chronologically. According to Nathalie, she created a Sentimonster the very next day to spy on the heroes. After a lot of surveillance by the Sentimonster, named Optigami, all Nathalie and Gabriel really found out was that the heroes were just regular teenagers who occasionally got a Miraculous from Ladybug without even learning her identity, all while we learn she continued to give Miraculous out to the heroes despite the risk to their safety.

Okay, a few questions here. First, why the hell didn't Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth or Mayura try something like this from the beginning? It took you two lucking out in finding out the identities of seven heroes to think about spying on your enemies? Second, Mayura created Optigami the next day? Wasn't she in a lot of pain as a result of using the Peacock for a whole season? At least when she created a Sentimonster in the New York special, it was set a vague amount of time after “Miracle Queen”. Third, Ladybug is seriously recruiting the same heroes again after the rules that she imposed onto Chloe? You know, the person who couldn't use the Bee Miraculous again because of the risk to her safety, and ultimately betrayed Ladybug because she hated the rule? Seriously, the video footage shows Ladybug recruiting Ryuko, someone whose identity Shadowmoth already knew before “Miracle Queen”, so this makes even less sense. If Chloe doesn't get her Miraculous after exposing her identity to the whole world, the same should apply to the other heroes too. If they wanted to make Chloe an exception, all they had to do was have Ladybug bench Queen Bee because she didn't trust Chloe in her civilian life. This just makes Ladybug come off as a hypocrite who serves to justify Astruc's warped mentality that Chloe doesn't deserve a Miraculous even though she lost hers for the same reason as the others.

Nathalie calls Optigami a failure, but Gabriel actually uses his brain for once and comes up with a plan to take out all of the temp heroes at once by putting them in a situation where Ladybug is forced to recruit one of them in order to stop an Akuma. He calls Audrey Bourgeois, a major fashion magazine writer and praises her idea to give a monthly award to a fashion icon, and Gabriel says “there's no better introduction than giving it to his son”, so I'm not sure if he told Audrey to give the award to Adrien, or if he already got the award and Gabriel was just capitalizing on the chance.

So we cut to Marinette and Alya hanging out in the former's room, and surprise, surprise, Marinette is gushing over Adrien. It isn't a love story if there's a single scene not talking about the love interest according to Astruc.

Yeah, despite not being on the list of targets, Marinette got a ticket to the award show because the writers weren't sure how else they could work her into the plot. The Kwamis ask if they can come along, forgetting about the fact that they need to be a secret or be with an owner (guessing Marinette learned her lesson after “Furious Fu”). I'm starting to think I was a little too harsh on Master Fu considering he managed to put up with these godlike idiots for 176 years.

Alya and Trixx, the Fox Kwami, bring up a decent point that now that Alya knows she's Ladybug, she can take a more active role in helping her as Rena Rouge if she had the Fox Miraculous full-time, while Marinette points out the fact that it's too risky for anyone but her to hand out Miraculous. This is brief, but I like this little disagreement here. While I think Marinette could have brought up the fact that Shadowmoth knows Alya's identity in her argument, both sides still make a good point, and this will come into play later on, for better or for worse.

So Marinette and Alya head out to the award party where they meet up with Adrien, Kagami, Luka, Kim, Max, and Nino, with Alya doing a secret handshake with him that I'm sure won't be important later on. We also get a hilarious scene of Alya once again trying to force Marinette into an elevator with Adrien with the explicit intent to have her get closet to Adrien, while she unsurprisingly freaks out, leading to some brief Unfunny Marinette Slapstick.

So much for Marinette growing after the second umbrella scene.

Optigami is set up, and Shadowmoth creates a Sentimonster of the man hosting the award ceremony, and takes the opportunity to do what we've all wanted to do since Audrey's first appearance in late 2018.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you, Gabriel Agreste. You're the real MVP of this episode.

So Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma to akumatize Audrey into his “magnum opus”, Style Queen, once again (Audrey is also implied to be willingly akumatized like Chloe in “Queen Banana”). And since the titular Sentimonster plays a big role in Shadowmoth's plan this episode, I think now's a good time to talk about Optigami.

Optigami has a simple design, a butterfly colored like Mayura, but I like the role it plays. It has the power to hide in any solid object and observe the environment like a camera Nathalie watches, all while Style Queen chases after the temp heroes and turns them into piles of gold dust. Whether that's because she's been powered up by Shadowmoth or because the animators can't afford to create new models of the characters as gold statues isn't clear. It still really shows the writers are taking advantage of the concept of Sentimonsters as support for Akumas outside of more muscle.

So Kagami tries to distract Style Queen while Adrien runs, and she is the first to be taken out. Chloe then tells Style Queen where Ladybug went, but she gets targeted because she laughed at her mother earlier, and then tries to use Zoe as a human shield before getting blasted. Oh, thank God. I thought Chloe was going to appear in an episode where the writers didn't remind the audience how much of a terrible person she is and anyone who supports her is just as bad.

Marinette and Adrien both run off to transform, but get into the same elevator together, which then gets broken thanks to Style Queen's interference. This leads to an interesting setup where neither of them can transform and hope their partner will save them, leading to some real tension. There's also thankfully little to no stammering from Marinette in these scenes. It's almost like the writers only have her struggle to talk with Adrien so they don't actually have to write scenes like this. Alya briefly teases Marinette for saying she's stuck in an elevator with Adrien before realizing she's trapped in an elevator with a civilian and can't transform.

After Max and Luka get taken out, Marinette calls a phone she set up near the Miracle Ball to call the Kwamis, pretending to talk to the fire department and secretly tells them to send Kaalki to help her, but Adrien sees Optigami spying on them in the elevator, so Marinette is forced to hang up. Marinette and Adrien are about to transform and reveal themselves to each other, but because neither of them are on the list and because Shadowmoth felt like actually being a decent father today, Optigami retreats with Style Queen, who then takes out Kim, leaving only Alya and Nino left.

Marinette tells Alya to call the Kwamis, but while she does so, she gets a call from Nino, who is soon taken out by Style Queen and... is replaced... by an... evil... doppelganger... The eighth one in four seasons...

youtube

The only question I have is how did Shadowmoth create two Sentimonsters in the same day? Did he recharge offscreen? Either way, he sends “Sentinino” after Alya to lure her out, but Kaalki arrives and portals her to Marinette's room, leading to the funniest joke of the episode.

Alya takes the Fox Miraculous and transforms into Rena Rouge and creates an illusion of Ladybug to distract Style Queen while she meets up with Marinette with the Bee Miraculous, but she decides to take the Turtle Miraculous even though Marinette didn't tell her to just to be safe.

Rena Rouge meets up with Sentinino and gives him the Turtle, alerting Shadowmoth to the fact that Alya may have a bigger role than he anticipated. Sentinino transforms into Carapace (or would a more accurate term be Sentipace?) while Optigami hides in the Turtle Miraculous, leading to another interesting conflict. If Style Queen gets Ladybug's Miraculous, Shadowmoth wins, but even if Ladybug wins, Sentipace can swoop in and steal Ladybug's Miraculous when her guard is down. This is David Xanatos levels of planning here.

Rena Rouge escorts Adrien out of the elevator via one of Kaalki's portals, and Marinette transforms into Ladybug before unifying with the Bee Miraculous into Ladybee.

Ignoring the creepy look on her face, I think Ladybee has a pretty good design. I think the black and gold go well with her suit, and the ponytail with the gold streaks is a nice touch. I'm not sure if it's referencing Queen Bee's design, but I like it, as well as the slight antennae on her head. I still prefer Dragonbug's design, but I can see why so many fans love this one too.

Ladybee is surprised Sentipace is there, but accepts his help anyway. Ladybee summons her Lucky Charm, a compact mirror, but when looking around, she doesn't see how to use the Lucky Charm with Sentipace as he isn't highlighted in her vision like certain objects/heroes that play a part in stopping an Akuma. Ladybee uses Venom, and with Sentipace's Shelter, manages to tank Style Queen's blasts and stun her before de-evilizing her.

Cat Noir tries to cataclysm the golden shield Style Queen placed around the building, but shows up too late, being surprised at the presence of Rena Rouge and Sentipace. He jokes about it, but this will somewhat come into play in future episodes.

Ladybug prepares to throw the compact mirror to use Miraculous Ladybug and fix the damage, but through the mirror, sees Nino fail to do the secret handshake with Alya. Ladybug pulls a John McClane and swings off the top of the building and tells Cat Noir to use his Cataclysm to destroy the Turtle Miraculous, releasing Optigami, and giving Nathalie a major headache. Shadowmoth undoes the creations of Optigami and Sentinino and retreats.

Alya is naturally upset that she screwed up and almost let Shadowmoth find out Ladybug's identity, but then, well...

Like with “Gang of Secrets”, I'm very mixed on this ending. Both Alya and Marinette make good points here. Alya knows she almost let Shadowmoth win, but Marinette points out how invaluable Alya was today and realizes how helpless she was doing a lot of things on her own. Even if Alya didn't give the Turtle Miraculous to Sentinino, Marinette still had to face the possibility of revealing herself to Adrien. Like it or not, she needs someone to help her more, and Alya is the only one able to fill that position.

The problem I have is that because of how Marinette phrases that sentence, it comes off like Alya is being rewarded for what happened this episode. I get she helped, but I just find it weird that Marinette doesn't feel a little uncomfortable trusting Alya more after going behind her back and almost screwing up the entire mission in the process. I think the scene could have worked if Marinette was a little more stern towards Alya and realized she had no choice but to give her the Fox, creating a little tension between the two as a result.

So the episode ends with a post-credits scene where Gabriel and Nathalie realize they need to focus more attention onto Alya due to her connection to Ladybug.

But yeah, this was honestly a really good episode. It's become my favorite this season.

The plot has a fair amount of suspense and tension, most of it derived from the very clever plan Shadowmoth has this time, taking full advantage of the repaired Peacock in order to make what was already a very powerful Akuma even more of a threat. There were jokes, but unlike in other episodes that focus on humiliating Marinette or interrupting the tension, they're well-placed. The same goes for the elevator scene. The writers easily could have made Marinette stammer all of her words around Adrien, but for once, they realized that they needed to have her actually interact with him in order to maintain the tension of the episode.

Granted, there are still some flaws, like Marinette really had no reason to be invited to the award ceremony. All they really had to do was have Adrien invite her himself, which would justify her eager reaction at the beginning. It's also strange that nobody brings up the fact that all of Adrien's friends who were invited were temp heroes. I've already gone over the problem with timeline at the beginning as well as the ending and I plan to talk about Rena Rouge's partnership with Ladybug next time.

Overall, this was still a really good episode. Even the evil doppelganger plotline had an interesting twist to it. What's the next episode about again? What? Another evil doppelganger of Nino?

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godsofhumanity · 4 years ago

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12 titans headcanons please ❤️

yes ❤️

❤ warning: this is gonna be a very long post ❤

OCEANUS

Oceanus is the oldest of the Titans, and i really like the idea that he grew to adulthood within a day of being born.

i think i've mentioned this in some Gaia hc's previously, but i don't think that Gaia had any of her children in the "conventional" way that we're used to.. as in, none of her children were actually formed in her womb- instead, i imagine that she and Ouranos only had to place their hands on the Earth to cause their children to be born.

for the Titans in particular, i like the idea that Gaia caused a field of flowers to bloom, and within 12 of them were each of the Titans.

Oceanus bloomed first, and was named by Gaia (i think he's the only one who was actually named by her, herself- more on this later).

we know that Ouranos never cared for his children, so i think that the 12 Titans were originally born so that they could help Gaia take care of the Earth,, thus allowing Ouranos and Gaia to spend more time with each other.

so when Oceanus was born, he had to grow quickly so that he could take care of his siblings and raise them (Ouranos wasn't about to let Gaia go "wasting" her time taking care of children).

Oceanus builds the first village, and his primary motivation in everything he does, is to take care of his siblings.

i think he's very paternal,, though he doesn't like to show it.

Oceanus is very stoic as well... he hates brash decisions and always takes his time to think about things before he says something or does something.

also, in Gaia's absence, i think he named all his siblings, and i think that although all the Titans refer to him as their brother, they also have the understanding that Oceanus has been more of a parent than either Gaia or Ouranos, and they all look up to him a lot.

Oceanus isn't cowardly, but i don't think he likes fighting. he would much rather preserve the peace at the sake of his own freedom, than have said freedom but at the price of blood being spilled.

that said, he could definitely pack a punch if he chose to.

related to Oceanus’ unwillingness to fight, i think this is an important factor in why Cronus (who is the youngest) becomes King instead of Oceanus (who is the oldest).

technically, it’s Oceanus’ birthright to become King after Ouranos, but Oceanus doesn’t possess the qualities required to be a good king, and he knows it, which is why he never challenges Cronus’ authority or tries to take the throne for himself- he is absolutely okay with not being king, in fact, i think he’s grateful for it.

TETHYS

Tethys is, as the lore states, Oceanus' wife, and i think she's always been really close to Oceanus- the only one who truly understands Oceanus' deepest feelings.

since Oceanus doesn't really show much emotion physically, i think it's sometimes difficult for the other Titans to know exactly what he's thinking, but Tethys is very intuitive and understands Oceanus quite perfectly.

i think Tethys is slightly more energetic than Oceanus, but she's still the most quiet of all her sisters.

she too, prefers not to fight if she doesn't have to, but while Oceanus will wait for the very last opportunity to fight, i think Tethys can be persuaded to make a move earlier than she usually would.

i also think she's more adept at fighting than Oceanus.

when Oceanus and Tethys are referenced in poems and plays, they are usually described as the "primeval parents", and are often referred to as the "genesis for all" which i think is really cute, and although Tethys isn't the goddess of motherhood, i definitely think she's very maternal (i mean, she has 3000+ children, so we hope so, right?).

after the Titanomachy, it is said that Oceanus and Tethys became Hera's foster-parents, so i imagine that Tethys and Oceanus opened their home to many gods and goddesses, even if they were simply passing through.

Hera, in particular, i think had a closer bond with Oceanus and Tethys than with Rhea- and that of course is no fault of Rhea's, i just think that's how things happened.

everyone talks of this idea that Zeus would go around pestering Oceanus and Tethys when he was trying to court Hera, and i like that idea as well ^_^

i think Oceanus was particularly reluctant to let Zeus be with Hera because Oceanus has had sooo many daughters who have been effectively abandoned by their husbands (see: Metis, Asia/Clymene, Hesione, Eurynome, etc.) and he doesn't want that to happen to yet another one of his kids.. but Tethys, the sweet voice of reason whom Oceanus has a hard time saying "no" to, intervenes on Zeus' behalf perhaps because she sees something more in Zeus' proposals, which is why Oceanus finally concedes and allows him into his house.

CRONUS

now this guy >:)

i've said it before, but i just really really like the idea that Cronus is the epitome of "you either die the hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain".

before i said that Oceanus grew to adulthood within a day because he had to take care of his younger siblings, and following this logic, i think some of the younger Titans took more time to grew simply because there was no need for them to grow up quickly- they were going to be taken care of.

as the youngest, i think Cronus takes the most time to grow.

most of his life, his siblings are ordering him around which i think gets to him a little, so of course, Cronus has always been a little bit mischievous and a little sneaky.

i think he gets along really well with Iapetus. they are “terror twins” as Oceanus calls them, and as children, they would always get up to no good.

in terms of morality, i think initially, he’s actually quite sane and level-headed. he understands that war is brutal and should be avoided if it can, but he also understands that sometimes war is necessary. this is what makes him, initially, a good king- because he understands the need for balance.

but,, after sometime, i think he goes insane with Ouranos’ prophecy and he convinces himself that murdering his children is just a part of the job- it’s his duty.

i like the idea that Cronus sees himself first and foremost as King. being a husband and a father is second to kingship.

i always wondered what makes a man go so mad that he’d eat his own kids, especially after he literally deposed of his father for doing effectively the same thing- why would he willingly follow in the footsteps of the god he hated so much? well, i think it’s because Cronus is driven by this philosophy of being King before being anyone else.

he believes that it’s his job to protect the world, the way he did that first time when he rallied his siblings together to fight Ouranos. Cronus believes that his children are going to ruin the world and destroy his siblings, and he loves his family and the world too much to let that happen,, and if he has to choose between his children and the world that he has sworn to protect, well, as King, isn’t he obligated to choose the world?

and after that, he just goes downhill, and i think he loses sight of the bigger picture, and becomes the villain.

also- not relevant to the core of this section but i just wanted to talk a little about Philyra, the mother of Chiron by Cronus ^-^

so in the original myth, i’m pretty sure that Cronus and Rhea are still married when Cronus and Philyra get together,, and that’s why when Rhea catches them and gets pissed, Cronus panics and turns into a horse (which is why Chiron is half god, half horse- lololol Cronus, you absolute loser).

anyways, i love the myth because it’s funny, but i don’t like the idea that Cronus was actually cheating on Rhea- i mean, first you eat her children, and now you’re cheating on her?? c’mon, have some tact!

so i have my own little take on it, and that is that Chiron is born after Cronus gets disposed (so when Rhea and Cronus are pretty much divorced).

i like the Orphic version of events where Cronus gets sent to Nyx’s cave, so following from there, i imagine that Philyra must have somehow helped Cronus escape from Nyx’s cave (probably because she was manipulated by Cronus),, and when they escaped, they came to Mt Pelion, which coincidentally, is where Rhea, now happily retired, lives.

so that’s how Rhea accidentally discovered her ex-husband’s affairs (which is in line with the original myth where Rhea catches them).

of course, i don’t think Cronus ever cared about Philyra to begin with, i think he was just using her because i don’t think the “player” archetype suits Cronus- he’s not a romantic, that’d make him too similar to Zeus, and the last thing Cronus would want would be to be like his son.

anyways so where does Chiron’s equine nature come into my version of events? well, running from Nyx’s cave to Mt Pelion on foot sounds a little tiring, but luckily, Cronus is a god and can therefore turn into a stallion, so he and Philyra probably ran away like that.

i don’t think Cronus ever actually knows about Chiron. Philyra, in the myths, is ashamed about Chiron’s appearance (which is really rude and mean), so she abandons him, but i like the idea that she simply wasn’t ready to be a mother, much less a mother of a child born from a war-criminal, so she instead leaves Chiron on Rhea’s doorstep. and Rhea recognises immediately who Chiron is, but she’s the goddess of motherhood so she adopts him, until Apollo comes in a few days later and decides to take Chiron. anyways, so that was a little bit of a tangent but i just wanted to share that ^-^

another thing- i know we all like to make jokes about Cronus seeing children as good for only one thing- snacks- but in all seriousness, i don’t think that was the case. i’ve said before what i, personally, think his real motivations behind consuming his children were, but i don’t think he was averse to the concept of children and having a family entirely.

ok, i have to divert to the story of Prometheus to explain myself here, but bear with me for a sec- so Prometheus gets punished because he helps the humans- but why does he help them? why does he love them so much and why does he feel sorry for the way they’ve been treated by Zeus?

well,, we know that Prometheus was alive during Cronus’ reign. and during Cronus’ reign, Cronus made the Golden Age of Man where mortals lived in peace and harmony, free from interference by the gods, where no one did the “wrong” thing, and life was great. so couldn’t it be that Prometheus had seen what life for humanity could have been like?

my hc is that Prometheus had seen what Cronus had done for humanity and was appalled by what he now saw under Zeus’ rule.

so what does that have to do with Cronus and children? well, i like the idea that Prometheus grew up in the palace, and he had known Cronus all his life. i like the idea that Cronus actually spent time with his nephew, and was the one who first introduced Prometheus to the mortals. i think Prometheus and Cronus actually were rather close as uncle and nephew. so,, i don’t think that Cronus hated all children,, he just didn’t think he could have any of his own.

RHEA

Rhea is one of my favourites <3 i think she’s one of the cooler Titans.

i think her personality is defined by her courage, and her ambition- in fact, i’d call her the most ambitious of all the Titans.

as a young Titan, i think she got along best with Cronus and Iapetus, and i think she actually had a bit of a mischievous nature, similar to them. i think she enjoys pranks and good jokes.

she’s the kind of goddess who would do anything on a dare (i think she was pretty wild, and maybe a little shameless, in her youth, much to Oceanus’ distress).

in saying that, i think Rhea has also always been very headstrong. she’s not arrogant, or rude, but she if she has opinions, she will make sure you’re aware of them. you don’t have to agree, you just have to understand her point of view.

she’s also a little spitfire (a little like Hera tbh), and she is very good at fighting ^-^

but, Rhea is also incredibly kind and forgiving. considering what she goes through during her marriage, i think she is remarkably strong. while Cronus goes insane, Rhea remains standing tall- she survives Ouranos’ rule, Cronus’ rule, and is alive to witness Zeus’, and she is never on the losing side which is a testament to her character and strength of mind.

in the previous section, i said that Cronus follows the philosophy of “King first, husband/father second”, but i don’t think Rhea agrees with this at all.

there is never any way for her to justify to herself that her children needed to be killed- it’s a horrible and messed up idea and it’s honestly a wonder that she didn’t go insane after it happening to her children five freaking times.

i think that what makes Rhea a good queen is that she doesn’t work in absolutes- see, Cronus believes that either the world is saved, or his children are saved, but not both- but Rhea, who is always driven by courage and hope, believes that it is possible for the world to have peace and for her children to also be alive.

where Cronus is an architect of plans, and an executor, Rhea is the thought-process- the one who thinks things through carefully and evaluates the effects of the action... she’s more level-headed, and she doesn’t get angry easily.

after Cronus is deposed, i like the idea that Rhea remained on the throne a little longer- Zeus was simply too young to be allowed free reign immediately, so she kinda pulled the strings behind the scenes.

i don’t think that Rhea has favourites amongst her children. i think she is very protective of all of them and she loves them all very much, but i think the one she finds most difficult to get along with is Hera, maybe because Hera is the most similar to her (which is why Hera spends more time with Oceanus and Tethys than Rhea).

there are versions of the courtship of Zeus and Hera where Zeus and Hera keep their relationship a secret from Rhea because Rhea will disapprove of it, and i do like this version of the myth because i think it makes sense. i think Rhea has some fear that Zeus will repeat the mistakes of Cronus and Ouranos, and she doesn’t want Hera or Zeus, for that matter, to be hurt the way Rhea was hurt.

we know that Zeus had already swallowed Metis, so Rhea believing that Zeus could become like Cronus isn’t too hard to believe.

speaking of the Zeus x Metis myth, i don’t think Zeus swallowed Metis intentionally. i think that, at that time, Zeus was still incredibly young- he had only recently defeated his father, and was still finding his way around the world. so when Metis told him about the prophecy concerning her son defeating Zeus, i imagine that he must have panicked and lost control of his powers, and without meaning to, he had reduced Metis to her divine essence, and she disappeared before his sight (he thought she was simply dead, and didn’t realise that Metis and her child were dwelling within him). Rhea is the first one to discover what transpired between Metis and Zeus and she was probably pretty horrified.

but, Rhea knew that Zeus was still young, and of course, he’s her son, so she refuses to just give up on him straight away- instead, they work on things, and Zeus gets better, and they move on. but i’m sure that the incident gnawed on her mind, and she worried for both Zeus and Hera, hence why she was reluctant to allow them to marry. but as the story goes, she conceded, and Hera became queen ^-^

HYPERION

Hyperion is the fourth Titan, and i think that all-in-all, he’s a pretty chill guy.

generally speaking, Hyperion doesn’t really like to fight, mainly because he thinks it’s boring and the risk of his face getting ruined is just too great for him.

i think he is a little vain,, he loves flattery- he likes being complimented and he likes complimenting others.

i also think that he’s a little bit weak-willed, or rather, i think that when the Titans were all young, he would often be the butt of the jokes.

in saying that, i think Hyperion has good spirit, so although he’d be a little annoyed about all the jokes and the pranks, he never takes it to heart because he understands that it’s all just a joke.

in some myths, it’s said that after Ouranos was deposed, Cronus divided the world into four parts- Hyperion ruled in the West, Iapetus in the East, Coeus in the North, and Crius in the South, while Oceanus took the seas, and Cronus of course, ruled over time + the whole word in general- and i really like this idea.

after the Castration of Ouranos, i think it’s the first time that the Titans actually split apart and start living on their own and having families.

Hyperion and Theia live in the West, and have Selene, Eos, and Helios.

after the Titanomachy, it’s said that Cronus and all his brothers were placed in Tartarus, but given the importance of Selene, Eos, and Helios during Zeus’ role, i just can’t imagine that Hyperion was one of the Titans sent to Tartarus.

i don’t think he would’ve actively supported Cronus towards the end (i mean, he was very clearly insane and needed to be deposed), but i think at the same time, he would’ve been reluctant to oppose Cronus, given how powerful Cronus was. and again, there’s that conflict with the fact that it was Cronus who freed the Titans from Ouranos, so i guess things aren’t really that black and white for Hyperion.

if Hyperion did fight for Cronus, i think he would have done so only out of obligation (because Cronus is the king, and he defeated Ouranos).

THEIA

Theia’s the eldest of her sisters, and i think she has always been a bit of a natural-born leader.

i think she gets along best with Rhea ^-^

but while Rhea is a little more level-headed, i think Theia can be louder and more hot-headed, with a quicker temper.

given that she is the goddess “who endowed gold, silver and gems with their brilliance and intrinsic value ”, i think it’s a fair hc to say that she enjoys jewellery and pretty, shiny things, but, in saying that, i don’t think she could be bought over with gifts.

i think Theia is more strong-willed than Hyperion, and i think she is best reflected in Selene who takes after her the most.

i imagine Selene to be very graceful and elegant- willing to fight, but only once she’s carefully understood her opponents and her situation.

in the Theogony, Hesiod writes that all the Titans were hesitant about killing Ouranos, except Cronus who stood up and rallied them, and while i think Rhea was the first to agree with Cronus, i think Theia supported him next. but!! she wouldn’t have ever supported him during the Titanomachy- i think she would have taken Zeus’ side, if she was involved in the fighting.

also, this isn’t really relevant i guess, but i really like the idea that Theia’s weapon of choice is a whip. like one of those ones made out of a chain with the sharp blades at the end, so that it sparkles as it slices through the air. i just think it’d be neat :D

COEUS

alright, now, strictly speaking, Coeus doesn’t have much of a mythology- he’s pretty much only known as the father of Asteria (mother of Hecate) and Leto, and the guy who ruled in the North when Cronus first became king.

BUT!! very interestingly, in the Argonautica, it’s said that Coeus was thrown into Tartarus after the Titanomachy along with his bros, but he went insane and tried to escape, but Cerberus, being the good guard-dog he is, caught him and sent him back.

anyways, i think this is very interesting because none of the other Titans are really given such a myth.. i mean, none of the other Titans went so insane that they tried to escape from Tartarus (at least, not that I know of).

this myth fits in with my hc that Coeus has the least will/strength-of-mind from all the Titans.

to be honest though, in the same way that i don’t like the idea of Hyperion being sent to Tartarus, i don’t really like that Coeus would have been sent there either. his daughters are Asteria and Leto, and both of them must have been loved by Zeus.

Asteria’s daughter is Hecate, whom Hesiod says was honoured by Zeus above all others. so while Asteria isn’t listed as one of Zeus’ lovers, i think he had a lot of respect for her.

Leto, as we all know, was Zeus’ sixth wife and the mother of his beloved Apollo and Artemis, so there’s no doubt that he loved her.

and so, in light of this, i just can’t imagine that Coeus’ daughters didn’t appeal to Zeus and ask him to have mercy on Coeus, because if they didn’t plead for him, this might imply that they didn’t feel pity for him, which further implies that they might not have loved him as a father at all. and the natural conclusion of such a sentiment is that Coeus really wasn’t much of a father to them- and if that’s the case, then that means that NONE of Gaia’s Titan sons (except Oceanus) were good fathers. and idk, that just doesn’t sit well with me.

why is it that only the goddesses were spared? are they somehow naturally always gonna be on the hero’s side because they’re female? are the gods always gonna be on the villain’s side because they’re male... “boys stick together”? idk it’s dumb.

that’s why i like the idea that Asteria and Leto must have pleaded for him- i think he was a good father, and they did love him. did Zeus listen? i guess that’s another story.

but i do like the idea that Coeus didn’t really want to be on Cronus’ side, it’s just that he was scared of the consequences of opposing him- Coeus is regarded as the titan of “rational intelligence”, and if you ask me, it’d be pretty rational to not want to fight against a psycho when you have a family to think about.

also, i know it’s not a part of the actual myths, but i do like the idea that Coeus was a titan of magic/witchcraft as well, because that might explain where Hecate gets her abilities from.

PHOEBE

Phoebe is Coeus’ wife, and she’s also the titan goddess of prophetic wisdom.

once again, there really isn’t much lore for her beyond the idea that she was the oracle before Apollo.

this isn’t in the myths, but my hc is that Asteria and Leto represent Coeus and Phoebe’s domains- so while Coeus’ magic gets passed down to Asteria and then to Hecate, Phoebe’s prophetic powers are transferred to Leto and then to Apollo.

so, although, it’s not supported by the myths, i hc that Leto had prophetic powers as well, it just might have not been as strong as Phoebe’s or Apollo’s.

anyways, back to Phoebe- i think that the best word to describe Phoebe would be “sweet”. i think she’s very kind, and generous, and mild-mannered, where most of her sisters are a little more.. wild.

i don’t think she’s much of a fighter, nor is she devious or scheming. she’s really just quite innocent.

CRIUS

Crius is another Titan without much mythology.. his main role is as an ancestor of the gods, and apparently as the first to observe the constellations, thus why he was known as the titan of the constellations. which is pretty cool IMO.

i personally imagine Crius to be very intelligent and smart. i think, given his domain, he really enjoys stargazing <3

for the most part, he’s a very level-headed, calm, and reasonable guy, but i think he’s also quite aloof, and not very vocal about his emotions.

i think that he’s pretty comfortable with bending his morals to suit the bigger picture, and that’s why i think he does actively support Cronus during the Titanomachy (hence why he gets sent to Tartarus).

i don’t think he really cares for pranks or jokes. in a sense, he is very similar to Oceanus, and from all their siblings, i think growing up, he gave Oceanus the least amount of trouble.

Crius’ children are Pallas, Perses, and Astraeus.

i’d imagine that Crius has control over the stars and the constellations, and is capable of what i’d call “celestial magic”. and i think this ability is inherited by Perses, who becomes the father of Hecate by Asteria, and that’s how the magic gets passed down to Hecate, and why Hecate is so revered as the ultimate magic goddess.

just as i said earlier that Phoebe and Coeus aren’t really fighters, i don’t think Crius is a fighter either. he’s more of a strategist, and would rely on magic rather than using actual swords and stuff.

anyways, enough about the Titanomachy!! i think my third favourite pairing after Cronus x Rhea, and Oceanus x Tethys, is Crius x Eurybia!

there is no mythology concerning how they met or how they were married, but i like the idea that for most of her life, Eurybia was raised by Gaia and Pontus away from the rest of the Titans,, but Gaia, who is more risk-taking than Pontus, understood that Eurybia wouldn’t stay with them forever, so eventually Eurybia starts leaving their home more often and she goes out exploring the world.

and on one of these occasions, she stumbles into a forest in the South, which is part of Crius’ domain, and that’s where they meet for the first time.

i think that Eurybia is always more at ease with her feelings than Crius, and she’s very vocal about it,, which would make for a good comedy routine with the more conservative Crius, who’s less willing to let emotions rule his head, but under the guidance of love, eventually opens up more <3

+EURYBIA

Eurybia is not one of the 12 Titans, but she is the daughter of Gaia and Pontus, AND Crius’ wife, and i really like my idea of her so i’m including her here ^-^

in Hesiod’s Theogony, he describes Eurybia as having “a heart of flint within her”, which is a really cool idea!!! she’s also described as the goddess of “mastery over the seas”, which refers to the things that control the sea like the winds, and the Moon, etc.

her name also means “wide-forced”, so i imagine her to be a very headstrong and free-willed goddess.

because her father is Pontus (the sea), and she also has some control over the sea, i imagine her to be a little unpredictable, like the sea. i think she has moments where she can fly into an intense rage, or she could be absolutely calm.

i like this idea because she becomes almost the antithesis of Crius. where Crius is more calm and rational, Eurybia is more passionate and unpredictable. i think they balance each other out very nicely.

strictly speaking, Eurybia probably was not thrown into Tartarus at the end of the Titanomachy, but i hc that she was.

i think during the Titanomachy, she would have sided with Crius, and she would have fought on his side because she loved him and would have supported him in anything that he did (also once again, i don’t like the idea that Cronus only had the support of his bros, and that only the guys got thrown into Tartarus :/).

Astraeus is Eos’ husband, and Pallas is Styx’s husband, and both Eos and Styx, on many occasions in the actual myths, have been evidenced to be on Zeus’ side. so, although in reality, Pallas at the very least probably would’ve been on Cronus’ side (since, in the Theogony, Styx takes her children to Zeus first, and Pallas isn’t really mentioned), i like the idea that Astraeus and Pallas both fought on Zeus’ side instead, and escaped punishment.

which makes things tricky for Eurybia, because some of her sons are on one side, and then her husband and her other son are on the other side- what’s she supposed to do?

Eurybia is too headstrong to simply be passive and sit back and let her boys fight, so i think first she fights on Crius’ side, but then she also fights to save Astraeus and Pallas when they get into trouble.

i think she accepts that her children have grown up and made their decisions, but she also understands that she will always be their mother, and she will never bear them any resentment for fighting against their father.

also, one of Pallas’ children is named “Bia”, and i’d like to think that he named her after his mum <3

i think “Bia” is Crius’ nickname for Eurybia <3

IAPETUS

i hc Iapetus to be the supreme troublemaker amongst the Titans.

i think he has served as the largest source of headaches experienced by Oceanus when the Titans were young >:)

Iapetus loves jokes i think. he loves pranks.. all kinds of humour. he’s more street smart than book smart, and actually i think if he was trying to study, he’d lose focus after 2 minutes. but call him to participate in a prank? the guy is coming up with plans like a general preparing a war campaign.

i think as the second youngest of Gaia’s Titan sons, Iapetus has always gotten along the best with Cronus. prepare for trouble, and make it double :)

this is specific, but i’ve got this idea that when they were young, Iapetus and Cronus decided to slip some dye into Themis and Hyperion’s basins, so when they washed their hair, Themis’ hair turned pink, and Hyperion’s turned green,, but Oceanus caught Iapetus and Cronus and forced them to wash out the dye as punishment ^-^

anyways, what i’m saying is that Iapetus and Cronus have always been the closest of brothers.

i also think that Iapetus hates people who boast about themselves, or act as though they’re superior to everyone else, so he’s never really gotten along with Themis (who i imagine to be a little vain- more on that later), and that’s why he likes to play pranks on her (to irritate her).

Iapetus has five children- Prometheus, Atlas, Anchiale, Menoetius, and Epimetheus- by the Oceanid Asia... but i think that from all of them, Prometheus is the most like Iapetus.

i think Prometheus shares Iapetus’ mischievousness and his wit, which is exactly what causes him to end up being chained to a rock with eagles eating his liver :///

back to Iapetus though- i think he values loyalty a lot. so, during the Titanomachy, there is absolutely no question about him siding with Cronus- Cronus is his brother, and his King.. he set them free from Ouranos, and he even sacrificed his own children for the sake of peace, and, messed up as it is, i think Iapetus is pretty moved by that.

i think Cronus always had more guts than the rest of the Titans, and Iapetus always admired that,, which is why he supports Cronus till the end,, and i imagine he must have been really disappointed in Prometheus when he learnt that Prometheus had sided with Zeus :(

THEMIS

okay so in the above section i said that i hc Themis to be a little vain.

now by “vain”,, i don’t mean that she was a narcissist or that she was arrogant,, but i think sometimes her siblings,, especially Iapetus,, would mistake her advice and counsel as sounding a bit self-righteous.

Themis is the goddess of divine law and order,, so essentially- justice. and i think that from all the Titans, she has the purest sense of right and wrong, and she’s incredibly wise and sensible.

so for the Titans that tend to bend the rules a little- like Cronus and Iapetus, sometimes her advice doesn’t go down too well.

additionally, justice isn’t always what we want it to be- it’s not always nice, and it’s not always pleasant, and sometimes it doesn’t feel fair. and Themis embodies that concept, which is why she doesn’t always get along with her siblings (to clarify though- none of the Titans hate each other!! they’re still siblings, and they love each other, pre-Titanomachy).

as an individual though, i think Themis is very outspoken. she’s very loud, and i think she is just a little judgemental.

it’s said that Themis had oracular powers, and that when Cronus became King, he made her the oracle- and i like that idea, it makes sense.

although Themis can be harsh, she always gives good advice and wise counsel, and only a complete dumbass would hear her words and choose not to heed them.

during the Titanomachy, Themis undoubtedly sides with Zeus. and after that, i think she continues to serve Olympus with her wisdom and judgement.

this isn’t strictly related to anything, but in Egyptian mythology, the goddess of justice is Ma’at, and i love the idea of Themis and Ma’at hanging out together, doing social justice things... awesome ^-^

MNEMOSYNE

finally, Mnemosyne <3

“Mnemosyne” is such a lengthy name, so i have this hc that her siblings call her “Mnemo” instead (like, Nemo) :D

anyways, Mnemosyne is the titan of memory, and her children are the Muses, who pretty much embody every aspect of the Arts, and i think that really hints at Mnemosyne’s character.

i hc Mnemosyne to be extremely gifted at pretty much everything.

but, even though she knows that she’s really gifted, she isn’t the kind of person to show off about it. she’s always gracious and willing to teach others her talents.

i think she has a really superb voice, and when the Titans were young, i think she might’ve sung for her younger siblings.

Mnemosyne is also a little feisty i think. she’s short-tempered, but in saying that, i think it’s difficult to make her angry.

again, a kinda random hc here but i really like the idea that Mnemosyne’s weapon of choice is a battle-axe. i mean, she’s this sweet, kind-looking goddess, but she’s swinging her battle-axe and is about to wreak real havoc. it’s great ^-^

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justapoet · 3 years ago

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Hi mary! Can I request for tarlos: 37 "How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?" thank you in advance! xx

Sara!! Thank you so much for sending this ask! I really hope you like it :)

Prompt list: "How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?"

Send me a prompt!

2.2k | read it on Ao3

let's have conversations in the dark

Time seems to stand still whenever you need it to rush, and TK had learned it from a young age. The clocks seem to play a trick and decide not to move the way they're supposed to, just to prove whoever was staring that, even if time is merely a human concept, it still holds power over their existence.

It's something he had learned to deal with, only because he really needed to. Since he was a kid, his father would end up in a hospital, and he would be in the waiting room, staring at the clocks and hoping for the moment he would look back and see that it wasn't too bad to wait in there.

Time would pretend not to exist while TK would ask anyone above their heads to bring his father back home.

And, yet as a kid, TK would stare at the clocks and count the seconds until the time he knew both his mother and father would leave work. He would sit by the kitchen counter with his dinner and stare at the pointers, his leg bouncing and his heart racing, expecting the minute they would walk in through the door and look at his new "super-awesome" dinosaur pajama.

Time would go too fast until they would say it was time for him to sleep, and the nights would go too slow just for him to see that none of them were home by the morning.

Growing up, TK would try to fool the clocks, pretending he was having fun when he needed time to go faster and lying about how boring things were whenever he wanted the minutes to freeze for a few hours. It was silly, he could see, but also endearing ― according to Enzo.

He would slowly learn how to deal with it, though, not playing tricks on time anymore ― he would take a deep breath and just accept things as they were, hoping that the waiting would turn out to have a happy ending. TK would go out for a walk, watch a movie or a random show, or start some new book he had left on his shelf for far too long.

He would make peace with time until the moment he began to wish that time didn't even exist at all.

It was funny when he looked back to see how much things changed in a couple of years. The nights he would wish that never came so he could stay awake a bit more would become his only refugee and shelter from his parents' fights or absence, and the hours he spent crying would be just known for him and the walls. The sunny days he loved so deeply would become torture, people asking why he didn't go out or acted like a typical teenager, enjoying life and the young years.

And when he couldn't even remember how the days passed by, TK would wish the clocks to stop moving. Just for a bit ― just so he could rest. Just so he didn't have to cry for one more night.

It was weird just how that time wasn't a long time ago. And even more when, sometimes, those thoughts would take up TK's mind, hours, and seconds.

He was getting better, though, in both time and misery management. Sure, the clocks still stopped whenever he needed or desperately wanted it to go faster and rush whenever he wanted more time, but he was getting better at dealing with his agony and deception.

Especially when, after a shift from hell, even if it was only a twelve-hour one, TK got to get home to Carlos.

It was a Friday, and the both of them had the weekend off. Although they had planned to take a trip to Marble Falls, less than an hour from Austin, so they could relax and have some time to enjoy each other's company, Carlos getting sick had terminated that they wouldn't get too far out of the house.

Carlos got pretty upset over it, apologizing and saying that he didn't mean to ruin their plans ― and TK had only hugged Carlos close to his chest, trying to take the groundless guilt out of the man's mind. He dismissed every apology, saying that the only thing that mattered was that Carlos would get better so they could plan their trip again.

It had happened on a Wednesday, and TK had taken Thursday off after they had to take a ride to the ER within the late hours of the night ― or early ones in the day, for that matter. Carlos was running out of air and vomiting everything he didn't have in his stomach, and his fever was high enough for TK to cry when waiting for the doctor ― and, when she came, he couldn't get himself to pay attention as he should have.

His boyfriend was whimpering, crying, and asking for them to go home, and TK wasn't strong as he needed to be at that moment. The clocks wouldn't tick by, and Carlos would ask how long they've been there every five minutes, and TK would only wish it was nothing, and he only needed some fluids and regular medication.

TK knew it wasn't too serious ― he was experienced enough to know that ― but seeing Carlos in pain was a hell-sent experience. He would get withdrawn and make himself look small, silently begging for it to stop and searching for any contact TK could offer. TK would offer him a smile, some comfort words, and would caress his sweaty, messy curls just to get a shadow-ish grin in response.

It was worthy, though.

When Carlos got discharged, a few hours after he was admitted, TK messaged Grace so she could talk to Tommy and Judd ― who would tell the rest of the team ―, and Andrea and Gabriel, letting them know that he was okay. Both Grace and Carlos' mother had offered to make them some soup, and TK knew better than decline any offer, sending a thumbs up and a heart.

Against his will, he had gone to work Friday morning, his heart getting lighter when Grace knocked on their door minutes before he had to go. Carlos was still sleeping, curled upon himself, and TK pressed a kiss to his forehead before hugging Grace tight and leaving to the fire station.

And no matter how much he trusted Grace or how deeply he loved his job, he had spent the whole shift staring at some clock whenever he could. He wanted to go home, ask how Carlos was doing, and then let the other man curl himself against his side to feel some sense of protection ― he just wanted to see his boyfriend again and make sure he was there.

So, TK had taken a shower at the station before accepting Judd's ride to get Grace and check on Carlos, thanking God when he waited in the car, and Grace was already by the door. He loved them both, he really did ― but he didn't want to be cordial at the moment.

TK walked up the stairs silently, thanking God that their room was further in the hallway than it was in the condo they'd lost to the fire. His bag and shoes were left by the locked door, and he had thrown his hoodie somewhere in the living room.

He stepped lightly inside their bedroom, smiling fondly at the sight of Carlos lying on his back with one of his arms thrown over his face and the other in the vacant space that belongs to TK. His chest was rising and falling more smoothly than it was on the two previous days, and the paramedic couldn't help but sigh in relief at that.

Not wanting to wake his boyfriend up, TK made his way to their bathroom to take his clothes off, except for his boxers, and brush his teeth, stretching his back and letting the day settle behind him. Knowing he wouldn't fall asleep so easily ― worrying was inevitable ― TK walked to the bookshelf they had in their bedroom, taking one of the books he had bought and had yet to read it.

Then, he took his steps to their bed, where Carlos had already moved his arm from, and sat with his back pressed against the headboard, taking one of the blankets and covering his legs. He smiled at the man beside him before making himself comfortable and opening the first pages of the book, sighing in relief to be home.

TK didn't make it to the third page when Carlos groaned and turned his body, stretching his arm and loosening it to fall over the paramedic's lap and the book he was reading. TK blinked in surprise, turning to Carlos and then chuckling softly, his heart swelling with how much he loved that moment.

"Miss'd 'ou," Carlos grumbled, getting closer to TK and making him slip down a little so his boyfriend could hug his waist, at least. The paramedic closed the book, then, putting it over the bedside table, and turned lowered his eyes again, watching Carlos' sleepy face.

"I missed you, too, babe," TK said. "How are you feeling?"

It took Carlos a bit to process the question, his fogged brain still too deep in unconsciousness. When he did, he snuggled even closer, his head almost placed over TK's stomach and his arm not hugging him but still thrown over his frame.

"I'm good," Carlos said. "I missed..." he stopped, almost drifting to sleep again. TK thought he would, but then he took another breath, leaning closer to TK's fingers on his hair. "You," the man completed, and TK smiled fondly.

"Me too, love," TK said. "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Uh-hu," Carlos answered and then frowned. TK watched, his fingers scratching his boyfriend's nape. "Are you― I am not― the door," the man grumbled, and TK noticed he wasn't in their room anymore but somewhere in his sleep-fogged mind.

"What?" TK asked anyway. Carlos groaned, and TK thought he would pull away, but he seemed to think twice and froze in place.

"Did you get the... the rings?" Carlos mumbled, and TK frowned with a smile.

"The rings, sweetheart?" he asked, moving down a bit each second to be lying down like Carlos. His neck would be thankful in the following morning.

"Yeah," Carlos agreed, and TK was more than sure that he didn't know what he was agreeing to.

"Which ones?" TK asked again, watching as Carlos' lips parted so he could breathe better between each sentence.

"The... Uh," Carlos mumbled, now against TK's chest. "Saturn," he completed, and TK held back a chuckle that could wake him up. Instead, he passed his arm around Carlos, hugging him close, and took another of the blankets to cover his boyfriend.

"Saturn? I don't think I have them, love," TK said, an inch of supposed sadness in his voice. When he thought Carlos had fallen asleep once more, his boyfriend snuggled even closer.

"'ts okay," Carlos said. "Love you," he mumbled, and TK's breath got caught in his throat as if it was the first time he had heard Carlos say that he loved him.

He looked down at the man cuddled around him, and his mind settled with the peace he hadn't felt in forever. Time, well-known for its games and tricks, seemed to realize just how wide, gigantic, and precious that moment was, stopping in its tracks and lingering in the air just like those promises TK never dared to break apart.

Suddenly, there was silence and a quiet realization of the loudest of TK's feelings ― suddenly, there was just who they were, in all their greatness and insignificance, and it was enough.

It was enough, and it was real. Unlike the concepts of life, death, time, it was real, tangible, there, and theirs. Unlike the unknown presence of an unexistent villain, the clocks seemed to realize that there was something there that no one could ever put in words. Unlike all the demons, and the waiting rooms, and the sleepless nights and the feeling they hold, there was peace.

And there was a certainty TK could never see coming.

So, he smiled because there was nothing else to summarize what he was feeling.

"How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?" he whispered to the silence, Carlos' breaths slow and steady, indicating how he was already deep in his sleep. TK sighed, staring at the man he loved as if he was the most precious thing to be something on Earth, and lifted his head to press a kiss to the messy, brown curls.

He stretched his other arm, then, and took Carlos' hand in his, watching as, unconsciously, his boyfriend's fingers tangled around his own, a sigh escaping from his parted lips.

"I love you," TK confessed, his voice echoing in the room. "And I'll get the rings, too. Soon," he said again, his heart thundering in his chest with how sweet and sure the words sounded out of his lips. Carlos didn't move, and TK closed his eyes so he could join his lover in his sleep. "Promise."

And time didn't dare to rush their beating hearts, lulling them to sleep in peaceful silence and a glowing ticking of frozen clocks.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #prompt fic #my fic #prompts #my writing #my fics

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nileqt87 · 3 years ago

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How I’d write a Buffy/Angel spinoff!

I still say the best spinoff they could possibly ever make would be all the Chosen Slayers getting deactivated, then Buffy and a Shanshu'd Angel (IMO, this plot really would only work with Angel, because it actually matches his story arc, not Spike's, to want a human life and fatherhood) have a daughter who grows up not knowing the truth about her parents (and half-brother!) until it's forced to come out.

I would particularly note that the first thing that happens to newly-called Slayers is their prophetic dreams. If ever there was a way to start breaking secrets to this new heroine that also serves as flashback exposition featuring the old shows, this seems custom-built for it. It’s exposition for the audience that never saw the old shows as well as an introduction to a key Slayer ability, but most importantly, it’s personal family revelations that go far deeper than historical flashbacks of unrelated persons or monsters that mean nothing personal. These would be scandalous secrets for a baby Slayer, given Buffy was the rule-breaking Slayer who is most famous for having romantic relationships with the very creatures she’s supposed to slay. Angelus would be the worst family secret of all! This story has all the makings of an existential crisis before acceptance. That would also be a good place to drop in Connor’s history. Buffy never actually got to react to that bombshell either, so that would be an interesting drama with her, as well. Buffy and Angel both tended to feature heavily in prophetic dreams, so it also just feels right to continue that.

If there's some reason why David Boreanaz (who, let's face it, is really not getting younger and SEAL Team can't go on forever) can't or is unwilling to appear, one could have an explanation that Wolfram & Hart has had him trapped in a holding dimension for years as punishment.

You could even build an arc around that with Buffy or the daughter trying to find him. Basically, a kind way of explaining Angel's absence if necessary and Buffy unfortunately having to mirror her single mother (which was a fear of hers), despite it being no fault of Angel's. It would be yet more cruelty for him to miss out on yet another child growing up, which would be a dramatic plot point itself. It could actually become a story where he does matter quite a lot, despite initial absence or mystery.

An even bigger shock than mom having Slayer superpowers and a world full of supernatural forces would be a reveal that dad is a 394+-year-old (depends on if you count hell--in a modern-day spinoff, Angel is rapidly approaching 400 years!) ex-vampire.

The most interesting and fitting story you could ever do with a maturing Buffy would be having her be a mother and trying to have a normal life.

This would also give Sarah Michelle Gellar a starring role that allows her to be age-appropriate, yet also having a younger generation that the original audience can still care about because she isn't completely divorced from the two previous shows in the way that an unrelated Slayer spinoff would be. It allows the core storylines of *both* shows to truly matter, far more than a Buffy Steele-Gunn offspring would.

---

Just a a few notes about my pitch for a continuation that works with the real ages of actors and their availability... I should also note that Xander (played by Nick, anyway--Kelly might work for a flashback) is a character who could never appear in live-action again, so maybe he could be used as another event that contributed to Buffy's retirement besides pregnancy.

If the Shanshu and conception were directly post-NFA, any offspring would be 16 years old right now. IMO, if there were any plans to give SMG a series with her in a major supporting role, this just means that the space for how long between NFA and the Shanshu or how long Bangel got to be with each other widens for however many years it would take to revive the franchise.

I strongly believe that the best option for the franchise would be a back-to-the-suburbs story exploring age-appropriate Buffy facing motherhood, rather than trying to turn Buffy into a war general surrounded by nothing but subordinates (horribly alienating future for her) with a lack of equals or a grounded setting à la the season 8 comics. If you want to introduce the Buffyverse to a new audience whom you can't expect to watch 24-year-old shows until they're interested enough by the revival, you're going to have to ground characters in a relatable reality.

As for how a new Slayer would be called after deactivation, I firmly believe the line is through Faith now anyway, so it would just take her dying for a minute à la Prophecy Girl for a new Slayer to be called. I would definitely want Faith in the show!

--- Facebook discussion

I feel like SMG's concern was less wanting to reprise the role entirely, but more concern that she'd be expected to play the same exact role in her 40s. This is giving her a role that fits a woman (and a mother in real life) who is in her 40s and is a major supporting role rather than he young lead whose story is being centered on.

As for the Angel situation, SMG might actually be more willing to return if she could beg DB to come back for perhaps an initially-limited role and the scenario is one I believe she'd actually support, as it fits with her preferences!

While it might seem that Buffy as a single mother retreads the original, Angel is obviously nothing like the Hank situation (not to mention Joyce and Hank being completely clueless), so the circumstances of the father would be quite different from Buffy's own situation, while also feeding into her own stated fears about her future.

This also brings up all the conversations in Bad Eggs, The Prom and the Chosen cookie dough analogy (children are mentioned again) to the forefront. Unlike with the other options, it was something that came up repeatedly. Admittedly, it was always by Angel due to his infertility and the human life he most desired; all of which ended up being an important part of *his* story.

However, a part of Bad Eggs that is woefully underrated is that Buffy was disappointed when Angel told her vampires can't have children. She immediately covers it up with a babble speech and then starts making excuses for why Slayers are unlikely to have that kind of future. Young Buffy did not disregard it because she didn't want children ever at all, but because the person whom she saw that future with was someone who couldn't have them.

Enter Nikki Wood, where Buffy learns that at least one Slayer was definitely a mother, which she was clearly surprised by.

That's another reason why I can see Buffy, if she got her hopes up with post-Shanshu Angel and conceived, would do anything to be a good mom by not being all about "the mission". She would never want her child to be raised without parents. And I think she'd be doubly sensitive to that, not just because of Nikki, but because of Hank leaving and Joyce dying.

Buffy also became surrogate mother to Dawn, who was made out of her (in a sense, she is her real mother), so Angel's situation with Connor actually had a direct mirror in Buffy's situation with Dawn.

But those conversations were also not just about wished-for children that couldn't be conceived, but also asking Buffy to think about what she wants for her future if she took out the belief that Slayers don't live long enough to have one.

This show would be the answer to what happens to a Slayer when she does live long enough to have the future she barely wanted to get her hopes up for before.

Buffy (ditto Angel) is the character for which this story actually has a ton of setup in the shows themselves. These characters talked about it! And the circumstances are really nothing like Joyce and Hank, even if the initial setup plays into both Buffy and Angel's worst nightmare scenarios about parenthood: being a single mother and not getting to raise the miracle child you thought you'd never have. That kind of bittersweet writing that shirks too-good-to-be-true wish-fulfillment is a cornerstone of what makes it a Buffyverse storyline. If the daughter's family lied to her about their history to keep her safe and protect her from knowing what goes bump in the night (making them the polar opposites of Hank and Joyce in regards to knowing all too well--especially Angel's experience of being the worst thing you could bump into at night, rather than utterly clueless), that would certainly be a conflict. Especially if she found out in a particularly shocking way (say, prophetic dreams). And if Angel (I'd like to imagine he has the company of ghost!Wesley and maybe Illyria and Spike) has been taken for punishment by Wolfram & Hart, it might really confuse her if she doesn't know that he didn't just leave or some other excuse Buffy covered it up with. Wolfram & Hart would also probably love the irony of Angel getting what he most desires (to be human and a father), only to punish him with it by wasting his remaining years separated from all that he loves.

#bangel #buffy summers #angel the vampire #buffy the vampire slayer #angel: the series #angel the series #angel #sarah michelle gellar #david boreanaz #buffy #vampire slayer #angelus #connor angel #wolfram & hart #shanshu #btvs #ats

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bang-fantansies · 4 years ago

Text

Sasaeng BTS Profiles: Yoongi Edition

Warning: Heavy mentions/implications of suicide, mentions/implications of overdosing on medication, insomnia, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive behaviour, poor mental health, self-denefse killing, homelessness, nightmares, mention/implications of side-character being drunk, death, blood, gore, destruction of evidence, crime, profanity.

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Mental Stability: 3/10

2:50 AM.

As was the same battle every night, Yoongi lay in bed, the whole world sleeping apart from him. He couldn’t help it, of course - believe me, he would if he could - and this was what made the thoughts in his head run wild.

Each thought had a voice, all unique to their varying degrees of uselessness, yet the message they chanted was identical.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they cried. They’d grown louder over the years as Yoongi’s insomnia worsened, and in spite of their efforts to help their master, they did the complete opposite.

That dream - red and monstrous - drowned out any measure of volume the voices could hope to muster.

The sound of a man gargling with his own blood made Yoongi feel as if he was suffocating, and more often than not he��d jolt up in bed, forced to replay the events of his early adult years.

Before finding his current residence, Yoongi had been forced onto the streets by unjust circumstances, leading to a great deal of situations he’d rather keep buried beneath the layers of his memory.

One such situation involved another homeless man - drunk, Yoongi had assumed - competing with Yoongi for a bottle of liquor he had scored.

Yoongi’s only use for such a thing was to sell it off and use the money to find a cheap room and a meal. But his opponent had refused to accept such nonsense.

“Such fine wine shouldn’t go to waste!” Yoongi could still hear him say, voice ringing in his ears.

“And it won’t if you just let me pass, you stupid old prick.”

In short, the drunkard had taken Yoongi’s tone very personally and caused his own demise by making a haphazard attempt on the younger’s life, resulting in having the bottle of wine he oh-so desired slammed into the side of his head, shattering and giving Yoongi a sharp enough tool to puncture his throat with.

Yoongi fled the scene not long after, keeping the remains of the bottle to hand until he could destroy the evidence later on.

Nowadays, while he was far from sleeping rough, he hardly slept at all for fear of his actions whispering cruel and dark remarks into his ear.

As it would for most, this took its toll on Yoongi’s health; physical, emotional, and mental.

The pressure had proven to be too much for him to handle, and on this night, he had decided he’d had enough.

On his computer desk stood a bottle, a proud shade of orange with its contents revealed in a cluster of black ink, made to resemble actual handwriting, written across a label stuck to its front - the only semblance of privacy Yoongi was allowed. Its white cap was ajar, and though no scent came from within, Yoongi could practically smell the prescription enticing him to a snack.

And under normal circumstances, he would have declined as he had many a time before.

But these were no longer normal circumstances.

Yoongi rose from beneath the bed sheets, any semblance of humanity he’s once held having burnt out alongside his will to continue.

He knew what it meant to live - to love the act of being human - but he was no longer human. He most similarly resembled a shell; cold, hollow, and filled with the shadows of his own mind.

And so he had made his decision. Despite his lethargy shackling him to the bed, he made a reach for the bottle, popping off the cap and peering inside.

A glass of water sat on his bedside table, bubbles sticking to the water-covered walls as a result of disuse.

Yoongi counted the pills, assuming that the amount he was left with would be enough.

At this point, he figured that if he was to find no rest in life, he would surely find it in whatever lay beyond his broken, mortal body.

In these last moments, Yoongi granted himself his last comfort.

He brought his laptop beside him and searched his favourite artist on YouTube.

He only had a few artists in his arsenal that he could dispense at family dinners or reunions he’d been invited to.

he never was an adept conversationalist: even at friends’ parties where a guest he didn’t know would be obligated to talk to him on account of appeasing the birthday girl or boy.

For a second, Yoongi faltered.

His mind backtracked to the joy he’d felt with his friends, and in turn the joy he had granted them.

Was he really going through with this...?

A stab of doubt was all it would take to make Yoongi withdraw from his initial intentions, and he cut the tie with said doubt immediately, pushing his friends to the back of his mind.

He was exhausted - tired of helping and appealing to others; now it was time to take care of himself.

From the tiny speaker in his laptop came the sound of solace: his favourite track from his idol.

He lay back, pill bottle and water placed on his bedside table as he basked in his last melody.

Through the duration of the song, Yoongi’s unease had worn away - eroded by the tides of his own resolution.

The song eventually clambered to a fading finish. Yoongi knew what came next.

He sat up and tipped the contents of the bottle onto the table, a hill of oddly-coloured tablets forming.

He threw the bottle somewhere behind him, hearing it land in a hidden corner of the room.

Pale hands scooped the pills up like candy, bringing them to Yoongi’s lips.

And like a saving grace emerging through a storm, a miracle unfolded.

A soft sound played beside him; the sound of angel wings and promises of a better future.

Yoongi didn’t so much as falter as he did pause, lending his ear to the tune.

It played notes from an instrument Yoongi didn’t even think existed - a soft twinkling stalked by a voice he had yet to have heard on his musical voyages through Soundcloud and YouTube.

For a second - just a second - the doubt that had made such a ruckus to enter had now slithered through the back door of Yoongi’s mind.

What was this music?

Reluctant, he lowered his hand to his side, though held tightly on to the pills.

Turning the screen to face him, he came face-to-face with someone other than his idol.

Her eyes looked a soft shade of (e/c) in the no-doubt filtered lighting of the video, though the sincerity she held within them was far from fabricated.

The background was crystalline - faux crystal props - oversized and oversaturated. They were littered around the studio in which the woman sang, and beneath a purple hue she sat on a stool, an air of comfort radiating from her.

As to what she was singing, Yoongi had no idea.

He let the music play for a moment, considering his options.

What harm would it do him to listen to something new? It wasn’t as if he’d be able to after he was gone, anyway.

Lying back down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling, the lack of light or patterns making it easier for him to focus solely on the music.

His fatigue embraced him like a long-lost mother, shrouding him in a warmth unmatched by that of any real person.

The singer’s soft humming filled the desolate room. And if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He forced a bitter smile, doubtful that his mind would actually allow him any such solace as sleep.

To humour his weary self one last time, Yoongi shut his eyes, sighing deeply and sinking into the mattress.

The next time Yoongi opened his eyes, his room was still dark. And as if it had never left to begin with, his bitter smile returned.

I knew it, he thought. Though the victory of beating his already hell-level expectations filled his overflowing spirit with grief, disguised and diluted by the anger that had slipped into the mix so long ago.

Sitting up, Yoongi lent his ear to the room once more.

He could hear the soft hum of the woman’s song no longer, and it was in this second that he realised he didn’t remember actually hearing the song end.

It was on one minute, and off the next.

Suspicious, Yoongi glanced at his half-lidded laptop, faced with a blackened screen as the device had switched itself off.

With a push of the power button, the power returned, and in a blast of light the screen sprung to life.

Through the tips of his fringe, Yoongi checked the time.

11:15 AM.

He recoiled.

That couldn’t be right - surely.

Logging in, he noted how his battery was running low, despite having been fully charged before he lay down.

The screen gave way to the last application he’s been using, and clear as day the same starry-eyed woman with the voice of velvet was on-screen, though the video she was in had long since ended.

Yoongi checked the time again, pulling his fringe back so as not to trick himself a second time.

11:16 stared back at him, steadfast and unwavering in its absolution.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in a sense of alarm.

He rose from the bed, tearing his curtains open.

A cityscape greeted him, and the sun waved from its fixture in the sky. It was daytime.

Yoongi stumbled back, carding a hand through his hair.

There was absolutely no way he’d-

...Had he actually managed to get to sleep?

Yoongi checked his phone, watch, and alarm clock; no-one dared deceive him of date nor time.

He was willing (and already considering) to accept the idea that he’d time-traveled; the concept of having a decent night’s sleep was as foreign as a language to him.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t the time to dawdle in such a concept, though he made absolute certain to when he was at work.

His colleagues seemed to notice a change in Yoongi’s behaviour.

Though he was often dazed into bouts of silence by his exhaustion, this quietude was new. Different.

A few co-workers commented on how he looked much livelier. And more alive, he felt.

In spite of this, the constant what-ifs of the morning had followed him - clung to him like a cologne.

What if...what if he was actually dead?

He considered this, deciding against his theory.

If he was dead and this was indeed Heaven, he should be receiving a lot more good fortune for all the shit he had to deal with in his life.

No, this was neither Hesven nor Hell. Or Purgatory.

Yoongi also considered that he was in a coma, but that didn’t add up, either.

He tested to see if he was comatose. Nothing.

He was still trapped in his same-old reality. But at least he could think clearly now.

By the time he got home, his body yearned for the sweet release of music, and he sought the comfort of his favourite artist - as he usually did on days as long as this.

Shoving his bedroom door open, he grumbled at the brightness the room held for a change.

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains before he left.

In the dwindling light of the afternoon sun, he saw the pills scattered across his duvet, the sole remnants of his almost-actions.

He cringed, forcing them to the back of his mind.

He could acknowledge the gravity of his decision later. Right now, his head was filled with the phantom melodies longing for a vessel.

Yoongi has attained the good sense to charge his laptop, and as he switched it on, he was greeted with the same lady who had pulled him to sleep the night before.

Or, Yoongi supposed, who had just happened to be playing on the night he was finally able to sleep without the nightmare scaring him awake.

Such wonderment remained at the back of his mind as he went about his business.

Through his own music, the whisper of the lady’s tune plagued him. So much so that, after a good three hours of composing, Yoongi found himself eyeing the tab he’d left open from before.

Having returned home from work later, his body was weighted with the day’s contrivances and stresses, as well as its successes and joys.

Emotionally, Yoongi had given all he had to offer, which, if he was to admit it to himself, was far more than he usually did.

He considered that it was more than likely it wasn’t just the song that had sent him to sleep.

On the contrary, he believed that a multitude of factors had to have been at play in such a miracle.

He wished to replicate the conditions of the night before: he kept his room dark and a glass of water on his bedside. He packed his pills away and placed them on his bedside, too, taking care not to lose any in case their service was required again.

He set the woman’s song up, lying in bed and playing it.

The creeping horror of the notion of never obtaining such a quality of sleep again was the only odd variable in this equation, and though it quietly consumed Yoongi’s thoughts, the hum of the song muffled it.

The song was no longer than 4 minutes, though the eternity that stretched between Yoongi and his voyage to the fabled land of dreams made it impossible to tell how long it had been.

He was not yet familiar enough with the song to place a time on the segment he was experiencing.

His concerns faded as he simply let himself be.

If it works, it works, he told himself.

The next thing Yoongi remembered was hearing a bird chirping nearby his window.

He cracked an eye open.

Much like the night before, his room remained in a state of quiet disarray, though only noticeable to the trained eye.

His laptop lay near his side, screen dark and lifeless.

Yoongi checked through a crack in the curtains. And sure as anything, the sun had risen once again.

Over the next couple of weeks, Yoongi researched the song, its creator, and whether it was really the secret to staving off his insomnia.

He had discovered that the creator’s name was (Y/N) - a popular artist who had fans far and wide, as well as domestically.

He found more of her particular songs - the ones that she hummed.

He tested both the original and these humming bird songs (as he called them), and to his delight, the humming birds worked.

Yoongi would go to sleep and wake up at reasonable times, rather than the odd dips in and out of consciousness he would try to induce on his own terms.

It was just your music that soothed him so, and from the day he uncovered this, he vowed to be your loyal follower.

Though, with any influential fan can blossom obsession, and as Yoongi became ever more eneamoured with your gossamer vocals, he feared the day that your songs would no longer support his sleep.

Or, God forbid, you stopped singing.

He often fretted over such a premature worry, though he couldn’t deny how it had all but devoured his thoughts.

Months into his expedition into your music, he decided to finally take action to ensure that your voice would never die - never fade with age, accident or abuse.

No, he would preserve it like the fine wine he had failed to so many years ago - to be sipped and savoured for eternities to come.

Sasaeng Masterlist

#yandere bts #bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #Yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

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I was going to write this for the Aspec Archives week, but I got overexcited, so here we are.

AU: Mythical creatures. OG Archive team.

Some CWs apply, see tags.

The sea is more than water, her elder brethren taught her, warned her, chided her. It is home and harm and hungry, and you should not face it alone. Her siblings were older, ever knowing better, boisterous and boasting braver, but even they worried, scolded and fretted when she swam out too far alone into deep waters.

It will love you, but it will not always be kind, her eldest sibling bit out, snapped to mask their anxiety. There can be no bearings, in the deep-deep down, no anchors to denote where the sky lies.

When her people sleep, they rest wedged into some secure rock or crevice, tails looped around tails so no one is lost while dreaming.

You cannot be a shoal of one, my dearest, my youngest and bravest, the oldest of their shoal had said, when she told her she was planning on taking the rising when the waters warmed. Ascending landward on the tide swell, letting the shimmering scales of her tail split into skin.

She had not used the name Sasha at that time because that was a landward name she chose with care. Her folk gather names like a garland of pearls, to be constantly strung longer through life as age advances them; names for qualities, for momentous events, for hopes and desires. Her first name, gifted by her shoal, was guttural. It starts at the back of her throat, trails off into a susurration through gills. Mer is a difficult language to learn, though not impossible.

Tim tried. There is no one singular language of those who skirt the deepwaters, so he attempts to mimic her dialect. His pronunciation stumbling, he makes tentative sentences with the butchered grammar of fry. Martin’s grammar is even worse, though he picks up the eddies and waves of the sounds easier.

Jon, like most things in life, takes it as a challenge. One day, almost stubborn with nerves, to perform his task to perfection, he pushes out a juvenile approximation of her first name. Clipped and textbook and the stress in the wrong places, but Sasha smiles, showing her sharpest teeth in delight. Instructs him where to hold the hum at the back of his throat, how to roll the third phoneme upwards like an air bubble. Jon repeats it and repeats it, quietly smug and pleased at his achievement, and the sea in her soul rocks fondly at the sight.

She broached landward in the rising two moons after her age of maturation. She was one of a handful to come to shore. A sibling in Brighton who she phones every week, another two in Holyhead. Her first shoal traverses to warmer waters when the season shifts, and she would feel the rock-hollow absence of them if it was not for Tim, inviting her to participate in a hundred-and-one inane activities that keep her from feeling swept out; Jon, with his libraries of questions and intrigues, his quick-silver tongue; Martin, who sometimes swims a little further out from them but who finds her small knick-knacks in charity shops and craft markets and leaves them on her desk for no reason other than he has thought of her.

She makes three necklaces, plain with a strong chain, a single pearl attached. And on a day where her folk traditionally string garlands of seaweed and mangrove roots and colourful plants from coral reefs in a celebration of family – there is no one word in her language for this idea; it poorly translates into hierarchies like sibling and brethren and elders, but these are not concepts that fit it exactly – she gifts them to the shoal that will anchor her in the depths of the sea, and bestows upon them names. Most Mer names are wishes for quick fins, calm waters, safe shores, and so she wishes these for them in a language they are not quite proficient in yet.

Her landward shoal is smaller than is traditional. But she loves them as treasures of her heart, and thinks she understands what her siblings told her, about anchors.

His parents, both harpies from local nests, are perplexed when his wings start coming in.

Must be a colouring from your mum’s side, his dad hums thoughtfully when Tim’s primaries grow in long and shining like struck bronze. He runs a careful finger down the central line of the rachis, and the wing shudders and jumps, the feathers still sensitive, and Tim complains that it’s ticklish. His wings are too small to fly away as his dad dives in, captures him in careful arms, corkscrewing upwards a little off the ground with Tim squirming and squealing and squawking in play, but they flutter and flap nonetheless.

The wing span’s from your dad’s side, no-one from my nest ever went more than five foot, his mother says, rubbing at the dark brown of his downy secondaries. Tim stretches them out wide, eager to boast at their length, the tips of his longest feathers reaching past his arms held out wide.

Danny’s wings are smaller. Magpie like, bold lines of white broken up by blue and black, the same as his parents. Tim’s wings, broader, a colour like beaten brass that tips into gold at the ends, draws attention, but he’s never been embarrassed. His family never treated him differently, so he didn’t dwell on it.

He can fly, though he doesn’t often. After his parents died, and after… after Danny, he moved to London, where there’s tighter airspace regulations and permits involved, so he mostly doesn’t bother. This doesn’t mean never, however. He has learned, while working in the Archives, that from the ground, his wings have enough lift to pick up both Jon and Sasha by at least a foot. He thinks he could probably manage Martin as well, if it wasn’t for the unfortunate fact that Martin is mildly allergic to a whole host of things, including feather dander, meaning he gets a bit watery eyed whenever he gets too close to Tim’s wings, and he’s a sniffing, red-eyed mess come moulting season.

Anyway, he can always fly when he leaves the city. When it’s been too long since Sasha’s scales touched seawater, she invites him out to the coast. Jon apparently has had enough of the coast to last a lifetime, and Martin gets funny about large bodies of water, so it’s often the two of them. She swims out, the greenish scales of her tail catching the sun-struck water, and he, above, feeling the breeze brush through his cramped wings, follows her wake. When she breaches the surface in a playful arc, he swoops down, trying to catch her at the same time as she tries to splash him.

“You never thought to look into it?” Jon asks. Always brewing with questions. Tim is obligingly holding out one of his wings, and Jon, who takes everything like a project, has books out and webpages up but with no further clue as to why his colouration and span differ so from his parents.

Tim shrugs. “Doesn’t matter really, does it?”

Jon hums, clearly not agreeing, and Sasha rolls her eyes fondly, and that is the end of that.

Marysia had hoped her child would not take after her husband. She’d lit candles and attended masses during her pregnancy, worn the beads of her rosary smooth. Her child had been born on land, miles from shore, and her husband had been a grounded man, who had folded up his pelt on their wedding night for her and swore to wear no other soul than his human one.

But then her husband leaves, the box where he kept his second soul empty, and Martin is eight years old, and he wakes up one morning glassy-eyed and complaining of nausea, his lip bleeding from where his sharpening teeth have ripped the skin, and she knows her prayers were not answered.

It is not unknown, for the second soul of some folk to flourish later. But it is a rough awakening, to have one’s body grow a new skin out of itself, and Martin is off school for over a week, riddled with fever and fervour, constantly parched, crying and sweating out salt-water.

She watches his skin prickle with grey and black fur, blotching with white over his stomach as he coils up under his covers, throws them off only for his limbs to reduce to shivering. His brown eyes have gone black-shot, his cries a mix of language and barks, and Marysia fears she will lose her only child to the sea.

It will be hard for him to fit in, she tells herself. It would be best to choose one, and he has his friends and family and her on land, and who knows where his father is now, and surely it would be cruel, an unnecessary agony for him to endure some other foreign pull away from all he knows.

She does what she thinks is a kindness, though that is neither excuse nor forgiveness. After nine days, his fur has come through, sleek and soft, his whiskers twitching, and she helps him peel it off as one would do clothes, revealing sweat-sheened limbs, his eyes slipped back into brown again. His gaze still distant and feverish, he tries to cuddle into her, and she soothes him while she finishes stripping off his pelt and folding it neatly.

While he sleeps, she burns it in a fire in the back yard.

When he comes back to himself, she lies and tells him that he’s been sick with a bad fever. And he trusts her, and never questions it. He doesn’t understand that she’s burnt a part of him up, scattered the ashes to the winds, but it was for the right reasons. To keep him safe, and happy, and with her.

He grows up human-limbed and cloven-souled, and she never tells him the truth.

Sasha floats in an ever-dark, stolen away and hidden. There is a knot, a cage-trap around her legs, which have fused into her tail although there is no water. The sea, far away, like the wail in a conch shell, throbs in her soul as she strains and shouts and snarls in the wrapping of spider’s webs.

The sea is the only thing with her in the dark.

Sound has a particular quality, underwater. She hears it first, an echo that shivers through her, like being thrummed on the backdraft of some shallow wave. And then it is a wash of insistence. A command.

The compulsion uses her names, landward and seaward and it pulls and demands her attention, and she shrieks and cries back, struggling in the depths. She is being called home, up up up to breach the surface, and she cannot help but answer.

There is a crack and the sea splits, and she is choking on cold and dusty air.

“Sasha!” someone is saying. “God, is she – she’s not – ?”

“Get that stuff off her, come on. Sasha. Sash, love, can you hear us?”

A series of thuds as she splutters. A twisting, gnarling screech, and several swear words.

“Jesus!”

“Shit – shit, get her out of the way.”

“Boss, move, give me the – ”

The screech degrades into a glitching, warping scream. There is the multi-layered sound of compressed air, and crackling fire,the woosh and stench of something burning.

In time, she cracks her eyes open to the punch of light. Her tail flaps weakly. Someone is pulling great strands of silk that has clumped like poorly soldered iron around her limbs, making visceral noises of disgust. She’s cold-stream shivering, surrounded by broken wood and chippings.

“Hey, hey, we got you. We got you. You with us, Sash?”

The faint scratch of feathers against her cheek. Furnace-warm arms are holding her.

Jon is kneeling down in front of her. Holding an axe and stinking of smoke, and she knows, she knows, that it was his voice she heard, although she doesn’t yet understand why.

Martin throws a blanket over her as she shivers, her tail shrivelling and bisecting into legs. He has silk in his hair, and his fingers are trembling, but his face is broken with a look of such relief.

“It’s you,” he says, and his hand touches at his throat, at the necklace she made for him. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

It’s Martin in the end that carries her out of the tunnels, tucking the blanket completely around her. He is talking in the scatter-gun way he does when he is anxious, babbling, and she can’t bring herself to listen. He smells of soot and saltwater, and she’s never noticed that before.

She falls asleep, curled up into his hold, drained and shaken, but feeling utterly safe.

Jon is human. Completely, one hundred percent, although Sasha had joked once that way way back there must have been some Spinx in the family. Tim’s long suspected that Martin’s not quite human, no matter how he presents, but that’s Martin’s business, not his. Some folks have lineages that are rare, or mistrusted, or misunderstood, and Tim’s not one to pry.

Jon, though. Human through and through. Which is why he’s so worried.

“I shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Jon says. Martin’s with Sasha, making sure there’s no nasty side effects to her imprisonment in the table. Jon’s had a face on him for a while which means he’s Worrying with a capital W, and it’s taken hours for him to untangle himself into a blustered declaration to the rest of the class, spiked with nerves. “That place, it had her. It shouldn’t have… I don’t know what I did, but I told her to leave, a-and she could. And she shouldn’t have been able to.”

“And you think that you did that?”

“I – I know I did that, Tim, I felt it, o-or. I mean, I felt something!”

“Ok, alright. Alright. Let’s, let’s calm down and look at this logically.”

Jon goes over what he said while they struggled to rescue Sasha from the deep. It was something he said, he’s sure of it, which is why he is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the main archive office space with Tim, his trousers getting dusty and his temper scraping frayed, getting increasingly frustrated when he tries recreating exactly what he did with his voice, going through questions and commands and instructions and inquiries. And while Tim answers, it’s clearly not what Jon’s looking for, and he’s rubbing the hair at the back of his head in the way he does when he’s getting increasingly frustrated and is too bull-headed to walk away.

Then Jon, rolling his eyes and seething in annoyance, asks him a throwaway question, one of many he’s been trying – what’s your favourite colour? (seriously, Jon, that’s what you’re going with?!); What did you do at the weekend? (you know what I did, you and Martin were with me!).

“Why did you join the Magnus Institute?”

They both sit, frozen and horrified as Tim’s mouth opens and his words trip over his tongue in their eagerness to leave his mouth. As his eyes grow wide and water with tears as he cannot stop speaking about Danny, about the Covent Garden circus and Joseph Grimaldi. As Jon sits, ramrod-backed and cannot stop listening, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His expression wars between frantic and panicking and hungry.

Tim feels wrung out and hollow once he’s finished. Jon’s manic with apologies. It takes both of them a long time to calm down.

“Maybe… maybe you’re a siren or something?” Tim suggests, but Jon is shaking his head.

“It’s this place, Tim. It’s those statements, when I read them. It’s … I – I think they’re doing something to me.”

Tim looks at Jon and the light strikes off his eyes in a way that it shouldn’t on a human.

He touches Jon’s arm.

“We’ll sort this,” he promises. “We got Sasha out, didn’t we? The four of us, we can get to the bottom of this, yeah?”

Jon nods, and gives a small fragile thanks, and that’s human enough for Tim.

Marysia told herself she was not a bad mother. That her son was simply a hard child to love, that he had all the worst trappings of his father, his brown eyes perpetually caught with a far-away look that doesn’t know where to place its longing. But even as she sickened, and he sloughed off every facet of himself in a pathetic attempt to please her, she couldn’t find anything but sorrow in her heart to look upon the man grown over familiar in face, a growth that grew deep-set and fungal into contempt.

She almost spat the truth out to him. Once or twice, with the thought that confessing might bring them closer. She wished he’d chosen the sea instead, so she wouldn’t have to look upon her amputated, half-formed child who would always be lost.

But she never did.

And Martin finds out alone, cornered in an unlocked office, his hands dropping the lighter as a thousand eyes open and watch satisfied as they pour his mother’s choices down his throat to choke him.

It starts when Martin starts sleeping in archive storage. When Tim watches worms burrow into Jon’s skin at the same time as they latch and gnaw and wriggle under his own. When they get Sasha back, and find Gertrude’s corpse and Jon leaves and gets hurt and hurt and hurt again, and the world around them gets smaller and meaner and there is nothing Tim can do.

He takes to storing food in their desk drawers. Nothing that will go off, or won’t keep. Tins and dried goods and non-perishables. He lines the walls of Martin’s storage room with fire extinguishers of different types, fire blankets, and spare first aid kits bulging with plasters and bandages and antiseptic wipes. He buys blankets and pillows and rope and penknives. He stress-moults constantly, and tucks his feathers out of sight, irritated and embarrassed at the sight of them, and it occurs to him that nesting is not a healthy way to deal with this.

He wants his family safe. He used to think it was such a small thing to ask for.

He thinks about that when the bomb goes off.

He burns, and he is dying.

His rage and fear burn off into a different fury. That it has come to this, his family so threatened, that all he has to his name is his sorrow and trauma and frustration and vengeance.

Tim wants nothing more than to live. To see them safe. To rail and rage against what seeks to harm them. So he burns and he burns and burns, his wings aflame and his mouth twisted in a scream, and does not die.

They dig him out breathing from the rubble. His skin stained grey with ash and soot.

His new wings stretch out red as the sunset.

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #alternative universe #mermaid!sasha #pheonix!tim #selkie!Martin #regularOGhuman!Jon #with added Beholding spicyness #cws for implied child mistreatment #cw fire #cw burning #cw canon typical violence #cw compulsion #ask to tag

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jadelotusflower · 4 years ago

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July 2021 Roundup

Discussed this month: The Once and Future King, The Good People, The Secret of Kells/Wolfwalkers/Song of the Sea (aka "Irish Folklore" Trilogy), The Matrix Trilogy, the John Wick Trilogy, Space Jam: A New Legacy

Reading

The Once and Future King (T.H. White) - I've actually read this before, but it was a long time ago and I remembered very little of it so it seemed time for a revisit. Written between 1936 and 1942, this is a surprisingly meta retelling of Arthur and Camelot, very obviously and heavily influenced by WWII, with much academic pondering on the concept of humanity and war and ongoing conflict against Might=Right - looking to the past to try and understand the present. Some familiarity with the legends is assumed, White occasionally making reference to Malory, and there is a strange anachronistic feel - Merlin lives time backwards and talks of Hitler and other 20th Century references, White frequently refers to Old England and the way things were "back then", but also calls Arthur's country Gramarye, the narrative taking place an a kind of alternate history/mythology where Uther was the Norman conqueror of 1066, and yet reference is also made to the Plantagenet kings.

Comprising five volumes (the first four published separately at the time, and the final posthumously), it struck me on this read how each of the first four are structured around the childhood of a major player -Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Gawain and his brothers (The Witch in the Wood), Lancelot (The Ill-Made Knight), and Mordred (The Candle in the Wind), and how their upbringing played a part in the inevitable tragedy of Camelot. In the final volume, The Book of Merlyn, it comes full circle as Arthur on the eve of his death is taken to revisit the animals of his childhood for much philosophising (at one point Merlyn argues at length with a badger about Karl Marx and communism.)

The Sword in the Stone is the most engaging, with young Arthur (known as "the Wart") and his tutelage under Merlin, being turned into various animals like an ant, a goose, and a hawk to learn about each of their societies (political allegories), and meeting with Robin Wood (Hood) and Maid Marian to battle Morgan le Fay, and the climactic pulling of the sword from the stone. This was of course the source material for the Disney film, although missing the wizards duel with Madam Mim (appearing in the original publication, but removed for the revised version).

The Ill-Made Knight is the longest volume and was honestly a slog to get through, because honestly Lancelot is pretty dull/terrible, and the Lancelot/Guenever love affair less than compelling. Ultimately it's Lancelot's hubris that dooms them - he is warned that Mordred intends to catch him out in Guenever's room, but he goes anyway, and doesn't leave when he tells her to, because he is stupid.

It’s no surprise that the female characters are given the short shrift, but there’s an uncomfortable vein of misogyny running through the book. To wit:

Elaine had done the ungraceful thing as usual. Guenever, in similar circumstances, would have been sure to grow pale and interesting - but Elaine had only grown plump.

And then later:

Guenever had overdressed for the occasion. She had put on makeup which she did not need, and put it on badly. She was forty-two.

Morgause (the eponymous witch in the wood/queen of air and darkness) is a negligent mother whose sole motivation is revenge, Elaine rapes Lancelot by deception, Guenever is hypocritical and shrill (but achieves a sliver of nuance in Candle), Nimueh is a nonentity, and Morgan le Fey is a monstrous fairy. If only White had turned his academic pondering inward and in order to examine the role of women in his worldview other than as damsels or instigators.

But Arthur also gets the short shrift - after all the focus in his childhood, he becomes almost a peripheral figure in the rest of the story until the very end, and we're not actually given much to show why he is the once and future king, other than that he tries to institute a slightly less brutal system.

Ultimately, White is more interested in philosophy than character, and so Camelot's inevitable tragedy feels more clinical than visceral.

The Good People (Hannah Kent) - If the Irish Folklore Trilogy (discussed below) is the beauty and wonder of Irish myths and legends interacting with the human world, this book is the cold danger of superstition and the devastating affect of folklore used as an explanation for life's ills. Set in 1820's rural Ireland, Nora is widowed and left with the care of her young disabled grandson Michael, believed to be a changeling. The local wise woman Nance, who feels the touch of "the good people" sets about to drive out the fairy from the child, believing that the "real" Michael will return, much to the growing dread of Mary, the teenage girl Nora has hired to care for him.

Here fairies are seen as a malevolent force, "sweeping" away women and children, causing bad harvests, and bringing death to the village - to be respected and feared. And then there's Nance, bartering traditional cures for ailments and troubles - some work, some do not, and some pose great danger. On the other hand, this is a remote village where a doctor must be fetched from Killarney, and only one priest who is less than charitable. Neither provide any help or support to Nora.

SPOILERS It's an upsetting read dealing with dark subject matter - grief trauma, child abuse and accidental infanticide, a kind of slow burn horror. If it takes a village to to raise a child, it also takes one to kill a child, as mounting fear and superstition moves through the population like a contagion, heightening Nora's desperation for the "return" of her grandson, and Nance's to prove her knowledge. It's an impeccably researched novel (based in part on a true event) but very unsettling - poor Michael is never really given humanity, and I feel this book would be hugely triggering in its depiction of disability and neurodivergence.

Watching

The Secret of Kells/Song of the Sea/Wolfwalkers (dir. Tom Moore) - I've been meaning to watch these films for absolutely ages, and I finally got to them this month. I’m pleased to say that the many people who recommended them to me were absolutely correct, because they appear to have been made to specifically cater to my interests. Some mild spoilers ahead.

I watched these in internal chronological order as suggested by @ravenya003, starting with The Secret of Kells, set in 9th Century Ireland where the young monk Brendan helps illuminate the to-be famous manuscript and befriends a forest sprite Aisling, under the threat of a Viking raid. Next was Wolfwalkers, jumping forward to 1650 Kilkenny where the English girl Robyn, daughter of a hunter, is drawn into the world of the forest and Mebh, who turns into a wolf when she sleeps. And finally we go all the way to 1980's in Song of the Sea for the story of Ben, who must help his younger sister Saoirse (a selkie) find her voice and bring back the faeries who have been turned to stone by the owl witch Macha.

Although the stories are completely separate, they've been described as Moore's "Irish Folklore" trilogy, and it’s easy to read a through line from Kells to Wolfwalkers in particular - both deal with fae of the forest, and Aisling appears as a white wolf at the end of the film (having lost her ability to appear in human form). I like to think that Aisling is in some way the progenitor of the wolfwalkers - after all, Kells and Kilkenny are less than 200 kms apart.

Song of the Sea is distant from the other two in both time and subject matter, dealing with selkies, creatures of the water. In many ways, Kells and Wolfwalkers feels like a duology, with Song more its own thing. On the other hand, an argument could be made for common fae spirit/s in different forms across all three films - Aisling is a white sprite, Robyn takes the form of a white/grey wolf, and Saoirse a white seal.

The strength of these films other than the folklore is the visual style - I really love 2D animation, and while I appreciate the beauty of cg animation, I often find in the latter’s focus on hyper-realism the artistry can be left by the wayside. These films not just aesthetically beautiful, but the art is used to tell the story - from the sharp angles that represent the darker or harmful elements (Crom, Vikings, the Town), to the circles and rings that represent safety and harmony (the Abbey, the forest, Mebh and her mother/the wolves healing circle, the holy well). The exception is probably the home of Macha, the owl witch, where circles are also prominent and represent magic, and this is often the case in folklore (fairy rings, fairy forts, etc).

Kells is the most stylised, resembling tapestries or pages and triptychs from medieval manuscripts, playing with perspective. I actually saw pages from the real Book of Kells years ago in Dublin, and remember them being very beautiful. We only get glimpses of the Book and the stunning Chi Rho page at the very end of the film, but the style of art is present throughout the film and particularly in the forest where Brendan finds inspiration for his illumination, and on the flipside his encounter in the dark with Crom Cruach, represented as a chalk-drawn primordial serpent.

This style is also present in Wolfwalkers, particularly stark in the way the birds-eye grid of the town often looms over Robyn in the background and in her work at the castle. The depiction of the forest has more of a storybook quality however, as does Song, where almost every frame resembles a painting, particularly the sequences of Saoirse's selkie trip through the sea and Ben's fall through the holy well.

Rav points out in her review that there is the ebbing away of myth and magic in each successive film, contrasted with the rise of Christianity/modernity. But there's circles and rings again, because while the ultimate power of the faerie world is fading away, the interaction between our human protagonists and faerie actually increases with each film. In Kells, we have only Aisling and Crom, in Wolkwalkers, we have Mebh and her mother whose ranks grow to include Robyn and her father, and finally in Song we have Saoirse, Bronagh, Macha, the Na Daoine Sídhe, and the Great Seanachaí.

Watching in the order I did, it does give the impression of the mythological world opening up to the viewer, gaining a deeper understanding and exposure as time progressed. On the other hand, that is also because the human world is gradually encroaching on the world of Faerie, from isolated settlements like the Abbey of Kells, to growing town of Kilkenny and the logging of the surrounding forest, to a modern Ireland of motorways and power lines, and industrialised Dublin where the remaining fairies have moved underground. It makes the climax of Song, with the fairies restored but returning to the land of Tír na nÓg, rather bittersweet.

I also credit the strength of the voice acting - the adult roles are minor but with greats including the dulcet tones of Brendan Gleeson and Sean Bean, and the ethereal Maria Doyle Kennedy (who I wish had gotten to do more). But the child roles are all performed so well, particularly Honor Kneafsey as Robyn, whose growing desperation and distress is just heartbreakingly palpable.

The Matrix Trilogy (dir. The Wachowskis) - I usually don't post rewatches in the Roundup, but I really, really love these movies. I will never forget seeing The Matrix at the cinema as a young teen, knowing nothing other than the tease of the enigmatic trailers, and just being completely blown away by it, and then becoming completely obsessed a few years later in the leadup to Reloaded.

It wasn’t my first fandom, but it was probably the first time I took fandom seriously. I was very invested in Neo/Trinity in particular as well as all the mythological/literary references that fed directly into my interests. I haven’t however gone back and read the fic I wrote, for fear that it is very, very cringe. I know where is is though, so maybe one day before the ff.net is purged.

This is Keanu Reeves at his most handsome, and while he doesn't have the greatest range (as many actors don't, although they don't get as much grief for it), when he's in the zone there's no one else who could do it better. He just has a Presence, you know? A vibe, and it compels me.

This is particularly present in Neo, a character whose conflict is almost entirely internal, burdened by the weight of his responsibility and destiny, both before and after he learns it is a false prophesy. He’s not your typical quippy macho action hero, but much like my other fave Luke Skywalker, is a character who is ultimately driven by love and self-sacrifice. I definitely have a Type of male hero I adore, and Neo fits right in there.

I also really love the sequels, flaws and all, because you know what, the Wachowskis had Ideas and they weren't going to deliver Matrix 2: Electric Boogaloo. Each film goes in an unexpected direction, and not in a subverted expectations ha ha silly rabbits way, but one that does have an internal logic and pulls together a cohesive trilogy as a whole, and how often does that happen these days?

The sequels are so…earnest, with none of the cynical cool detachment perhaps some would have preferred - at its core a trilogy exploring philosophy and the nature of prophesy vs choice, determinism vs free will, and the power of love. Maybe it can be hokey, and some of the dialogue a bit overwritten, but I don't care, there's so much I still enjoy even having seen the trilogy many times over the years.

Not to mention the great female characters - while I'm not sure any of the three strictly passes the Bechdel Test, we have Trinity and Niobe in particular who I love with all my heart. It does kind of annoy me that the Trinity Syndrome is so named, because it only applies in the most reductive reading possible, and Trinity expresses agency (and badassery) every step of the way, saving Neo just as much as he saves her. I mean..."dodge this"/"in five minutes I'll tear that whole goddamn building down"/"believe it"? Niobe piloting the Hammer through the mechanical line in Revolutions? Iconic. There are criticisms that can be made, sure, but the trilogy ultimately loves, respects, and appreciates its female characters (and important to note that the avatars of The System, the Architect and the Agents, are all white men).

Then we have the Oracle, who ultimately holds the most power and is the victor of the human/machine war. There's so much going on with the Oracle I could talk about it all day. It's that fate vs free will question again (“if you already know, how can I make a choice?”), but with the wrinkle of manipulation (“would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?”). Choice is the foundation the Matrix is built on, the unconscious choice for humans to accept the system or reject it - the Architect can't control that, he can only manage it, and the Oracle can't force Neo onto the path she has set out for him, only predict the choices he will make based on her study of the human psyche ("did you always know?"/"No...but I believed"). But she plays with the concept of fate in a complicated web of prophesies for outcome she wants and trusting the nature of Morpheus, Trinity, and Neo to bring it about.

And then there's the visual storytelling - there is so much meaning in almost every frame and line of dialogue. The mirroring and ring cycles not only in the constant presence of reflective surfaces and central metaphor of the Matrix as a simulacrum, but the androgyny of Neo and Trinity, bringing each other back from the dead in successive films (and ultimately both ultimately dying in the third), Neo and Morpheus’ first and last meetings, Smith who is ultimately Neo’s dark mirror, the Oracle/the Architect, just to name a few. I just…really really love these movies? Maybe I’ll do a full post rewatch sometime.

I am however reserving judgement on the Matrix 4 - already there are a few things making me uneasy. Lana is the sole director for this one (Lilly is not involved), and Laurence Fishburne apparently wasn't even asked back, even though Morpheus actually survives the trilogy (as opposed to Neo and Trinity). But I’m interested, and don’t want to go in with any expectations, but rather ready to be surprised again like I was when I watched the first film (and hope I can stay away from spoilers).

John Wick Trilogy (dir. Chad Stahelski) - It was a trilogy kind of month! This genre is generally not my thing, as I don’t have a high tolerance for graphic violence and pure action bores me after a while, but I was in a Keanu kind of mood and I'm always hearing people go on about John Wick so I wanted to know what (if anything) I was missing. While still a bit too violent for my tastes, if nothing else I could appreciate the dance-like fight choreography, even if the worldbuulding is absolutely ridiculous - I mean, literally thousands of assassins across the world chilling in sanctuary hotels, supported by a vast network of weapon suppliers, tailors, surgeons, spy networks, etc? It’s silly, but hey, I was happy to go along with it.

What I do appreciate about Keanu Reeves, and this seems to be a common thread, is that even when in action hero mode (Matrix, Point Break, John Wick, and to a lesser extent Speed), he consistently plays a man who is completely in love with his partner/wife - like, completely, unapologetically devoted to them, and I think that is a big part of the appeal - it's that Keanu energy that is often the antithesis of toxic masculinity, even when in roles that would ordinarily rely on those tropes.

Wick is in many ways the spiritual successor to Neo - insular, taciturn, and even as he's dispatching death with clinical precision. Much like Neo, Wick is a character who is somehow Soft (tm) despite all the violence. I once listened to a podcast where they amusingly discussed the Reeves oeuvre as simulations of Neo still trapped in the Matrix, and it’s very easy to make the case here and imagine John Wick as Neo plugged back in after Revolutions, mourning Trinity and set on mission after mission to keep his mind active (and it would certainly explain why the guy hasn’t dropped dead after being stabbed, beaten up, strangled, hit by a car, shot, and falling off a building). It’s a fun little theory.

Stahelski was Reeves' stunt double and a stunt coordinator on The Matrix and there's plenty of homages in the visual style and reuniting Reeves with costars Laurence Fishburne and Randall Duk Kim (who played the Keymaker).

I did also find it amusing that Wick is also often referred to as babayaga (equated in the film to the bogeyman). Well, Wick is in many ways a witch who lives in the woods, just wanting to be left alone with his dog, and there is a supernatural energy to the character, so...I guess?

Space Jam: A New Legacy (dir. Malcolm D Lee) - I took my niece to see this at the cinema and it was…pretty much what you would expect. I thought it was fine for what it was, even if a bit slow in parts (it takes a looong time for the looneys to show up) and I wonder if they have the same cultural pull they had in the nineties (the age of Tweety Bird supremacy). But the kids seemed into it (my niece liked porky pig) and that's what counts I guess.

This time, the toon battle royale takes place on the WB servers, where evil A.I. Don Cheadle (having the time of his life chewing the cg scenery) wants to capture Lebron James for...reasons, idk. James and Bugs have to find the rest of the looneys scattered across the server-verse, a chance for WB to desperately remind people that they too, have media properties and a multiverse including DC comics world, Harry Potter world, Matrix world, Mad Max world, Casablanca world etc. Some of it feels very dated - there is I kid you not an Austin Powers reference, although it did make me smile that Trinity was on James’ list of most wanted players (skill: agility).

Unfortunately, nothing it really done with this multiverse concept except “hey, remember this movie? Now with looneys” six times, and the crowd for the game populated by WB denizens including the Iron Giant, Pennywise, the monkeys from the Wizard of Oz, Scooby Doo and the gang, etc. But still, it's fun, and hardly the tarnishing of a legacy or whatever nonsense is driving youtube clicks these days.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - 2335 words.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2927 words, Chapter 13 posted.

Total: 5272 this month, 38,488 this year.

#roundup #reading watching writing #long post

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cherry-valentine · 4 years ago

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So I recently read Killing Stalking over the course of two days. The first day was spent fleeing my home from flood waters and so I read the first half of the manwha on my phone in the parking lot of a grocery store. I was so absorbed in the story that I didn’t have time to worry about whether or not my house was washing away (it didn’t, and there was no damage, thanks for asking). I know I was pretty late to the party on this one, and it wasn’t because I wanted to avoid the series. To be honest it sounded like something I would love from the moment I heard about it, but at the time, I was busy and ended up forgetting it. I saw some pictures from it on Tumblr a few days back, was reminded, and decided to give it a shot. I have some feelings and random opinions on it that I felt like sharing. Most of these will include spoilers for the entire story, so be warned. Also: TW: ABUSE

But first, my non-spoilery plea to others who haven’t read it (and I guess the first thing I wanted to talk about): If you’re avoiding the series because you’ve heard that it glorifies or romanticizes abusive relationships, you can put that concern to rest. I honestly don’t know how anyone can walk away from the series with that take. The relationship portrayed in the series is nightmarish, and even the parts that aren’t so nightmarish are tense and very much realistic in the way abusive relationships actually work. Abusers aren’t abusive 100% of the time, and that’s what makes them so insidious. If they were terrible all the time, it would be much easier to hate them, leave them, and forget them. Instead, they are often kind, generous, and loving between incidents of abuse. This is to keep their victims emotionally attached to them. For many of these abusers, they may even feel actual love for their victims (a twisted, selfish love for sure, but I’ve always been of the belief that love can be a bad thing in certain situations). So even though there are moments in the series where the relationship seems to be going “well”, there’s always a sense of dread hanging over it, the feeling that at any moment, things are going to explode.

From here on out, there are !!MAJOR SPOILERS!! for the entire series.

A lot of people have identified the most sad or tragic or painful moments for them while reading, and those moments vary quite a bit between people. For me, the moment that gouged out my heart, the moment that was such a punch to the gut that I almost felt physical pain, was just a tiny thing. Toward the end, the first time Bum tries to go to the hospital Sangwoo is at, and the cab driver treats him like shit, Bum thinks “Why does everyone treat me like this?” And then we see flashbacks of moments when Sangwoo was kind to him. And... that right there. That got me. The fact that his abuser, the person who had treated him so cruelly, was also the only person who had treated him with actual kindness, broke my heart. The fact that he’d lived his whole life and experienced nothing but cruelty or indifference or betrayal. The only person who ever made him feel special, feel loved, was also the person who had tormented him. And it hurt so much to read, because I know that’s how many real life abuse victims feel. It was, in my opinion, the most tragic aspect of the series.

My last opinion might be a little controversial. Something I noticed when checking out the fandom for the series was how anyone who even hinted that they’d like for Sangwoo and Bum to be happy together was met with absolute hate and fury (slinging around lots of terrible insults like “failed abortion” and things I won’t repeat here - like yeah great idea explaining how abusive relationships are bad by being verbally abusive). Now, as a logical adult, I know it would be totally impossible for them to have a happy relationship (and indeed they didn’t). I didn’t even want them to be together. I just wanted them both to get a lot of therapy. The “headcanon” I came up with to make myself feel less depressed after the ending was that they both died and were then reborn into loving, nurturing environments where they grew up to be happy, well-adjusted people who would meet in college and have a healthy relationship. But I do understand the people who saw the less horrible moments and thought, “I wish they could just be happy together”. Because it did feel like these two thoroughly broken people had found a tiny, miniscule amount of happiness and love, even if it was clear it definitely would not last and definitely was not healthy. I get feeling that way.

And actually, the series plays a fairly clever trick on the reader. Just like real life abuse victims have trouble hating and leaving their abusers when those abusers are kind or show a more human side to them, Sangwoo became much harder to hate and dismiss once his traumatic childhood was revealed and he showed some kindness to Bum. It’s like the series was showing us exactly how abuse victims remain attached to their abusers, by making us stay attached to Sangwoo as a character. For the first half of the series I despised him, but the series tricked me into sympathizing with him and even feeling sorry for him and wishing he could be happy. And that. right. there. That’s how abusers get you. I thought it was a very smart way to portray this concept.

I also get that some BL fans DID romanticize and even fetishize the relationship. But, and hear me out please, I don’t think that’s a reason to totally dunk on those fans. Most of the fans who felt that way are probably fairly young, probably naive, probably exploring some dark fantasies for (perhaps) the first time in their lives. I think most people have something that introduced them to darker fantasies (rape fantasies, violent kinks, etc.). When you’re young, these are pretty thrilling to think about, and as long as you limit this exploration to works of fiction, it’s a safe way to dig into these fantasies. For most people, they grow out of them. The thrill wears off as they get older or they become mature enough to realize how horrible and scary those situations would be in real life. Some people keep those kinds of kinks all their lives, and as long as they limit it to fantasy and fiction, or consensual situations, that’s fine. But we need to understand that Killing Stalking, just by nature of having a very attractive character like Sangwoo, is going to be that piece of media that introduces a lot of younger people to those darker fantasies. And it’s not necessarily a terrible thing to let them safely explore those fantasies with this story. Because the story doesn’t encourage it. It doesn’t paint a rosey picture of this kind of relationship. It’s horrifying and ends in tragedy and trauma for everyone involved.

My “thing” that introduced me to darker fantasies was a movie called Boxing Helena, which I watched when I was most definitely too young. For those who haven’t seen it, it actually shares some themes with Killing Stalking (involving a sexy but psychotic man who had lots of issues relating to his mother and keeps a woman captive in his home, partly because she reminds him of his mother, and does horrible things to her - there’s even a scene where he brings another woman home and has sex with her while the captive woman is forced to watch through a cracked door. Sounds familiar, right?). It felt dark and dangerous and taboo, because it was also horrific. But it was exciting. Of course, I grew out of things like that, but it would have been absolutely no help to have a ton of people screaming at me that I was a sick pervert for finding the psycho guy hot (I mean it was Julian Sands in the 90’s, can you really blame me?).

If you come across younger fans who think Killing Stalking was sexy and say dumb things like, “I’d like to be in Sangwoo’s basement!” (actual comment I saw), don’t immediately harp on them and make them feel bad. They’re just exploring their own fantasies. It would be much more helpful to calmly and patiently talk to them and point out that it’s okay to like this stuff in fiction, but to be very careful about how they explore these feelings in reality. I’d be willing to bet that the vast majority of these people are just virginal teenagers who would never in a million years get involved in a dangerous relationship. So let’s cut them a little slack.

Note: When I refer to younger fans, I’m thinking 18-20 or so, and of course the younger teens who are going to read this whether we want them to or not. I am in no way suggesting that we should encourage younger people to read it. Just that, if you come across a younger person who has already read it, yelling insults at them over their naive opinions on it isn’t going to be helpful to anyone.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about it for now. I just felt very strongly about it and felt like sharing.

#Killing Stalking #text #tw: abuse

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afaimsarrowverse · 4 years ago

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The 14 Creepiest Arrowverse Villains:

Yes, this one should have been made for Halloween. But after the year we just had, let’s take comfort in the fact that were are not forced to ever meet this guys here on the street in the dark. While two of the villains on this list had rather big seasonal arcs, I specifically disqualified characters from here, have proper motivations and character arcs as well as villains, who are creepy but at the same time quite a lot of fun. This why you won’t find Alice, her Mouse, Ramsay, Eobard, the Trickster, Mallus, Neron or even the Thinker here.

This list mainly consists of people we want to put back in the box, they got out of, until not seeing them at least for a season or so, and who we want to yell at: „What’s wrong with you!“ while they are on screen.

14. Toyman Senior (Winslow Schott Sr., Supergirl, Henry Czerny)

Technically this one should not be on this list, because he was redeemed in Season 5, however that happend after his death and on Earth Prime rather than Supergirls Original Eart,h so we will ignore that for now (also I wrecked my head whom from „Supergirl“ to put on here, so I overlooked that on purpose). Toyman is more creepy as a concept than in reality. He blows up kids (and other than the Trickster is no fun at all while he is doing it), threatened the life of his son to get his wife to leave him and did God knows what else to said wife and son. And did not even stop terrorizing people after his death. Can you imagine growing up as Toyman’s son? Poor Winn, you truly deserved better!

13. Bug Eyed Bandit (Brie Larvan, Queen Bee, The Flash, Arrow, Emily Kinney)

Yes, it’s because of the Bees. Because she controls Mechanical Bees that sting and kill people! I am sorry, but what’s your problem, can’t you just kill your enemies like a normal person, Brie? Not to mention the whole Felicity-thing, because yes it’s totally normal to go around and kidnap and threaten to get what you want and then try to murder again. I still do not get why they let her into the Young Rogues anyway, but then … most members of that gang were all wrong, weren’t they?

12. Garfield Lynns (Arrow, Andrew Dunbar)

Most of us have tried to forget about Season 1 Episode „Burned“ for several reasons. But the villain of it is also one of those. Because, yes Mick was a Pyromanic as well, but for more complex reasons. Garfield Lynns was a fire fighter who started burning people and ended burning himself to death because of reasons and … well let’s be honest, he was nuts and burning people is not cool at all!

11. Jake Simmons (Deathbolt, Arrow, The Flash, Doug Jones)

That’s what you get, if you hire a creature actor (no offense, Doug, we love your work!) to play a psychopatic villain. Occasionally kind of fun, yes, but mostly Simmons is crazy and creepy, and we never liked him very much, but crucial Captain Cold killed him with a flimsey excuse, which no one ever bought, and let’s put it that way: If Leonard killed him just like that, there had to be something wrong with him in a big way, and yes, the hints were there, so, yeah, what a creep.

10. The Mist (Kyle Nimbus, The Flash, Antony Carrigan)

A former Mob Hitman that looks like that and can turn into Mist. Do I have to say any more? I would take Victor Szasz over this one any day. Because Nimbus … well you would not want to meet him during a misty night, would you?

9. Murmur (Michael Amar, Arrow, Adrian Glynn McMorran)

This one actually cares about his grandma, I will give him that, but SOMEONE SEWED HIS FUCKING LIPS TOGETHER! So you don’t really like looking at him, and he kind of went over board after he was pressured into joining Damien Darhk with, you know, killing everyone and joining HIVE, who as you recall planned to end the world as wen know it, so what about everyone elses grandmas, they can just die or what? No, Mister Amar, there is quite a lot wrong with you, that’s for sure.

8. Everyman (Hannibal Bates, The Flash, Various)

That one could be a tragedy, but well, he got so mixed up and wrong in the head, that he became a danger to everyone else. He is creepy trapped between shapes and he is creepy in other shapes because … you don’t just go around and kiss random women, who think you are somebody else. That is just wrong. But Bates is kind of mostly wrong, so, yeah.

7. Anthony Ivo (Arrow, Dylan Neal)

Ivo is Sara’s Personal Case of #Metoo, which really should be enough to earn him a spot on this list, but there is also his habit of keeping people in cages and the whole „You have to choose, whom I shoot dead!“- thing and all of that is only the tip of the iceberg. Not even Dylan Neal can stop me from wanting to scream at the top of my lungs: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! at Dr. Ivo.

6. Nocturna (Natalia Knight, Batwoman, Kayla Ewell)

We all know the story how Nocturna was not allowed to show up in the Animated Batman Series in the 90s, because she was considered too disturbing (Morbius on the other hand was allowed to show up in the Spider-Man Cartoon but had to … undergo some changes, which made a perfectly good vampire into the creepies cartoon-villain ever unleashed on kids and scarred me for life, but that’s another story). Here she finally is, and yes, she is rather disturbing. Because she acutally knows very well that she isn’t a vampire, but still strings her victims up and bleeds them out, after biting them with laced spikey teeth. It would be kinky, if it were the least bit sexy, which it totally isn’t, so yeah, put her away for good please.

5. Vandal Savages Hawk Creatures (Legends of Tomorrow, Various)

Season 1 of „Legends“ was quite different than what came after, but „Night of the Hawk“ was an early highlight. While it was kind of a parody, being Season 1 it still played it straight for the most part, which resulted in an episode with the vibe of „American Horror Story“: We are in on the joke, but it’s still Horror. No wonder, after all Joe Dante directed this one. Vandal Savage turned poor teenagers into hawklike monsters, that no one would want to meet … ever. So yeah, thanks, but no thanks.

4. August Cartwright (Ethan Campell, Batwoman, John Emmet Tracy, Sebastian Roche)

Oh, God, that guy. So his mother wasn’t particulary ... nice, but that is no excuse to kidnap, gaslight, and brainwash a young girl, keep that girl’s mother’s head in a fridge for years, turn said girl into a slave and get her to make facemasks out of actual human face! Nor is that any excuse for fear-gasing your own son just because you are mad at him. Or anything in any way related to face-stealing, ,killing, identitiy theft, or anything else Dr. Cartwright has ever been up to. Like, seriously it has been a long time a character that desevers to be hated that much has been on our televions screens. Creepy Creep!

3. Duela Dent (Batwoman, Alessandra Torresani)

Female Slashers have become kind of a common trope in fiction by now, but Duela is kind of different. Suffering from a pretty extreme version of of body dysmorphic disorder Duela sees beauty through a different lense than the rest of the world (we will never forget what she deems to be her face being perfect, even though we desperatly want to). So yeah, she slashes faces, mainly her own, is out to punish people, who force beauty ideals on her and othes, and somehow has no problem with … donating her face to Alice. … Can someone please get that poor woman help, I mean, seriously?!

2. Rag Doll (Peter Merkel, The Flash, Troy James, Phil LaMarr)

He did make Joe West throw up. And not only him. Rag Doll is plains disgusting. So disgusting actually, that the producers dialed him back in Season 6 and used more CG and less pratical „Troy James freaks us out“- bending. But while he could be fun all elongaty, we actually prefer him as his creepy original Season 5 Self. He is demented, wears a creepy mask, acts creepy, and we really don’t want to see him do his stuff but can’t look away at the same time. I have no idea why he was in the Young Rogues either, because he is really mainly creepy – und would be the Overcreep on this list, if it weren’t for….

1. The Dollmaker (Barton Mathis, The Broken Doll Killer, Arrow, Michael Eklund)

I am still amazed to this day that they were allowed to make this episode. You have to remember „Arrow“ had been only on for one Season at this point and „The 100“ was still about to premier. The CW was yet to change it’s image. Still they somehow got to made the Dollmaker-Episode, which left us disturbed to this very day. What Mathis was doing to his victims …. Well not only Quentin got nightmares about it. Poor Laurel went understandable full addict after almost being made into a puppet by him. So, Rag Doll might look creepier, but the Dollmaker is one of this Serial Killers we never want to even hear from again. It’s really no wonder he was an one-off, like I said, I am still amazed they were even allowed to make the episode on Network Television let alone The CW at all.

#Arrowverse #Creepiest Villains #Arrow #The Flash #Supergirl #legends of tomorrow #Batwoman

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